A.N: Dear me, poor boys (evil grin). Another snow day, which means another proactive day spent typing this. Hm, I don't want to give anything away, but remember the warning in the summary XD
Darkness surrounded Matt, warm and comforting. He was under water, and the weight of it pressed down on his chest in a way that made it hard to breath, but was strangely pleasant. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to wake up; he couldn't remember what lay above the surface of the black water, but he knew it was terrifying, and hurt. It was better to be here.
"Matt."
Someone was calling him. Someone immediately familiar but whose name floated away on the current when Matt tried to grasp it, as insubstantial as liquid itself. He wanted to please this voice though, so he drifted a little closer to the surface of his mind, before stopping, afraid to face whatever drifted above.
"He's breathing is too shallow. I'm putting him on a ventilator and a ½ mg dose of adrenaline. We need to improve his heart rate, or he's in danger of…"
Boring. He tuned out for a while, drifting along. After a while – it could have been minutes or days – he became aware that he had been slowly rising towards the top of the opaque water. Panicking, because who knew what lay beyond, Matt flailed sluggishly. Then he thought of the first voice, and it seemed he was willing to suffer a little more. Relaxing, he felt himself break into the air.
Air. Matt gasped in a mouthful; it felt like he hadn't taken a proper breath in ages. He opened his eyes. Then he groaned and closed them again. Was light always so… bright? Cautiously he opened them a slit; this wasn't his room. Which begged the question, where was he exactly, and why was this room lurching and swaying? Was he on a boat? Maybe he was seasick, which would explain why his stomach felt like someone had tied a knot in it. But why would he be on a ship? Maybe he was hungover. Oh crap, maybe he had got drunk, and then passed out on a ship! That would explain why he couldn't remember anything anyway. He let out a heartfelt groan.
"Here." That familiar voice.
Blindly, he sat up slowly, and grasped as something was shoved in his hand. A glass. Gratefully he gulped half the contents down, before his stomach rebelled, making him urge.
"Jesus." The voice blasphemed. Matt opened his eyes, just in time to see Mello holding a basin in front of him, before he vomited; a thin, vile, watery fluid.
"Urgh." Matt moaned, wondering yet again what he'd done to be punished like this. It struck him he really ought to thank Mello, and perhaps find out what he'd done, and why his friend's head was bandaged. He remembered finding out his mum was -, well he remembered that, and then going to bed. He vaguely remembered waking up really hungry and thinking about getting food, then nothing. Well, he guessed it was an improvement over nothing, and less disorientated, the sick bay was instantly recognizable.
Anyway. He turned – slowly, his stomach still feeling a little delicate, to see Mello was watching him, those cutting blue eyes examining him with worry and other, less discernable emotions swimming underneath.
"Thank you." Matt said quietly, voice a little hoarse. Mello just shrugged, and went to empty the basin in a sink in the corner, giving Matt a little while longer to try and remember exactly what had lead to him being in this state.
Mind proving thoroughly useless, a source of great annoyance to the gifted boy, Matt quickly checked himself over under the blanket. He appeared to be largely uninjured on the outside, apart from a few small bruises, but he still felt like seven types of shit. Giving up, he looked to his left, then tensed, surprised. Near was laying on top of the covers of the hospital bed next to him, seemingly uninjured, face as smooth in sleep as it was when awake.
Sighing, Matt turned away again; this was all very intriguing but it didn't exactly tell him anything. He rinsed his mouth out with the small amount of water left that Mello had brought him, spitting it back in the same glass. Looking up, he jumped. Mello was stood at the foot of his bed, just watching him as if he was something fragile that could break.
Flushing at the unexpected scrutiny, Matt realised for the first time, as he reached instinctively for them, that his goggles were missing. "Where are they?" he groused, feeling uncomfortable and underdressed without them.
Mello actually cracked a smile. "Should have figured that would be the first thing you'd ask."
Matt flushed deeper. "What… happened?"
Mello seemed to notice his reluctance, seemed to share it too. Instead of answering straight away, he came and sat on Matt's bed. "You don't remember huh?"
Shaking his head, Matt waited impatiently for him to say; he may not want to hear it, but he couldn't deal with this suspense – it was hugely irritating not being able to access part of his mind, like when he was younger and trying to break into security systems.
