And here is chapter four. Oh, I can't remember if I ever explicitly stated that this was going to be a Mello/Matt story. So, if I haven't before, I'm doing so now, it's kind of a slow build though, and I'm super emotionally stunted, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note
Warning: Bulimia
"I don't want it," he mumbled, turning back to his book.
"Just eat it, Mells, you can run it off later if you absolutely have to."
Matt had been attached to Mello at the hip since he came back from the hospital the week previous. Mello's meal plan had little to no wiggle room and he was told that he wouldn't be allowed to participate in classes unless he followed it. Matt had been given his own set of instructions.
Do not let Mello out of your sight for too long.
Do not let Mello leave the room at night.
Do not let Mello exercise excessively.
Try to talk some sense into the boy.
Like that was ever easy.
Trying to get Mello to listen to him was the same as talking to a brick wall. Matt probably had a better chance of getting the wall to follow directions. So he'd racked his brain devising a plan that wasn't really much of a plan. He knew that Mello kept trying to sneak out at night, he stopped him each time, but Matt had figured something out.
Mello liked chocolate, but he only ate it on occasion and not once in the couple of months before his collapse. After some basic food study, Matt set out to change that.
Cautiously, Mello took the bar and tore off the wrapper. He snapped off a piece and wedged it between his lips so he could continue studying. Matt leaned back in his chair and pulled out his GameBoy. He was number three now, but when it came to Mello, Matt fancied himself the number one expert.
Mello knew Matt would probably catch him, and report it to Roger. But he didn't care. He had to get it out, he couldn't stand it.
He waited until Matt's breathing had evened out before carefully slipping out of bed. It wasn't until he opened the door that the other boy stirred. Stirred, but didn't wake up. He heaved a quiet sigh of relief before rushing down to the first floor bathroom. He threw open the door and rushed into a stall, shaky fingers turning the lock.
Mello tried not to think of Matt as he knelt down. Matt would be so disappointed, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop it. The doctors thought otherwise, though if it weren't for Roger he would have been sent off to rehab. If he was to be grateful to the old man for anything, it would be for that.
The tile was cold, he could feel it sending painful spikes up his legs. He slipped off his shirt and tugged the rubber band from his wrist so he could tie up his hair. Mello had never much liked this part.
Mika hadn't either.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
Mika looked down at him. The two were in Mika's room, curled up on the window seat, reading. Mello sat in her lap.
"Does what hurt?" she asked, feigning innocence in hopes that Mello would drop it. But he didn't, fixing her with a hard look and stubbornly closing the book so his sister couldn't use it as a cop out.
Mika sighed and then bit her lip.
"Not really, the worst part is when you're about to start, and you're just sort of kneeling there. There are little bits of yourself that are telling you that you don't have to do it and then there are other parts telling you that you don't have a choice. And you just sort of sit there for a minute and-" she faded out and Mello nodded, giving her a hug.
"Okay, I understand," he said quietly, opening the book again.
Mika just kissed his forehead and resumed reading.
Confusion bubbled in Mello's mind.
What was going on?
He pressed down further, eyes screwed shut as the salty tears that always came threatened to drip down his face. Nothing was coming up, only dark tinged saliva. He nearly choked removing his fingers and he quickly wiped them off with a piece of toilet paper.
Had Matt known? Had he given him the chocolate knowing that he wouldn't have been able to throw it up? How would he have known that anyhow? That wasn't information you just stumbled across. Mello was always careful of the stuff. He loved the taste but he knew how hard it was to get back out so he never ate too much. How much had Matt given him?
Mello ran a quick check through his head, trying to remember just how much chocolate Matt had plied him with. He'd been studying for the majority of the day and the chocolate just seemed to never run out. He tried to remember how many pieces he'd eaten and came up with a rough estimate of six bars in total.
He blanched.
Not only did he have three meals in his stomach, but six chocolate bars to, preventing anything from coming up.
"No," he whispered, "I can't believe it. No."
Against his will, hot tears poured down his cheeks. His breath sped up as panic coursed through his body. What would he do now?
The door creaked open and Mello scrambled up, yanking his shirt over his head and scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand. He peeked out of the stall and his heart stopped.
Matt stood there; his left pant leg was scrunched up to his knee as if from a fitful sleep, the seams all twisted about. But he looked as if he'd been up for hours, not just awakening form slumber.
"M-Matt," Mello rasped, because what else could he say?
"Come on, Mells, let's get you cleaned up and back to bed."
He took a step forward, holding out a hand. Mello met his gaze, searching for something in those eyes. Anything, disgust, anger, sadness, hell, he'd even take pity.
But there was nothing but fatigue and warmth there.
Mello was confused.
"Matt, I-"
"Wash your face Mells, your eyes are a little red. I'll wait until you're done."
But Mello didn't move.
Matt sighed and moved closer, helping Mello over to the sink. He turned on the faucet and put some soap in Mello's hands, putting them under the running water, and carefully getting them clean. When he was satisfied, he wet his own hand, gently rubbing the water into Mello's face, cleaning away the tears. The paper towel dispenser was empty so Mello dried his hands on his pants and Matt used his sleeve to pat Mello's face dry. He interlaced their hands and lead Mello from the washroom.
Not a word was said between them as they returned to their shared room. Matt had to gently push Mello onto his bed before laying him down, tugging the covers up to chin how he knew the other boy liked them. Matt gave his friend a quiet look, patting his head before returning to the comfort of his own bed.
He silently counted the seconds until Mello got up, shuffled over, and none to gently shoved Matt a few inches over. Matt didn't say anything though, Mello had done worse. The blond climbed in under the blanket, leaving a few breaths of space between them. Matt rolled over to face him and found Mello's eyes alight, staring hard.
"Matt?" Mello called quietly after a minute.
"Yes, Mells?"
"I hate you," the whisper was almost inaudible.
Matt just grinned cheekily and reached over to grab Mello's hand.
"Yeah, I hate you to."