"As I'm sure you're aware, Mello left last night."
I shifted. Just barely. Roger didn't even comprehend how deep those words cut.
- - - -
Mello didn't bother with a greeting when he entered the room. He rarely did. At first, there wasn't anything to indicate that something unusual had happened in Roger's office. It was when he went for the closet, instead of his chocolate drawer, that Matt realized something was wrong.
"Mello." Matt said quietly, cautiously. He knew better than to dive into interrogation when Mello was angry. The best way to start was by testing his boundaries.
But the blonde didn't answer. He was pulling clothes out of his closet -- three pairs of pants, four shirts, two sweaters, and a heavy coat, specifically. A few sets of boxers and socks were next.
Matt swallowed. "Mells. Talk to me." He repeated, his voice a little stronger this time. This was bad. Really bad. The redhead didn't want to think about why Mello was throwing all those clothes on the bed. He didn't want to think about why he was pulling a black book bag out from under his bed, either.
Still no answer.
Reluctantly, Matt stood up. Mello was part way through stuffing clothes and chocolate bars into his bag. Even through orange-tinted goggles, the redhead could tell that Wammy's brilliant second-in-line was struggling to keep his composure.
Matt put a hand on Mello's shoulder. The blonde froze. "Mihael." That one word was enough in itself. They never used each other's names unless it was important. Very important.
The blonde's shoulders sagged. Just a little, but enough for Matt to notice. He heard Mello take a breath.
"L's dead. I'm leaving."
- - - -
"Yeah," I answered dismissively. "I noticed."
Roger pursed his aging, wrinkled lips. He never liked children in general, Mello in particular -- and his sarcasm had rubbed off on me. "Considering his intelligence and drive, tracking him down will be very difficult. If you know anything about where he's gone, or where may be going, it's imperative that you tell me right away -- now, preferably. He could be in potentially life-threatening circumstances. We'd like to bring him back as soon as possible."
- - - -
"You're… leaving." Matt repeated the words like the spelled death for him. In essence, they did -- in all his life, Mail Jeevas had only had one friend, had only trusted one person… and now that person was leaving. Walking out of his life, just like they all had.
Mello was silent for a moment, weighing his roommate's words. 'It sounds so much worse when he says it', he thought sullenly.
"Yeah. Yeah, Matt, I'm leaving."
The blonde reached for his bedside table, pulled open its single drawer and reached for the remaining chocolate bars, hastily adding them to the pile on his bed.
"…Why?"
"Because." The reply was lame, but it was said with such force that it didn't really matter. Matt removed his hand from the other's shoulder and turned away. So L was dead. Big deal? He knew Mello looked up to him; hell, he worshipped him -- but that didn't mean he should run away.
- - - -
I wanted to roll my eyes. Really, I did. Roger would never find Mello -- and Roger probably knew it, too. The only man alive with the ability to track Mello down when he didn't want to be tracked down was dead, as of about a month ago. "I don't know where he's going. All he told me was that he's after Kira."
- - - -
The ebony-clad boy sighed, dropping the clothes he'd been about to shove in his bag in favor of looking toward the redhead next to him. "Matt. I have to, okay? They want me to work with Near! Near! You know how much I hate him!" No bite, though. Matt wasn't even looking at him. Again, he sighed. "I have to avenge L, Matt. He was my idol. He got me out of my house, away from my parents. He got me off the streets. I have to make sure he didn't die in vain, and I have to do it myself."
Matt shuffled a little, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair. He exhaled shakily -- he was trying to hide how much this was already effecting him. It wasn't working.
"So you're running away?"
"I just said that, Matt." By then, Mello had returned to packing. He had almost all of his clothes in his bag, now.
"And how is that going to help you beat Near? Or avenge L?" Matt asked quietly. Despite the lacking volume, the statement was piercing -- and laced with worry. What he was really saying was, 'What good will that come of it? You could freeze to death. You could get yourself killed. You could get kidnapped. You could get raped. You could get beat up and bleed to death in an alley. You could starve. Something devastating could happen, and I'd never know about it.' But Matt knew better than to feed 'what if's to Mello.
"I just -- I have to, Matt. There's nothing left for me here, anyway. There's no reason for me to stay here." Mello had migrated to the bottom drawer of his dresser, and was pulling out a small box where he stashed his money -- probably a collective two or three hundred dollars, -- a lighter, and some matches.
