Author's Note: Awesome, I received absolutely zero suggestions. Well, whatever, I'll just stick with what I originally had planned.

And thank you to the three people who have take the time to review. Now if only there were more of you...

Chapter 4: Visage

Matt stared out the windshield down the dark road. He pulled his goggles down to his neck with his right hand and rubbed his eyes. It felt like he had been driving for weeks. The GPS said that he was almost to his destination, but if he didn't get there soon, he was going to fall asleep while driving.

That would be great. After everything I've had to do to stay alive and I die because I crashed into a tree or something. That would be ironic. Or maybe it wouldn't be. Matt was too tired to think about how best to classify his hypothetical death by tree. The lady in the GPS reminded him that he would be making a left turn in half a mile.

Matt tried to focus on the road that stretched out in front of him. I wish the radio wasn't broken; maybe some music would help me stay awake. Through the pounding rain and the windshield wipers that persistently beat back and forth across the windshield he could make out a house in the distance on the left. That has to be it. Maybe I can actually stay awake long enough to get there.

He finally reached the house and pulled into the driveway next to where Mello had left his motorcycle. He flicked off the windshield wipers and headlights and turned off the engine. He shoved the keys into his pocket along with the empty pack of cigarettes. Matt pulled the goggles back up to his green eyes and stepped out of his red 1968 Camaro and into the rain. He quickly retrieved the duffle bag from the trunk and ran up to the porch. Matt placed his hand on the door knob and started to turn it.

"What the fuck took so long!" Mello yelled to his right. Startled, Matt jumped back slightly. As tired as Matt was at the moment, he wasn't all that observant; plus, he had neglected to wipe off his goggles which still housed rain droplets. Between the two, he hadn't noticed Mello standing on the porch.

Matt wiped off his goggles with his sleeve and looked at Mello's face. Clearly forced anger. Matt had known Mello long enough to know when he was actually mad about something. "Why? Were you worried?" he said, taunting Mello. Matt watched as the expression on his friend's face turned to one of true anger.

"Yes, in fact, I was worried. You're late, Matt. Not just late, five hours late. I thought you had died. I called your cell phone and you didn't answer." Mello looked at him, waiting for a response.

"…yeah…it died…," Matt said reluctantly, waiting for Mello to explode.

"You didn't charge it? Why wouldn't you…," Mello started. He sighed. "…Never mind. Just come inside. You're soaked." Mello opened the door and went in.

Matt looked at Mello in surprise. Mello never gave up that easy. Matt had expected him to rant about this for at least five minutes. He must have really been worried, he thought, walking in behind Mello. He closed the door behind him.

"There are two bedrooms upstairs. Take whichever one you want and go change into some dry clothes." Mello's tone sounded so defeated that Matt wondered if he was really all right. This was just so… un-Mello-like.

He's probably just tired, Matt decided as he climbed the stairs. He took the room on the right without even looking at the other one. He went in and threw his duffle bag onto the bed. He pulled out his Nintendo sleep pants and a plain black, long-sleeved t-shirt. It's strange how westernized this house is. Especially that there is a bed instead of a futon, he thought absentmindedly, pulling his black and white striped shirt over his head and throwing it over a chair to dry. He finished changing.

Well, I suppose I should at least explain to him why I'm so late. Matt exited the room and went back down the stairs.

Mello was sitting in the large chair facing away from the stairs in the living room. His right ankle was crossed over his knee; his left elbow resting on the armrest with his fist holding his head up. Matt walked around to the couch positioned adjacent to the chair and sat down. The couch was surprisingly comfortable.

He looked at Mello whose face revealed an odd expression: he looked not only both relieved and a little angry, but also quite simply exhausted.

"I'm… sorry," Matt said meekly. Mello brought his eyes up to meet Matt's. His eyes were the most stunning shade of blue. Why have I never noticed how beautiful his eyes are before? Matt wondered. But as he looked at Mello's face he realized it was not just his eyes, his entire face was beautiful, his features almost elegant. The curve of his lips, the clarity of his pale skin, even his scar added to it, seeming only to enhance the quality of his features.

His lips especially drew Matt's attention. He wondered briefly what it would be like to kiss him. He quickly looked away. Matt's heart pounded in his chest. What am I thinking? Number one: he's my best friend; number two: he's a guy. I can't kiss him. That would just be so… weird. I'm just… really tired. Yeah, that's it; I just can't think straight right now.

"No, don't be." Matt glanced back up at him in surprise, forgetting for a moment that he had started to apologize.

"I was an idiot. If I would've just remembered to charge my phone, neither one of us would have had to worry." Mello's expression softened slightly; the small amount of anger that had lingered on his features was now gone.

"Well, you still haven't told me why you were so late," Mello said, apparently dismissing the previous topic.

"Oh, right. That's what I came back down to tell you, but I … got distracted." A slight pink tint crept into Matt's cheeks. Mello's face produced a look of confusion, but he waited for Matt to continue. "My car ran out of gas."

"You… ran out of gas," Mello repeated in disbelief.

"But it wasn't actually my fault. The fuel gauge is apparently broken, it's stuck on like three quarters full," Matt hastily explained, "Anyway, I got stuck out in the middle of nowhere and had to walk to the nearest gas station which turned out to be about three miles away. And I only had enough money for the gas. I'm out of cigarettes."

"Matt, you could have died today, and you're worried about being out of cigarettes?" Mello questioned in disbelief, "Those things are going to end up being what kills you." Matt looked away. He had honestly never figured he would end up living long enough to have to worry about things like lung cancer; being Mello's best friend was generally a dangerous occupation.

"Well, how did things go today with you?" Matt asked, eager for a new topic.

Mello sighed before launching into an explanation of the events of his day. Matt listened intently to start, but his exhaustion quickly took over. He fought to keep his eyes open but to no avail. Mello's words began to go in and out of focus. His heavy eyelids paired with the soft couch, which seemed to get more and more comfortable with each passing second, were simply too strong. Matt was soon fast asleep.