Author's Note: I came up with this story by candle light, when there was no electricity in my new home. No electricity, no heat, no plumbing. Obvious solution? Write a fanfic. Onward!
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. But I really wish I did.
Warning: Language, violence.
"Damnit, Matt…" Mello swore as he ripped open the cabinets
"Damnit, Matt…" Mello swore as he ripped open the cabinets. No food. No booze. Not even a rat graced the bare shelves of their half-assed kitchen. "Matt!" he yelled, slamming a drawer so hard that the false wood splintered, "It is your fucking turn to find something for us to eat! This place is such a fucking dump. Can't you turn on some goddamn lights?"
"Can't," Matt said without taking his eyes off the Gameboy screen before him. "No electricity. Bill wasn't paid. Good thing nothing in the fridge will spoil."
"That's because there's nothing in the fucking fridge," Mello seethed. "Get off your ass and fetch some food. Don't make me whore you out or something."
"What are you? My pimp?" Matt snorted in agitation, flicking the POWER OFF button on his handheld console. "Fine. I'll go. I'll go steal some shit for you. Be back in a couple of hours." He kicked his house slippers off, rummaging under the couch for a pair of sneakers.
"Don't fucking come back empty-handed!" Mello warned, kicking the wall in agitation when Matt flipped the bird as he slipped out the door. "Damn it, Matt…"
Mello sat on the balcony railing, idly kicking his legs under the harsh glare of a streetlight. He flipped mindlessly through the pages of a well-worn magazine when hunger pains forced him to check the time. 10:30 P.M.
"Ten-thirty?" he wondered, "What is taking so long? I'm not worried…but I might want to check around town. In case that asshole is slacking off." He stomped out of the apartment, pausing briefly to collect his pistol, and began searching for the renegade redhead.
As the town clock chimed midnight, Mello swore and kicked a nearby tree. The park lay eerily quiet and still for the season, setting his superstitious fears on edge. Mello gripped his gun tightly as he passed under a lovers' walkway where fallen cherry blossoms littered the path like tiny hands gripping his boots. A tiny noise from behind a shrub sculpted in the image of a hawk startled him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He yanked his gun from its holster and aimed, keeping his shot steady.
"Who's there?" He called, eyes flaring wildly.
"Mmfg…" Came the muffled response.
Mello inched closer to the shrub, keeping his finger poised on the trigger. He kicked lightly at the bush with the toe of his boot, eliciting a whiney moan from the bush's occupant.
"Who's there?" He repeated, cautiously reaching down to move a handful of leaves.
"M-me…" A pale hand flopped out from underneath the hawk's wing.
"…Matt?" Mello's eyes widened. He dropped his gun to the ground, pushing aside the great wings of the bird to reveal a beaten and bloody Matt.
"Jesus Christ, son-of-a-bitch…Matt…" Mello hissed, "What the fuck?"
"I got jumped," Matt replied weakly.
"When?" Mello scooped the battered boy's head onto his lap.
"Few hours ago, I guess. Daylight. They left me. Took money. Took cigarettes. Didn't get these." With a shaking hand, Matt pulled two bruised apples from under the bush. Gently, he placed on in Mello's open palm. "Dinner."
"Oh Matt," Mello sighed, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, "You idiot."
"Maybe," Matt said, cracking a faint smile, "But that's why you love me."
"Yeah," Mello smirked, pulling the bruised gamer in a haphazard embrace. He rested his sweaty forehead against Matt's bloodstained one, savoring the tender moment. "I suppose you're right."