Mello turned to face him, and Matt found himself catching his breath. The blond's gaze was intense, more so now that he had no way of shielding himself against it. His roommate leaned closer, and Matt felt his heart pound a little faster, for some reason he couldn't name.
"I didn't know your eyes were blue too." Mello murmured, half under his breath, before turning to face away, adding matter-of-factly, "Chance drugged you and took you down to the emergency bunker, using you as bait to lure me there."
"Huh?" Not the most verbose of responses, but Matt was still steadying himself from Mello's off-the-cuff comment, and startling revelation.
"She had a gun." Mello's normally harsh voice softened, as the boy stared ahead into the shadows. "I thought she was going to kill me… and you."
There seemed to be a strange intensity to the way Mello said 'you', almost as if he cared more for Matt's life than his own, but Matt shook that thought off as patently ridiculous. "Then what happened?"
Still looking away, face shadowed, it's expressions unreadable, not because Mello was unexpressive like Near, but because his emotions were so strange and alien, the blond continued, "Near had to show up of course, sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. She went mental. Waving the gun around…" Mello made to continue, then stopped.
Oh god, thought Matt the atheist, watching his friend struggle for words, please don't let him have killed her, he'd never forgive himself. "Mello…" The name was a question, an entreaty, and a prayer.
Mello looked up, meeting Matt's sad but sympathetic gaze, before laughing unevenly. "Don't look at me like that Matty," he crunched out the endearment like he was chewing rocks, "my soul is still as pure as ever."
Catching the sly grin, Matt laughed slightly, relieved. Until Mello continued, anyway.
"My soul's pure, but…"A dead silence, then he continued, "She shot herself."
"She's dead?" Matt asked dumbly. Mello nodded, eyes flickering to his with faint irritancy, before skittering away again. "Oh." It might be cruel, but Matt felt more relieved than anything, which made him wonder why the normally callous genius in front of him seemed troubled. "It's not your fault." He tried to reassure Mello.
Again those brilliant azure eyes sought his out again. "Thanks Matty." The boy didn't sound any less distant.
Matt looked down, fiddling with his duvet. He guessed the whole place was in uproar, something like this must have come as a horrific shock; he hoped Roger was dealing ok.
"You're eyes are a really funny color."
Looking up, Matt scowled, "Thanks for the confidence boost, now give me my goggles."
"No can do." Mello grinned lazily; at least this mood swing had left him in a more positive mood, Matt reflected. "I like you much better this way, when you're all shy and defensive."
"Get away!" On second thought, maybe he preferred Mello quiet and brooding.
Sighing mock-sadly, the blond got up, before plunking himself down again. Hard. On Matt's stomach.
"Ow…" Matt groaned softly, hugging himself round the middle. His stomach lurched worryingly, his whole body resonating with pain.
"Oh shit, I forgot…" Mello's voice sounded genuinely regretful.
Matt looked up, planning to glare and give him a piece of his mind, but froze instead. He hadn't realised how close they were, given that he had just sat fully up, and Mello was leaning forward, an expression of mixed remorse and humor on his face. Obviously the other boy hadn't noticed either, because he was just as still as Matt, wide, sky-blue eyes fixed on his own funny-colored ones.
Then Mello's eyes darkened, and Matt involuntarily tensed, preparing for a blow and cries of faggot. Instead the other genius leaned forward, pressing his lips against Matt's softly, before pulling back, leaving Matt breathing in Mello's chocolate-scented breath.
He was gone, before Matt could react, back on his own bed, to his right. Matt stayed sitting upright. How would he have reacted? Would he have pushed the other boy away… or pulled him closer?
***
It was too bright and sunny to be Chance's funeral; that was Matt's thought, as he stood besides Mello in awkward silence, the next afternoon. He hadn't been able to talk to Mello yet, in between Ms Lane scolding him furiously for nearly stopping breathing again, and Roger coming in for a quick word.
Matt winced, remembering how hollow Roger's eyes had seemed; newly carved lines etching his face, writing his despair. The man truly cared about them; every one of Wammy's kids were his children, and losing one, in such a violent, bitter end, had ripped away a part of his heart. He had spoken quietly, grief evident. He didn't blame anyone, except perhaps himself. Some children could not cope with such pressure; he mentioned someone called A, one of his and Whammy's first orphans, who had killed himself, succumbing to the pressure of trying to become the next L.
