Calculated Risks
Calculated Risks
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Viz Media. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities
Part 4
April 19, 2009
Los Angeles
Matt had given Mello another five minutes before he completely lost it, though the sand on that hourglass was rushing down at hurricane speeds by the second.
He tossed the remainder of his cigarette into the street and looped his thumbs in his pockets, trying not to look too much at his friend walking beside him.
The heels of Mello's boots clicked loudly against the sidewalk as if every step was a subtle-as-possible stomp at the universe. Bare arms were folded across his chest and his face, even behind a curtain of blond hair, was in a sour expression that rapidly constricted.
They had left the Museum of Contemporary Art en route for Matt's tiny apartment five minutes ago and hadn't said a word. Matt could swear he heard growling at one point.
He really could blame Mello for nothing.
The resonating metallic crash of a boot meeting a mailbox officially signaled the end of the unstable peace.
Matt took a few casual steps back and kept his gaze at the passing cars while taking his pack of cheap generic cigarettes from his pocket. He shook the pack and took one out with his teeth just as an elbow and then a fist bashed at the mailbox followed by a few curses encased by whimpers.
He returned the pack to his pocket and lit his cigarette, slowly turning back toward Mello and being prepared for flying fists.
Mello's hair hung over his face and his arms grabbed the sides of the box before he kicked it a few more times in rapid succession. The strength in his leg was lost amid a wave of trembling. He folded his arms over the top and Matt clearly saw one tear streak down his face cheek before he buried his head in his arms. A mass of grunts resembling sobs then poured from him with a few curses sprinkled in.
That mailbox was the only stability he needed; something to hold him up and on which he could take out his frustrations as everything was collapsing anyway. It was a sense of déjà vu he really didn't need right now.
Mello did not want to cry and fought the urge with every bit of strength he had. He knew, however, he needed to make an exception at some point whenever L was involved for the sake of the last remaining bits of sanity he had.
His life covered him with scabbed-over wounds, though this was his one gaping sore and a bag of road salt had just been heaped on it.
His breathing calmed some clarity shone through the chaos of those burned-in images of L's face staring back at him from that wall, the sight of which caused him more pain than the supposed circumstances behind how that image was captured.
Mello gave a heaving sigh, the realization becoming a bit clearer. He couldn't have given a damn about Trevor Skye's supposed weekend tryst with L or L's moment as nude model. Ultimately the circumstances were a sweet story that Mello had heard a million times with different characters.
The fact one of those characters was L was a little harder to wrap his head around, though only for the individual. Everything else seemed typical, a word that never could be used to describe L…or could it? It was that reality that rubbed against the wound a little more.
Mello raised his head from his arms and pushed one side of his hair behind his ears; a few stubborn tears cleared away with the back of a gloved hand. He saw Matt casually standing a few feet away taking careful drags from his cigarette, though his eyes would stiffly float to the side to check on him.
"You took fucking photos," Mello asked with a tone of incredulity, voice still shaking though finding its strength fast.
Matt's eyes fell on him in a clear gaze of concern.
"Let's just get back to the apartment, man," he said in an almost pained tone. "It's been kind of a rough night."
Mello glared at him for a moment before pushing himself off the mailbox, giving it one last kick before coming back beside his friend. He took a few deep breaths and tried to steady his legs as he walked a few steps ahead of Matt, who carefully followed.
"I'm grabbing a beer, you want one," Matt said, walking toward the refrigerator in the tiny side kitchen next to the living room.
Mello savored the light break in the stifling silence with those few simple words from his friend.
"Yeah, sure," he replied, sitting up a little in the plush orange couch Matt must have found at a yard sale somewhere.
Mello took his elbows off his knees to sweep back the hair from his face, allowing himself to recline on the back of the couch as his hands took a position behind his aching head.
His eyes fell to the ceiling and focused on all of the cracks and water stains as if they were a peaceful mantra clearing his mind. Mello's concentration was broken by the sight of a brown bottle waved in front of his face.
Mello grabbed the bottle and took a long swig of the pungent contents, the small bit of alcohol tingling in his sinuses enough to bring him back to reality a bit more. He looked over to see Matt practically rip the red silk shirt off his body and throw it on the floor before scooping his favorite striped shirt off a ratty recliner and pull it over his torso.
"Would you be too offended if I burned that fucking thing," Matt said, giving the silk shirt a kick with his bare foot.
"It was your three bucks," Mello said with a tired smirk. "You piss it away that's your problem."
Matt grabbed his own beer off a small end table, leaping over the arm of the recliner and plopping down with a happy grunt.
Mello took another swig, leaning forward again and resting his elbows on his knees while keeping his gaze to the floor. The silence resumed save for the metallic click of a lighter and the loud tap of said lighter being thrown on the coffee table.
Another minute must have passed, though the one sound Mello was not hearing was the tinging electronic soundtrack of any of Matt's game systems.
