san.
Matt held the key to the apartment. Mello had never wanted one, not wanting the responsibility. Besides, Matt would never leave the room as long as the blonde was out, or else it would mean a shitload of complaining to endure. And it was a given that he didn't want to withstand complaining from Mello.
So, when they got up to the room, he stood back and allowed the other access. He would have mumbled a sarcastic 'after you', but he wasn't in that kind of mood.
Matt clutched the apartment key in his hand, finding it amongst all the change with ease. However, he with held opening the door quite yet.
"Shit," he commented, using that same nearly indifferent tone that he used with just about anything. "I can't find the key."
Maybe Mello would toast him for this one—maybe not. Matt was just trying his chances here, and that was nothing new.
"I think it mighta fallen out back in the arcade," he pointed out, giving a viable excuse for the lie.
Mello cocked an eyebrow. "At the arcade?"
He was about to explode, and go back to get it on his own before stabbing the red head a few times with the barrel of his gun. But, he didn't. He merely sighed and leaned back on his left foot, stalking away. "I guess we're going to have to go get then, won't we?" He stopped and wheeled around, waiting. Mello wasn't going to scream at it this time, but he could forget going back to the arcade.
Matt observed the 'I'm about to explode but I'm restraining myself' behavior before feeling a smile coming on. He restrained himself too—he didn't want to give himself away, nor was he exactly notorious for smiling so much at his own jokes anyway. Besides, he knew that this was his last chance to tease Mello before the other ran off and let Matt wallow in his own self-pity and negative mood. This, of course, meant that by the time Mello came back, Matt would be giving him the silent treatment again. It was unable to be helped. It was practically routine now.
"Just kidding," he told Mello as the blonde whirled around again. He procured the key and tossed it into the air, catching it and holding it up between two fingers. "I was hoping you'd do something more interesting, but I guess you can't have everything," he admitted, unlocking the door and disappearing into the apartment before Mello decided to pistol whip him or something.
"Bastard," hissed Mello, taking his weapon out and shooting the floor space in front of Matt. Interesting enough?
"I really hate you, you know that?"
Okay, still no more arcade. And maybe the older one would crush his Nintendo against the wall when they got in. Or maybe both. Who knew the mood Mello would be in a few minutes; maybe he was getting just as moody as Matt. That could have something to do with the new progressions in the Kira case.
Matt jumped back, although it was unnecessary.
"Jeeze," he muttered. "That's going to be hard to explain." He would just have to say that he had no idea in hell what that was doing in front of his door. He stowed away to the couch, kicking off his boots and shedding his vest before he made a round of all the laptops, which he had kept running. They procured nothing new, not that he could tell right off, and so he proceeded to head to the kitchen and fix himself a drink. "Want one?"
He questioned Mello, waving a Smirnoff in his direction. Hell, they were both underage, but they needed it far more than any twenty-one year old that Matt knew.
Mello shook his head.
"Naw," he said. He was never partial to alcohol, drugs, or smoking, even though life in the underground was fraught with it. He had to deal with it then, and even now, with Matt's smoking, but he never did drank unless he was feeling like real shit. And even then, he had chocolate for that.
About the floor...it was fixable. Not that it mattered. What would they do, evict them? They couldn't prove that Mello shot that hole. There were a bunch of druggies in these apartments. Anything could have happened.
"I just hope you didn't hit anyone," Matt commented casually as he popped open the top of the alcoholic drink. He took a swig and let it burn its way down his throat—Matt was full of unhealthy choices where Mello wasn't. He didn't really do drugs, but wouldn't say no if it was offered to him. He drank when he felt like it and smoked all the time—it wasn't too bad. That was what he would like to think, at least. He headed back to the couch, plopping himself onto it and languidly stretching out. He idly fiddled with his laptop for a moment, pulling up a pinball game and muting the computer so that it might at least look like he was doing something productive. He highly doubted that Mello would fall for the ol' mute n' play though.
"Are you heading out soon?"
Even if Matt was playing some kind of useless game, Mello didn't really care. He shoved his bag of chocolate in the refrigerator so that it wouldn't melt, and took the half-bar he still had into his mouth. Supporting it between his front teeth, he stopped in front of the couch to look at the other for a minute, and then stalked off to gather some things he might need for later. Chocolate, namely, and his pistol. Maybe a jacket so that he could better conceal his face.