So here they were. Classes were cancelled for the day, and most of the children were gathered here on the playing field, listening to Roger speak empty words, for what could you say to convey the brutality of Chance's death on a sunny summer day like this? The words sounded unreal, like a story. Matt watched as Roger concluded, and opened the black marble urn, tossing the ashes into a breeze. He saw them swirl away, quickly disappearing in the surreally bright colors of the grass and sky.
That was it. Everyone went back in, after a few quiet moments of reflection, a few brushed away tears, but apart from that she seemed quickly forgotten.
Except by Mello. The next week passed with him acting unnaturally subdued; he seemed to go out of his way to avoid Matt, throwing himself into his studies with more fervor than ever, although Matt would catch him looking at his textbooks sometimes with a scarily blank expression, as though those printed black words were not what he was seeing. Matt tried to be patient, tried not to think of that one brief kiss, but eventually he snapped.
"That's it."
Dully, Mello looked up, seeming only now to register how Matt was standing in his side of the room, blocking his light. "I'm trying to study."
Matt snorted sarcastically. "No, you've been staring at that page for five minutes. You're brooding again."
"Whatever." Mello looked back down disinterestedly.
Matt stared, stunned. He had expected Mello to snap, tell him it was none of his damn business, maybe even punch him. Not this. Matt couldn't stand it. He slapped Mello across the face.
"What the hell?!"
"At least that got a reaction." Matt smirked, as Mello leaped off the bed in rage.
"You little creep!" Mello screamed in his face, using his extra inch and a half height to try to menace Matt. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Because I care about you, damn it!" Matt yelled back exasperatedly, "And I'm sick of watching my best friend mope around, because of something that wasn't his fault!"
The volatile blond looked dangerously like he was going to hit Matt, so he hurriedly continued, a little more softly, "Look, I know you feel bad about Chance, but there was nothing you could have done."
For a moment Matt thought the boy was going to punch him anyway, but then Mello exhaled, a long drawn out sigh that seemed to release some of his anger, "That's it though."
"What?" Matt questioned tentatively.
The blond began pacing, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Control." He snapped tersely. Matt said nothing. Mello spun round; angry again, "I like to be in control, OK?" Again, Matt stayed quiet. Mello continued ranting, "She could have killed you, she nearly did, and there was nothing I could do."
Carefully Matt stepped closer to Mello, placing a hand on his friends shoulder. He felt those muscles tense warningly, but refused to be deterred. "Mello."
"What?"
"Thank you." Matt smiled.
Those familiar blue eyes caught his, widened, and then looked away. "What for?" the blond asked gruffly, "It's not like I did anything."
"You're always trying to protect me."
Mello half-smiled, a familiar evil gleam returning to his eyes, "Well you do need looking after; being too weak and puny to protect yourself and all that."
Cursing, Matt turned away, meaning to storm back to his side of the room, "Why do I bother?"
"Because you love me." The blond teased, in a good mood again, grabbing Matt's arm to prevent the shorter boy from escaping.
"Get off, freak! At least I don't look like a girl!"
"Say that to my face!" Mello pulled Matt against him, laughing harshly as he squirmed in discomfort. "Aw, Matty's blushing, got a little crush have we?" he sneered breathlessly.
"Shut up." Matt tried to pull away again; Mello always went too far in trying to humiliate him. Well, this time he'd succeeded.
"You know I'm only joking, dork." Mello refused to release him, wrapping his arms around the boy to keep him there. Petulant silence. "Don't sulk, baby." Mello realised what he'd said, "I meant you are a baby, I wasn't calling you -"He tried to explain, but Matt cut him off maliciously.
"Aw, that's so cute. Shame you're not a very pretty girl." .
"Shut up." Mello's voice was dangerously low, and Matt wondered if he was going to actually hit him now. Instead he did that thing again. He kissed him.
It was a longer kiss than their first, rougher, and more demanding. Mello crushed their lips together, stealing Matt's breath and sliding a tongue into his mouth; he tasted like dark chocolate, sweet, with a little bitterness underneath. Too soon, Mello made to pull away, but this time Matt was prepared, and jerked the blond boy back, enjoying the surprised cry, before his own mouth silenced it.
A.N: Dun dun DUN! Will the surprises never end?! Another update! A kiss!! Two kisses!!! And notes at the end of a chapter!!!!
