Author's Note: Hola! I'm sorry for the late-ness of this chapter... I wanted to have it up two days ago so that it would leave you suitably excited for the upcoming lemon, but I had a LOT of schoolwork. But uhh I guess I'll just have a really quick update sometime this weekend so that no one dies from the suspense. This chapter explains what was going on with Mello while Matt was getting drunk. A very large lemon is coming up in the next chapter. ;D
Also... THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reviews! It makes me really happy to read them. I like hearing what you guys think, so thanks! ^_^
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. Coarse language.
Mello's thoughts kept flickering between the television and vague memories of life before Russia. He thought about 'life before Russia' so often now that he had started abbreviating it in his head as 'LBR', as if thinking out all the syllables was too much work. He was draped on the sofa now, one arm hanging off the side while the other was bent behind his head. The voices coming from the television were starting to make less and less sense to him, their voices garbled as though the characters were underwater. Growing bored of the movie, which was growing increasingly pointless, he switched the television off and swung his legs off of the sofa, standing up and stretching. He wandered around, padding through the kitchen and living room, and finally making his way into their old bedroom. He sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of Matt's hands against his skin as they had made love the previous night, but his thoughts were jarred as he remembered the coldness and awkwardness between them after the act. He stood up, suddenly finding the bed uncomfortable, and wandered over to the chest of drawers. Curious, he slid the drawers out one by one, amused to find underpants in the first and a jumble of socks in the second. The third contained jeans, and the fourth contained an assortment of random items like old toothbrushes, rubber bands, paper clips, a screwdriver, wires, and some chewed pencils and pens. Mello shook his head and moved on to the fifth, but froze as he saw its contents.
The fifth drawer was filled with ashtrays. Mello pulled his hand away from the drawer's handle as if it had burned him, sinking back onto his heels and hugging his knees to his chest as tears formed in his eyes. How on earth had he not noticed? Ever since he had come back, he hadn't caught a single whiff of cigarette smoke, a scent that he had breathed every day when he had lived here previously. During 'LBR' he thought wryly, wiping away the tears of shock that had run down his cheeks. There hadn't been a single time when he had seen Matt without a cigarette in his mouth or clamped between his fingers. Except, of course, for when they went to bed. How did I miss that? Mello thought sadly, still crouched in a ball. Looking back into the drawer, Mello remembered the exact location of each ashtray. The square glass one had gone in the kitchen next to the sink. The one shaped like a snowman had belonged on the coffee table. And the one Mello had given Matt for his eighteenth birthday, shortly before he had left for Russia, had been placed on the nightstand that had stood next to Matt's side of the bed. He reached out to touch it and started as he felt a piece of paper attached to the bottom. Lifting it, he turned it over and was surprised to find a sticky note there. It simply said "3 months and six days" in Matt's messy, uneven handwriting. He put the ashtray back and shut the drawer, feeling as though he had invaded something that he didn't deserve to know about.
He stood up and left the room, going back into the living room. He was numb from shock, hardly able to feel his feet as they thumped against the cool, hard floor. He collapsed listlessly onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands and letting them slide off slowly. I've always been a heartless bastard, he thought bitterly, dropping his gaze from the ceiling to the game systems in the shelves below the television monitor. I've always loved him selfishly. I never once thought about the relationship in terms of Matt. It was always about getting pleasure for myself. He picked up the remote control which lay beside him and threw it to the floor, watching with knitted brows as it flipped and skidded across the wooden planks.
Matt had been sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a racing game. As always, he was playing against the computer. Mello walked in and Matt, hearing his footsteps, paused the game and turned around, grinning. "Hey, Mel. Want to play? It's getting boring racing the computer," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the screen. Mello paused, then nodded with a tight-lipped smile. Matt busied himself with plugging the other controller in, then handed it to Mello. "So, uh, how do I play?" Matt patiently went through the controls, pointing out the various buttons and their functions, but Mello's mind was elsewhere and his gaze kept flickering to his cell phone, which was resting silently on the coffee table. Matt started a new race, and Mello couldn't get his car to move, not having paid attention to Matt's instructions. "Damn it," he said under his breath, not noticing the irritated glance Matt sent his way.
"I just explained it to you. Or weren't you paying attention?"
"Mattie, you know I'm slow at these things. You're so good at this because you're technologically savvy," Mello said, putting the weak flattery up as protection against Matt's annoyance. Matt didn't reply. Suddenly, Mello's phone rang. He jumped up to answer it, not noticing the look of resentment and anger that Matt was giving him as he listened to the caller. "I'll be on my way then," he had replied, pocketing the phone and walking towards the door. He had paused, remembering Matt. "Mattie, I need to go, it's urgent," he had said, his voice apologetic. Matt had turned to him and smiled that horribly false smile. "It's okay, go. I know how important your work is," he had replied. But there had been no sarcasm or anger behind the biting words, just a deep sadness. The whimsical music from the video game faded as Mello stepped into the hallway.
Mello got up from the couch, walking to the cupboard where all the gaming equipment was kept and opening the door. Matt's favorite controller could be easily recognized by its dirtied and stained exterior, the joystick giving easily when he pushed it experimentally. Digging farther back, he found the controller had been looking for. Its surface, though covered by a fine layer of dust, was pristine, its wire still stiff and the joystick's motion inhibited from a lack of use. It was the controller that had been meant for him. Tears splattered the plastic surface, and Mello wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sinking back onto his knees and realizing, for the first time, how one-sided their relationship had truly been. No wonder Matt's angry, Mello thought sadly, winding the wire around the controller and shoving it roughly back into the depths of the cupboard from which it had come. It's not just about Russia. It's about... everything.
Unable to bear the sight of the television and the game systems anymore, he moved to the kitchen table, burying his face in his hands upon sitting. Matt has gone through too much shit because of me, he thought angrily, tangling his fingers into his hair. And even though it might get the both of us killed, I need to tell him what was going on. It's only fair. He put up with my crap for eight years, so I can do this much for him. He rested his forehead on the cool glass surface of the table, miserable. The less Matt knew, the better, because there was a chance that the mafia could waltz into their apartment on any given day, and if he didn't know anything he had a chance at being spared. Then I'll tell him what I know, but not all at once. I'll drag it out until I'm sure the coast is clear. That way he stays safe... well, as safe as he can be living with me... and I save what's left of our fucking joke of a relationshi-
The door of the apartment burst open, interrupting his half-formed thought. Mello sat up immediately, registering Matt standing in the doorway. He stood up, relieved to finally have come up with a solution to his problem. His voice shaking with emotion, he started to speak. "Matt, there's something I wanted to tel-" but before he could finish his sentence, Matt walked towards him and kissed him with such force that Mello gasped in pain as the metallic taste of blood seeped into his mouth.