"Not now," he said, knowing full well that he wasn't ready to face Near yet. It was a personal thing. "Later tonight."
Matt nodded, guessing the motivation behind postponing the meeting, but not voicing it. Hell would freeze over before the time that Matt pointed out any sort of weakness in Mello regarding Near. Well. Almost. It was plausible that Matt would do it one day to really push Mello's buttons, but that was in the event that he wanted to throw himself in the way of mortal peril. "Wanna play pinball?" He offered in that customary random way of his, offering the laptop to the blonde.
Mello stared at the laptop. He didn't suppose he'd ever take an offer like that, and regarded now as no different. He held up a hand and shook his head, gnawing absently on his sweet.
"No," he said moving over to sit on the bar of the kitchen, which was only far enough away so that he could turn his head to catch a full glimpse of Matt's face, those goggles, and his seemingly unnatural dark red hair.
"It's your thing." That wasn't really the reason why he was turning it down, but...well, he couldn't think of the real reason why. Maybe he was just being needlessly oppositional.
Matt shrugged, taking Mello's rejection lightly. He didn't exactly expect Mello to take him up on his offer, but it never hurt to offer. Actually, Matt was constantly offering Mello things that he knew the other would turn down—why he did it, he wasn't exactly sure. He supposed that maybe; just maybe, he was thinking there was an off chance that Mello would lighten up and have fun. He continued playing his game, taking a sip of his Smirnoff as the virtual ball ricocheted around the top of the screen.
"Are you sure?" he questioned again, a faint smirk behind displayed on his features, the mirth in his eyes vaguely obscured by his goggles. "I wouldn't mind sharing 'my thing'."
"No," he said blatantly, leaning back so that he was sprawled out over the counter, dangling his head off the edge. His blonde tresses were splayed out over the lip of the counter, blood rushing to his head. Stupid, maybe, but it was a comfortable arrangement.
He held his chocolate bar aloft, watching it from all angles against the light before propping himself on one elbow and staring back at the male across the room.
"Besides, after now you're not going to touch a game. You're going to work on the fucking case."
Matt looked over to Mello, watching him arrange himself on the counter. Matt was going to have to remember to wash that once Mello was gone. He prepared their lunches on that thing; to hell if he was going to eat Mello's ass germs. He paused momentarily, proceeding to stare at Mello and watch him observe his candy bar—god. He was stuck working with the weirdest criminal out there. Shaking his head slightly, Matt brushed back a bit of his red hair, shrugging as Mello sternly told him that he would be working.
"All the more reason for you to play," Matt pointed out, working harder now to keep his game going. Matt could play a single game of pinball for hours. Good luck getting him to work. Although, he did suppose that Mello had been particularly generous today...he'd work hard once he hit game over. He swore.
The prospect of Matt having to clean the counter afterward was all the more reason for him to lay nonchalantly over the surface. It was funny, though Mello's sense of humor always had been different, if not insane altogether.
He brought the bar to his mouth and left it there for a long while, savoring the taste that his mouth had grown so used to. Chocolate was pretty much his livelihood, besides his goal of being the first to catch Kira. When that was over, maybe he would settle back down, do something constructive. Probably not.
"Hey, Matt," he chimed back in, averting the conversation to something more interesting. "What did you do before I came?"
Matt shrugged, supposing that Mello's reasoning was right. Maybe while he worked Mello could play pinball—although...somehow, Mello lounging on the couch and playing pinball wasn't exactly something that Matt found natural to picture. He took a draw from his bottle of Smirnoff, peering at it quizzically for a moment before setting it aside. He wasn't notorious for having a particularly high tolerance, what with his lithe frame and all, and didn't exactly think that Mello would stand for him working seriously on the case under the influence.
"What? Not too much. Breaking into the CIA and Parliament's databases for fun. I was designing a video game and a new console too, but I got bored of that..." Hell, he had designed and created his own handheld—that was good enough for him. "I guess you were running around after that Death Note thing?"
"I guess you could say that," Mello said, smirking slightly at Matt's confessions. He could have predicted that; the other was a computer nerd until the end. "Two kidnappings and some undercover shit. We got it...but that fucking Kira task force took it back. Not that I needed it, I guess. I just wanted a trophy."
He cursed under his breath. He hadn't meant to divulge his true meaning to get the Death Note. The other reason, of course, was to understand more about it, more even than his opponent. But still.
