Wow... This week's been murder... Maybe that's just me. I'm gonna blame the LU... Anyway. I haz teh lollipopz!! YUSH! :D Anyway, this chapter originally seemed a little jumpy, but it seemed a tiny bit better when I re-read it... Ehh, I'm just odd like that xD Anyway, voila! New chapter!

Disclaimer - I don't own pain medication [my parents do] and I don't own Death Note either. W00t?

Warnings - Angry Matt. Yeah. And swearing. :D

Enjoy~!

I had to wait for fucking hours.

Literally. I mean, I was sat on my own, not feeling up to doing anything in particular for damned ages. He's too cruel to give me any freaking spare keys, or leave out any medicine, even though I swear to all things Zelda and Link, he must've bloody known that I was gonna be fucking incapable of doing fuck-all today.

Damnit, my ass hurts like fucking hell. I'm gonna murder a bitch, I swear. Nobody fucks up Matt Jeevas's ability to play video games and gets away with it. Thing is... How to get back at him. As much as I'd love to burn his chocolate into a charred mess outside, somehow I think that's gonna get me in a tiny bit more trouble than just taking one damn bite out of one damn bar.

He's such a fucking drama queen. I mean, punishments are meant to reflect crimes and all that crap, so he went fucking miles overboard there. And won't even let me have meds or anything. Fuck it all.

So maybe it wasn't his intention to deprive me of what I needed to continue my peaceful and loving gaming, but honestly... Who locks up their fucking legal drugs? I mean, in a family with little kids, sure, I can understand it, no-one wants some child dying of Calpol overdose, but still. This is Mello. There is no family, and there are definitely no little kids.

I hope not anyway... Otherwise I'm gonna have some crazy-ass bitch chasing my sorry – sore – butt out the apartment brandishing a wooden spoon. Fucking female stereotypes. They can take their fucking wooden spoons and... You know what? I don't think you really need to know that.

Five minutes after sitting myself down to wait for the motherfucking blond, I was already itching to do something. Fucking inability to sit still. I honestly considered drinking out the stocks of alcohol and Red Bull, and killing off some of his chocolate stash too, but I stopped myself. Why?

Because drunken-Matt nomming on angry-Mello's chocolate is gonna result in something fucking awful. Because... Well, I'd be drunk. I don't do drunk. Well, I don't think I do drunk, anyway. To be honest, I've never tried the shit. Smells lousy anyhow. I don't really want to, even if it would dull the pain.

But fucking hell does he take a long time. I was horribly distracted, nothing could fucking keep me interested long enough to forget about what was going on, what had happened, and all the fucking questions...

...Well, games aren't fucking working out. Maybe thinking will. Fucking hell I hate that. The last thing I need right now is having my brain ticking over manically. Do I love him? I don't know if he fucking loves me... I mean, I'm nothing special. And he's Mello. Mello's special.

Wait, Mello's special? Since fucking when? When the hell did that appear in my goddamn head? Probably a while ago, actually... I mean, I knew I sort of liked him... But love..? How is that even possible?

I mean, I doubt I've ever really loved anyone. Not my parents – they weren't around long enough, fucktards – definitely not Light, there's no way in fucking hell I'd ever love Near... But Mello? I guess it's possible... In some weird, twisted way.

I mean, I've always said he was fucking amazing and all that shit, but I didn't really consider it like that... What do I love? Gaming, for sure, Red Bull... Nothing animate and capable of returning affections, anyway... Unless... Well, it'd definitely be fucking different if Mello... I... I don't fucking know.

You'd think I'd be able to get this properly sorted, wouldn't you... No, it's too complex for me. I know, dork-kid just admitted to being outdone by a problem. But this is a fucking massive crisis, in my head at any rate... How can people say three fucking words so easily, when I can hardly even think them? It pisses me off. Of course. Defence mechanisms to fight back against confusion. Anger beats all. Urgh.

I think my head's gonna fucking explode...

***

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I really knew about was a soft hand stroking my cheek, and a calm voice murmuring about something or other to me.

Mello?

Well who the fuck else would it be? It's completely pointless to try and ignore him now I'm back in the land of the living, because to be quite frank, he's pretty distracting. See, he must've ditched his usual leather vest before coming to wake me up.

Not that I'm complaining or anything, but for fucks sake... Anyway.

