As I said previously, forget phonetic translations. I'm just going to use exactly what Google Translate gives me, which will be in Russian…writing? Lettering? *Is unsure what word to use*
Mello POV
Matt yawns and raises his arms over his head, leaning back over the arm of my chair. His arms flop down and he looks at me from his upside down position, his legs swinging lazily over the other arm.
And now I know what I'm seeing.
"You're missing a tooth," I announce, leaning forward on my bed. He stiffens and shifts into an upright position.
"Huh?" he says, jerking his head to get his hair away from his goggles.
I roll my eyes. "I thought I noticed, but I wasn't sure until you yawned just now. What happened to your tooth?"
Matt raises his hand to the right side of his mouth, frowning slightly. "Um. Nothing."
I roll my eyes. "If it was nothing, then why is it gone?"
He grins sheepishly. "It was loose. That's why."
I blink at him and raise my eyebrows. "You had a loose tooth?"
"Yeah. Uh, my teeth were all messed up and…yeah. I had braces for three years and um… well my mouth is kind of fucked up. It was my last baby tooth and didn't loosen until recently."
"Oh." His explanation makes sense, but for some reason it doesn't quite click with me. "I never had braces, but I heard they're annoying."
"They are," Matt agrees fervently. "I didn't want spots on my teeth, and it was hard enough to keep them clean, so I couldn't... I mean-" suddenly, he cuts him self off with a kind of horrified look on his face. He coughs a few times, looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Sorry. Um, never mind."
I frown. What's with his strange behavior today? He's been tripping over his words and acting kind of nervous. And he moves so carefully. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he assures me, still not looking up. Not for the first time, I wish I could see past the orange lenses of his goggles. I let it drop despite my curiosity, and Matt seems relieved.
"So you aren't doing much for Christmas, are you?" I prompt, leaning my chin in my hand. Matt shrugs.
"Well, we're not going anywhere if that's what you mean. We don't usually do much for holidays. It's never been a big thing in my family, I guess."
I nod, but once again, something doesn't seem right. It's like Matt's mindset has changed completely on more than one topic. I know that something isn't right, but I can't place it.
And I keep forgetting to look for hints to the reason for this difference, because Matt's hair is kind of distracting, and so is the strip of pale skin that shows when the hem of his shirt moves…
And moving on…
Yeah, I still can't get that damn kiss out of my mind, even after four days. It's December twenty-fourth, Wednesday. That stupid, meaningless kiss happened last Friday. It's insignificant, unimportant, and yet I can't forget it.
Logic isn't cooperating with me.
I would say that everything looks ever so slightly different somehow, but how stupid is that? Ridiculously so.
It's a cheesy cliché as well.
"You never said if you're going anywhere. Are you?"
I shake my head. "No, I'm not. It would be nice to go to Russia, seeing as I haven't been in years, but I can't."
"Do you have family there?"
I hesitate. Why does family have to be such a risky subject? These are the people closest to us, why does it have to be so hard to talk about them?
Well, I don't really want these people close to me, so I guess that's a good reason why.
"No," I reply after a moment. "Not anymore. But I did grow up there, and… I don't know, I guess it feels like home."
"I see." Matt spins slowly on the chair, using his feet to turn. "So anyway…"
"Misa said you were sick the other day. You got better quickly, huh?"
Matt nods. "Yeah, which is nice, 'cause I don't really want to be sick on Christmas. That would suck."
"Speaking of Misa, has Light broken up with her yet?"
Matt scowls. "No. He might be waiting until after Christmas, maybe so he doesn't ruin her holiday, but I hope he gets it done soon. Misa has enough…problems." He starts mumbling towards the end of his sentence.
I want to growl with frustration. What is with him today? He's constantly cutting himself off or mixing up his words, and he's acting like a bomb will go off if he touches things too quickly or too forcefully. He's acting like… like he's hiding something, something he's worried about. It definitely has to do with his family or home; I've discerned that from what topics he's avoided or ended quickly. The changes are subtle, but I hang around Matt enough to know that something is not right.
And it is bugging me like an itch I can't scratch. No, more like a knife stuck between my shoulders, where I can't quite reach. It's annoying me and worrying me a bit, too. Matt seemed happy enough to see me, but he's keeping himself totally closed off today. And I want to know why.