Matt caught Mello's quite cursing, unable to help himself but to smile just a little bit. A trophy, huh? He should have figured. Mello was always like that—he always had to be number one, and he always had to have something to prove it. At least, when he was around Matt, he was in a consistent 'number one' position, seeing as Matt was younger and had been ranked lower in Wammy's. Although, it probably wasn't too much of an accomplishment—Matt wasn't too competitive, even when it came to his beloved video games.
"Much more potent than me," he subtly teased the other. It was true—until Mello, Matt hadn't really been doing anything illegal.Aside from breaking into government top-security databases, but he didn't count that. That was recreation.
Mello managed a tiny laugh, one that originated in the back of his throat. The male sat up flattening his hair with one hand.
"You never really aspired for an exciting life, though, Matt," he pointed out, peeling down the candy wrapper. "You were destined to be boring." A pause. "Which is a damn shame, since you were third in line to succeed L. You're telling me you were never interested in doing that?"
To Mello, there was nothing more important than succeeding L. He was surprised at himself for giving it up so easily in the end. Maybe that was only because the shock of the original L's death had hit him harder than expected. And that damn Near wasn't even fazed. It made him sick.
Matt grinned and shook his head.
"Not at all."
He had probably explained his reasoning to Mello a thousand times over for the same reaction every time—being L meant no time for video games. It was as simple as that. Matt enjoyed rising to a challenge, but if that challenge all but eliminated his video game playing, he wasn't interested. He would have to say that he would like to preserve his sanity and allow himself an outlet, if he had to be fancy about it.
"I guess...I never really wanted anyone to have to succeed L either," Matt pointed out, giving his virtual pinball a good, hard, whack into a spiraling cycle. "You know? We kind of grew up with L as this...great figure that we never saw. He was kind of like the Game Master to me—I didn't think he could die. And then he did." Matt shrugged—his thoughts were a little deeper than relating L to the Game Master, but he wasn't really in a mood to discuss them.
However, it was a really interesting—and accurate—way to explain L's significance to Wammy's House. But for some reason, it pissed Mello off more than anything else Matt had said since the blonde had moved in. He leapt off the counter and stomped out of the kitchen.
"Fuck you, Matt," he hissed. He didn't have much to be mad about, and he really wasn't mad at Matt in particular. It was just...hearing the truth from someone else's mouth was much more painful than realizing it for yourself.
Matt shut up promptly—he didn't think that Mello would get so huffy about it. He continued playing his pinball game in silence for a second before pausing the game and heading in pursuit of the blonde.
"Mello," he stated too rationally, wondering if it was the fact that he was comparing their elusive idol to a video game term that made the other mad, or the fact that L was dead. "Sorry, all right? You don't have to freak out." Matt said—he might have had a more eloquent way to put it…but the red-haired male wasn't exactly the best at showing any sort of...compassion. There wasn't really any other word for his concern for Mello's feelings, vague as he would like to say it was.
Mello turned around swiftly, facing the other angrily as he nibbled profusely on his chocolate. His solace.
"Don't compare L to another one of your stupid video games," he growled. "Is that all you think of? Can't you do something more productive with your life? You're going to stay here forever, playing video games and the lackey when it suits your fancy. It's sad. You could do more than that, bastard."
He didn't mean to be so forward. It wasn't even the red head's fault, but there were some things that weren't spoken in Mello's presence without receiving a good in-your-face bitch session. This was one of those things.
"Oh come on," Matt started, slightly offended by Mello's chewing him out for his lack of ambition in life. Hell, he got by—he did whatever hotshot companies wanted for some damn good money, corrupted the stock markets, et cetera. It was good business for him. "I was a kid when I thought of that. Any five-year-old would compare their idol to the Game Master." The Game Master was like the god of a five-year-old gamer's brain. "What the hell's gotten into you? You can't be pissed at me for that."
Mello huffed, and then turned away again, not quite summoning the strength to walk away. Besides, he hadn't yelled at the other sufficiently yet. He wasn't leaving without blowing off some kind of steam, or else he would probably start shooting up the place when he went to confront Near.
"Shit," he said, breathing out this monosyllabic reply between gritted teeth and a tiny section of chocolate. "It doesn't matter. Just don't bring it up. I know you don't care, but others do."
