Mello and Matty
Me-Kelsey
"No, no, no, no, and triple NO! You will not get me to wear that!"
"Aw, come on, Mello! Please?!"
You might be wondering what me and Mello-A.K.A. Mihael Keehl—are arguing about. Well…I want him to wear something besides leather pants, vests, boots and those weird coats of his. Okay, so he does have one pair of pants that aren't leather, but I don't care. I'm going to make Mello into a new Mello if it's the last thing I do!
"No! I won't wear any of this stupid stuff! Come on, Kelsey, be reasonable!"
"Reasonable, huh? Well, take that!" So to prove a point, I kicked him where guys generally don't like to be kicked. ^_^ It was kind of funny watching him go down like that, crying. Something very un-Mello. "Hee hee! Sorry, Mello, but you forced me to!"
"Be nice, Kelsey. Mello isn't that unreasonable." Matt was trying to stifle his laughter from the couch, his attention split between the Kelsey-Mello drama and his new videogame.
"Yes, he is. Maybe you would think so if you stopped being his lackey and grew a backbone for once." I stalked over to the couch and pulled Matt's goggles from his head and then let them smack back down on his head.
"Ow! What the heck?! Ack! Kelsey, you gave me a bloody nose! Ahh, noooo!!! My goggles are broken!! Damn it, Kelsey!" Matt cried over his precious goggles, completely ignoring the blood streaming down his face and staining his shirt and the couch. Not that the Mob would care much.
"Heh heh. Not so funny when she's hurting you, is it?" Mello sneered from the ground, still in pain from my kick. But I was getting frustrated by the lack of respect I was getting around here. They all assumed I was a real sadist, or that I was just Mello's newest toy.
"Well, can't really help it. Kelsey's a sadist, a cute one, but a sadist nonetheless." Matt agreed, finally stifling the blood flow.
"You jerks! Is that all you really think of me?! A sadist?! I have feeling too, you know!" Before either of the two could speak another word, I'd stalked out of the room and slammed the door.
Yeah, it was true. I do enjoy causing people pain or misery. But it's not like I really wanted to. It all started when I was young, as most of the stories tell, growing up in foster homes and being mistreated by the people who were supposed to be taking care of me and their children who were supposed to make me feel like I was one of their own kin. Most of my life has been a worthless puddle of lies, suffering and self-inflicted pain.
Then it changed. It changed and I was bound for life to that chocolate-obsessed, semi-feminine blonde.
"I'm out of here, you old hag! You're supposed to take care of me, not leave me to your husband just because you're too old to give him what he wants!"
"You little whore! Get the hell out of my house, you disgusting ingrate!"
"Fine! I was planning on it anyway!" I was sixteen then, running away from my nineteenth foster home. And this time, the cops wouldn't come after me to drag me back to hell or to the next.
How I came to go to foster homes started out as most orphans do: parents died in a car crash. It was a six car pile-up. Tragic, really. A lot of people died that day, and many more people were affected for life. I wasn't really one of them. I was only two when they died. Although their deaths did screw up my whole life. I guess I should've been more grateful to them for at least raising me two years.
The first homes I went to got too over-crowded: that crash and many others had a lot of children entering the foster system. So I, being one of the senior residents, was sent away.
The thirteen others were living hells. I suppose my mother would have enjoyed braiding my dark-brown hair or helping me apply make-up for my first date upon my fair skin, but no. I got sloppy haircuts every school beginning, and I wasn't really allowed out much on account of I'd look so awful. So I turned to the t.v and books for sources of entertainment.
There were a couple of boys who showed interest in me, but I was barred from going out with them.
So as I ran from the last foster home I'd ever set foot in, I didn't really expect to run into who I did. Tight jeans and no shoes really aren't the best of running partners, you know. Heh. Neither is tight leather pants. Though a certain someone I know seems to make it work to his advantage.
"Who are you?" Blonde. Tall. Blue eyes. Leather. Leather. And lots more leather.
"I should be asking the same thing, Leather-boy."
"Leather-boy?"
"Yeah, you are Leather-boy. And I dub your friend Gamer-boy!"
"Pesky girl. You alone?"
"Yeah, why?"
He sighed. Frustrated that he'd have to take care of yet another person. "As if I didn't have enough to deal with. First Near, than Kira and now you."
"What's wrong with me?!" I demanded, kicking Leather-boy in the shin.
"Ah! Damn girl! I was going to bring you back with me, but I see you're too stubborn!"
