~Lyric 02~
Gone, gone from New York City
Where you gonna go with a head that empty?
Gone, gone from New York City
Where you gonna go with a heart that dark?
Down, down to Mexico City
Caught myself a lady, she'll know how to treat me
Down, down to Mexico City
Caught myself a lady to lay me down,
Lay me down
All my friends want you to know
I'm gonna miss you when I go
But I'll see you down your road
Meet me at the station way down low,
Way down low
—Conor Oberst, "NYC-Gone, Gone"
"Fuck you, Mello," Matt spat, jamming a cigarette into his mouth.
Mello sneered and yanked the hood of his jacket over his head. "And you smoke too much," he hissed. He whirled around and stormed for the door.
Matt could tell the argument was over, but his temper still burned volcanic-hot. "As if your list of my shortcomings wasn't long enough already, asshole," he hollered after Mello, his voice hoarse. He raked a hand violently through his hair. "You can't fucking do this to me."
Mello halted in his tracks. He didn't turn around, but Matt watched his shoulders stiffen beneath the leather. For a moment, he thought Mello was going to rocket into another tirade, but he didn't.
It seemed his pinky finger twitched, but that was all.
Matt flicked his Zippo open and inhaled. A car horn blared somewhere outside.
"So… where are you going to go?" he asked Mello after a while, when it became clear that they had reached some sort of impasse.
"Hal says that we should go south."
Matt's cigarette took on a sour flavor. "You're going to fuck Near's concubine until both of you pass out, aren't you." He had hoped it would leave his mouth a question, but somehow, he knew better.
The answer he got was flat. "If I damn well please."
Matt flicked his ashes to the floor, frowning. "Chicks like that don't heel, you know."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Maybe I'll take the weekend off, too," Matt murmured, ignoring the inquiry. Mello's fingers twitched again, barely noticeable. "Maybe I'm sick of this god damned city."
Mello moved then. He readjusted his hood and walked slowly toward the door. "You aren't sick of the city," he whispered. He turned the knob and slipped outside. Matt listened to the click of the door closing, and the silence after the blond was gone.
"Fucking bastard," Matt breathed.