Suggested Listening: 'This is How We Do' - All Time Low

Feel It in My Bones

~This is How We Do~

I was aware of three things when I woke up the next morning: my phone having a spazz attack as it slowly made its way to the edge of my night table like a lemming to a cliff; my mom had ever so kindly left a sticky note stuck to my forehead, reminding me to get my clothes out of the dryer; and my alarm clock – which I remembered turning off on Friday night, mind you – was currently blaring what my dazed mind somehow identified as a monster truck ad.

… Hasn't anyone ever heard of sleeping in?

Turning over, I reached across the short distance to the surface adjacent and yanked my alarm clock aggressively out of the wall by the cord, effectively shutting up the obnoxious announcer and making me feel a hell of a lot better. Next was the sticky note, which I showed my defiance towards by scrunching it up and tossing it into the trash bin across the room from where my bed was (I was still going to get that laundry done; I could bully poor, defenseless sticky notes all I wanted, but when it came to something my mother wanted me to do, I always got it done no questions asked). Finally, I grabbed my cell phone and flipped it open.

I quirked an eyebrow as I read the first thing that popped up on my screen:

Mello (9:01):

Fuccckkkk… why did you let me drink last night…

Mello (9:15):

Matt, you asshat. Are you even fucking awake?

Mello (9:21):

… Fucker.

Mello (9:23):

Seriously. First you don't even stop me from drinking my own weight in alcohol, and now you're not even awake to take abuse for how shitty I feel right now.

Mello (9:24):

Some friend you are.

Mello (9:32):

Fuck it. I'm going to go take a shower, and you better be up by the time I get back.

Mello (10:01):

… I'm going to kick your ass so hard the next time I see you.

Mello (10:02):

So hard that your TEETH are going to hurt from the force of it.

Mello (10:16):

Dickface.

Mello (10:17):

Fuckingshitwankingpansyassed horsefuckingdickface.

Mello (10:24):

Fuck it. I want McDonald's. Be there in fifteen.

Just as I shut my phone, shaking my head all the while, I heard my mother call up the stairs, "Matt! Mello's here!"

… Shit.

I leaped out of bed and hastily made my way over to my dresser, after which ensued the fastest scramble to get on clothes in what might possibly be the history of mankind.

Seriously, if getting dressed was an Olympic sport, I might have just won gold with that performance.

Wasting no time, I sped out of my room while shoving all the essentials into my pockets (read: keys, phone, cigs, and DS). I took the stairs at a rapid pace, and before I knew it, I was down in the living room. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I got there.

My mother looked up from where she was folding clothes in front of the television set. Her hair was in the soft, familiar curls I had seen it in since the day I was born, while her eyes were bright and cheerful; a good day, then.

"Good morning, dear. Mello's here, as you can see." She tilted her head to indicate the blond sitting on the couch next to her with a smile on her face.

I had long since acknowledged that fact when I had first come down the stairs. Now I was busy trying to wrap my sputtering train of thought around what Mello was doing.

There he sat, acting like nothing was amiss, helping my mother fold laundry. Not just any laundry, mind you, but my laundry. If this wasn't already bad enough, he picked up a pair of my cartoon boxers next – of course, still keeping up the illusion that it is completely normal for a guy to perform household chores involving their best friend's underwear.

Woah. My mind did not need to go there…

Both my mother and Mello appeared to be completely unaware of my discomfort – that is, until I saw Mello's eyes slide over to me; the smirk was barely concealed. I knew the look he was giving me. It was the look that said: "I own you."

Like I needed reminding.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I'll finish that up later. We should get going."

Mello set the laundry basket with my clothing in it aside and got up. He turned to my mother next, offering her a smile. "Matt's right. See you later, Mrs. J."

"'See you two. Drive safe!"

For the second time that weekend, we were out the door. Mello paused for a moment to wait as I picked up the morning paper and threw it back inside.

When I straightened, he continued on past me, snickering all the while as he said, "Nice underwear."

"Fuck off," I mumbled, falling into step behind him.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The McDonald's in our town lived up to the image that you came to expect when you pulled into the parking lot in hopes of eating greasy food from the establishment with the infamous double-arch logo: nice old ladies in the morning to supply you with enough coffee to fill your early morning caffeine quota, disinterested teens in the afternoon too busy popping the zits on their face to even give you the time of day, bathrooms that you do your best to avoid lest you slip on the water pooled by the sink and then bang your head on the hand dryer (happened to me once; Mello was cackling like a hyena the way to the emergency room to get me stitches), and of course the 'Caution: Wet Floor' sign that always seems to be lurking by the doorway three days after the floor was mopped.

