Fantasy
"Damn it!" Mello swore more than any other person(which was a small number) Matt had ever known. "That little albino piece of shit beat me again!" Crash. A lamp went flying across the room, smashing into the wall. "I don't get it." Another crash. This time a book was hurled. It hit the wall and fell to the floor of the room. "Ever since the Death Note was taken from me, Near's been--"
"Mel, chill," Matt finally spoke up. Still, he did not look up from his game.
Mello whirled on him. "No, Matt, you chill," he hissed, the word rolling off his tongue like a disease. "You play your stupid fuckin' video games while I work half my ass off trying to catch Kira!"
"I call dibs on the other half of your ass," Matt said, seeming to have only heard that part. It would appear as a joke to Mello, but Matt was serious. He'd been in love with his best friend for a long while, though the other did not know it.
"Matt!" came the shrill, frustrated response. Surprisingly, silence followed, which was strange for Mello, considering the fact he almost always threw something at Matt when he was having a tantrum.
Matt, meanwhile, was relieved the shouting was over. He relaxed against their beat up couch, thumbs flying over the buttons of his black PSP. A few more minutes went by. Finally, Matt's curiosity got the better of him and he paused his game, looking up at where the blond had been last standing. He expected steel blue eyes glaring at him. If looks could kill...
But instead, Mello was on the floor, in a position that resembled L's. His face was buried in his knees, arms wounded tightly around those thin, leather-clad legs. And small, quiet sobs emitted from Matt's usually energetic best friend.
Matt put his game on their coffee table and walked over. He knelt down to Mello's level and stroked blond locks soothingly. "Mello?" He asked quietly. "Aw, shit. Sorry, Mels, I shouldn't have said..."
"I hate it!" Mello's thin frame shook. "I hate that I'm always second! Why can't I be first, just for once? I've worked my ass off practically my whole life, but Near, he does nothing and he's still better than me!" Now he lifted his head to look Matt in the eyes.
And Matt's heart pulled agonizingly at the pained expression on Mello's face, the sadness in those blue orbs. "Mel," Matt cooed, his arms encircling the chocoholic. "It's okay. You'll beat him in the end, I know it."
Mello had gone silent, save for the small sniffles. Matt sighed and picked up Mello from their rather dirty floor, carrying the surprisingly light blond to their couch. He set him down so that Mello was on his back. Mello reached for their one pillow and hugged it tightly underneath his neck. "M-matt..."
Matt smiled at the...cuteness of his best friend. "Yeah, Mels?" He squeezed his hand.
"Tell me a bedtime story." Mello smiled weakly.
"A s-story?" Matt was a little taken aback. Mello hadn't asked to be a told a story since they were nine.
"Yes..." Mello paused. "Please."
And Matt smiled again. "All right, Mello." He pondered for a few moments, still holding Mello's soft hand. "There were two--"
"Stop," Mello interrupted.
"What?"
"You didn't start with 'Once upon a time.' You used to do that."
"All right. Once upon a time..."
Mello snuggled into a more comfortable position as he listened, enraptured, to the redhead's story.
"...there were two boys," Matt continued. "They were very best friends. Their names were Maroon and Yellow."
Mello hit him lightly.
Matt shrugged. "It's my story," he said. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Maroon and Yellow. From the moment Yellow strode up to Maroon, yanked Maroon's goggles back and snapped them into his eyes, Maroon knew that they were fated to be together. That incident was the start of a rocky, yet sturdy friendship.
"They were practically inseparable. They shared a room, shared the same classes, shared food. They went to breakfast together, to lunch, to dinner, and even outside, though Maroon hated the outdoors. And as the years went by, Maroon, unexpectedly, developed feelings for Yellow. Yellow, though, was too preoccupied with a damn albino named White to notice Maroon's true feelings."
Mello hit him again. "White? Really, Matt?"
Said redhead ignored him and continued. "One day, Maroon finally decided he would tell Yellow. He would take the answer like a man, whether it was acceptance or rejection. But before Maroon could even put down his DS, Yellow stormed in with a tear-streaked face. Maroon realized that he wouldn't be able to tell Yellow, especially when his best friend was crying. He knew Yellow seldom cried, so what had pushed him to do so?
"Maroon listened to Yellow's shaky explanation. The chocolate-lover's idol, Panda, had died. And White had been chosen to succeed him, not Yellow.
"And that night, when Yellow thought Maroon was asleep, he left. Just like that. Maroon listened to the sound of his best friend leaving, feigning sleep. He knew he could not stop Yellow." Here, Matt's voice went soft and his eyes got cloudy.
Mello watched him carefully. Why was he doing this? Why was he recalling nasty memories? It made Mello feel guilty. Surely that wouldn't be Matt's goal, right?
"The next day, Maroon ran away also. He could not bear to wake up in the morning and find the space next to him empty, couldn't bear to glance at the dresser, only to find that a chocolate bar wasn't there. He eventually found a crappy apartment and took a job as a hacker. Four years passed, and he found himself walking down the sidewalk, past the familiar ice cream parlor where he and Yellow used to go to. But, when he looked through the windows, there he was! There was Yellow!
"Maroon's eyes lit up and he grinned for the first time in a long while. He ran inside the shop and practically tackled Yellow off the barstool."
Mello's grip tightened on the pillow. He knew all too well who the characters really were, and at the same time wondered if the story was true. There were only two parts Mello was unsure of. One of them was the part where Matt found him. Matt hadn't seen him; it was Mello who had spotted him. After all, who could miss that bright, red mop of hair? Mello had stood up and ran outside, then tackled the redhead with a bear hug, whispering 'sorry' over and over again. And Matt...Matt had let him back in his life as though he hadn't deserted his best friend.
The second part was about 'Maroon' having feelings for 'Yellow'. What had that meant? Did Matt really...?
Mello's heart clenched. If Matt really did have feelings for him, then he must have suffered through hell when Mello left him. Oh, if only he had known...
"They were on the ground, and everyone was staring, but Maroon did not care," Matt was still saying. His voice was distant, as if he were in his own fantasy land. "He kissed Yellow, and when he pulled away, he whispered, 'I love you, Mello--!'" Matt froze at his mistake. He prayed Mello hadn't heard. Oh, god, if he had, Matt didn't know what he'd do.
Mello, who had stopped crying, smirked. "Don't you mean 'Yellow,' Matt?"
Matt nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. I got carried away." He averted his eyes to the floor.
Mello held the redhead's hand up to his lips. "What was that, Matt?" He was referring to his story.
"Oh, just a fantasy is all..." Matt said quietly, before a soft, tentative kiss was placed on his hand. He looked down at Mello, surprised.
Mello smiled. "Then let's make it reality."