Matt fell silent. Again. He knew what Mello meant -- there was nothing here he hadn't already learned, and there was nothing here that would help him find Kira -- but it still stung. Mello was swinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Let me come with you."
"…What?"
"Let me help you."
- - -
"Did he show any desire to return?" Roger asked in a professional manner. Like he didn't really care that there was a human life at stake -- like he didn't really care that Mello's life was at stake.
"No," I answered shortly, bluntly. I wanted nothing more than to get out of that room. The air was thick in there. It was suffocating me.
- - - -
Mello sighed. He was standing in front of the door. Slowly, he turned around, resting a hand on either of Matt's shoulders. "Mail. You're staying."
"No, I'm coming with you-"
"Mail," he repeated. "I'm not going to be responsible for your life. I could care less what happens to me out there, but I'm not going to be the one to
watch you die."
"I can take care of myself." Matt was mumbling. He wasn't all that confident in himself, and it was obvious. He didn't really know how to take care of himself -- but he was damned determined to be there to take care of Mello.
"No, Matt, you can't. You don't know how to live on the street, alright? I know you well enough to know that you couldn't handle it. I can. I've done it before."
"That doesn't make you invincible," the redhead countered, peering at the blonde from behind the safety his goggles. The world was more friendly in orange. "You're all I have left, alright? I don't want to wake up one morning and see your bloody body on the news."
The blonde was quiet for a moment. Stunned silent, so to speak. When he spoke up again, his voice was quieter. "I'll be fine, alright? Quit worrying about me. I survived before-"
"And when you were found, you were bone-skinny, half-starved, sicker than
hell and hypothermic!" Matt yelled, firmly grabbing Mello's arm and shaking it for emphasis. "Don't think I've forgotten. I don't want to see you like that, Mells. Hearing about it was bad enough."
- - - -
"Alright, then. That'll be all," Roger concluded, utilizing his vocabulary so he could dismiss me indirectly -- dismiss the new second-in-line indirectly. "You've been excused from classes for the remainder of the afternoon."
I nodded numbly, imitating L's blank expression best I could as I removed myself from the sticky leather couch. I was gone in barely two, maybe three seconds. Record time.
I went straight for my room, and locked the door behind me.
- - - -
Mello's eyes widened with the boldness of the statement -- but he recovered quickly. He let go of Matt's shoulders and pulled the redhead's hand off his arm. "I'm leaving. You're staying. Alright?"
The blonde turned back to the door and turned the handle. He paused. "See ya, Matty."
Matt just stared. His brain was too foggy to form a coherent answer -- at least, not right away. This was it. Mello was leaving. He was gonna say goodbye, walk out the door, and never look back. The end.
"Bye, Mells."
The door opened to an empty hallway. It closed to an empty room. All that was left there was a heartbroken gamer, trying desperately to hold back tears.
- - - -
The first thing I did was pick my dirty old tan backpack up off of the floor and dump its contents out on the bed. Hastily, I started stuffing it with clothes, batteries, and Gameboy games.
I wasn't just going to sit there. They wouldn't let me go for another four years -- and by then, it would be too late. I was going after Mello. End of story.
I tossed in a throw-blanket for good measure, and grabbed a mostly-full water bottle to stuff in a side-pocket. After that, I went for a box under my bed. It had a book in it -- something by some psychoanalyst that Mello was always gushing about. Doctor Frood? Doctor Froyd? As if I knew. It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but considering the circumstances… well, I could give it to him when I caught up.
I stuffed the book in with everything else, and snatched my laptop and charger off a desk. It was a standard gift for Wammy's students once they reached thirteen, and I was sure I'd need it at some point… maybe. That went in behind the book, along with the charger.
I didn't stop to think until I started pulling on my jacket. It had only been two days. Mello couldn't have gotten that far. And even if he had, he'd slow down at some point.
And on that thought, I secured the backpack over my shoulders and walked out the door.
- - - -
Author's Note:
EDITED VERSION: It came to my attention, while trying to write the next chapter, that it'd be easier to write this story if it were written in first person from Matt's point of view. Sorry for the change, comment if you think it should be changed back -- I just thought it may help my writer's block. Thanks Chiyo Mai, Vampy-Note, and Ashastana for my first comments!
Alright, here it is. My very first MattxMello, and my first chapter-by-chapter fic. Hopefully all will go well! :D Reviews make for faster updates!