Chapter 9
Mail woke up to a cold winter morning. Well, he figured it was morning by the way the sunlight was slipping in from under the curtains. He sat up slowly waiting for the pain to shoot up his back again, but there was none. It was now a dull stinging, not the blinding, stabbing sensation he had felt a few nights ago.
Looking around at the room he was in, he remembered that he still had no clue as to where the hell he was. Not that he minded very much at the moment. The bed was so soft, and the sheets were black and silky. Same for the curtains, black silk. 'Whoever was living here must have money up the ass' He thought to himself as his eyes continued to scan the large bedroom.
There was a large antique dresser against the wall facing the bed. He could see his reflection in the mirror, and he had to admit he looked horrible. 'Ugh...what the hell. Did I get mauled by a bear?' Mail ran a hand through his messy red hair with a sigh. It hadn't been a bear, it had been something worse. He shook his head trying to remove all thoughts of his last family reunion.
Mail slung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up as slow as he possibly could, afraid that he'd fall over if he wasn't careful. Once he was standing straight, he took baby steps towards the dresser. His legs were a little wobbly, but they worked fine. He stopped in front of the large mirror on the dresser, and looked his bare chest and stomach over.
His skin was a sickly pale color. Cuts and bruises adorned his sides, chest, arms, and his face. 'Why my face...' he sighed as he traced the large cut on his cheek with his finger.
He turned so his back was to the mirror, and looked over his shoulder so he could see his back. Mail grimaced. There was a deep gash down the middle of his back, and others criss-crossing each other. His back looked like a Tic-Tac-Toe game gone horribly wrong. "Son of a bitch..." He hissed under his breath, turning his head away from the mirror.
Mail looked up and around at the room again, really taking it in. There was no doubt whoever had brought him here was a snobby old rich bastard. Not that he was not grateful or anything, its just that he really didn't want to stick around any longer than he already had. What if the guy was one of those pedophiles? He shivered at the thought. 'Gross...he dressed me and everything!' Or what if it was a woman? 'Aww...that would be so sick and wrong!'
The redhead sighed, and turned to the open door. It wouldn't kill him to explore a little. The house was far too quiet for someone else to be home. He wrapped his arms around himself and slowly made his way out of the room. 'Who the hell keeps their house this cold in the Winter?...If their rich, can't they afford to turn up the heater?' He thought bitterly to himself.
He stood in the small living room. There was a black leather couch, against the wall on one side of the room, and a big screen T.V on the other side, against the wall as well. 'Rich bastard...' Mail scowled, envious of the humungo T.V. He sighed and made his way to the kitchen right next to the living area. There was only a granite tile counter separating the two rooms.
Mail ran his hand over the smooth surface of the tiled counter. It was freezing cold. Like touching ice. 'What the fuck is up with this house?' He shivered and pulled his hand back. The tile beneath his feet was cold too, his feet were beginning to feel numb. He quickly got the hell out of there before he was turned into a human Popsicle.
"Ahh..." he sighed in relief as his feet met the semi-warm carpet. 'Where to next...' He turned in the direction of what looked like a hallway. This sparked the redheads curiosity. With a quick glance around the living room he walked over to the hallway, and peeked into the empty darkness. Ignoring the eerie feeling of foreboding he took a step into the hallway and shuddered as a blast of cold air hit him. "F-fuck..." His teeth were chattering.
He got to the end of the hallway, there was one door there and for some odd reason, his brain was telling him to turn back, but being a curious little teenager he didn't usually listen to what his brain said. So, he reached for the doorknob and turned it, slowly pushing the door open. Mail was met with more darkness. He reached in and trailed his hand against the wall for a light switch. He eventually found it, and flipped it on. A squeak of surprise slipped from his lips as he saw the contents of the room.
