Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or the song 'Wonderwall'. Screw you fate.
A/N: I'm so sorry over how long this has taken me to write! I'm gonna blame school and the fact that I've just had my GCSE exams and lots of fun stuff like that! Also, I've drifted out of the DN fandom, but writing this chapter has made me realise how fun it is to write Mello and Matt again!
Mello went bat-shit crazy after reading the note. He thundered down the hotel hallway to Rod's room and demanded the CCTV footage be viewed for an intruder to his room.
"What's missing again, babe?" Rod asked once again, still half drunk and rudely awoken by a furious blonde only five minutes ago.
"My rosary!"
"…You're what?"
"Rosary! The red cross that I never take off you total twat!"
"Oh, that pretty beaded necklace? I'll see what we can do about it babe. For now though, go back to bed and get some rest. You sound like you need it."
And he was right. Mello's voice was starting to crack with his non-stop yelling and general loudness. Not a good sign for an international superstar with a tour ending show in a few days.
"You'd better do something about it because you know that if I fired you, half the music business would be on their knees to be my manager!" Mello yelled. His words rang in the other man's ears with an air of finality about them, and Rod knew better then to argue with Mello in 'angry-mode'.
Storming back up to his room, Mello made sure to make enough noise to at least wake a few others up. If he wasn't happy, why should anyone else be?!
Slamming the door to his room and letting out a strangled scream of frustration for good measure, he threw himself on the bed.
Mello now had a choice. He could either let the police do their job and actually give them the note (which he had conveniently 'forgotten' to mention to mention to Rod) or he could go to meet this 'M2' and beat the crap out of him.
Mello knew that the police option would take far too long in his opinion and beating the guy who had broken into his hotel room and stolen one of his most prized possessions sounded very tempting. A malicious grin swept over Mello's face as his mind went over all the various ways to make a grown man cry and slammed his hand onto the light switch next to his bed.
Mello slept that night with an unsettling smile on his face and had a lovely dream about castrating masked intruders.
-
Once he'd got into his car, Matt's hand wandered to his jeans pocket where a certain rosary lay. He started to wonder if taking it had been a good idea after all. Matt sighed at his internal battle. When had any of this been a good idea?! Hell, only an idiot would lie his way into an up-and-coming superstar's hotel room without a set plan, never mind stealing one of said superstar's precious possessions and then leave a note telling him (and the police) where to find him!
The exhausted red-head sighed dramatically and fell back in the car seat. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to go his way.
-
Mello looked up through dark sunglasses at the sign on the brick wall. In swirling cursive read the words "The Red Lounge" and the blonde fought back a smirk. He checked his phone and saw that the time was half past five and shrugged. He'd rather be here, kicking some guys arse then at yet another sound check anyway.
Pulling his coat collar further around his neck to help disguise himself, Mello pushed open the glass door. He was instantly greeted with a wave of warmth and the smell of fresh coffee, an atmosphere Mello had forgotten about, what with his legendary status stopping him from entering public places like this and all.
Despite the calm aura the place gave off, the blonde's hand stopped to rest on the pepper-spray he had in his coat pocket. Luckily for him the so-called 'Lounge' was relatively quite so Mello didn't have to worry too much about rabid fans attacking him but a superstar could never be too careful.
Mello slid into one of the darkened alcoves and sat himself at the table. It didn't take long for a waitress to come over and ask if he wanted anything.
"Just bottled water please."
"Sparkling or still." She asked eager to please.
"Sparkling Alpine." Mello replied as his automatic answer.
"Erm, I don't think we have Alpine water sir… Just Buxton Spring." Mello looked at her over the top of the un-removed sunglasses, giving her a challenging glare that could make a hardened criminal shiver. The girl took a small step back and swallowed hard. After deeming that causing a scene wouldn't help his cause at all, Mello pushed the glasses further up his nose and lent back in his chair.
"I suppose that'll have to do then." Mello huffed. The poor waitress nodded her head quickly and practically ran to get the water.
No Alpine water? What a common place. Mello forgot for a while the reason he had come to the lounge and simply soaked in the atmosphere whilst watching the people in the room. It was a favourite pass time of Mello's and if he hadn't been a singer, he would have loved to have been a physiologist or a detective or something along those lines.
