Plot: Mello's life after he leaves Wammy's House. It will pick up where he is introduced in the anime later on.
Rating: T, mostly for language, minor violence (later chapters), reference to substance abuse (also later chapters), and minor sexual content.
Pairing: Matt x Mello
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and elements taken from the Death Note universe. However, I take ownership of my own creations.
A/N: Hello, everyone. This is my first story, so any reads/reviews are much apprecicated. I'll try my best to upload a chapter every weekend. Thank you so much for your time and I hope you enjoy. (:
O0O
"Ugghh!"
A frustrated groan punctured the still atmosphere of the room. A sandy haired teen chucked the handheld game he had been fiddling with for the past hour and a half. The rectangular, metal box smacked against a wooden dresser, the small illuminated screen going black as it hit the carpet. Sighing, Matt grabbed a box of cigarettes from a nearby nightstand. Where the hell was Mello?
A puzzled expression clouded the boy's rugged facial features. The last time he'd seen his roommate was early that morning, around 5 o'clock. Matt had awoken to the sound of his companion rummaging around their dormitory. His eyes cracked open long enough to see the blond slip into a pair of slashed leather pants and boots before heading out the door. Not being one for mornings, he shrugged it off and let himself drift back to sleep.
Matt fixed his ashen gaze onto the world outside. It was a fairly nice day. The air was warm and welcoming- due to the return of spring- although a crisp breeze swept through every once in a while as a reminder that traces of winter still lingered. Beds of grass glistened like emerald shards in the midday sun, and the towering oaks that adorned the orphanage premises finally began to fill with lush leaves. Everything that had once been dull and lackluster now drummed with life.
Matt drew one of the freshly lit "cancer sticks", as Mello called them, to his mouth. A small grin played at his lips as he thought of his best friend. No matter how unorthodox the hardcore, chocolate-freak was he still found Matt's nicotine addiction as absolutely repulsive. Thus earning the chain smoker a number of scornful looks and vulgar insults. The brunette chuckled, exhaling a faint whirlwind of gray into air.
He let his mind wander; his mostly hidden brows furrowed slightly. What on Earth could have possessed Mello to take off so early? Matt knew more than anybody that Mello utterly despised getting up early. The duo had to been late to class countless times, due to the lazy fucker's inability to function when the sun came up.
Apparently the pair's knack for being tardy couldn't keep them down. Mello and Matt were at the top of their game, being ranked two and three a Wammy's. Behind them were Rogue and Lash, the fourth and fifth ranked.
The brunette's shadowed brows creased further at the thought of Rogue. He had suspicions that the charismatic city slicker was interested in Mello.
Everything about the punk irked him, from the way he dressed- with his stupid skate shoes and trench coats- to the way his violet tipped hair spiked in random places. The cool, indifferent air about him. How he seemed to always have a toothpick pressed between his teeth! And especially the way he looked at Mello; Rogue's icy orbs had always eyed the blond teen with a mixture of something between sheer lust and utter adoration.
Matt's nose upturned with the wave of disgust that washed over him. The mere thought of that asswipe and Mel-
The juvenile's train of thought was cut short from a loud 'Whap!' the door produced as it slammed violently into its adjacent wall. A skinny, golden haired boy strode into the previously silent room, his chocolate eyes blazing with anger. Wordlessly, he flung open the small closet on his side of the room, retrieving from it a hefty looking duffle bag. His body was rigid as he worked furiously, stuffing incalculable amounts of clothing inside it.
Most of them were dark, studded, or leather. Or all three.
Matt observed the obviously enraged Mello. Again, he honestly had no idea what was wrong with the blond. Whatever that had rattled him up this time must've been real bad. Perhaps Near could have thrown some sort of snide jab his way? 'Nah,' the smoker shook his head.
Near wasn't the type to gloat, and believe it or not, he found Mello quite enjoyable. Despite all the backlash the fairly older boy had given him.
Studying Mello more closely, Matt detected an increase in his breathing along with a slight tremor in his hands. He wouldn't be surprised if his irate friend developed high blood pressure later in life.
Mello was definitely one you would regret infuriating- if you were around to feel regret after the whole ordeal. He would always be the winner, the champion. He would persist until you were completely obliterated by the pawns he manipulated ever so painstakingly. If all else failed, he would pursue you personally, eager to wring you by the throat.
However, there was one person he had yet to get the best of:
Near.
The one person Mello couldn't check.
Flicking cigarette ashes out of the open window, Matt decided he would choose his words carefully.
"'The hell have you been?"
The gamer leaned back in his chair and raked a hand through his sandy tresses, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible.
Almost immediately the other boy turned to face him, dark eyes fervent with hellfire. The bones in his hands jutted out from the tightly balled fists at his sides.
'Ah shit.'
