Rain pounded the pavement in hard, wet drops; not a playful summer shower, no, not this. This was harsh, stinging, biting rain, without relent, without forgiveness. This was the rain that stuck hair to your face and made you feel soaked and abandoned, hopeless and alone.
Matt never minded the rain.
Matt was nothing; He was a shell. Lost, adrift, empty- floating dimly through a wasteland of disenchantment, barely taking any of it in, barely even there. A sharp mind, a quick wit with no purpose, no destination. Dark goggles shrouded apathetic eyes, just another barrier between himself and the world, himself and caring.
A long drag of a cigarette, a fleeting wonder about how it even stayed lit in this weather. Fleeting, yes, that was Matt. Always moving on, glancing away, no time to get bored, no time to care. He twirled a key ring around his index finger like a helicopter- little things. It almost made him feel human.
Brushing wet auburn hair from his eyes, Matt trudged up the steps to his apartment building. He stopped briefly in the alcove, glancing at a body slumped in the corner, next to the mailboxes. The figure, clad in dripping black leather, twirled a lock of the blonde hair spilling from beneath his hood, regarding Matt without actually looking up at him.
Matt knew it was Mello, his conscious mind accepting it simply and mechanically, no question, no fault. But this new arrival shook his heart in a much deeper fashion- emotions threatened to stir and he let them, without hesitation.
Four years. Four fucking years.
The dark figure shrugged a hand into his ragged coat, pulling out a half-eaten chocolate bar and breaking off a chunk with his teeth, as if to confirm Matt's already unquestionable suspicions. For what seemed like hours, they just sat there, key dangling limply from Matt's outstretched hand, the sound of cracking chocolate filling the silence, making the echoes of rain seem miles away.
And then, Mello looked up.
A shock ran through Matt's system- both from actually seeing Mello's face, after all this time, and from the half-dead state of the boy in front of him. Their eyes locked and Matt knelt, the ever-obedient dog, by his master's side. He ran a gentle hand along the blonde's scarred flesh. Mello winced, but smiled, one of his trademark manic grins, flashing every tooth and boasting a glint of insanity in his beautiful and endless black eyes.
"Matt." Mello coughed, his voice no more than a hoarse, crackling whisper. He himself seemed surprised at its sound, as if he hadn't spoken in a long, long time.
"I need your help."
Matt nodded, without hesitation. He would follow the boy into the its of hell and Mello knew it.
"I need you to help me catch Kira."
Matt's normally expressionless face almost managed to contort itself into a look of surprise- confused muscles frantically trying to grasp the new concept before settling for slightly parted lips and widened eyes. But he nodded. Near was involved, that much was obvious. Mello's skewed vision of right and wrong could never have led the boy to resign himself to such a task. Matt lifted Mello to his feet, allowing the blonde to use him as a crutch, and he smiled, a dark, devilish grin to match his counterpart's.
Of course Matt knew this was crazy. That Mello was far too deep into this, that he himself was walking straight into the fire⦠But he accepted that. Suddenly, he had a meaning, and a purpose; and feeling anything was better than feeling nothing at all.
So arm in arm they walked on, never stopping, never looking back. Together again, they marched to the gallows, brandishing twin smiles and almost, but not quite, believing they'd make it.