"You'd seriously do that?"
"Well, yeah."
"He likes you!" Gamer-boy said, nudging Leather-boy in the ribs.
"Shut up, Matt!"
"Matty?"
"Matty?" The two said in unison. "Where'd you get that from?" Leather-boy muttered.
"Yep. Matty from Matt. And what's your name, Leather-boy?"
"He's Mello!" Gamer-boy. "Ow!" Punch to the gut.
"Mello? Strange name. Not your birth name, is it?"
"How'd you figure that out?"
"Mello is not exactly the name a mother would give to her son."
"Oh yeah? What's your name?"
"Kelsey."
"Nice to meet ya, Kelsey! I'm Matt!"
"Nice to meet you, too, Matty! You too, Mello-Jello!"
"So you're gonna come live with us?" Matty asked in his cute, childish voice. Don't get me wrong, he's cute and sweet, in his own special way. But I kind of already had my eye set on Mello. Too bad he thinks I'm a pesky girl. Still. After all this time.
"Um…"
"Just say yes already! I've gotta get back!" Mello huffed angrily.
"Okies! I accept!"
"Yeah!"
So now I live with Matt and Mello, not including Ross and the other gangsters of L.A.
I wish sometimes that a boy would come and sweep me off my feet, promising me the classic "American Dream" life I've always wanted: Nice house, nice education, nice career, sweet and devoted husband, affectionate and well-behaved children, living out my golden years in a perfect retirement home, few pets.
So far, no boy. Even if Mello did come and sweep me off my feet—doubt it—all he could promise me is a life of violence and any possible children would run the risk of being raped or killed in the Mob. No way was I letting any future kids of mine live that way. I was getting kind of tired of it myself. Maybe I'd leave. After all, I was an adult-nineteen-years-old, almost twenty—and I could take care of myself just fine.
"Did we say anything offensive that would make you act this way?" Mello.
"I don't over-react. You just say things without considering how I feel. Girls aren't the over-emotional creatures the world depicts them as."
"I never said that you over-reacted. I just wondered what we did."
"I just want to leave this place. Find someone to take care of me and I want to live a happy, decent life with the person I love! That's all I want! And I'm not a sadist by choice! I told you why."
"Yeah, I know you did. And I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention."
"Story of my life."
Mello's footsteps clinked on the metal floor, a seductive sound that sent my heart racing through the roof. Oh, how it made me want to tackle him and make him mine. You felt leather brush against the back of my body, all along the length. His hands wrapped around my collarbone and his soft lips pressed against my neck, sending a shiver running through my body.
"I know I don't listen. But I was busy catching Kira. Now I'm free."
"No, I'm not going to give you a quickie."
"I don't mean that. I mean, let's go somewhere else. Leave the Mob for good. Tell no one. Well, except Matt. Our children will need an uncle, after all."
Was he for real?
"Yeah, I am for real. Come on, Kelsey. You can't tell me you've never grown tired of the Mob."
"Of course I have. But what about you?"
"Well, sure. Just never told you. So…how about it? Run away with me?"
"Will there be chocolate?"
"There will be chocolate, my dear."
"Excellent. Then I suppose I'll accept your impromptu proposal."
"You guys are getting married?" Matt cried, leaping off the couch and coming to stand behind Mello, not as tall, but maybe a little leaner.
"Yeah, got a problem with that?"
"Nope."
"We're leaving here, just so you know. You know…if you wanted to come with us."
"Can I pack my games?" He asked like an anxious little child.
"Yes."
"Whoo-hoo!" He ran off to find enough suitcases to hold all of his games and consoles.
"He's going to be a bad uncle, isn't he? A suckish best man, too." Mello mused. Very not Mello.
I kissed him, pulling his attention away from Matt and back onto me. He gladly accepted the change of subject.
"So…" He panted between kisses. "When should we start on those children we talked about?"
"Mm…how about now?"
He lifted me up so that my legs wrapped around his waist. "Just what I was thinking." He easily carried me up to the bedroom, not once interrupting our kiss. And let's just say that we did create a life that day. But we also neglected to notice a much traumatized Matty watching us go up to the bedroom. Sorry, Matt.
Mello is a great father and husband to me and our little ones. He's not exactly the man I imagined sweeping me off my feet and this isn't exactly the life I imagined, but I loved it all the same.
Thanks, foster homes.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Thank you, Kira, for bringing Mello to me. In a twisted way.
They all helped me and Mello come together.