An image of a colossal African lion flashed through Matt's mind. The king of the jungle was cloaked by the tall grass of the savannah. The male was nearly invisible due to the way his fur merged with his surroundings. A few yards away a helpless impala bathed in the sun, oblivious to its impending demise. In an instant, the majestic beast was on the hunt; his golden mane whipped in the wind as his fangs bared in time with his pounce…
Small beads of sweat materialized on the teen's palms. His casual gray stare steadily met Mello's fiery death glare.
Yeah, he was definitely feeling like some poor, prey animal. Mello would devour him. Whole.
Before Matt could get another word out- if his voice could get around the lump in his throat- Mello said three that made the brunette's head ring and his chest clench.
O0O
"L is dead."
"L…Is dead."
Mello watched his roommate's lips drop considerably, dissatisfied when he noticed the foul cigarette still perched in his mouth.
"Yes! The almighty L is dead!" The blond rolled his eyes in irritation and continued to pack. Fuck, was Matt being slow today.
Moving to the large dresser they shared, he pulled open a drawer located at the top right corner. A thick file containing a passport and other documents was removed.
All children at Wammy's received passports and additional identification papers upon arrival, with fake aliases of course. They were instructed to reveal their true identity to no one, no matter the circumstances.
However, as friendships formed among the children, the golden rule was frequently broken. Matt and Mello had long since exchanged birth names.
When Matt arrived, Roger decided to room him with Mello. He figured the little gamer's easy-going temperament would do the high-strung Mello some good.
At first the young blond had taken a strong dislike to the boy, going out of his way to spite Matt. Although, within weeks Mello had warmed up to his new roommate.
As fate would have it the two developed a miraculous bond over the next couple of years, becoming inseparable.
It really was a miracle; there were few that young Mello associated with and very few that he actually liked. In fact, the only person Mello had ever taken a positive interest in was L. Whenever the great detective would make an appearance, Mello would be at his side. It was as if L were a brilliant sun and the boy a humble knowledge seeker, longing to soak up some of the sun's enriching rays. When L spoke the child would would watch him with a certain attentiveness. His eyes would glue to the genius as any other child's eyes would to some silly cartoon on TV.
The teen pulled something else from the top drawer- an unloaded semi-automatic handgun in which he tucked delicately away in the bag's side pocket. He placed a chain, containing one round of ammo, around his neck. The rest were zipped in a concealed compartment on the interior.
'I'm not afraid to out a bullet in somebody's ass.. If I'm lucky, I won't have to.' Mello was hoping that the mere sight of the weapon would deter any potential threats.
"So where are you going?"
"The U.S." Mello shifted to face his friend. "I'll gain the trust of the American government officials, giving me access to the necessary funds and intel I need to take Kira down."
"How-"
"How am I going to catch Kira- prove my worth- if I remain here?!" He was practically shouting at the top of his lungs now. "Here with that filthy dag, Near, reveling in all his glory!"
"But-"
"FUCK, Matt!"
An array of uncontrollable sobs instantly followed the yell that had erupted from Mello's lips.
'Get your shit together! Why the fuck are you crying?!'
The voice in Mello's head exploded like a cracked whip. He tried to bite back the wail climbing up his throat, but ended up choking instead. Before he could blink again, Matt was at his side pulling him into a warm embrace.
Mello hated crying. He admittedly hated a lot of things, but tears were completely intolerable. Crying was the supreme sign of weakness, and Mello was definitely not weak.
'So why are you crying?!'
The teen felt himself shrug in response to the question pounding in his mind. God, why did he have to do this in front of Matt?
'No,' he had to stop. He couldn't let Matt see him in this weakened state. He couldn't give his friend a reason to think of him this way- so fragile and helpless. 'No,' He repeated in his head. 'I won't allow myself to sink to this pathetic level!'
He would be strong for Matt, the one person he truly cared for.
O0O
Matt caressed the golden head that wept into his shoulder. He murmured what he believed to be a comforting "Shh," but was answered with a shrill cry. The area surrounding the collar of his striped shirt was damp with his friend's tears.
He held Mello tighter; anguish twinkled in his starry eyes. He wished so badly that he could just take all the pain away.
The distressed boy in his arms whimpered quietly, the outburst drawing to a close.
Matt wasn't good at comforting others, mostly because he never had to comfort anyone before. He never saw Mello display such emotion before. Happiness? Yes. Anger? Definitely.
Sadness? ..Never.
Mello wasn't one to outright tell you how he felt, although his emotions usually made themselves known through his actions.
The brunette thought hard and came to the realization that Mello had never cried before, other than during their childhood. In front of him, at least.
He had cried a lot when they were kids.
Matt remembered waking at night, many times, to the sound of the boy tossing and turning about in his sleep. Mello would obviously be restless from nightmares.
He had always climbed in bed beside the blond and squeeze his hand. Sometimes he would awaken and they would talked until sunlight peaked through the clouds. In other cases his sleep would return to its original, tranquil state.
But this was different; they were older now. Somehow, Matt had to find a way to be there for his friend.
'Somehow I have to be strong,' he glanced at the heaving form in his arms, 'for Mello.'