Nightfall

Matt—

By the time I woke up, it was dark. Again, I wasn't sure what time it was. With Mello, time doesn't seem to exist. It's like our time together will last forever. It's not bounded by the eventual reality that we can't spend every second of everyday together. Time for us just… lasts.

I surveyed my surroundings. From the big pool windows and the glittery night sky, the surface of the pool water covered in silver confetti, the towel wrapped around my waist. My Periodic Table boxers. The brontosaurus floaties that I used in the pool when Mello and I went swimming. My eyes traced the wire of my earphones leading down my chest to the floor. For some reason, I had put my iPod earbuds in. Maybe to ease myself into sleep – because sometimes I swear I'm an insomniac – and I faintly recognized the song that was on repeat as Cher Lloyd's "With Ur Love." What? It's a catchy little tune. .

I looked up at Mello, smiling sheepishly. "Hi."

"Hi." He said back. He was leaning against the metal bleachers beside the pool. My eyes raked over his body (what? you would steal a look, too). He was wearing my green army jacket and ripped jeans. His blond hair was tied back in a half-up. There was a cord around his neck that I hadn't noticed before. I wondered what the symbol means. There's so much of him that I haven't figured out.

Mello was crouched over his phone. I gathered myself up off the poolside with much effort. Since it was dark out, I figured I must've got at least 12 hours of sleep. After a night like that, I know I needed every second. I smiled at the thought of last night. With what I remembered blurring together, I don't really know if I believe it all. Whatever happened, I don't need every single detail. I just know it was amazing.

/ Say it's young love at it's best /

And I was in excellent company. I walked over to Mello and joined him on the bleachers.

I settled in beside him, bringing my knees up to my chest. I still wasn't wearing a shirt. Mello felt me shiver into him. He put his phone down and handed me my jacket back. "As much as I look good in this, it's yours. So, out of charitable good nature, I'll give it back to you."

I grinned. "Thanks." I motioned to his phone, which was back in his hands. "Your boyfriend?" I joked.

"Just a friend. I mean, he's gay. But we're not." He struggled to explain. "For each other, I mean. He's my neighbor." He paused. "He's one of the sassiest men you'll ever meet. He flutters like a butterfly." Smirking, he held up his finger. "Here. Watch." He started keying in a text message. I peered over his shoulder. It read: should i dye my hair black? I laughed. Was this a typical topic between Mello and him? Cosmetics?

Mello went on explaining. "He's the one with that movie…um, Moulin Rouge?" He waved the phone. "He was just asking me how last night was."

"So your gay friend/neighbor" – I literally pronounced the "slash" – "wants to know if you got lucky last night?"

"Naturally."

While we waited for a response, Mello handed me my jeans back. He just stood up and stripped down to his boxers. Then he stepped out of them and shoved them in my arms. "You're welcome." He said, smirking. My face went an obnoxious red.

I slipped them on and went to the deep end to get him his leather pants. From across the pool, I heard his cell phone sound the delivery of a new message. When I came back to Mello's side, we traded: his cell phone for his pants. I glanced at the screen:

no, sugar, it wouldn't suit u & that handsome face of urs

I rolled my eyes amusedly.

"See?" Mello said. He jumped up and down a little, trying to wiggle into his leather pants. A moment later, his phone chimed again. Another message.

now if u'll excuse me im bout 2 let my bf eat dinner off my chest. & i bet u no wat dessert is ;)

I read it out loud to Mello. He snorted. "Send: thanks for the image."

My fingers went flying. Then I glanced up. "Do you need help?" I asked Mello, talking about his pants.

"Nope. I'm good. I can't wait to go home and throw some other pants on."

My chest suddenly felt empty. Now that the night is over, what's left? What now? Was that a one-time kind of thing? I shook my head. Something told me with all that happened, this wasn't going to end so soon.

I handed Mello his phone back. As he took it from my hand, I briefly acknowledged Mello's friend's sign off:

:)) smooches!