Maybe they should move the sign to the bathroom. Just a thought.

Mello and I had worked here when we were going through junior high. Most teenagers in this town had at some point before they realized that starting wage was a bit higher at other employers in town, and made the great migration to Wal-Mart to join the ranks of the Cult of the Smiley Face. Mello and I stuck behind as we were content with burger flipping and sneaking fries whenever we pleased. It was a simple life, but wholly satisfying all the same.

It was only when we matured (really only fractionally) did we lose our fascination with deep-frying anything we could get our hands on, and moved onto greener pastures. For Mello, said greener pastures came in the form of a job in the family business, while I took up occupation at the local video store – which is a story best saved for another time.

The girl at the counter looked up immediately when we came in; she either was desperate for customers or, like every girl in the town, had a sixth sense for when Mello entered the room. Hazel eyes sparkled from under her blue, company-issued cap as she watched us walk over.

We hung back for a second as we decided what to order.

"Hm…" Mello hummed, eyes quickly scanning the menu posted above the counter.

Already knowing what I wanted, I waited as Mello mulled over the decision for quite some time; when it came to his diet, Mello always put quite a bit of consideration into it. Especially when it comes to brands of chocolate. One time I took Mello to a specialty chocolate shop in the city with the intention of letting him get whatever he pleased for his birthday – worst mistake ever. We were lucky to have made it out before closing time.

I was normally quite patient with waiting for Mello to make his decisions, but the way that the girl at the counter was looking at Mello was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. She was staring so intently at him; it was almost as if she had Superman x-ray vision and could see beneath his clothes.

… And yet another possibility arises for how people found out Mello goes commando…

If it wasn't enough that she was practically raping the blond with her eyes, I couldn't get over how young she was. She had to be at the most fifteen…

She was… pretty much jailbait.

I nudged Mello with my elbow. "Hey, Mells… If you're hung-over, just get something greasy."

The comment earned me a roll of the eyes and a sarcastic remark: "Well. That certainly narrows down my choices."

Mello gave the menu another onceover before he stepped up to the counter; apparently he had made his decision. The girl suddenly erupted into giggles as she greeted us, while her eyes especially lingered over Mello. I swear, if I could have a nickel for every time she reached up to twirl her air, or even a penny for every flirtatious bat of her eyelashes…

"Welcome to McDonald's," jailbait simpered. "How may I serve you?"

"I'll have a McChicken meal, I guess… Oh – and shake the salt off the fries before you come back. I'd rather not have a heart attack when I'm middle aged, you get me?" Mello requested before turning to me. "What do you want?"

I placed my order, and then jailbait scurried off. Taking advantage of her absence, I quirked an eyebrow at my friend, only to receive a slight raise of the shoulders in return. Despite his blasé reaction, I could see the amused smile threatening to tug at his lips.

Jailbait came back – more like floated back – a second later with our food and set it on the tray. Mello and I both gave her our share of the payment and waited as she entered it into the register.

She paused in her actions for a moment, biting her lip. She looked up and batted her eyelashes a few more time (I was almost tempted to inform her that her attempt at flirtation was really only coming off as a twitch that one might have if they were afflicted with Tourette's…) before she asked my blond companion, "Hey… You're Mello, right?"

The earlier mentioned smile nearly surfaced. "Yeah… What's it to you?"

Taking this as encouragement, she continued on, "My sister used to go to school with you… Her name's Kylie." She elaborated when Mello showed no indication that he even knew who she was talking about, "'Sat next to you in Social Studies… 'Looks a lot like me, but older…"

Mello's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, yeah – her…" He appeared to think it over for a moment before concluding, "She was annoying."

"Oh…" jailbait replied, looking crestfallen.

The girl fell silent after that, and she remained quiet while she finished putting our money into the register and counting out the change. Just when I figured she had given up on flirting entirely, her eyes flitted to Mello's as she reached out to hand him his change, purposely brushing her hand against his.

"I'm nothing like my sister, you know," she said, maintaining eye contact.

Mello snorted. "Good luck with that," he told her before he picked up our tray and walked off. It is important to note that his amused smile had long since surfaced and by now had morphed into a smirk.

Trying my best to hold in my laughter, I followed behind him quickly, leaving her to pick up her dropped jaw.

By the time I had caught up with Mello, he was already sitting in a booth near the back, pawing through all the food. I noted the scowl on his face as I slid in across from him.

"Something wrong?" I asked in response to the barely intelligible phrases he was muttering under his breath.

Mello scowled. "What do you think?" By now he was holding his box of fries in one hand, shaking it profusely.