"Hooooooly...Shit..." There were swords of every size and style hanging on one wall. On the wall directly opposite the door, hung, from what Mail knew from history class, a Russian flag. There was a table with a glass surface against the wall where the swords hung, on it, in order of size was a row of guns. Surprisingly, that's not what caught the redheads attention. Nope, not in the least, what he was staring at, was the boxes piled up in a corner.
Boxes, upon boxes of game consoles. UNOPENED, BRAND NEW. Mail thought he was going to faint for a second. The new Playstation 3 was there too, along with the Xbox 360. "Oh...my god," Mail made his way into the room, and knelt beside the boxes. "Am I dead?..." he said out loud.
"You're not dead. That would mean my efforts were meaningless."
Mail turned quickly in the direction of the voice. He lost his balance and knocked the boxes over. "Sh-shit...sorry, I was just.." He quickly lost his train of thought upon seeing the owner of said voice.
Tall, blond and covered in leather. 'Wow' was the only word that came to Mail's mind at seeing the man standing in the door way. The man didn't really look like a man at all though. More like a teen. Maybe a few years older than himself. His golden blond hair hung just a few inches above his shoulders. Leather clung tightly to his abnormally pale skin. Like it was made around him. Mail had never seen a more beautiful person.
The blond looked amused. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies" he said with a crooked smirk.
Mail flushed deeply. "S-sorry..." He quickly got to his feet. Maybe a little too quickly, his back protested with a sharp sting. "Ow..." He felt something warm run down the length of his back, and he reached around to see what it was.
"You reopened a wound," The blond said with a hint of concern in his tone.
Mail brought his hand back into his view, and sure enough, there was a good amount of blood dripping from his fingers. "H-how..did you know?..." The redhead blinked a bit as the room spun. He was a little squeamish. Mail looked down, and suddenly the floor looked a lot closer than it previously had. But he stopped, his face only inches away from it. Something cold was pressed against his body. He turned his gaze upward only to see the blond haired man holding him up.
"You need to sit down. We'll talk about my house rules later" He said as he picked the redhead up in his arms. Carefully avoiding the freshly opened wound on his back.
Mail was sat down on the expensive looking leather couch. The blond man sat himself down on the other side, just watching him. Mail felt uneasy under his intense gaze. He felt like the blond was looking into his very soul, trying to figure him out. It kinda bugged him.
What's your name?" The man asked after a few minutes of silence.
Mail had been staring at him. He blinked at seeing his lips move, but he hadn't heard whatever it was he said. "I'm sorry...what?" There was an amused chuckle from the blond. It was light, airy. Mail loved it.
"Your name," He repeated.
"Oh..." The redhead licked his dry lips before answering. "Mail Jeevas"
"Mail Jeevas..." The blond echoed, his brow furrowed in thought. His eyes were roaming the redheads body. Mail shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "From now on your name is Matt" He said simply.
Mail stared at the man sitting not far from him, like he had just asked him to strip tease to "The Hookey Pookey" The blond stared back, looking impassive.
Out of all the things that the redhead wanted to say, no, wanted to Shout, he instead went with one simple word. "Why?"
The blond shrugged. "I like that name, you look like a Matt to me" was his simple response.
"You can't just change my name, who the hell are you?!" Mail stood up, but was quickly pulled back down onto the couch.
"Stop making a scene. As for who I am, all you need to know for now is that my name is, Mello"
Mail stared at "Mello" incredulously. "Mello?...What the hell kind of name is that?" The fact that this guy looked dangerous hadn't sunk in deep enough apparently.
Mello's ice blue eyes narrowed, and his lip curled up over his fangs. The look of utter horror on the redheads face quickly told him of his mistake. 'Shit' Mello really needed to work on his poker face.
The redhead got up off the couch, taking careful steps, backing away from it, and the blond. "...You're not human"
Mello sighed. "I might be a little on the immortal side...but, I look human. Doesn't that count for anything?" Probably not...
Mail shook his head. His eyes were still wide with fear. How the hell did he end up like this? First he gets the shit beat out of him, ends up in an alley to be licked by stray cats, and now he's stuck in a house with some...vampire or something!
