Chapter 10
Matt heard the door close and relaxed on the couch. Neither had the blond questioned how Matt had succeeded with taking the cuffs off, nor did he say something about the nightmare. In fact, the redhead wasn't sure if it truly was a nightmare, because the cries had woke him up a few hours ago. Maybe the mafia boss had been crying all night, from the moment Matt felt too tired to stay awake on. His mind wandered and played with all the possible scenarios, possible experiences that would have led to it. A painful childhood memory? The disappointment of Matt not being afraid of dying? What was all of this about, he wondered.
His curiosity increased and Matt couldn't help it any longer. With the hair pin he had found earlier, the redhead sneaked up to the blond's bedroom door and began to pick on the lock. The click was his sign to walk in. Matt stood still for a few moments, his mouth agape and eyes wide in awe at the amount of books the room drowned in. Leather-bound ones, small ones, huge ones, everything from play to comic to adult fiction, the mafia boss owned every book Matt could think of. On his bed lay a notebook and beneath it was a book. Othello read the title of the play by the famous Shakespear. Matt sat on the bed and picked up the book. A page was marked by a piece of blank paper, so Matt opened the book on that page. Two lines were highlighted.
Desdemona: I understand a fury in your words,
but not the words.
The simple lines gave Matt a clue on the blond's personality. Was this the way he felt about his angry self? When Matt opened the notebook on the first page, it read:
"This notebook is the property of Mello." The redhead raised his eyebrows. Mello? Was this his name? He would have to try this later. How ironic the name was. Mello, the guy who was in no way mellow. But maybe that was another clue? Maybe Mello secretly wanted to be mellow. The image of a good guy gone bad came into his mind.
As Matt flicked through the pages, he thought that this was not an ordinary diary. This was the story of a struggling man growing up alone. The redhead spent hours sitting on the old mattress and reading bit by bit about the person Mello was in his book. Sometimes coldhearted, sometimes cruel, but sometimes he was the desperate, loving human being that no one could see. This notebook made you feel what Mello felt, experience it with your own mind in such a brutal reality. It wasn't until a tear fell onto the page that Matt noticed he was crying. Sixteen years ago Matt thought it would be the last time he'd shed this many tears, the last time anything than himself mattered to him. But somehow, he cried because nothing had ever felt so real since his parents' death when he was five. A line from Shakespeare's As You like It was written on the date of December 13th.
"I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine."
He felt a shiver run down his spine at the words. All the while he read everything in Mello's voice, but this sentence was merely a heartbroken whisper. Three hours later the redhead put down the notebook and looked around. For a mafia boss, Mello seemed to be an incredible source of information, a genius in his own kind. The piano standing in the corner of his room indicated a talent for piano playing, but before Matt could explore his room even more, he heard the clinking of keys outside the door. With speed he put everything back where it had been and ran out of the room, only to flop down on the couch again. Luckily, he had forgotten to turn off the TV, so it sounded as if he had been watching a documentary about The French Revolution for three hours straight.
"Have you really been watching this for three whole hours?" Mello said in a sceptical tone.
"I had to entertain myself somehow! I don't know if you have noticed, but my arm still hurts. Besides I have always liked France."
"Snobby little bastards, that's what the French are," the blond hissed, sitting down next to Matt on the couch and Matt did a great job on keeping his cool during the whole situation.
"True, but the English aren't much better. We have a queen, all we want to be is unique, the very best. Truth is, we're failing with that little by little every passing hour."
"…"
"…What?" he narrowed his eyes a little as he caught Mello staring at him.
"You reek of blood and sweat. Not a fabulous combination if you ask me."
"And?"
"… This means you have to go shower, dumbass. Afterwards I have to treat your wound properly. Wouldn't want to have you dying on me now, huh?" Sarcasm laced his voice.
"Alright, I'll go shower. What about clothes though?"
"I have some old jeans and a shirt. It should work for you though. Wait here." Mello sprinted into his room, but he didn't seem to notice it wasn't locked anymore. Less than a minute later, he came out with the aforementioned articles of clothing.
"Fine."
Matt got up and left for his shower. The cold water felt somewhat relaxing against the redhead's skin. In the shower he kept thinking about Mello, repeating his name in his mind over and over again.
You must be crazy, Mail. He's the last person you'd want your heartbeat to quicken for. For he is falser than vowes made in wine, do not fall in love with him. But… I'm falser than vowes made in Vodka. See, you're absolutely mad. Probably. Bonkers. Maybe. What are you thinking about now? Mello. Hopeless. You are an idiot. Thank you.
With a sigh he stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a fresh towel. The clothes he was supposed to wear were loose, plain jeans and a skin tight, black shirt saying "Slitherin is the best" in poison green letters. Harry Potter fan, huh?
Speaking of Slitherin, Mello had revealed the most amazing tattoo ever to Matt when he turned around that morning. A blue and green snake made four loops, the last loop consisting of the snake's tail inside its mouth. It stretched itself all over the pale back, signalizing infinity in all directions. Matt couldn't think straight for several minutes when he saw the tattoo.
When he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Mello sitting at the table. On one side was a plate with noodles and vegetables and on the other side was another plate, but with rice and steak.
"I figured you should eat something. You can even choose."