Curse words from here onward. Proceed or not.
A/N: I apologize for doing nothing at all on this. I have been lazy and being a boring human actually going to school. Surprising, huh? Well, this is an Mxm, so read away. This is a kind of thing I whipped up and I hope you all understand it. It's one of those "secret meaning" bullshit.
I do not have the rights to Death Note, but these two would have gotten more screen time and stuff if I did.
Leave a review, please, because I love feedback and help on my writing.
(M)
A blonde boy sat on his bed. He was a teenager, a man of hormones. Only of fourteen, he was intelligent. He was exquisite in all his classes. Second, if you'll believe it, but never first.
He was weak, far too emotional. He was overpowered by his feelings and they centered his being. He couldn't be without them, but I want to be.
His name is Mihael Keehl. No, you must refer to me as "Mello".
-m-
A brown-haired boy lay on his friend's bed. He was a teenager, a man of the missing feelings. Only of fifteen, he was smart. He excelled in his technology classes and many others. Third, but didn't care.
He was cocky, far too naïve. He was too sure of his own thoughts and they created who he was. He shouldn't have regretted them too much, but I do regret this.
His name is Mail Jeevas. Just call me "Matt".
M + m
The pair sat on a single mattress as Mihael's words became stale in the air.
"L is dead."
Mail shook his head as he shut down his game system down, the little beep the last sound heard from it before the pale hand that grasped it released it with great force towards the wall. The wrenching sound of it breaking into its million pieces stole the silence with the death of a prize-won PSP. The mattress creaked as Mail pulled himself up into a seated position beside Mihael. His obvious surprise and expressive anger were a tab of comfort to Mihael, glad he was getting used to showing more of his emotions around him. More so that he was comfortable even doing so.
"How," Mail questioned, obviously preparing to take in Mihael's emotions and thoughts on the topic as well. He, of course, would have something to say on it at the time.
"Roger didn't tell… us," Mihael ground his teeth together, hating the word for its meaning, "…that detail."
Mail thought better to ask much more as he took notice of Mihael's painted features of pure anger and annoyance (not to mention the disbelief) that captured his face. He contained his anger into standing up and walking to the front of the bed, clearly only for to look his friend clear in the eye. His brow was furrowed and he gave me this look of determination and power. He looked a little childish, with the over-sized striped shirt and goggles that fucked up his hair, even if the guy was always older than me. He just looked… ready, for anything. It was odd, because usually he was twenty minutes late. Matt cracked his knuckles and grabbed both my shoulders, pulling our faces close. It was his way of showing his honesty; having me look in his eyes closely. Then, in a low voice that hummed through the air, he said, "I'll do anything you're planning, just include me being with you."
It was nice.
Mihael dropped his eyes a little low as a small smile grew on his face. Tilting his head to look down, he put his forehead on Mail's and scaled his hands up his arms, grabbing his shoulders and tightening it to a comforting hold on what made him happy. He raised his head up slowly and looked me right in the eyes with a melancholic look that made me question such behavior. He looked small and… sad, to put it simply. It was odd, because usually he was trying to be the buff, tough guy. Mello dropped his smile and gave me that weird, yet rather depressing, "look of truth". It was his way of being honest and harsh; just showing me with his face. In his weirdly lower voice that scared children in hallways, he mumbled, "I'll try my best to keep you with me."
It was comforting.
(M) + -m-
The pair sat in separate chairs, silence consuming the soul of Mihael's words.
"I'm going to have to die."
Not holding a game system, Mail inhaled the cigarette much deeper before holding it back and blowing it out in a sigh. His arched back shaped into the cushions of the chair as he sat back. He almost hated this chair. He found it useless, but it was nice on his back once he used the back of the chair. Turns out the piece of shit wasn't too much of a piece of shit. He took in another inhale of his cigarette before crushing it within his glove, throwing the remains from his hand as he exhaled. His gaze behind the goggles drifted to the ceiling as he watched the smoke fade away, just as his Mello would.
"Damn."