And as for his using Matt's lack of goals; well, he used whatever he could. Even if it was stupid and negligible.
Matt grew slightly more offended at that. "Who said I didn't care?" He pointed out, knowing full well that his wording and analogy had made it seem like he didn't care about L's death, but that event had seriously rocked his world. L suddenly dying by the hands of Kira, their idol, suddenly gone with no one to replace him.
With Near and Mello in a battle of wits, L really had no true successor—not in Matt's eyes. In Matt's eyes, Near could go fuck himself because he was no where near capable of picking up where L left off. He lacked the drive, the audacity. And on top of all that...Mello had left the orphanage, leaving Matt stranded with not the faintest idea where his friend had disappeared off to. "You're just being a jackass, Mello."
"Just shut the fuck up, okay?" he said, his stomach twisting. He felt like puking, but wouldn't show that kind of physical emotion to Matt. Even if it didn't matter to the other, it mattered a hell of a lot to Mello. He had never liked wearing his heart on his sleeve, but apparently, it was what he did best. Near and L, hell, even Matt, had been so skilled at keeping themselves hidden when the occasion arose. He could never keep himself from exploding; the only thing he was proud of was not crying. He hadn't done so since his first years at the orphanage, and wouldn't do it in his late teens. That was just needless.
"Just shut the fuck up. Go play your games."
"I thought you said to go work on the fucking case," Matt stabbed, growing slightly heated himself now. Mello keeping whatever he could in, and then blowing up at Matt for whatever reason he couldn't exactly place was one of the things that really pissed the redhead off about Mello. He knew full well that the other was just an emotional bomb waiting to happen—but all he did was run around pissed all the time. He didn't ever show sadness, or happiness—that was what Mello kept in that differentiated him from Matt. Matt might have always seemed like a cool-headed sort of guy, but he did let loose and have fun, he did mope, and he did, on occasion, get angry. That was what allowed him to reserve himself when the time called for it; it was something of an art.
Mello seethed.
"Whatever," he said, voice dangerously soft. He was about to go somewhere...but where, he didn't know. There was no way he was going to go to Hal's yet. That was just suicide in his mood. The moment Near said something derogatory, and his gun was out of the holster, he held a very high chance of getting shot by one of those godforsaken detectives he kept around. Well, they weren't really detectives, if you thought about it.
"Just don't."
Don't what had yet to be determined, but he doubted it took a genius to figure that out. And in Mello's anger-wracked mind, Matt was definitely not that.
Matt sighed—he was going to get no where with Mello.
"Fine," he answered simply, shrugging and turning on his heel to go back to the couch. Hell, Mello could go out and get himself killed and Matt wouldn't care right then. He'd care later. He dropped back onto the couch, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. The scent of cinnamon-flavoured nicotine lingered in the air around him as he resumed his pinball game. It was taking an unnecessarily violent turn as he jabbed at his laptop keys a little harder than needed.
"Jackass," he muttered under his breath, taking a deep inhale through his cigarette. "Just go get yourself shot already."
You'd like that, wouldn't you?
No, of course he wouldn't. Mello looked back at Matt, eyes grim. This was how it was, ever since Mello had moved in: They would get along just fine, until his sensitive nature kicked in, and they would be flinging cuss words at each other and thinking the very worst, even though they both knew that they would feel awful if either of them died. Well, Mello would, at least. It was his fault Matt was involved at all.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said dryly. "You wouldn't want me to get shot, would you?" For some reason, he was expecting a yes. He knew that wasn't the case...
Matt was vaguely surprised that the other even asked him—for one, he figured that Mello would know the answer. For another, he didn't think that Mello cared. He did, however, guess that there must be something perturbing about the one person who you might consider to be your 'friend' told you to go get shot.
"Yes," he stated all too seriously to be sarcasm, jabbing at the keyboard keys again before pausing the game once more. He turned to Mello, sighing smoke.
"No, dipshit. Of course not."
So he was being sarcastic after all. Hell, Matt would probably be devastated if Mello ended up getting killed. He wasn't going to say that, though—nor would he be probable to show it if it ever happened. It would be an inward, crushing kind of devastation.
A private Hell.
"Good," said Mello, with a note of finality, as though that had settled the entire matter. Okay, okay, he did care. Otherwise, he would have just left, indifferently, and come back in the all hours of the morning and demand to be let in. It wasn't like him to apologize, so he expected Matt to recognize that and take it as such. If he didn't, well, that would just be too damn bad. Holy hell was he proving difficult.
