The Introduction

(aka, the fancier-than-usual author note)

"The Lyrical Matt And Mello." Sounds like it should be a musical or something, doesn't it?

Music has been the number one inspiration for almost every Matt/Mello story I've written. I've got a whole playlist for them in my iTunes (4.8 hours worth of stuff!), and though I never listen to music while I write, somehow the beat gets in my blood with these guys. A song puts me in a mood, which leads to an idea, which leads to a story that usually happens to involve Matt and Mello. I don't tend to weave the lyrics directly into the text much, but come on. You guys have seen me use music to some degree. (Rammstein? Tristan und Isolde?) Lately I've realized that I've written down more lyrics than I can keep track of. The obsession has recently extended to poetry, so there will be poems in here as well. It's all pretty inspiring stuff that I know I can use. Hence, I'm putting together a series of short drabbles that were influenced by songs and poetry. What you'll get in each chapter is lyrics first, and then my brief interpretations via Matt and Mello. For the most part, things will be short, sweet, and self-explanatory. Hopefully everyone can get some music and culture out of this! What I aim to highlight in this collection are the lyrics, anyway — not my own work.

Oh! Disclaimers. Obviously, songs and poems will be credited to their proper artists. Also, I don't guarantee that you will like the songs I've used here if you download and listen to them out of curiosity. Everyone's taste is different. Plus, for this fic, it's all about lyrics and not so much the sound.

"The Lyrical Matt And Mello." God, I should put them in dance shoes, twirl them 'round a stage in leotards with flowing skirts….

~Lyric 01~

If you take a step, I will make you sure that you take the next

If you tell a lie, I'll just nod my head, yeah, I'll let it slide

Cause you woke me up, and there's birds outside, and I still feel drunk

But I'm glad you did, cause last night you weren't making that much sense.

You said you wanna die, now you say you wanna live

You said you loved me after forty-five minutes

If this is all a game can you just say it is?

I'll do it anyway, so it makes no difference

We should order up, wash the wine out of the coffee cup

They got bread and fruit, there's probably not much else for you.

We can lay around, you can kiss me 'til the maids come kick us out.

It's eleven now so make every second count

But back in New York they can't ever find this out

There are things we do, that we're really not allowed

We can say anything, but we just can't say it loud.

I hope you always find someone to take you home

To put you into bed, kiss your cheek, and check your pulse

Make sure you're still breathing, with their hand up to your nose

I wish that could be me, but it's just not possible.

—DNTEL, "Breakfast in Bed"

The hotel room buzzed in the quiet.

A bee farm, Matt thought drowsily. He rolled over. Low, steady, and mesmerizing — hypnotic humming. Like they were napping on the grass in the sunshine, while all around them, honey glazed the combs… tessellated little labyrinths, those combs, concealing sweetness thick and amber and dripping….

Matt cracked an eye open, and the digital clock by the bedside clicked to 6:04 am. The buzzing continued. He sat up.

Hangovers gave him the weirdest dreams.

Mello stirred, but didn't wake. Matt squinted at the lines on the carpet; the sun made streaks between the slats of the blinds. He followed the golden bars up, up off the floor back onto the bed, trailing them to where they zig-zagged over Mello's sleeping form. Mello's hair was fanned across the pillow, caught in the light like a prism. Instead of rainbow, Matt gazed at a honey color. Honey blond.

Mello leaned forward, catching Matt's lips in a wild lock, and his hair fell against Matt's cheek. Golden blond, honey blond beneath the naked light bulb, and Matt's fingers tangled in it long enough to tug him closer—

Matt shook his head.

They never should have. But oh, he'd wanted to. And Mello… Mello had needed to — he'd said so — but it wasn't really something that could last. Matt figured that feelings lasted only as long as people lasted.

The brightness of the sun on Mello's hair made Matt squint. He looked away and swung his feet onto the floor, dragging a hand down his face. He leaned forward to put weight on his legs and stand up.

Fingers, lean and powerful, snaked out to grip his wrist. "Matt…." The droning of the bees hummed beneath the timbre of Mello's voice.

Matt sank back onto the bed.