Slipping his phone into one of his combat boots, Mello watched me tie my lime green Converses. "Ready?"

From the floor, I looked up at him. "For what?"

I finished putting my shoes on and stood up. I watched him take his car keys out of a pocket in his vest, which he was slipping his arms through. "Dinner and a shower, of course." He walked into me, his face dropping to my shoulder. "Obviously not in that order. You stink."

I laughed. "Gee. Thanks."

"Plus, you need your shirt. Despite how goddamn sexy you look right now, I don't want you getting a cold." He tapped my nose. "Let's get you home, Matty."

We headed for his car. As he locked the door to the YMCA behind me, I took a few steps out to the parking lot and lit a cigarette. As I exhaled the smoke, I panicked for a second, thinking I forgot my iPod by the pool. I patted my hands over my jacket pockets. I felt my wallet, keys, Chemistry set goggles, a few comic strip cut-outs mixed with receipts, and my iPod. When I jumped into Mello's car, I asked, "So did you mean my place or yours?"

"I said home." Mello looked at me pointedly from his position in the driver's seat. "So mine."

Maybe it was the hangover talking, but for some reason that really registered for me. This was for real. I didn't want to leave Mello's side. I wasn't planning to, at least. I nodded curtly in response, took the cigarette out of my mouth, and blew out smoke.

"You know, theoretically, we're going to have to go to my apartment eventually. I need new clothes, I can't let my bills pile up…" I shuddered. I've been trying to avoid my landlord for weeks.

She's a crazy bitch. And she's got it out for me. "…I don't want my food going bad, I can't neglect my videogames for too long…"

"I can't wait." He said, putting the car in reverse. He threw his arm around the back of my seat to get a better angle. "You can wear something of mine for now. Then we'll see about going to your place."

I arched an eyebrow. "Do you only have leather for me to wear?"

"Damn! I was going to lie and force you to wear it." Mello smirked. "Come on, can't we both agree that your ass would look fucking edible in leather pants?"

I frowned at his word choice. "Edible?"

"I thought it sounded stronger than delicious or yummy." Mello shot me a cheeky grin. There was humor in his icy blue eyes.

I rolled down the window to throw out my cigarette. "We talk about my ass a lot."

Mello flicked the too-long bangs out of his eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"Not really." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You must think about it a lot."

Mello clicked his tongue. "Guilty."

I laughed.

I kept the window rolled downed and looked out for a while. The city was a blur. It was alive in the nighttime, but all the shadows and all the lights blurred in my vision. Maybe my eyes were still exhausted. I had a mild headache from staying awake so long and sleeping by the pool but I wasn't worried about it. "I think after we eat, I'm just going to sleep until next week."

"Amen, brother."

"Where are we eating?" I asked. "Because I'm content living off PopTarts and Goldfish. I'm just not sure if you felt like eating something else."

Mello stopped at an intersection with no traffic lights. He looked both ways, then motioned a car forward with two fingers. He sat back and waited. "Thinking about it."

"Think out loud. I tend to do that. A lot."

"You don't want to hear all of my thoughts."

"Good or bad?"

"Dangerous."

"Cryptic."

"I know. Pizza sound good?"

"Sure."

"Wait, I got it."

"No pizza?" I frowned. Almost whimpered like a puppy.

His grin was smug. "Nope, a surprise."

"I love surprises."

The rest of the car ride included me and Mello flipping back and forth between a pop station and an alternative rock station, old guys on bikes that looked like Jesus Christ, Mello honking at bagladies and telling me that he "gives them hop in their sodden states", me keeping my feet on the dashboard, Mello swerving and cursing at pedestrians, us pulling over to help a tourist find their way (or give faulty directions to further confuse them), me telling Mello it's good he speaks German after helping said tourist, and whatever the hell else you do in the car with drop-dead gorgeous blonde hooker (still convinced) named Mello.

As soon as we got up to Mello's apartment, he pointed in the direction of his shower and proceeded to flop down on his couch face-first.