"Because I really am sorry, bastard. And I don't say that a lot." He stalked off, going into the room to find his hooded jacket. He had a feeling that he'd need it sometime later.
Honestly, Mello leaving in a huff was exactly what Matt had expected—and he felt somewhat...reassured that the other hadn't done so. A small smile cracked onto his expression, and he chuckled.
"I know," he told Mello, leaning back against the couch, fading back to neutrality again. "And if it helps," he called out to the blonde, seeing as he had promptly left the room, "I'm sorry too. I push your buttons like mad..." It's fun.
He smiled to himself at the thought—he took it all quite lightly, but he was well aware that Mello didn't apologize to just anyone, and he felt vaguely privileged to have the blonde say it what...three times today? Or was the first time a thank you or something like that? Matt didn't know, but either way, it was rare. And besides that...Matt was sorry. It didn't mean that he wouldn't do it again though.
Matt chuckled at the notion, glad to see that they were treading that delicate patch between them again. Maybe one day, when they stopped being so stubborn, moody, and idiotic, things would be better and they'd be walking on solid ground. For now, though, this stop-and-go thing was working out. Kind of. Well enough. Matt decided that, in order to return some sort of courtesy, he'd set aside his pinball game for once and get to work. He slid off the couch and shifted sit in the center of his semi-circle of laptops and haunch over one of the screens, tapping diligently away at the keyboard.
"Don't eat your way through all of those on the first day now," he warned, seeing that those chocolate bars were going away pretty quickly.
Mello sighed, and as a response, merely opened the wrapper and shoved a rather big bite into his mouth. It was nice to oppositional; especially when he knew that he would be the only one getting any satisfaction from it. He debated on whether or not to go sit back on the counter, but let that ideation go to sit on the arm of the couch like a spoiled cat. It was quite a sight.
"I don't care if you're buying it," he said, acting like a spoiled child this time. "I'll eat as much as I please. Besides...it's like nicotine for me." Better to assimilate yourself with others to have them understand.
"I guess. It's not your money so you don't care...That makes sense."
Yeah, it was Matt's money...but Matt didn't really care. He didn't look, act, or seem at all like it, but he was a rich motherfucking bastard. His technological skills had gotten him far-- but his money-spending tactics were like anything else in his life: lazy. Matt took a purposeful draw from his cinnamon cigarette, exhaling a slow, almost taunting stream. "Point taken," he told the other with a little inward smile.
Again, Mello wrinkled his nose. Though chocolate was almost an addiction, it was no where near as disgusting as smoking. Smoking could get you killed. Chocolate could get you diabetes, but that was considerably less life-threatening than lung cancer. Oh, well. As long as the bastard didn't contaminate Mello's lungs with that putrid filth, he could kill himself in whatever way he wanted.
He could care less.
"It's not like you buy much, anyway," he pointed out. "I'm probably not even putting a dent in your wallet. How much does chocolate cost, anyway? Ten bucks for a week's supply? Dear, god. Don't be stingy."
Matt found himself smirking just slightly despite his usual resolve-- for some strange, unknown reason, he was finding Mello's conversation funny. "Just about. And no, you're not putting a dent in my wallet." He assured the other, although he was pretty certain that the blonde needed no reassurance. "Hey, I never once said I minded buying you chocolate," the red-haired youth countered, continuing to pull up various files. One day, he was going to hack the second L and see what he could come up with.. but not with Mello sitting around. That was like working under pressure.
"That's good," said Mello, laving at the candy in his hand with his eager mouth. "Because if there's one thing I'm going to keep buying, it's this."
He paused, and as an afterthought, added: "Maybe some new clothes."
Yes, he did care about his appearance. It was one thing he could control, especially his clothing. Besides, he liked to dress like he did, no matter how much attention it drew to himself. Lately, he didn't buy clothes. How could he? There was a case to work on, and shopping for clothing would just kill his work ethic.
Matt looked over to Mello's outfit for today and saw the familiar black leather. He highly doubted that Mello would get anything too different than what he'd been getting, but hey. Going shopping with Mello might actually be somewhat amusing. It wasn't like Matt was going to let Mello run around with his credit card, after all. Who knew what other things he might want to buy?
