Summary:.
"I'm not going to be that pathetic girl whose world stops spinning just because of some guy."
I'm not sure if it's worded accurately, but it inspired me to write this Matt/Mello fic…Mello left Matt at Whammy's four years ago, when they were both thirteen. Matt left Whammy's soon after Mello, but Matt has nothing to prove. He isn't trying to catch Kira. He is merely surviving. But now, when Mello calls Matt for help, Matt is forced to acknowledged just how broken Mello had left him - how broken he still is because he refuses to face his problem.
A/N: I know this whole Mello calling Matt for help and them solving their issues has been done. But this will be different. There is no mushy 'I'm sorry I left you, I love you' bit. This fic will act as a sort of character study. So I will focus on painting each character artistically with words. So if you could review to inform me of how badly I suck at that, I'd appreciate the feedback. Also, I acknowledge that both Matt and Mello are British. Mello lived in America for two or so years (well, he was apart of the mafia for one and a half), so he may have adopted many Americanisms - especially with the lot he was running around with - but Matt remained in Britain. I am American. I will do my best to use the correct words when it comes to Matt, but if I use an incorrect word, please tell me. I'm not completely happy with this chapter but please enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own death note. Clearly. If I did, I'd be making money for this fic. And I'm not.
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The apartment was small and looked infinitely smaller with the near countless mass of bodies. The furniture in the living room had been moved off to the side, so the bodies could press closer together, clumsily moving to the music that violently shook the thin walls. It was Soulja Boy tell em's Bapes. The thin blonde, clad in his skin tight leather, wrinkled his nose in distaste at the choice of music. Mello picked his way through the crowded room, shoving at the intrusive bodies, but no one seemed to notice.
The living area of the small apartment was completely littered with these people. Strangers. The couch were occupied with several teenagers going at it in a way Mello never would in public. But it wasn't just the couch - it was counter tops, tables, up against any available wall. The ground was surely too dangerous to fuck on - with all the stamping feet. If Mello stared too long at the crowd of people, he'd notice that more than a few hands were dipping beneath the waist band. Sex hung heavily in the air.
The apartment stank of piss and vomit, and that distinct smell of pot. Every flat surface that wasn't being occupied by a body was littered with drug paraphernalia. Mello, annoyed at the muggy atmosphere of this too tiny room, shoved his way into the only bedroom in the apartment.
The bedroom was dark, shrouding the majority of the objects in shadow. But Mello could see clearly that there was an assortment of computers and cables filling up this bedroom. The equipment made the room look a lot smaller than it was. Glancing at one of the four laptops, Mello saw it was in the middle of a complicated transaction. Against the far wall, curled on a bed was a body. Mello carefully picked his way across the room, stepping over each individual cable and reached the edge of the bed. And from there, he stared down at this figure. A familiar white and black stripped arm poked out above the heavy comforter that was tangled around the body. Mello hesitated. This could be Matt.
No. He knew this was Matt. Mello reached down and tugged the blanket back, and then he paused again. He stared down at that mop of red hair. It was longer now than it'd ever been at Whammy's. Mello reached out a hand to brush several long strands away from Matt's face.
His hand lowered to touch the orange tinted goggles that hung around Matt's neck. Matty really hadn't changed. "Is that the kid?" Mello had been followed by his 'body guard.' The man was there as muscle, even though Mello had tried to assure them that he wouldn't need muscle. Matty wasn't a fighter. Matty was clumsy and scatter brained. He almost wished Matt would wake up and try to escape, just to assure Mello that he could, in fact, defend himself to some degree.
Carl moved forward. The bed dipped beneath his weight and Carl put his meaty hands on Matt. Green eyes snapped open and Carl's hand roughly covered Matt's mouth. But Matty wasn't a screamer. Even if he were, whatever sound he made would be absorbed by the walls and lost within the obtrusive music that continuously crashed in on them. Those bewildered green eyes flickered past Carl to Mello. The pupils were dilated to the point that Mello could hardly see any whites. Matty was high off of his ass on something, but realization had quickly set in.
Matt kicked out quickly, catching Mello in the face with enough force to knock Mello back onto his ass. Mello swore loudly. He'd been taken by surprise; Mello hadn't even touched Matt yet, and the bastard fucking kicked him. In the face. Carl was suddenly on top of Matt and the hacker struggled to fit his knees in between Carl and his own body. Using the brunt of his legs he managed to throw Carl off of him and onto the floor. The muscle fell hard, but the sound was silent.
Matt was off his bed and on his feet but the speed in which Matt moved caught him off guard. He was suddenly lightheaded and he fell, tripping over Mello. Hands, eager and violent, snatched at Matt and a body climbed over him. But Matt was still struggling and Mello wanted to smile at the force behind those terrified green eyes. Until Matt's knee lifted abruptly and caught Mello in the stomach. The air left him in a surprised gasp and Matt damn near managed to wiggle free again.
A boot kciked Matt in the face and he froze as his vision cut out. Blood gushed from his mouth and Carl kicked him again. Something metallic connected with Matt's cheek and the skin split open. Matt swore, his speech only slightly slurred. And boy could the gamer swear. He had a filthy mouth, far dirtier than it used to be at Whammy's. Mello pressed the barrel of his gun against Matt's jugular and he fell silent. He didn't have to blink away his blurry vision to know what was pressed against his neck.
"What are you doing?" Matt asked after a moment. Because Mello had just sat there, pinning the tense body beneath his, his gun making it difficult for Matt to swallow. Mello had sat there and stared down at him. Matt was all grown up now…and he looked beautiful. His face pale, the purple bruises beneath his eyes reminiscent of the bags that had always adorned L. Even with his face covered in blood - Matt was gorgeous. But his question was deeper, prying. He wanted to know what Mello was doing. Why Mello was doing this.