Sat by the window, gazing out into the city traffic was an old man. At first it seemed as though he were some sort of tramp or homeless man, due to his unkempt hair and worn face but when one looked at his clothes in greater detail you could see the remains of a once great business man. A suit that at one time may have been immaculate, hung on his body as simply a means to cover up. A watch was strapped around his wrist out of habit, not necessity.
Across the room, sat at the bar a woman was staring into the bottom of her coffee cup as though looking for answers she knew she'd never find. Her eyes were weighted with a lack of sleep and the lines in her face were too deep set to be the creation of old age only.
A young man, probably about the same age as Mello, came through the door carrying a guitar case with some difficulty. Mello thought he looked as though he carried to problems of the entire world on his shoulders yet he still walked with the promise of something better in the future. The black and white striped top the man wore showed that he wasn't afraid to stand out, he simply chose not to.
As the stranger made his way to the stage, Mello realised that he was the live performer for the night and smirked. What would the man think if he knew that he was entertaining the blonde in more ways then simply singing? Mello could read this guy so well that it was almost as though he were looking at an old friend…
It was that moment the waitress chose to return with his drink and thus shattered Mello's train of thought.
"Here you are, Sir." She forced a smile onto her face but her nerves did not go unnoticed by the blonde. Placing the glass and bottle down swiftly, the waitress moved on to another table without another word.
"Took her long enough." Mello mumbled to nobody in particular and poured himself a drink. After a couple of sips he deemed it decent enough to quench his thirst and for the first time since entering the lounge, noticed how hot he was.
Whilst shrugging off his coat, the star's attention was caught by a shift in the light and the quietening of the whole room en mass.
The young man Mello had been watching was sat on a stool, under the spotlights on a low stage. In his arms he cradled a well worn guitar and was attempting to adjust the height of the microphone stand with one hand whilst stopping the bulky instrument from falling to the ground with the other. It was a movement Mello recognised from his childhood but before he could brood on it any further, the stranger looked up at his audience.
"Hey guys, it's me again," The man obviously worked here often, Mello reasoned, since he didn't bother introducing himself, "and I've been busy this week writing some new stuff but the first one isn't mine. You know how it goes, right?" He smiled softly out at the others in the room, even though Mello knew he'd be suffering from stage blindness.
Then without another word, the red-haired stranger began to strum on his guitar. It was a tune that any self-respecting song artist knew and had a special meaning to the blonde, helping to dredge up memories that had long been lost in the back of his mind.
-
"Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you,
By now you should've somehow realised what you've got to do,
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…"
-
Matt had spotted Mello as soon as he'd walked into the little place the red head worked at. He stood out like a sore thumb, despite the obvious attempt at remaining 'incognito', as it were.
'Sunglasses and a long black coat? Come on Mel, you can do better then that…'
Through his fringe Matt could see the blonde watching him and for a minute Matt wondered if Mello recognised his childhood friend. However, he dismissed the idea almost immediately as in came into his head. The Mello he knew could memorise whole songs in minutes and pick out chords in tunes but had great difficulties in remembering people and placing a name to a face.
Once seated in front of his small yet appreciative audience, Matt cleared his throat and started his set. It was a simple collection of some of his favourite songs that not only brought back some good memories but also helped calm him down for the task ahead.
Matt really wasn't looking forward to confronting Mello. If he knew the blonde well enough, he'd have some sort of weapon or self–defence item in his pocket and that didn't bode well for the guitarist who'd stolen the blonde's rosary.
-
"Backbeat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out,
I'm sure you've heard it all before but you've never really had a doubt,
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…"
-
Mello had begun to tap his gloved fingers in time to the rhythmic strumming. The music was soothing and had some what of a calming effect on the chaos in his mind. This song reminded him of his old school, Wammys, and of all the people he'd left behind.
Two faces stood out to Mello, in amongst the other memories. One was of his rival, Near. His white hair and pale clothing stood out, stark against the dark walls in his mind, lidded eyes carefully watching and observing everything. Mello had spent so long obsessing over the boy that he was easily remembered. He even recalled the little detailed embroidery around the cuffs of his shirts.
