Christmas Lights
It was the afternoon before Christmas. In a small particular neighborhood, where the front yards were covered in sheets of white, where majority of the houses were decorated with bright Christmas lights, many squeals of excitement echoed everywhere from children as they sled down somewhat steep hills. Joyous laughter came from a big field stamped with snow, kids throwing snowballs at each other. Everything seemed like the perfect cliche Christmas story.
However, in one particular apartment, two teenagers were arguing about something.
"You weren't paying fucking attention to me!" The blond one yelled, cussing with free will.
"You didn't have to fuckin' shoot my game!" retorted the redhead. "Now what am I supposed to do when all of that...angel crap* is covering our lawn outside? You know I hate the outdoors! There won't be anything to do!"
"How about doing your job for once?" The one known as Mello hissed. He glared, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. "It'd be a nice change if you could work without getting distracted very five minutes!"
"It's something called having a fuckin' hobby, Mello," Matt said, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you go get one?"
"I do have a hobby," Mello said.
"Oh, that's right." Matt laughed. "Shooting people and throwing tantrums when you don't get what you want. How fucking mature."
"Stop cussing!"
"Hypocrite!"
"Lazy-ass!"
"Son of a bitch!"
"Decrepit!"
"Douch--Hey!" Matt stopped abruptly, frowning. "I am not weakened by the infirmities of old age!"
"Or are you?" Mello smirked. "You probably are. After all, why would you be able to just sit there all day and fuckin'--"
"Hypocrite..." Matt drawled.
"--stare at a tiny screen, mashing away at buttons?" Mello finished. "Face it, oh decrepit one."
"F-fine!" Matt fumed. "If I'm decrepit, you can be crippled!"
"What! No!"
"A demented, crippled hobo named George!" Matt yelled, running away to the bathroom. God, his head hurt. Mello had such a loud, whiny voice. The gamer locked himself in the bathroom where no evil blond could come and stab him with a machete.
"Matt, come out, come out, wherever you are," came the playful voice from outside.
"Shut the fuck up!" Matt punched the door.
There was a dramatic sigh. "Oh, well. It looks like we'll have to draw the little puppy out."
Matt gritted his teeth. He loathed being called a puppy, and what he loathed more was the fact that Mello knew he did.
Bang!
Matt's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he thought, OhgodohgodohgodohgodnopleasenopleasedontbemyDS!
"Heh, Matty, your DS looks weird all burnt and in pieces," snickered Mello from outside.
With a roar, Matt yanked the door open and hurled something at Mello's head. The chocoholic only managed to turn before something oblong, white and solid rammed into his forehead, hard. "Oh, look at the swimming stars," he slurred, and crumpled to the floor like a marionette being cut from its strings.
Suddenly, all the fight went out of Matt and he scrambled over to the mafia leader. "Mello!" he whispered, shaking Mello's shoulders. "Oh, god, please say I didn't kill you!" Feeling a steady pulse told him otherwise, so Matt leaned back on his heels and rocked slowly back and forth beside Mello's unmoving body.
"Okay, what to do," he murmured. "Oh, right! Call 911!" He knew Mello wouldn't be happy about that, but he'd thank Matt later for saving him from hemorrhage. Probably.
...
"There were no severe head injuries, although he may experience some amnesia," the doctor in a white coat said, writing stuff down on his clipboard.
Matt anxiously wrung his hands together, glancing worriedly at Mello, who was laying down on a white bed in the white room. "Are the chances of him getting amnesia high? How long is it going to last?"
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "There's about a 40% chance that he could, considering what you hit him with and how hard it hit his head. What did you throw at him?" The doctor asked.
Matt looked down guiltily. "A toilet seat."
The doctor blinked in disbelief before adjusting his glasses. "Ahem. Yes, right. Most amnesia's don't last too long, possibly several days. The injury wasn't too serious, so we can expect up to three days, if he does get it."
"He'll forget how to eat and stuff for three days?!" Matt exclaimed.
The doctor shook his head. "No, no. He'll remember the basics. He'll just act...premature, let's just say."
Matt furrowed his eyebrows. It didn't sound too good, but better than the PMSing blond he had rampaging around every day. "Thank you, doctor." He bowed a little. "When did you say he was going to wake up?"