I guess I'm taking a shower first, then. I grabbed a towel and stepped in. The second that hot water hit was like heaven. God, it was great. After a crazy night like last's, I needed this. I closed my eyes and felt my muscles relax. I could stand under this soft cascade of water forever. Again, time seemed immeasurable. And Mello was right. I did stink. After I was sure I shed the first layer of my epidermis, which is the stratum corneum (used to protect the other layers below it from infection, dehydration, chemicals, and mechanical stress, by the way), I shut the water off. But I regretted it the second my skin flushed with cold night air.

I stepped out of my shower, threw a towel around my waist, and headed for my room. On my way out, I glanced at the sink and thought to that weird that the toothbrush on the edge was a different color than mine. Maybe I changed it and forgot? Shrugging, I kept on going.

I couldn't wait to throw on my funny Pythagorean Theorem T-shirt and faded jeans, then shove my feet into the bunny slippers I like to pretend I don't have. It's not like anyone's ever seen them anyway. I wouldn't let them.

I was a little taken aback by the different furniture and floor plan that awaited me from the other side of the bathroom door. I hugged the ball of my dirty clothes to my chest. Da fuck…?

Oh, shit. I forgot I was in someone else's apartment. Just walked straight on out like it was mine. Now I'm standing in someone else's living room with someone else's towel loosely draped around my waist after taking a shower in someone else's shower (which surprisingly had a lovely assortment shampoos and conditioners.) I didn't think this through.

It would've been better if he was in another room. I could've retreated back into the bathroom without being seen. I could've talked through the door. But no, I stepped out of his bathroom like a half-naked dumbass. I didn't even dry myself off completely. So I'm wet. Wonderful.

And there he was. Mello wasn't in another room. He was right in front of me.

Staring at me directly from the other side of the room.

Awkward.

"So, um…clothes." I said, feeling incredibly self-conscious under Mello's shameless gaze. "Um, some would be nice right now."

He didn't answer. He sat across the room with a big hulking book on his lap. Oh, he reads. Nice to know.

But enough with the staring. Really.

I fisted a hand at my hip. "Hey, this wasn't some trick to see me naked, was it?"

Low, Mello. Just low. I am so going to get him back! Since he was apparently without words, I searched his face for an answer. No, he wasn't messing with me. A surprise. Seriousness flashed across over his face, like he was cursing himself for forgetting to put clean clothes in the bathroom as I showered. I respected him. For a moment.

Then his expression changed and he was smirking. Taking advantage of the situation. My face went hot. He may be only half-kidding, but I caught how his eyes twinkled mysteriously as he not-so-subtly ran his eyes down my body. "I should forget to give you clothes more often." Mello licked his lips seductively.

I threw my dirty clothes at him. "Pervert!"

He hid behind his stupid textbook, but I saw his shoulders shaking and I knew he was laughing. "Just go outside in that towel. With a body like that, nobody's going to complain. And if they do, they'll have to take it up with me!" He called after me as I stepped into his bedroom to put some clothes on. Sheesh.

Still flustered, I rummaged around for some clothes. Strictly avoiding all leather.

I mean, I look good naked. Don't get me wrong here, folks. But God. I have standards. Come on, what happened to dinner and a movie first? The good ole days when a man did that whimpy-ass "move" of pretending to yawn as he slipped his arm around his lady-friend? Now it's totally cool, if not encouraged, to "grab some junk that I don't know / and plant one right on him." I blame you, Cobra Starship. You and your addictive parody of Katy Perry songs. Burn in hell.

Okay, time to look for some shit to wear. I focused on the closet, the piles of shit shoved up in front of it blocking the door. I only wanted some old jeans and a fresh t-shirt. I doubted that I'd find either. I pawed at the top of the closest pile. Damn. It turns out Mello really is a fan on leather. That's all he had. I searched on, refusing to submit my angelic ass to such tight torture. Cause I take care of my ass like that. You should do the same. Captain Kirk would. Ewan McGregor does (that much is obvious, just watch Moulin Rouge).