It's not like I can ask something like that, because a, I know I'm not going to get a truthful answer and b, you just don't ask that when someone is obviously trying to keep something to themselves.
"Well, a gay boyfriend isn't something she needs to add to any problems, is it?"
"No… It's not," Matt mutters. "I wish he'd have figured things out before getting with her, though. Stupid little..." Suddenly he smirks bitterly and murmurs something to his knees that sounds like, "…be a hypocrite… him a faggot, though..." Of course, he's talking to himself, so I'm not sure what I heard.
"Sorry, what?"
"Nothing. I just don't want him messing with Misa." Well, it was worth a shot.
"Yeah."
I wonder, what does Matt think of homosexuality? He doesn't seem to care much about that factor; more of that he doesn't want his sister to get hurt, which is expected. But other than what I've noticed, he hasn't actually said anything about it.
Matt doesn't seem very interested in relationships in general. The girls have pretty much given up on him, much to his apparent relief. He never showed any interest in their advances; they got more discomfort than anything else in response.
Now that I think about it, there have been a few times when guys have flirted with Matt. The majority of the student population at our school seems to adore their games they make out of their relationships, and one person will go through two love interests in two weeks or less sometimes. Even many of the guys, who are usually far less into romance as the girls, take part in all the ridiculous breaking up and getting back together that goes on. Some of those guys (several of the girls are like this as well) will flirt with literally anyone, and I do mean anyone.
I thought it was funny (I still do; the look on Matt's face was priceless) then, but when I think back over it, Matt seemed slightly more comfortable dealing with boys coming on to him than girls, although he wasn't particularly happy either way.
There is something I know for sure right now, and that is that I'm thinking over this way, way, way too much. I'm probably making things up and just going to end up with a headache later.
I sigh and lie back on my bed, letting my arms flop over my stomach. I can feel cool air hitting my skin where my shirt rides up a little bit, but I don't really care.
I'm being really ridiculous, and I know it. But I just can't… get over the difference. Something must have clicked in my mind, but I still don't understand it. Something clicked when Misa and Beyond forced me to kiss Matt, and I don't get it. And I don't get why.
Either I'm really stupid or I'm really ignorant, and it's probably both.
Or I'm just over thinking this.
Of course, the likelihood of all three being true is…staggeringly high.
Lovely.
"Hey, I'm bored, you want to go outside?" I suggest, expecting a no. Matt doesn't like snow, after all…
"Sure. Why not."
Okay, maybe I really don't know shit. Or maybe Matt's still sick and he's delusional.
Actually, I think I'm the delusional one.
When I sit up and slip off my bed, I notice that Matt is looking at the floor, blushing slightly. "You okay?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine. Let's go," he mutters, standing up and following me out of my room. I stick my head in the kitchen and point towards the door.
"Бабушка, мы собираемся на улицу."
"Не забывайте, ваше пальто," she replies from her spot at the sink, scrubbing dishes with a soapy sponge. I nod once and grab my jacket from the rack. Matt already has his vest on (he insists on wearing it, claiming it to be perfectly fine), and is fitting his hat over his hair. I pull my coat on and part my hair around my neck to keep it from getting tangled in my hood.
"I'm sure you love this," Matt comments when we step outside, gesturing around at the large, fluffy snowflakes falling softly on the already snow covered ground.
I smile slightly, reaching up to catch one. "How can you not?"
Matt scuffs the snow on the ground. "I guess it is kind of pretty," he admits.
"It's very pretty." The flake melts on my glove, its delicate pattern morphing into mush and then a spot of water. "And it's nice when it snows on Christmas."
"It certainly fits the mood."
"And the holiday criteria." Matt laughs, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Someone's got high expectations."
"Not really. As long as it snows, I'm happy."
"So, I could take your chocolate away for the winter, and you'd be just fine?"
"Don't even try it."
He snickers again. "You're pretty much an addict, you know. Do you go through withdrawal symptoms?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I get pissed when I don't have it, but I'm pretty sure that's as far as it goes."
Matt considers this. "Well, next time you go without your chocolate, if that ever happens, you should look for them. See if you get all shaky or something. That would be interesting."
"I really hope I'm not deprived of my chocolate to the point of withdrawal symptoms."