"Soon. You can go home as soon as he does." The doctor left without another word.
"Oh, god, Mello, I'm so sorry," Matt said once he was alone with his best friend. "Damn, I didn't mean to throw that toilet seat! I swear!"
He sat in the chair for a few moments. Then, Mello woke up.
Matt expected to be hit. He expected to be yelled at. He expected to be thrown out of the hospital because Mello had destroyed more than one room. Anything, from getting a black eye to breaking a limb. Instead, Mello blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up, a little smile on his face.
He turned to Matt. "Hi."
Matt opened an eye. He gulped. "H-hi, Mel." Was this the calm before the storm?
"Why do I feel dizzy?" Mello put a hand to his forehead. "I-I don't feel so good, Matty." Immediately, Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, giving Mello his shoulder to lean on. "Thank you." Mello giggled.
Matt mentally slapped himself. Did Mello just giggle? Damn, maybe he'd been right about being decrepit... Mello didn't just say thank you, not even to Matt. There was always the smile or the thankful look, but never the words. Perhaps Matt was going insane.
"Can we go home?" Mello was tugging on his sleeve now, looking up with big, baby blue eyes.
With that gaze, Matt couldn't say no. Did Mello just give me the puppy eyes? He brushed off the thought. This was probably the amnesia the doctor was talking about. It would only last for a couple of days, and with luck, Mello would be back by tomorrow--Christmas. Matt silently hoped so; after all, he was going to make a very important confession that night...
After signing out at the front desk, Matt supported Mello as they made their way out of the building. "Whoa, look at that man's furry jacket!" Mello gasped, pointing to a man walking by. Indeed, the stranger was wearing a black fuzzy coat.
"Yes, Mello." Matt shivered involuntarily. Why hadn't he brought his vest again? Oh, right. After 911 didn't get to their house fast enough, Matt practically ran to the nearest hospital carrying Mello.
"Brr." Mello suddenly pushed himself into Matt's chest.
"M-Mello?" Matt said in surprise.
"I'm cold," Mello squeaked from the fabric of Matt's shirt.
The redhead felt sorry for him; after all, he was only wearing his leather vest. Without thinking about the consequences, he wrapped his arms around Mello's frame and squeezed, managing to keep walking.
"Warm," Mello sighed, hooking his legs around Matt's waist.
"Mello!" Matt repeated his name for the umpteenth time that day. "What are you doing?"
"I'm tired, Matty." The chocoholic yawned, resting his head on Matt's shoulders and wounding his arms around the gamer's neck. Matt blushed a deep scarlet shade, putting a hand hesitantly on Mello's back. Ignoring many strange stares from passerby's, he walked back to their apartment. Right when he arrived at their front door, Mello jumped off and laughed giddily, picking up a handful of snow. "Snow!" He grinned, throwing the handful into the air.
Matt stared in awe at the frolicking blond. He seemed so carefree. Not like the man he lived with, the one who was obsessed with beating Near and catching Kira. Right now, he only saw the eight-year-old he knew back at Wammy's, before Kira, before Near. And he felt happy about it.
So he joined in, forming a snowball and firing it at Mello. It's aim was true. It caught Mello in the back of his head. Matt laughed at Mello's surprised face. Then, the next thing he knew, something round and cold was running down his chest, and he looked down in shock to see that Mello had stuffed his shirt with ice.
It was Mello's turn to laugh. He gathered another handful of snow and patted it into a small sphere.
Matt ignored his numb chest and shouted, "I'm gonna get you!" Grinning, he fisted some snow and ran after Mello.
Many snowballs later, Matt was peeling off Mello's vest, which stuck to him like, well, leather. After finally stripping the blond bare, he sent him to his own room to change. Matt was halfway through changing himself when Mello came in, naked as the day he was born.
Matt gaped.
"I don't have any shirts!" Mello whined, completely unaware that Matt was practically salivating.
"Mel," Matt croaked. "P-put somethin' on, will you?"
Mello frowned. "What? What's so bad about being naked? We didn't use to mind!" He stomped his foot like a brat. "I need something to wear!"
Matt chucked a blanket at him. "There!" After composing himself, he asked, "Why don't you wear your leather stuff?"
"They're too tight," Mello complained. "Hey, I can borrow your shirt, right?"