I held up a shirt that said: Sometimes I aim to please, but mostly I just shoot to kill.

Ha.

I found some other leather vests, some combat boots, then finally found a pile of T-shirts. They all had cheap logos on them. Mostly likely free pick-ups. There were some generic tees with words, a guitar, skulls. I couldn't wear any of these. I have a style. I can't stray from out. I dug around more. Finally, I settled on a tight black T-shirt that had two i's and an s locked together artfully to make a money sign. It was apparently a logo for a band named Innerpartysystem. Why not? I'm so hood rich. Word to the Gs.

I put the shirt aside to hunt for some pants. Leather leather leather. More leather. Goddamn. What can't this man wear anything else? I made a mental note to take him shopping someday. I finally found some beat up jeans and wrestled that out from under his bed.

"Mello, I hate you and your obsession with leather!"

"Mmmkayyyy." He called back.

I was bent over shifting through a pile of random shit to find the shirt I just misplaced when I heard something like a click coming from the door. Then the breathy mutter: "Fucking edible" coming from Mello, who was posed in the doorway. With a hand in his pocket and the other holding the doorknob, he was half-closed in the door. A peeping Tom.

I snapped upright. Ramrod straight, with my hands on the fisting the denim at my hips. My pants hung loosely at my waist, which were in the process of being zippered. The crotch area of the black boxers I found on the floor of Mello's closet was fully visible.

"You're horrible!" I shouted, voice breaking. "And perverted!"

Mello held my gaze. "Yeah. And?" He motioned to the jeans by flicking his eyes down to my legs. "Fit nice."

"Get out." I wasn't offended, just momentarily embarrassed. My body's fucking gorgeous, we all know that, but he doesn't get the privilege of seeing it as he pleases. Not yet, at least.

Sniggering, Mello turned to leave. Nuh-uh. Not so fast.

I caught his wrist on the opposite doorknob, almost shutting my arm in the door, and closed the distance between us. Even though my position was kind of awkward, our mouths still connected. At first, Mello was stiff and shocked. I moved my mouth against his smoothly and slowly, melting him into the kiss. I was going to make this jackass pay. He tried to dominate, but I pulled back for a breath then went back in. I kept the kiss sweet and sultry. My heart raced. Blood pounded in my ears. I felt his tongue slide across my closed lips. I pulled back again. He made a noise of protest. I waited a beat, teasing. Then I went kissed him again and I sucked on his lower lip.

He jerked back, his cheeks flaring a bright pink. His expression clearly said: Fuck.

I mentally smirked. He liked that.

Then I smirked for real. Staring into his eyes, I let the delicious victory sink in. He pushed me back into the room with a firm hand on my chest, jaw set. I yanked the door shut. "Next time, I'm charging you."

"Whore."

"The best."

"I do CEOs and millionaires. Pays good. Old dirtbags love my junk." I finished fastening my pants. I threw the Innerpartysystem shirt on. "I'm kind of a big deal in the trafficking world."

From the other room, I heard his low chuckle.

Matt: 1, Mello: 1

Once Mello got into his shower, I crashed. Yanking out a blanket stuck under one of the legs of his coffee table, I curled up under it and sunk into the couch cushions for a catnap. I didn't sleep long because I woke up still hearing the sound of running water. Not feeling up to creeping around Mello's apartment, because I could easily, I just flipped the TV on. I watched some awful reality show where kids from some honky tonk nowhere town got drunk and started fights and sunk out late to wrestle each other in a barn full of horseshit. What's with media these days?

I prefer watching the drama of the Final Fantasy world unfold with each new installment, thank you.

I heard Mello get out of the shower. He didn't say anything while he was passing through the living room, but I heard him brushing his teeth. The soft click of his bedroom door sounded behind me.

