A/N: Spawned by my longing for the winter and my love of the Avett Brothers, and written in 90-some odd degree weather, I give you pointless and seemingly AU-fluff.
Disclaimer: I don't know about you, but I don't own Death Note.
Your yellow hair is like the sunlight,
However
sweet it shines.
Bit by the cold of December,
I'm warm beside your smile.
-- The Avett Brothers, 'November Blue'
In the wintertime, the apartment is cold.
It's not a comfortable kind of cold, either, the kind that just barely nags at you and can be easily combated by snuggling. Rather, it's a biting kind of cold, the sort of cold that creeps under the door and through the cracks in the windows, and any other nook or cranny it can find.
It's the kind of cold that leaves Mello curled around Matt in a rather pitiful attempt to share and salvage body heat, most mornings.
One morning, though, Matt, barefoot and shirtless wakes at some ungodly hour or other and can't find it in himself to go back to sleep.
Carefully, he pushes Mello away, the blond in such a deep sleep he hardly notices, and pads across the old hardwood, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter off the bedside table and heading out onto the balcony.
The sun has barely risen, and Matt wonders idly if he should go get a jacket, or at least some shoes, because Mello will be pissed if he gets frostbite and the snow is already starting to come down. Against his better judgment, he decides to just remain outside, and Matt leans against the icy rail, exhaling smoke into the already-foggy morning air.
Matt doesn't hear the door open, nor does he hear the footsteps, but before he knows it, Mello's arms are around his waist and his disheveled, blond head resting on a freckled shoulder.
Of course, Mello has to be as cold as Matt, also barefoot and wearing nothing more than one of the latter's old, striped shirts and an ugly quilt draped around his shoulders.
"Good morning," he whispers in Matt's ear. "How long have you been up? You're going to catch your death out here."
Matt just smiles to himself and flicks his cigarette down to the ground below them.
And he can't help but wonder if the rest of the world feels this lucky.