"That wouldn't be fun for you." He opens his mouth like he's going to add to that, but shuts it again moments later. We wander aimlessly, and I lead him through as many powdery drifts as possible. He skirts around most of them, glaring at me without much actual irritation. "You're a jerk, you kno-ah!" He gasps as he slips on a patch of ice, cutting himself off mid-sentence and crashing to the ground. My arms automatically reach out to catch him, too late of course, and I end up slipping on the ice too and falling along with him.
"Mmf." I wince as I land a bit too hard on my hands and knees, right into the snow and on top of Matt…
This would be one of those totally typical, cheesy moments you see in the movies, except for the fact that movies cut out how much crashing to the hard, frozen ground hurts. It hurts like a bitch.
I think Matt got the worst of it, though. After a frozen half-second of surprise I move off of Matt, and he hisses in pain. His knees bend and he leans forward over them, left hand fluttering around the opposite shoulder and one hand pressed to his right hip. "Fuck, ow," he mutters, scowling.
"Are you alright?" I ask. Stupid question.
"I'm fine, I just landed kind of hard on my right…" he hesitantly moves to stand, wincing as he does so. I hold my hand out and help pull him to his feet. He leans heavily on his left, brushing snow off of his arm.
"Here, let me see," I say, reaching for the collar of his vest to pull it back and check his shoulder. Before my hand gets hold of the cream-colored collar, Matt hastily steps away from me, shaking his head.
"I'm fine, really. Stupid ice. See, this is why I'm not a big fan of winter," he says, cracking a smile.
But he looks like he's in more pain than he's letting on, and I narrow my eyes. "Alright, if you're sure you're fine…"
"I am," he repeats. "You fell too, are you alright?"
I am now aware of a dull ache in my knees and hands, which got the brunt of the impact. But it's ignorable. "Yeah. Come on, let's try to avoid the ice now."
"Sounds like a plan." We start back towards my house, walking more carefully. It takes me about two seconds to realize that Matt is limping slightly, avoiding putting all his weight on his right foot.
I turn around to face him and stop, arms crossed. "If you're limping, I seriously doubt the truth in you saying that you're fine."
Matt rolls his eyes. "I just fell kind of hard, but it's not like I've shattered any bones or something. And it's nothing I'm not...I mean like, I've had worse before, so compared to that it's not that bad." He shrugs. "Stop worrying."
"If you fall because you're limping like that and not letting me help, I'm going to yell 'I told you so' right in your face," I warn him. He snorts.
"If I fall, it's not because I'm hurt, it's because of all this damn snow," he retorts, walking past me. "I'm going to step into a deep drift and trip…" he stumbles in a pile of snow. "Exactly like that!" he gestures.
I smirk, tramping after him. "Fine then, your Highness. If the snow is bothering you then…" I'm not sure where the idea came from, but before I can think better of it I've already picked Matt up off his feet, bridal style. Matt gasps at the sudden movement, and he freezes for a second with surprise. "...Why walk?" It's kind of impossible not to crack up at the expression on his face.
"What the…what the fucking hell are you doing?" he demands.
Okay, good question.
"Ever acted on a whim before?"
Matt tries to squirm out of my arms, but I don't let him. He looks up at me. "You're saying that you just randomly though, 'I'm going to pick this guy up without any warning or second thoughts'?"
"Kind of. But look at this, you're not bitching about the snow like a spoiled princess anymore."
"I was not bitching like a spoiled princess. But me down, asshole," he grumbles.
"No, I think I like carrying you. If you bother me I can just drop you in a pile of snow and leave you there."
"I can walk fine on my own, thanks. I don't need you doing it for me."
"Says the person who almost fell again a second ago."
He doesn't have a very good retort on hand for that one. "You're an asshole, Mello."
"So you've said." I start walking, ignoring his protests. "You know, you're really light. How much do you weigh?"
Matt crosses his arms. "One-hundred fifteen. Pounds. Dunno how many kilos that is."
"Bull shit, you can't weigh more than ninety. God you're light. Do you even eat?"
"No, I absorb nutrients. I'm an amoeba. Of course I eat, dumbass." His arms are still crossed, and he's looking ahead at my house as I carry him towards it.