"Shut the fuck up," Mello seethed. And Matt did. Such an obedient little boy. "I'm going to put my gun away," he told Matt. "Will you keep you hands and feet to yourself like a good little dog?" His words were scathing. It was easy to see the reflection of his insults in Matt's eyes now that the boy was without his goggles. Matt looked hurt for the briefest of moments. The gun slapped his chin and the hacker recoiled. The metal left a stinging pain behind. "I'm sorry I didn't catch that. Speak, boy!"
Matt's eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate the jokes at all. "I'll behave," he answered stiffly. There was a tenseness to Matt's tone that was rare. So very rare.
Mello smiled down at him brightly and then he rose but his gun remained trained on Matt. "Get up," he commanded. Matt rose obediently. And Mello stared at him once more. It was a creepy stare that had Matt shifting uncomfortably. Matt's jeans were loose and hung low on his bony hips. They looked well worn and dirty. The Chucks on his feet were scuffed and abused. The long-sleeved striped shirt was baggy and the white stripes were stained. They no longer appeared white. Matt looked poor. And Mello realized - he looked like a child. Nineteen. So much younger than Mello had allowed himself to remember, even though it was an age they both shared.
Matt dragged his arm across his cheek and smeared the blood across his face. A grimace twisted his lips but the bleeding didn't stop. Mello cleared his throat and Matt's eyes swiveled back up to meet his. "We are going to escort you from your flat. There's a car waiting outside. Behave and we won't have to kick your arse. Again."
"How's your face feel, Mello?" Matt bit out, his lips turning up into a smirk Mello hadn't ever seen on his face before. Mello lashed out, intent on violently wiping that stupid smirk from his face. Matt stumbled back, clearly off balanced by the blow. His mind couldn't take all of this physical contact. He couldn't think, and knowing he couldn't think wasn't doing anything to clear up that problem.
"Don't fucking talk unless you're told, got that?" Mello snapped. Matt didn't answer and Mello scowled at him. He shoved Matt back toward the door, and the hacker got the message. Obediently, he walked out of his room. Matt managed to slip gracefully into the crowd and then out of it once more in mere seconds, leaving both Mello and Carl to fumble through way through the mass of bodies again. None of Matt's 'friends' seemed to notice the guns in both Carl and Mello's fists, or the blood on Matt's face and neck.
He was marched down the five flights of stairs and out of the apartment building. Once at the car, Carl bodily bent Matt over the hood. With a meaty hand pressed into the small of Matt's back, Carl roughly began to search the hacker. He emptied the contents of Matt's pockets out onto the hood of the car. Half a pack of cigarettes. Two double A batteries. Two hundred and fifty seven pounds. A set of car keys. Several unpackaged pills, varying in size and color.
Not satisfied, Carl kicked Matt's legs further apart, and roughly patted his him down again. "Matty doesn't have any weapons, Carl," Mello said knowingly.
It was true. Matt was pathetic when it came to weapons. But the way Mello said it, so condescending, made it sound as if Matt were simply beneath weapons, and he was a fool to be caught unarmed. If he'd had a gun, would he have really shot at Mello? A fat fist in Matt's hair, and he was being jerked away from the hood and shoved bonelessly into the back seat. Matt struggled into a sitting position as Mello and Carl got into the car. He was left alone in the back seat, and Matt was actually surprised. Quickly he wiggled his hands into his back pocket and extracted the thin piece of tin. It took some effort, but he managed to position the tin into the lock and began to move it with graceful ease.
At the first red light, he wasn't just out of his restraints, he was lunging for the closest door, simultaneously unlocking it and flinging himself from the car. He could hear Mello's loud curse as he took off down the side wall. But he was already shoving that certain predicament from his mind. He first created an entire map of the city in his mind, and then he dissected the city and began to create the closest and easiest escape routes. This was his city. It was where he'd lived since leaving Whammy's. All he had to do was find an alley - inevitably dark, and use it to slip away. Matt ducked down the first alley. quickly jogged to the end of it and chose a direction seemingly at random. The foot steps he'd heard behind him had faded.
Even as Matt held the map of the city in his mind, he had to suspiciously question himself. Mello had been heavy into sports the last he'd seen of the blonde. Matt had avoided sunlight like the bubonic plague. He was already wheezing with his exertion. He was running for his life and slowing down, gasping for fleeting air. And then crashing into him like a semi from hell, Carl brought Matt mercilessly to the ground. His knee collided with the unforgiving concrete, but he was already trying to wiggle free from Carl.
"Stop," Carl barked, jabbing a knee into the small of Matt's back and successfully pinning him to the hard ground.
"Fuck you," Matt panted. A flailing elbow caught Carl in the face and the man violently knocked Matt's arm back to the concrete. The collision jarred his elbow and he didn't even try to muffle his admission of pain. The gun was back, pressing intrusively against the back of his skull. Matt laid still.
"Try that shit again and I will make sure you can't walk," Carl growled. Matt didn't doubt him. Carl fastened handcuffs around Matt's wrists again, but, much to Matt's dismay, the handcuffs were combination locked. This must have been Mello's idea, Matt figured. How many goons carry around combination locked handcuffs? Really?
He was dragged - he'd lost the right of walking - back to the car, where Mello was waiting patiently. Mello turned around in the front seat to beam down at the boy in the back seat. Poor Matty. He really didn't look like he was having fun. The look Matt gave Mello was almost enough to shatter Mello's grin. Almost.