Finding myself strangely addicted to this trashy reality show, my eyes stayed glued to the screen. Long enough to remind myself to find an anime channel, but only just as Mello reentered the living room. He smashed a pillow over my head. "'Kay, Matty, let's get something to eat."

I laid back and stretched over the couch. "Then can we sleep?"

"Then we can sleep." He promised. On his way out, he picked up my green army jacket and put it on. What's with his fascination with wearing my jacket?

I guess cause it's friggen badass.

Like me.

Stepping into the parking lot, we came up to his car. "Can we name your car?" I asked.

"It's already got a name." Mello said.

"Oh." I was a little disappointed. All badass nerd names I could've used. Ah well. "What is it?"

He shrugged, unlocking his side of the car. "Betsy," he said, over the roof.

"Betsy?" He threw me the keys. I hacked at the lock as he slid in the driver's seat. "Why Betsy?"

"It's old as shit."

"Damn."

"I know."

"That's a cool name."

Mello laughed, surprised. "You're welcome." He started the car. "Here we go."

I pulled up the hood of my hoodie, leaned back in the seat, and played "Still Fly" by The Devil Wears Prada from my iPod. Which isn't so smooth for a relaxing soundtrack, because it's hardcore screamo, but trust me, the lyrics are freaking hilarious. They're meant to be. If you want a good The Devil Wears Prada song, look up "Louder than Thunder." Trust me, it's awesome. No screamo. Awesome lyrics. Great piano.

Mello nudged my shoulder when we came up on the place where we were eating. I sat up and looked out the front window, tugging the earbuds out of my ears.

We rolled up to the tiny Asian place kind of close to my apartment, actually. This is the same place around the corner, right? I leaned forward in my seat to read the sign as we passed under it. Yep. Same place. "Um, just curious, Mels. Why'd you pick this place?"

His face was a question mark. "You said it was your favorite."

I blinked in surprise. "When did I say that?"

"Last night after we peed ourselves laughing at the 'Like a Virgin' scene from Moulin Rouge…"

Ahh, the 'Like a Virgin' scene. Hands down my favorite. Who wouldn't like Jim Broadbent chasing the Duke – lol I don't know the actor's name – with in a blanket wrapped around his head singing Madonna's 'Like a Virgin' as the Duke waited to defile Nicole Kidman? Um, it's hilarious. The Duke makes a ton of rape faces. He's totally a creeper. I love it. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. Right now. Tell your parents "Matty-o said so."

"…you said, for whatever reason, that you wanted some General Tso's chicken. Because, you said, the best place is General Tso's chicken is The Paper Crane. And then you asked me if it was weird that you have The Paper Crane's number in your speed dial."

I blinked. Once. Twice. Third time's a charm.

He continued, "I also know that last year on your birthday you hid in your room and ordered double of everything on The Paper Crane's menu and ate it while playing videogames for 14 hours. It took your roommate/neighbor, I forget his name but I remember it was weird, pried the PS3 controller out of your hands and took you out."

Ah, yes. Beyond Birthday is pushy like that. I bet he would've spanked me for rotting my brain on an Asian food/videogame marathon had A not been attached to his side. Charlie, Mello's sassy gay friend/neighbor, is definitely full of rainbow and sparkles, but B can be just like him. Plus we're close, me and BB. He still walks into my apartment in his boxers or a towel to drink the chocolate milk by the carton from my fridge. We used to be roommates before A moved in next door. They met at the mailbox and they like to think the song "You Had Me at Hello" by A Day to Remember is their wedding song. They fell for each other instantly. Now BB bounces back between both places, but spends majority of his time at A's. That's his home now, really.

"You've got an exceptional taste in cuisine, Mels. This is Asian excellence."

"Yeah, well, I'm all sorts of excellent." Pulling the car into a spot, he stopped. He slid the key out of the ignition and slid some sunglasses on with the other hand. Even though it was nighttime. I gripped the door handle but he stopped me.

"This is not a date," he said. He got out of car, slamming the door behind him.

I didn't know what he meant by that, so I just followed him.