Mello sipped his beer, the action giving him an excuse to look up to see what Matt was doing. His old friend's feet were on the coffee table, body reclined between one arm and the back of the chair. Matt's gaze went between the ceiling and the coffee table as he took casual drags from his cigarette and light sips from the bottle.
Green eyes cautiously trailed in Mello's direction for a moment before returning to their usual gazing areas.
"You know if you had your goggles on I wouldn't see you looking at me that way," Mello said.
"You'd see it anyway," Matt said, blowing a couple smoke rings. "You're just good like that."
Mello grimaced and took a hard swig.
"So Matt," Mello said with a tone of forced cheer. "What do you make of what we have seen this evening? If someone's going to clear the elephant from the room, it might as well be a joint effort."
Matt took a slow drag, staring up at the ceiling and carefully wording whatever he was going to say next.
"You want my honest opinion," he said, looking at Mello, "I think this whole thing is just fucking weird."
Mello nodded slowly, though kept his gaze fixed on Matt which was more than a little unnerving.
"How do you figure?" Mello asked.
"I mean, look at who we're talking about," Matt said, swinging his feet off the coffee table and planting them on the floor as he leaned forward. He knew now was the time to choose his words carefully, though bluntness was always his best policy. "If the story's true, which I'm still on the fence if it is, it means the great L, the great hides-himself-behind-a-letter detective genius, posed nude for some fucker he met on the subway; some random dude he allegedly slept with. I have to say even that's just blowing my mind a little. If this Skye dude's telling the truth, does that mean L was gay?"
"And what if he was gay, Matt!" Mello snapped. "Does that make a bit of fucking difference to you?"
"Dude, chill," Matt said, holding up a hand. "I'm not a homophobe. I don't give a flying fuck if L was gay, straight, a stripper, married with five kids, whatever. But that's the point, isn't it."
Mello's glare still bored through Matt, though he cocked an eyebrow in curiosity; having an idea what his friend was getting to.
"All he was to us was L, that's it," Matt continued, speaking carefully as if everything was coming to him slowly, his own realization carefully unfolding. "I mean we were probably the only kids at Wammy's House who knew what he even looked like let alone met him in person and what we saw sure as hell wasn't everything. And tonight we find this out? I don't know if this is a blessing or a curse."
Mello relaxed his glare and nodded, taking his chocolate bar off the couch and biting off a corner.
"I know what you mean," Mello said with a hard sigh. "He was a god to us when we were kids. This whole thing means that dying wasn't the only thing that made him human; the fucker actually lived."
"There's a lesson in here somewhere, young Padawan," Matt said, taking a long swig of his beer.
Mello nibbled a corner of his chocolate, staring down at the coffee table.
"That's why you took the photos wasn't it," Mello asked, looking up at Matt.
Matt shrugged, taking one last drag of his cigarette and snuffing it out on a yellow ashtray on the coffee table.
"We're apprentice detectives, bud," Matt said. "It's called gathering evidence, or having proof we weren't hallucinating."
"I want to see them," Mello said, turning off his mind and every trace of internal protest. He had to face those paintings again, face one of the greatest pains of his life.
"You sure about that," Matt said. "You promise me you won't delete them or break my phone."
"Fucking pinkie swear, now just hand me the damn phone," Mello said.
Matt took a cigarette out of a pack on the table and put it in his mouth with a sigh before reaching into his pocket and producing his phone. He handed the phone to Mello before picking his lighter off the coffee table.
Mello flipped the phone open with one hand, scrolling through the menu before coming to the picture folder. He took a large bite of chocolate, finger frozen over the button before he finally shoved it down.
L's candlelit profile was the first thing that came on the screen. Mello looked up from the image for a moment, clearing his thoughts and slowly looking back down. He stared at the image, seeing that usual intense look in his idol's black-rimmed eyes though there was a sense of peace in L's expression.
Mello nodded to himself, finding the strength in his finger to scroll to the next one back; the most intimate one.
L's entire nude form was now fully exposed on the screen, shadows covering the most intimate areas though the scene was obvious.
The image itself was one grand metaphor for L, a realization that made Mello smile a little; for one moment L laid himself bare before a total stranger, though not everything was revealed to the world. Mysteries still existed behind the shadows and L's smirk was almost mocking an audience that longed for more.
He would never be fully revealed; he never was in life and probably not in death. Even the artist probably never cracked that adamantine exterior.
Mello closed the phone and let his hand drop to the couch. The corner of his chocolate bar was once again between his teeth and the cracking sound of each bite was the only sound in the room.
"Tell me the story of how you met him," Mello said, the side of his head resting on the couch.
"You were pretty much there when it happened," Matt said.
"I want to hear you tell it," Mello said.
Matt chuckled, taking a long draw while letting his own head fall back.