With a possibly over-exaggerated groan, I stretch my arms out over my head, and then make to sit up. And fail. Because Mello was kind enough to place a gloved hand on my chest and press me back down, a slightly concerned smile on his face. And I went and fucking growled.

I guess it's probably because in my opinion, he abandoned me without any meds all day, and now just expects me to be all 'oh alright then', and admit I'm almost certainly in love with him.

Fuck that.

"Do you need anything? You don't have to..." He actually trailed off after looking again at the expression on my face. Damn I must've looked angry... Oh well. He can fucking deal with it now, because I am fucking furious. I mean honestly... Abandonment – not really, but whatever – then no pain medication all day – again, maybe not his fault entirely – and rendering me incapable of gaming for hours. Now, the latter I am going to blame entirely on him.

"I've needed some fucking pain killers all fucking day, that's what I've fucking needed! You just fucking went and left, and I'm fucking in pain and you didn't fucking do anything before you left and now you're fucking trying to act like a goddamn saint and make up for it, well fuck you!"

Possibly the most I've said to him in one standing. Sitting. Whatever. And I actually watched his expression change while I yelled. Yeah, I know, Matt lost his cool, blah blah. Well for fucks sake, it's not even my fucking fault he did all that, unless you wanna be ridiculously finicky. Fucking hell.

"Well that's your own fucking fault, isn't it?!" Ok, he's gonna be finicky. "I had to go, and now I fucking wanna help out, and you're just having a motherfucking go at me, aren't you?! I'm letting you stay here for no real reason at all, and you still have the fucking audacity to start yelling at me like that?!"

"You're not my fucking mother, shut the fuck up and leave me alone, damnit!" Ok. Maybe it wasn't necessary to yell that, but in all honesty? The expression on his face made me want to take it back. But no. My mouth wouldn't fucking stop.

"You don't even know me, you didn't have to let me stay here, you didn't have to be nice, and you didn't have to make me fucking fall in love with you!"

It actually took a full minute of silence before I realised what I'd just said. For the second time, really. Though I don't wanna count the first time. Because I mean... People say weird stuff at times like that, right? And I could've gotten away with just saying my hormones were confusing me, but now I've gone and shouted that, right at his face.

Ok, so I can't get as much volume as I'd like behind my words, because fuck knows it's difficult to yell while you're being forced down onto your back. I managed though. Hell fucking yeah I managed. He looks absolutely shocked, and then slowly moves his hand from my chest, pulling me up rather abruptly to crush me into a fucking dangerously tight hug.

Maybe glomp might be a better word. Whatever.

But again, no real response. So according to Matt-being-a-fucking-picky-bastard rules, that means he doesn't love me, I've made an idiot of myself, and now I've got to fucking leg it.

Or maybe I should be more reasonable and consider the idea that maybe – just maybe – he's not one to throw words about like I do when I get worked up. Ok, so I could be angrier, I guess, but this is one of my more irate states.

But god-fucking-damn it, I'm not just gonna let him fucking get off lightly, I mean, no gaming. One day. How much more do I need to emphasise that?!

There's already been far too much of a pause to be comfortable, but there you go... Fucking hell he feels warm. Almost cuddly, even if his body does look he's spent tons of time working out... I mean, he's not like one of those freaky body builders... My fucking kami, I've been on this rant already. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Anyway. He's goddamn fucking amazing. Warm. Huggable. Lovable.

Yeah, I'm just being an idiot if I try and keep telling myself I don't love him... but... He still left me. In pain. On my own. Without painkillers. Of any sort. Urgh. Speaking of which... Fuck is this position like murder. Or someone sticking a knife up my butt. I dunno. I'm not sure either have technically happened to me before.

"You love me..." I can't believe he's trying out those words, instead of telling me the same back. Makes me feel... I dunno. Insecure. Unsteady, even though he's still holding tightly onto me. "Let me go get you some painkillers..." he suddenly murmurs, and almost floats out of the room, leaving me to topple backwards and lie down again.

My fucking god this is too fucking much for me. Mello's... tiring. Absolutely fucking exhausting for me.

At least he's being nice though.

I hope this didn't fail or anything :D Heh xD So, a small rant - down with the n00bs that've all been reporting ShinigamiMailJeevas. Yeah.. If you wanna find out more and all that, mail me. Yeah...

Anyway, reviews are welcome, and any ideas are welcome too :D And now, I'll be quiet and let you contine your night/evening/morning/whatever :D