The blond got up slowly, eyes never leaving Mail's. He raised both hands up in front of him in a sort of surrender. "Listen to me, come sit down, and I won't have to hurt you" Bad choice of words...
Well that was all the initiative the redhead needed. He turned on his heel and bolted for the door. He made it to the door alright. Face first. Mello had him pinned to it, his cheek was pressed harshly against it.
"Listen you little brat..." The blond hissed in his ear. "I've tried to be nice, but as you can see its gotten us no where"
Mail was still in shock. He hadn't even heard the guy coming after him. He really wasn't human. There was no body heat radiating from him at all, it was just cold. Like a dead persons skin. He shivered, that last thought brought back something he was currently trying to forget.
Mello noticed the boy pinned between him and the door was zoning, and it ticked him off to no end. He hated being ignored like that. Well, that was going to be fixed now. With an annoyed growl, Mello reached up and grabbed a fist full of the younger teens red hair. "You belong to me now, Matt..." he purred. "I saved you from a cold death in that alley. If it weren't for me, you'd be rotting there now."
The blond trailed one hand down the boys back stopping at the freshly opened cut. Mail's breath hitched. "That hurts!" he yelped and squirmed under his weight.
Mello shrugged indifferently. He didn't need to be civil, and kiss assy with a boy. Especially one that was now pretty much his property.
Cold lips were at Mail's ear again. "You will answer to Matt. You will obey my orders, and you will do it with a smile and a fucking curtsy if I ask you too, got it?" Mello got no answer. He growled, and gave the red locks between his fingers a hard yank. "Got it?" he repeated.
"Ow!..g-got it! I got it!"
Mello smirked. He released his hold on the boy's hair and stepped back. The blond's eyes roamed Matt's back. The blood was starting to dry a little. He licked his lips. The strong scent of the boy's blood was starting to get to him. "You need a shower," He said in a calm tone. Mello grabbed Matt's shoulder and dragged him back into the bedroom where the only bathroom was located. "Go take a shower, I'll have clothes ready for you when you're done. " With that said, he walked out of the room, leaving the confused redhead alone as he slammed the door shut behind him.
"Self control..." he growled to himself. The scent of blood was still so strong. Why? He lifted one of his leather clad hands up to his face. His eyes widened a bit in shock. There was blood dripping from his fingers. How the hell could he have missed that?! Mello's throat went dry. "Fuck self control..." He lifted his fingers up to his lips, and flicked his tongue out to lick at them.
Remember Candy? Yeah, that girls blood was nothing compared to the sweet silky taste of "Matt's" blood. It was like melted chocolate. Better than that. He just couldn't describe it. His fingers were licked clean, and he found himself feeling incredibly thirsty. He turned to face the bedroom door, where the sound of running water was now heard.
'I could easily break down the door...' He thought to himself. 'Its not like he can run from me...He can't fight me off...' Mello shook his head, and turned away from the door. No, he couldn't think like that. Oh, but he wanted nothing more than to suck every last bit of blood out of him. No! Then that would only prove true what that bastard Light had told him.
"The thirst...always wins"
No fuckin' way. He wouldn't stand for that. Mello was never going to be like any of those other bloodsucking leeches. The ones that were past killing too survive, and were now killing out of boredom, and greed. He would never be like them. He wanted to keep a strong hold on the little strings of humanity he had left.
Mello growled under his breath. He grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. The blond was sure he could go out and find a quick bite to eat before Matt was even done shampooing his hair.
A/N: Chapter 9 down. Melly-kins is a lot different at home isn't he? o.o yes. So, Mail is now Matt. Why? Cause Mello said so. You don't argue with that logic. Hm, don't know what else to say. Not sure I like this chapter. Then again I don't like my writing period sooo...yeah.
Review Please, I had a fight with my gf and it would really cheer me up. And I would update faster. Soo...yes, Please Review. I'll love you forever.
Matt.