"Oh Jesus," Matt said, pausing for a few seconds. "One of the greatest moments in my life, I never thought it would be this hard to tell. I remember Roger had me go up to Mr. Wammy's apartment to fetch you. Now that in itself was a big deal, remember how we never knew where Mr. Wammy lived, it was like behind so many secret entrances that always seemed to change."
"Oh believe me, I tried to break in on several occasions. He was too quick for me."
"Well Roger told me the latest combinations, what doors to open, all that fun shit. I get in no problem, see Mr. Wammy there, he says something like I've been expected. So I tell him I'm looking for you, he says 'I'll fetch him' and tells me to come into the kitchen for some cupcakes."
"Those had better been some kick ass cupcakes. I did all the mixing myself."
"He takes me through the apartment, and you know that place was fucking huge, two floors in just this one section of the house. He leads me in the kitchen, goes to get you…and that's when I saw this guy standing there, leaning against the doorway taking these dainty little bites out of a cupcake."
Matt paused, feeling the back of his throat tightening a bit at the memory. Mello gazed at him with a small smile, knowing everything that must have been going through his head.
"I remember the first time I saw him, I thought he was a stoner or something," Matt said with a laugh. "But he seemed perfectly collected. He reached onto the counter and gets a cupcake, holds it out like he wants me to take it, and I did.
He said something like 'you're Matt right?' I said 'Yeah.' He kind of nods, takes this huge bite, then he says 'I'm L by the way.' God I thought I was going to piss my pants right there. I think I must have stared at him for a second because he asked me if I was going to finish my cupcake. Then you and Mr. Wammy came down and he pretty much shooed us along.
Then L said 'I've been watching your progress, Matt. You do well, so well you are just behind Mello and Near to be my successor.' Then that was it, from there Mr. Wammy just pushed us along and L walked off. It came and went so fast. You know I wanted to hate you for spending more time with him than I did, but I just couldn't. Like…like I thought I saw everything. God I wish I hadn't been right about that."
"You shouldn't have been. There should have been more moments like that, Matt; but Kira did away with that option."
Matt sighed hard before taking a hasty draw from his cigarette. He would never know how much L's death truly affected him; maybe he never wanted to know.
"I remember I practically harassed Roger for weeks to meet him," Mello said. "This was right after he said Near and I were L's heirs. I remember saying 'If we're his fucking heirs why can't he tell us in person.' Roger wasn't too amused with that, though I think it impressed L, word traveled fast to him.
I remember I got the same instructions you did, well maybe not the same but anyway. Mr. Wammy just greeted me and left. That's when I met L, but I don't think I'll ever want to recount the particulars. I just remember being part asshole and part fanboy, and he just seemed to take it all in like he was carefully analyzing me. We started chatting, mostly about me, my interests, stuff like that. Then he got into a story about my predecessor."
"Beyond fucking Birthday, the phantom of Wammy's House," Matt said, recalling all the legends that passed through the halls at midnight.
"One story became three. Then, I kid you not around 3 a.m. he showed me this recipe he had for raspberry truffle cupcakes. We made like two dozen of them and between the two of us, most of them were gone before daybreak."
Mello propped his elbow on the arm rest, letting his head fall onto the back of his hand.
"I never wanted to see him as just this godlike figure and he knew that, that's why he arranged that meeting. He was truly real to me, Matt; like a brother almost."
"You think Near ever met him?"
"I know he did, he told me as much though it was only for a second. Just got a glance at him and apparently refused to talk to him. Said something to me about he didn't want to personalize himself with him. I think a few other kids asked him if they met him and he flat out denied it; said it was just that one time over the computer when he talked to all of us."
"If L was weird, Near was weirder," Matt said.
"But I'm still going to beat him," Mello practically hissed, another pain that wouldn't let go. "Near didn't know L like I did, he's probably treating this whole mess like another fucking puzzle; but it's more than that."
Mello moved his head from his hand, fingers slowly forming into a fist around Matt's cell phone. He kept his gaze forward as he unclenched his fist and turned the phone out, one finger folding it open and revealing the painting of L.
Matt nodded, having an idea what Mello was getting at.
"This is why I'm doing this, Matt," Mello said, glaring at Matt, who saw his friend practically shaking. "This isn't just about me and Near and this isn't just about getting Kira. This is about L; this is about seeing L's killer destroyed. He was a fucking human; just 25-years-old and just simply cut down." His tone steadily grew louder and more strained, sobs sneaking out between growls. "What we saw tonight, what Trevor Skye told us, shows us he truly lived his life and I'm going to cut down the bastard who took it from him; return the fucking favor."
Mello tossed the cell phone on the coffee table, taking a few hard breaths to try to calm himself.
Matt leaned forward and snuffed out his cigarette before looking up at Mello; a fire slowly being lit in his own mind fueled by that one memory of a brief moment in time.
"It'll happen, Mello," Matt said. "I'm sure of it."