The second face was less defined but still retained a shock of red hair and a dizzyingly happy aura around him. What was his name again? Mello hadn't thought about him for years, friends being a luxury he couldn't afford in the music business. The only people Mello had cared about were himself and the competition. It was simply the way that Mello's mind worked and that was how he got by. Yes, he was passionate but only about the music.
The blonde's mind drifted away from his inner thoughts and back to the music being played. This red-haired stranger had an awesome voice, Mello decided.
'Perfect for singing live accompanied by acoustic guitar. Could sound a little weak in a recording studio…'
-
"And all the roads we have to walk along are winding,
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding,
There are many things that I would like to say to you,
I don't know how…"
-
"Hey Mel?"
"Hmm?" the older boy mumbled around his chocolate bar.
"What do you want out of your music career?" Matt's thumbs tapped at the hand-held on autopilot whilst the boy glanced at his friend.
"To do better then Near."
Matt made a face and tried again. "No Mel! I mean after that! What do you want for yourself?"
"God Matt, you're getting a little deep and meaningful aren't ya? I mean, you sound like Miss Linda during one of our 'Self Belief' sessions!" Mello grinned at Matt, roles reversing and for once the blonde being the one who wouldn't take anything seriously.
Matt sighed and turned his attention to his game for a moment before pausing it and throwing the device onto the pillow at the head of his bed.
"Well personally, I want to be able to make enough money so that I can play my guitar for fun rather then need and to be able to buy any videogame I want!" Matt crossed his legs and lent forward, resting his face in the palm of his hand. He stared expectantly at the boy across the room.
Mello's gaze shifted from the ceiling to the red-head's face and made a small noise of recognition.
A silence stretched out between the two friends, a gulf that one of them needed to brave before the conversation could end. Matt was just about to admit defeat when the blonde spoke up.
"Roses. I want a ton of roses in every colour and size available. I'd have more then anybody else, ever. Even Near."
"Huh, you like roses, Mel?"
The blonde was silent for a moment before smiling sadly and mumbling "Mum used to have a rose garden."
-
"Because maybe,
You're gonna be the one who saves me ?
And after all,
You're my wonderwall…"
-
Matt's voice carried through the air. He closed his eyes gently and he felt the whole room just disappear. I was just him and his guitar, no one else mattered. Each note was both planned and spontaneous, soft yet defined, remembered but forgotten all at the same time.
He knew that people came to the small bar to listen to his music and although this wasn't something he had written, the song was always well received by his audience. Matt assumed it was because he put passion into what he sang. He wasn't like those celebrities who would sing anything that was 'in vogue' just to gain popularity. No, Matt only ever sang songs that he connected to, pieces with lyrics that moved him. It was the best way to bring out the true potential in his voice.
A smile graced his face. That was something Mr Roger had told him a long time ago.
-
Something about this man confused Mello but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He'd seen him before but no matter how hard the blonde thought, he couldn't quite work out where. He defiantly hadn't been at one of his album recordings and he'd never been part of his music crew on tour; that much he was sure of.
Growing impatient, Mello waved at the waitress to gain her attention and beckoned her over.
"Who is that guy? He didn't say when he introduced himself."
"Oh, that's Matt. Dead nice bloke, great voice." She answered carefully, avoiding looking at his face.
Mello nodded and the waitress took her leave, thankful to have avoided another death glare.
'Matt… Where have I heard that name before…? Mind you, it's hardly uncommon.' He took another look at the man on stage. 'Tall, lanky, red hair and a goofy grin…' He thought again, this time listening to the words and the sound of the man's voice. The way he rolled his 'r' and put emphasis on certain words. He put everything together and soon a clear image in his head was forming.
'Wait…! Matt at Wamm- …Oh shit, no way.'
A/N: I'm sorry. It really wasn't worth the wait and I realise that… but I had great fun writing it!
Oh, and by the way… Mello and Matt aren't super smart in this. They were trained to be musicians rather the next L, so I'm making Mello a little 'slow'. He still manipulating, cunning and brash but slow on the uptake sometimes… Sorry, I know it's very out of character but I realise I'm butchering him! It's not just crappy writing!