Seriously though, there's no way Matt is more than forty kilograms, ninety pounds, however you want to measure it. He's obviously really thin, and not super tall, but now that I'm actually lifting him up, he seems a lot lighter than he should be.
"Was carrying me the whole way really necessary?" Matt grumbles when I set him upright in front of my house.
"I don't think you want to walk around on snow and ice and concrete after you fell, do you?"
"You didn't have to carry me to the freaking door, Mello." Kata pads through the snow up to him, rubbing against his leg and purring. He bends over and picks her up, and she curls in his arms.
I ignore him and open the already unlocked door. "Мы вернулись," I call. "Мэтт упал."
"Он в порядке?" Baba calls from the kitchen.
"да." Matt comes in after me and Kata leaps from his arms. I unzip my jacket and he hangs his vest on the hook, seeming to forget the hat on his head.
He's still limping. It's not obvious, but he is. "See? You're still limping. Did you really want to limp through all of that?"
"…No, I guess not," he mutters after a moment.
"I thought so," I say, satisfied.
"But seriously, you of all people? I didn't expect you to be the carry-the-helpless-one type of person."
"I'm pretty sure that's not an official classification."
"You're impossible."
"Your mom is impossible."
"Wow, your mom jokes now? I call imposter. What have you done with my friend?" Matt jokes, returning to his spot in my chair. "You're acting weird today."
I flop down on my bed, and the mattress squeaks in protest. "So are you."
Matt sighs. "True."
I'm a bit surprised that he doesn't bother claiming otherwise or disagreeing. "Why are you acting so off today, anyway? I've wondered that."
He twirls his sleeve uncertainly. "I guess I'm just not totally better yet or something; I'm kind of out of it a bit."
Lie. Lie, lie, lie. I really want to snap at him to just tell me what's really going on for once, but I doubt that's going to help anything.
Suddenly Matt's phone goes off. He pulls it out of his back pocket and checks it. "Oh, I have to leave. And no, you don't have to carry me home. I'm pretty sure I'll be fine."
I raise an eyebrow. "Alright, if you say so."
We leave my room and head back towards the door. Both Kata and Aleksei follow after Matt.
"Why the heck do your cats love me so much?"
I shrug and hand him his vest. He slips it on and opens the door, letting cold air blast in.
"Merry Christmas," I say, smiling.
"Yeah, merry Christmas to you too." He smiles as well, but something about his smile is not merry.
So much for Christmas spirit.
Matt POV
Damn Mello and his random picking people up antics. Damn him and his perceptive observation skills. And snow can melt in hell for all I care. That shoulder was already bruised enough, thank you very much. So was my hip.
Ouch.
And Mello doesn't get why I don't like snow. Gee, maybe because I've spent most of my time in it (which hasn't been very much, considering I hardly ever used to be around snow) without warm anything and locked out of the house overnight.
Also because snow means ground that gives under you and ice that makes you slip and fall on your already injured side.
Okay, I think I'm being a bit too bitter. Snow is an inanimate object, and Mello didn't do anything. Mostly I'm just mad at myself.
How obvious have I made it that something isn't right? I nearly admitted to smoking (well, once smoking) and that I'm used to being hurt in less than an hour. I don't need other people knowing these things. Real smooth, Matt.
It doesn't help that my heart decided that its spot in my chest is so not the place to be when Mello literally swept me off of my feet. It took off so fast I thought it was going to override itself and short-circuit.
Except, people don't work that way. We aren't computers. I wish we were, because computers I understand, and people not so much. People are weird, predictable, and yet completely spontaneous and dodgy. People have secrets, and every last one is different and thinks a different way. While computers are all different, they all "think" in more or less the same way.
And computers don't keep secrets, lie to you, or hurt you. And you don't develop crushes on computers.
See why I like technology so much?
And then there's the Internet. That really is like a different world, kind of, one where you can do whatever you want and remain anonymous. This is both a good and bad thing.
I'm kind of scared to come home. If I turned the other way, I could go find someone to get the police to come get Carl. I could've told Mello everything; he did ask me what's going on with me, didn't he? For one second I think like this, but then reality turns on the lights.
Hah, what am I thinking? What could Mello do, and why should he do anything? I've been lying to him, after all. And whom on earth would I get to help? I'd just make things worse for Mari and Mother. I can't be stupid like that.