Before Matt could reply, the blond had dove for his drawer and started pawing through his clothes. Matt tried in vain to avert his eyes from Mello's arse.
"Can I use this?" Mello held up a pair of striped boxers. Matt nodded, and the blond squealed in delight, pulling it on. He took out a white t-shirt and slipped it over his head. He got up and ran to give Matt a bear hug.
"N-no!" After seeing his best friend naked, Matt wasn't sure if he was ready for physical contact. He dodged Mello's arms. "Stop!" He jumped over their bed, avoiding another attempted hug.
"Why not?" Mello pouted. "I want a hug!" He stubbornly ran after Matt, who squealed and ran out to the kitchen.
"Mello, stay away from me!" Matt grabbed a fork laying on the counter, jabbing it towards the blond.
Mello stopped a few feet away from him. Then, to Matt's horror, Mello's lower lip trembled and his blue eyes watered. "Y-you don't l-like me anymore!" He cried, dropping down to his knees and bursting into sobs like an eight-year-old. Well, technically...
Matt hastily lowered the fork and walked over to Mello, kneeling down. "Ssh, don't cry, Mels. I don't hate you, I love you very much," he said honestly. He still kept his distance.
"I j-just wanted...a hug!" Mello belted out the last two words in a loud shriek and cried harder.
"A hug, okay, you'll get a hug!" Matt promised, holding out his arms. "See, see? You can hug me now. Mello, stop crying, you can hug me!" He smiled tryingly.
Mello sniffed. "You don't want me to."
"Of course I do."
"...Fine." The blond lightened up, smiling and shuffling over on his knees to hug the redhead's torso. "Just 'cuz you asked."
Matt wondered if he recalled Mello being this melodramatic before.
"I'm going to make dinner now," the striped-clad man said, slowly getting up.
Mello hugged him for a second longer then let go, bounding into their living room. "We can eat and watch TV together!" He hollered, jumping on the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.
Shaking his head to himself and smiling, Matt began to make dinner.
...
"Whoa," Mello said around a mouthful of ramen. "This is good."
Matt blinked. "It's microwave dinner, Mel."
Mello swallowed. "S'till good stuff, though," he persisted, stuffing his mouth with more.
Matt smiled and reached over, tweaking the blond's cheek. Said man glared angrily. "What's that for?" he asked after his mouth wasn't so full anymore.
"Nothing," Matt admitted. "You just looked cute."
They spent the rest of the night watching TV, Mello curled up against Matt. Silently, the redhead enjoyed himself as he flipped absentmindedly through their few channels. Today had to be one of the best days of his life.
"Stop there," Mello said suddenly.
Matt's finger froze, hovering above the button on the remote. He squinted at the TV screen. "Dora? Really, Mello?"
"¡Vamanos!" Mello shouted in return.
Matt sighed. "No," he repeated firmly, and switched the channel to some horror movie.
Mello squealed in terror during the gory parts and Matt took pleasure in hugging him in comfort. A good two hours later, Mello stared blankly at the TV, which were rolling credits. "That was scary," he whispered.
Matt ruffled his hair. "It was, Mello, it was." He got up. "Time for bed." He couldn't help but feel a little silly, acting like a father towards his best friend/accomplice/sidekick/crush. Boy, was it.
Mello just blinked up at him innocently, putting his arms out. "I'm too tired to walk. Carry me, bitch." He giggled at the cuss.
Matt inwardly sighed. Okay, maybe Mello hadn't been too innocent in his childhood. Still, he did as he was told and picked up the blond, carrying him to his bedroom.
"Hey, Matty, sleep with me?" Mello yawned, not quite letting go of Matt's sleeve.
Toying with his goggles awkwardly, Matt said, "Why?"
Mello's voice went soft. "Because I get nightmares."
Matt was struck by a feeling he didn't often feel. It was a combination of sympathy towards the blond and the need of comforting him. "Okay, Mello." He slipped underneath the covers. The bed was large enough to fit both of them. The moment Matt clicked the lamp off, Mello was softly snoring, soundly asleep.
...
The nightmare came a little past one in the morning.
Matt woke to find a shaking Mello holding on tightly to his arm with a vice-like grip. He mumbled incoherent words, things like, "Don't...it hurts...stop..."
