I have decided to try the Ipod challenge, in which you put your Ipod on shuffle and write a ficlet about the first 3 random songs. I don't have an ipod so I put my youtube list of songs on shuffle instead. I just want to say in advance: What the hell to getting Ben Bernanke. What the hell. A bit of strange thing to post as a first story, but I though since it's the first MattxMello thing I've ever written, I would post in order. I'm OCD like that.
I don't own anything.
Chasing Cars
The apartment is not exactly nice, nor is it anything resembling "nice", but Mello looks upon the place with affection. Not because he likes the building, not because he finds the sickening yellow wall paper tasteful (he really doesn't), but because of the boy who sits on that ugly, dilapidated couch all day, the boy with the orange goggles that clash so horribly with his bright red hair, the striped shirt that hasn't seen a washing machine in a very long time, and the cigarette that always dangles from between his teeth.
Mello likes that when he walks in that door; he stops being a criminal and starts being that boy's boyfriend. Sweet, innocent, Matt, who makes Mello feel younger and maybe even a little more innocent too. And when Mello sits there next to his redhead, he can lose himself in those eyes, the emerald and the love that waits there, and he can forget the rest of it. He just wishes he could find some way to tell Matt how he feels, how his existence is only tolerable because Matt is there waiting for him.
So Mello wastes a few precious minutes sitting with Matt as he plays one of his video games, watching the virtual cars whir around a track, watching Matt win every round. And he looks at Matt, with the pale skin and the beautiful eyes, and he knows Matt knows how he feels already. He knows he doesn't have to tell him that none of this will ever change. Mello will always love Matt.
Ben Bernanke
Matt doesn't usually take the bus, and he has numerous reasons why. 1: Buses are crowded. This is enough reason in itself. Matt has never been a fan of squishing up against some smelly guy who doesn't bathe enough (not that Matt bathes enough himself, but still). 2: Buses are outside. It is unnecessary to be outside at any time in this day of age and Matt has never had the intention to live like a barbarian. If he wants food, he'll order it. If he wants anything he'll order it. 3: Buses cost money. Matt has better ways to spend his dollars. Like video games, for example.
Unfortunately, the reasons for taking the bus outweigh the reasons for not taking the bus. There is only one reason, really, but in Matt's mind, that one reason counts for a million. Mello asked him. So, like a good lap dog, Matt is standing at the curb, in the blistering heat, waiting.
The bus stop has a bench, but Matt refuses to sit there. The wood is splintered and covered in graffiti, but that is not the reason the redhead will not rest on it. He reckons himself quite rebellious by not complying with the bus company's request that he seat himself. He puffs on his cigarette and pulls up the sleeves of his striped shirt.
When the retched vehicle finally pulls up in front of him, Matt throws his cigarette to the ground and stomps on it with one boot, grinding it into the cement. The bus driver looks on disapprovingly and wrinkles her nose as Matt walks by, sliding the doors closed behind him with a squeak, like she's sealing his fate.
Matt sits in one of the putrid plastic chairs next to a man with a scruffy auburn beard and small, dancing eyes. The man turns those lively eyes onto Matt and throws out a large hand.
"Hello there, Spencer!" He greets the poor redhead, smiling genuinely.
"Hi." Matt counters hesitantly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"I see you, Spencer, with my eyes." The man tells Matt, nodding knowingly and retracting his outstretched hand. "You're a tall glass of water, aren't you Spencer?" He smiles wider still and pulls one of Matt's hands out of his pockets, wringing it happily.
"My name's Matt." The redhead says, taking back his hand, sliding as far over in the seat as he can and rearranging the goggles over his eyes awkwardly. "I don't know who Spencer is."
The man watches Matt warily and huffs. "I'm a magician Spencer. A furious magician. Avada Kadavra, Spencer, to you, Spencer!" He jumps at Matt before settling back into his smile.
"Okay." Matt says, getting out of his seat, now scared of the strange man. The bus is busy, though, and he can only stand directly in front of the man.
"Are you proud of your country?" The man asks Matt in a sing song voice.
"Sure. Sure I am." Matt tries to slip between two women in business suits, but they glare at him and shuffle closer to the steel bar to which they cling in an attempt to keep their balance as the bus sways.
"I'm going to kiss you Spencer, on the lips." The man whispers to Matt. "My mother tries to get me to go on dates, Spencer, you know what that's like? You know how humiliating that is, Spencer?" Matt really has no idea how humiliating dates might be. Mello's never taken him on one.
The man gets up to stand next to Matt and looks at him with those squinty eyes. "I love you, Spencer." He tells him, grinning.
The bus slides to a stop, still several blocks from where Matt needs to get off. He rushes for the door anyway, cursing his luck. Once on the sidewalk, he looks down the seemingly endless road and sighs. He'll have to walk all that way now, just to get Mello some chocolate.
As the bus slides away, the man waves out of the window.
This Is Halloween
The trees are bare and their branches duck and creak in the breeze as ghosts and ghouls run back and forth on the streets of Winchester, screeching and laughing while their parents clutch their pudgy hands or talk with others of their kind behind the giggling children. It disgusts Mello.
"Matt." He snaps at a thin boy sitting on the bed opposite his with wild red hair and goggles around his pale neck.
"Take that!" Comes Matt's reply, though he isn't talking to the blonde tornado on the other side of the room. His narrow at the screen of the Gameboy he clutches in his long fingers and he pushes a few buttons with swears tipping the edges of his every breath.
