Theme: 03:00 - Determination, especially in matters that seem to hold you back
Title: Driven
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers focused around Mello throughout manga, though very minimum.
Disclaimer: Death Note © Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi
Summary: They could die tomorrow, he knew. They could drop like a fly at any moment, he knew.
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Mello often got like this, but Matt couldn't really blame him. Not when every second, every scheme and every step forward counted more than the air they breathed each day. Because no matter what either of them said, Kira still had Mello's name. Kira still had the advantage. Kira still had the mind and the power to kill off the greatest detective in the world.
What were two guys with a crazy fantasy and a hopelessly driven goal to say anything about that?
So when Mello unwrapped what was probably his twentieth chocolate bar, Matt didn't say a word. Even if he had, it wasn't like he'd ever listen. Still, sometimes Matt felt it necessary to put his two cents in every now and again, just in case Mello got a little ahead of himself (which, honestly, was a bit too frequent). As it was, the both of them were running low on supplies. They'd spent so much money divulging in all the best equipment (because damned if Mello wasn't going to win this time, just this once) and all the top-of-the-line technology. There was hardly any left to sate either of their rather gluttonous addictions.
But so what? Mello had the skill and he certainly had the drive, and Matt was stupid enough to follow unquestioningly, so what else was there left to even consider?
They could die tomorrow, he knew. They could die in their sleep (what little they got of even that), drop like a fly without ever awakening, he knew. But he also knew Kira wasn't that underhanded. He'd wait until the perfect, precise moment, wait until he had them on their knees, and then, maybe even then he'd drag it out for awhile longer.
Kira probably couldn't care less about them, really. Matt knew this, and he knew it well. Mello was just in this little race to beat Near to the end, to get revenge on his idol's killer. Maybe there wasn't any justice at all where he was concerned. And Mello probably knew it was unbelievably risky, sticking his neck out relentlessly and making it a habit to take the reckless way out more than once. But that's just the way he was.
Though, maybe, it was good to know he had someone willing to chase him to the ends of the earth – just a companion, despite the numerous efforts they attempted to eat each other's heads off. Someone dedicated enough not to question him when he handed over a pistol and said "Get in, get it done, then run like hell."
Someone willing enough to leave everything behind just to go on a goose chase that likely didn't have an all too pleasant finish.
Still, Matt laughed quietly when Mello tossed him a ten dollar bill, and it was a breathy sound, somehow noteworthy enough to remind Mello that he really should get some shut-eye. Glancing over at the clock proved that easily. Was it already three in the morning? How had it gotten to be so late?
"What'll it be, boss?" Matt asked, but he only received an irritated look in return. He pressed on. "The five-pack or the ten-pack?"
"Ten," Mello clipped, face washed over in the dull blue light of his computer screen, outlining his features darkly. He looked tired, the other could tell, even from half-way across the room.
Matt saluted, uncaring if Mello noticed or not, and then turned to leave.
The room felt barren soon afterward. It was a gaping, swelling sort of sensation and Mello knew instantly that he didn't like it. Teeth dug sharp indentations into the soft, half-melted chocolate bar that hung precariously from his mouth, and then something on the screen caught his eye, and suddenly the prospect of sleep seemed very, very far behind him.