Worried, Matt shook Mello's shoulders. "Mello, wake up," he said.
No sooner than he had said that, Mello's eyes flew open, blue orbs barely visible in the dark. "M-Matty, he's coming after me," he said frantically, shimmying further into the covers. "He's going to kill me, he said so!"
Matt didn't quite understand--Mello was touchy on the subject of his childhood-- but he wrapped his arms around the blond nonetheless, saying soothingly, "It's okay, Mello. Whoever he is, I'll kick his ass the moment he comes in. He won't take you away from me."
This experience was shedding some light on Mello's dark past, and Matt wasn't sure if he liked it or not.
"Thank you..." It was a while until Mello stopped trembling altogether. Matt sighed in relief, idly rubbing his hand up and down Mello's forearm. He kissed the blond on top of the head before carefully laying himself in a sleeping position beside him.
"Good night, Mello," the redhead mumbled, and fell fast asleep.
...
The next morning, Matt woke to the nice view of Mello sleeping beside him, soft features relaxed. Matt tried to ease himself out of bed, but the redhead was clumsy and ended up tripping over his own feet, slamming down against the floor. He made a loud crash, absolutely certain he'd roused Mello.
He was right. "Matt... Damn it, fuckin' clumsy," Mello mumbled, sitting up. "My head hurts."
Matt supposed the old Mello was back. He bit back a disappointed sigh; he enjoyed the presence of childish-Mello. "Merry Christmas, Mello," he said, getting up and grinning crookedly.
"It's Christmas...?" Mello blinked a few times. "I was out for a whole day? Damn."
So. Mello didn't remember any of yesterday, when his genius mind had transformed into a little kid's for a short period of time. Matt found this interesting. "Up, Mel." He helped the blond to his feet. "Let's go to the kitchen to have a nice Christmas breakfast together." He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Mello smile.
Half an hour later, they were sitting in front of each other, each one silently eating their chocolate chip pancakes slathered with chocolate sauce.
"Well, this has got to be the most loneliest Christmas I've ever had," Mello said pointedly.
Matt snorted. "What about those years we separated?"
Mello waved his hand dismissively. "I've always spent the night with one of those whores."
Matt swallowed thickly, ignoring the sting in his eyes--a signal he was tearing up. "I got you a present, Mel," he said resiliently.
Leaving the room for a brief while, he scurried to find the neatly wrapped box under their couch. He presented it to Mello with a shy smile. Mello smirked and received it, opening the present within a matter of ten seconds.
"Oh," he said quietly once he had unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside was a small, simple black rosary.
"I knew you lost yours in that explosion," Matt said, smiling lightly. "I thought you'd like another one."
"Thank you, Matt." For once, Mello said it earnestly. "It means a lot."
"I love you, Mello," Matt admitted.
There was a long, excruciating silence after the secret was let out. Mello was frozen there, and Matt felt stupid. Why had he said that just when he gave Mello a rosary? A rosary, god damn it, a symbol of God! Who was opposed to sodomy!
Something surprising happened next, however. Mello burst into tears.
Matt sat there, dumbstruck, at the crying man in front of him. He felt an overwhelming surge to leap forward and cradle the blond in his arms until he calmed down.
"What's wrong, Mello?" Matt leaned over the table, wiping away tears.
"I-It's just that--" Mello said, his voice cracking. "I-I've g-got the best friend ever, w-who cares about me a whole fuckin' lot, who gave me t-this b-beautiful thing and--" He trailed off hopelessly, then turned to Matt angrily. "Stupid bastard! Why didn't you tell me earlier? This is all your fault." He pointed to his tear-stained face. "Now I feel guilty as hell for lying to you about how I've never felt lonely the years we'd been separated, for not getting you a present!" He furiously wiped at his face. "It makes me feel like shit, 'cuz dammit, I've been in love with you too, ever since we were thirteen!"
Matt smiled a little, walking over to hug the blond. He let Mello cry into his shirt, rubbing his back comfortingly. "It's okay, Mello," he said truthfully, resting his chin atop Mello's head. "This is the best Christmas present I could ever want."
~End
*Angel crap -- Matt's crude synonym for snow.
Cliche ending. Do I care? Naw.
Now the longest oneshot I've ever written so far.