I sigh, rubbing my shoulder. The pain has faded, but the dull ache is definitely worse than before. I really hope Carl isn't mad when I get home. I hope he's not drunk. I really hope…Oh, what's the use of hoping? I should just hurry and get back.
When I get home, Mother is in the kitchen, cooking quietly, and Mari is not in sight. Carl is sitting on the couch, sprawled out and watching television with a cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of beer in his hand. There aren't any empty ones lying around, meaning he's probably still mostly sober.
The door shuts quietly behind me. I take off my vest and hat and hang them on the rack in the entrance hall. I hope to slip into my room without notice, but luck must not be on my side today.
"Hey, kid, get your ass over here."
I swallow back a sigh and walk tentatively over to Carl. "Can I help you?" I ask.
"Don't talk back to me, boy!"
"Sorry," I mutter. I was seriously asking, dumbass.
But arguing with him is pointless.
And painful.
"Damn right you are. Now, tell me where the fuck were you?"
"I was nowhere, just outside."
"Why the hell were you outside?"
"I, um, just wanted to be out there…"
"Since when does what you want mean anything?" he growls, glaring at me and taking another swig of beer.
I clench my fist and girt my teeth, trying not to appear angry. "It doesn't. It never has."
"Exactly. Now get outta my face, fag. And don't leave the house again unless I put you there. And take those fucking goggles off!"
I turn away from him, scowling ahead of me. I pad through the house into my room, ignoring the fading ache in my hip. I wish I had a lock on my door. It'd be nice to shut him out and shut him out good.
I sit on my bed and let myself fall to the side. The mattress pushes my goggles askew, and I push them into my hair, away from my eyes. Everything looks a little green after the orange tint from the lenses.
Everything looks a lot more real, too. And that's kind of frightening. I mean, look at this mess I live in. It's easier to look at it through something, like lenses, than see it for how it really is.
I think that a lot of people would have run away by now, most people, actually. But what about the people in my family who I do like, Mari and Mother? I would feel guilty, leaving them behind to deal with Carl.
But then again, aren't I the reason for all of the problems we face? The one our father really hates is me, so why not just get rid of myself?
…The first time I thought about killing myself, a moment later I tried to push that idea out of my head forever. Suicide isn't an answer, I had told myself. But the thought kept returning every once and a while, and each time it seemed to make a little more sense. And each time, things were worse than they had been the last.
I've gotten to the point where I'm looking at the knives in the kitchen, wondering how much I would bleed before I passed out, and I've gotten so close to swallowing the bottle of sleeping pills in the cabinet, and I had half a mind to hang myself last year.
But something always pulls me out of it. Something always brings me to my senses. I always can find one more reason to live at least a little longer.
So how long is it going to be, then? How many more times am I going to think about it, but not do it? How many more reasons to live do I have?
I run through my list. I made a mental list a few years ago, one of the times I seriously tried to bring myself out of depression. One of the few times I almost succeeded. I haven't actually tried in… two years. If I'm not even trying anymore, how can I expect anyone to care? But…I must be trying, at least a little bit, because I still have my list. And that list has changed, and that list has shortened dreadfully. But I do still have it, although I'm loosing it. It's slowly being forgotten and erased. It's very rare now that things get added to it.
I have something new to add, though, don't I. Don't I? I know it's hopeless, I know it's pointless, but anything that makes me happy should go on there, shouldn't it?
So I'm adding Mello to my list.
Translations
Бабушка, мы собираемся на улицу: Grandma, we're going out.
Не забывайте, ваше пальто: Don't forget your coat.
Мы вернулись: We're back.
Мэтт упал: Matt fell
Он в порядке: Is he okay
Да: Yes
Oh, dear LORD the OOCness of this chapter! GOD MELLO WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?
Well, I HAD to do that pick-Matt-up-and-carry-him moment…I though tit was funny and fluffy. Like a bunny with a carrot.
Yeah, GREAT analogy.
Well, I apologize for the OOCness, but it was a nice scene.
And Mello noticed a lot, didn't he? He's so ignorant!
And…I'm writing him like that. Tee hee!
KYAH KYAH KYAH…Ryuk laugh for good measure.