"Matt." Mello's voice has lowered dangerously and his icy gaze has become colder. One thing Mello can't stand is being ignored, especially by the redhead whom he has accepted as a friend/minion/slave.
Said redhead pushes the blonde boy a fraction further by emitting a triumphant cry and mumbling. "Said I'd kill you, bastard!" He lies backwards on his bed and pulls his goggles over his deep green eyes, still smiling as he rushes into the next level of his new game.
Mello is not amused. His head rises and the golden bangs that fall over the wickedness of his cyan eyes tip back onto his forehead. He gives Matt his best glare and pushes away from the bed. His heavy boots bang loudly on the floorboards, his feet moving slowly and deliberately.
The snap of Mello's chocolate makes Matt jump and the redhead hurries to turn off his game and direct the goofy grin that usually occupies his face to the steaming blond who is now leaning over his bed. Mello's expression does not change.
"I'm listening, Mels, you know I am." Matt tells him lazily, yawning and lovingly putting the handheld on his pillow.
Mello watches his roommate, leering at him angrily. No, Mello does not stand for being ignored. He pulls Matt up by the front of his shirt, growling.
"Whoa. I said I'm listening!" Matt tries to pry his friend's fingers from around the collar of his favourite black and white shirt. "You're stretching my shirt, Mel."
"You better be listening." Mello tells him, a surprising amount of venom in his voice for a fourteen year old. The hand retreats and Mello slips out the door, knowing Matt will hurry after him like a good minion. Mello smirks as he walks; listening to Matt's hurried footsteps behind him and the electronic beeps and obnoxious music that tell Mello that Matt has turned on his game again. "I'm talking to you, Matty," the blonde hisses, pulling out a fresh chocolate bar and peeling off the wrapper.
"I'm listening to you, Melly." Matt imitates his friend's tone and falls into step with him, flashing the blonde a grin.
"Good." Mello says again, looking down at his feet for a moment before continuing. "Matt," he looks at the other boy, snapping off another piece of chocolate. "Hallowe'en is a great holiday, is it not?"
Matt wonders what he is meant to say to this strange question. "Sure it is Mel!" he pushes some crimson hair out of his eyes and keeps playing his game.
"Wrong." Mello tells him. "Hallowe'en, Matt, is not meant to be great. It is meant to be a day of fright. The line between life and death is at its weakest, they say, on Hallowe'en." Mello seems to think for a moment, but Matt knows it's only dramatic effect. "So why are kids laughing, now, Matt, when they should be too frightened to step outside? Kids are superstitious, are they not? So, Matty?"
Matt shakes his head. "Maybe because Hallowe'en has been commercialized. Kids see it as a night to dress up and have fun gathering free candy. It really is great Mel. Free chocolate, you know." Matt smiles again at Mello, but he knows the other boy has worked himself into a certain mood, one that Matt fears he can't shake.
"You're right Matt. Hallowe'en has been introduced to the public as a time for fun and games." Mello ignores the last part of Matt's answer. "I wish to change that." Mello doesn't know why seeing the kids running up and down the streets with their happy parents bothered him so much, but he refuses to think it's because he himself is an orphan, someone who has never trick or treated. He focuses on the distaste alone. He wants to stop the fun. If he can't have it, no one else can.
Whammy's House has a large wrought iron fence with numerous trees along its edges. Mello drags Matt up one of these trees, where they sit perched and watchful. Matt watches his video games, Mello watches the people ringing doorbells and receiving sweets.
"Matt." Mello says for the millionth time that day. Matt is almost at the point of being annoyed. Almost.
The redhead shifts in the tree and waits. He knows what Mello is going to do. For the past hour he has been scaring all the children who walk by in numerous creative and rather original ways.
A small brunette dressed as a fairy princess walks by, waving her wand and laughing as she eats little candy corns from her trick or treating bag. Mello hisses at her from in the tree after dropping several spiders on her head. The little girl screams and runs off to the other side of the street, and, although the trick was effective, Matt knows Mello is running out of ideas.
"Matty, this is boring now. We're going inside." Mello turns to the redhead before starting to climb down the tree.
Matt stops, looking down at the ground. "Mello," he whispers, stuffing his Gameboy back into his pocket and gripping the branch.
"What?" Mello snaps back. "Talk a little louder, I can barely hear you."
Matt clutches the tree a little tighter. "I'm scared. It's really high and it's dark." He whimpers, sounding less like a fourteen year old and more like a five year old with every word.
Mello chuckles and turns on his heel, intending to walk away from Matt, leaving him in the tree.
"Mels, help me!" Matt almost screams at him, his form almost melted into the darkness and the deep green leaves.
Mello turns back to look at the redhead, sighing, before climbing back up to sit next to him. "Just follow me." he tells him, grabbing Matt's arm and pulling him down after him. Matt climbs down slowly, slipping occasionally and whimpering every time he looks down, but Mello can't feel angry with him.
When Mello's booted feet hit solid ground again, Matt starts to slip off the lowest branch. Mello reaches out to help his friend, stomach twisting a little as he rests his hands on either side of his roommate's waist.
"Thanks Mello." Matt whispers before he bounces to the ground. He stumbles and brushes against Mello, their lips touching for a fraction of a moment before he pulls back out of Mello's hands and backs away, he cheeks burning a fierce scarlet.
"Sorry." Mello mumbles, his voice soft.
Matt looks up at him, biting his lip. He wonders if, finally, after hearing the anger disappear from his friend's words, he's found a way to get Mello out of his "moods."