"She didn't shake the salt off, did she?" I asked, thoroughly amused.

See? Prime example of Mello being picky about his food.

"Freaking incompetent is what she is… I only requested that one thing, and she couldn't even handle it!" he huffed before slamming the box down on the table.

I reached out to grab one of the fries that had jumped ship due to the impact and popped it in my mouth. "To be fair, she was probably too busy admiring the laces on the front of your pants to even understand a word you'd said."

As soon as I said it – even though it was meant in jest – I regretted it.

Like a predator always at the ready, Mello pounced at the opportunity. "Oh, yeah?" He smirked as he leaned in towards me. "Well, you would know from past experience, wouldn't you?"

Taking its cue, my face promptly turned as red as my hair – which of course only served to amuse Mello further.

Looking back down at my food, I struggled to change the topic. "So… um… yeah. The party was fun last night, eh?"

Obviously Mello was in a forgiving mood today, because he leaned casually back in his seat and continued on with the subject I had chosen. "It was alright… 'Not much of a turnout, if you ask me."

Ah. I forgot I was speaking to Mr. Popular…

"Well, Linda couldn't be there because she had to pick up that Justin kid's shift 'cause he was sick – again. Near says the guy's got mono, but I don't know what to think… It's not like that kid's ever gotten kissed…" I chattered on while practically inhaling my food.

Hey, I'm hungry. What more can I say?

"Have you ever been kissed?" Mello interrupted suddenly.

I looked up to see Mello looking at me levelly across the table. I blinked. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Have you ever been kissed? You know: lip-locked, snogged, exchanged saliva, got your mac on… Kissing. This is junior-high level of conversation, Matt."

"Oh… Well, I know that… But–"

Mello shrugged. "We've never had this conversation before, so I was wondering… Friends tell each other this sort of stuff, don't they?"

"I guess…" I was quickly becoming trapped into an answer.

"Well?"

"Lindsey Fitzgerald," I blurted out.

"Fish-lips Fitzgerald?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

"She… she just kind of came at me! I panicked."

He shook his head, seemingly amused. "When did this happen?"

"Grade Seven…" I shuddered as I relived the memory.

"I always wondered why she went so moony-eyed over you for a while." He snickered.

"Don't remind me…" I grumbled.

We went quiet for a moment, Mello smiling to himself as he basked in the novelty of this new piece of information. I mostly just sat there trying to stuff long-repressed memories back into the deep, dark recesses of my mind where they belonged.

"So," Mello spoke up once again. "Since we're on the subject of the party and of lusty shenanigans, I believe it would be fitting for me to inquire as to the reason I found you and Miss Lidner curled up under the stars last night."

The mischievous twinkle in Mello's eye was enough to coax the demon in me. "What can I say? We're madly in love… We're planning on running off to get eloped one of these days, you know."

Mello shook his head. "I knew it."

"Naw… But seriously, I just found her there and figured she'd like some company. We talked for a bit, and then she curled up against me at some point and fell asleep… and well, I just decided to let her sleep instead of bother her."

Mello began to gather up our garbage, nodding as he listened to my explanation. "'Makes sense. What did you talk about?"

"Stuff. Rather… odd stuff. She said some weird things."

Mello nodded some more. "People tend to do that when they're high."

"No, but it was really weird. Like… Well… She said–" I paused, something that I saw in Mello's eyes stopping me. I don't know what it was, but suddenly I couldn't tell him what she had said to me.

"You know what? Never mind. You're right; she was high. I shouldn't let it bother me."

Never one to be left out of the know, Mello quirked an eyebrow at me. "C'mon – you give me that lead-in and then leave me hanging? What did she say?"

I shook my head. "Mells, seriously. It's not important."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine – whatever. But you know I will get it out of you eventually." He let the words hang in the air as he got up to throw out our trash.

I knew I would probably have to face it eventually… But for now I wanted to keep on believing in the easy out I had given myself.

I wasn't ready to admit what I was beginning to realize I already knew – at least not yet.

Mello came back shortly and we exited together. The air outside was already warming up considerably as the morning melted slowly into mid-day. Mello, as usual, was ahead of me as he strode across the parking lot towards his bike, leaving me to follow behind.

"Your place or mine?" he called over his shoulder to me, picking up the helmets.

We both ignored the startled looks we received from a group of passers-by.

I shrugged, grinning. "'Doesn't matter to me."

We both got on and a moment later we were speeding out of the parking lot and into the street. As usual, Mello swerved through the traffic with ease, and I allowed myself to settle back into my mind.

It was times like these where I could just enjoy the moment and let the rest fall away.