"Clothes and chocolate. Interesting," Matt commented, seeing as somehow, it suited Mello—but didn't at the same time. Not from the surface, but since Matt knew Mello well enough, it was plausible. Matt was just always buying electronic parts, new video games, and new consoles. He had everything from the Nintendo 64 to the Nintendo Wii. This, of course, was only to be expected.
"So hurry up, catch Kira before Near does, and then we'll go shopping," he snorted. Interesting indeed.
"Oh, yeah," he said, reclining as he laughed. "And risk looking gay? D'you know it would look like if we went clothes shopping together?"
He started laughing again. Regardless, it would be interesting. And if he wanted new clothes, odds were he'd have to go buy them with Matt. Which, though amusing, didn't sound too appealing.
"But I really do want new clothes."
Not a typical thing for Mello to yearn for, since he pretty much had clothes already. Well, charred ones, and the new ones he had gotten just after the hideout exploded.
This was true. They would look fairly gay in the event of them going shopping together. "We look pretty gay already," Matt pointed out upon coming to that realization. For one, they were living together—and for another, Matt would like to think that the pair of them had a rather acute sense of style. That might have just been his ego speaking, though. "See? Just go and beat Near already and we'll go shopping and you can get all the new clothes you want." He teased, knowing full well that Mello's desire for clothes was almost as rare as his remorse. Well, not quite, but it was close enough.
Mello paused. He had never considered them as looking gay. Stupid, maybe. Out of place, for sure. But never gay. He would've gotten pissed over it, but decided to restrain himself.
"Don't push me," he said, in a reasonably okay mood. "I'll beat Near." There was an even longer pause this time. He figured it would be pretty necessary to add: "...eventually."
It killed him to admit it, but they weren't making much of a progression. But what could they do? Near had so many more resources. It was almost sad. He had a team of detectives and technology at his disposal, to do with what he wished, and Mello had a couple of laptops and a friend who could probably not give a shit.
Matt held back any amusement to avoid pissing Mello off again—he wasn't breaking anything yet, and Matt would like to protect his precious laptops.
"Hell, I'll hack the SPK if you want me to, Matt offered, figuring that he could do it. Near had most likely taken precautions against Matt's skills, but Near didn't know exactly what Matt could do. Even if Near figured that Mello would turn to an old companion from Wammy's, Matt might just be able to get through his security. "We might get something then."
"Like what?" inquired Mello. "Near's mentality would make an attempt like that futile. We'd end up finding out more or less what we already know. He'll have everything premeditated. Hacking will be our last resort."
And it most certainly would be. Near probably expected an attack like that, and if he didn't, Mello would be insanely surprised. Matt was kind enough to offer, and it would probably be no sweat off his back if they did hack into the SPK, but they had to bide their time. He didn't want to take from Near, he wanted the younger one to be used in exactly the way he was trying to use the blonde. It infuriated him, the ease in which he did so.
Matt shrugged, knowing that Mello was right. There really wasn't anything that they could do with that. He set aside some news video feeds for later, not in the mood to look at them right at the moment.
"Turning the tables on Near will be rather difficult," he commented off-handedly, scanning through any possible scenarios that it would happen, but his logical mind shut most of them down. Matt and Mello had always been better at that kind of thing anyways—Matt had his technological smarts and he could work at a situation backwards and sort out the roots and possibilities, but he never liked dreaming up scenarios and barring them, like in a chess game. Matt had never liked chess.
Near and Mello had always been better.
"Not as hard as you might think," Mello countered. He, on the other hand, had several scenarios, though he had kept in mind only the ones that ended in victory. He intended to beat Near one way or another, even if he died in the process. Though he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"We have a couple things he doesn't have. For one, we have drive. Well, I do. I doubt he wants to beat me as bad as I do him." Okay, maybe that didn't count for much, but he liked to believe that it did. "And Kira doesn't know that you exist. He knows I do, but he doesn't know where I am. Near is in direct contact with who he believes to be Kira." Mello smirked. "He's just setting himself up."
Matt shrugged. He had figured that his nonexistence might help in some way, but the role of a technologically smart comrade wasn't exactly hard to fill, not with Mello's credibility. But he supposed that it was minor enough to be overlooked, if Mello was taking it into consideration.
"Kind of like L." He murmured thoughtfully—L had worked with his prime suspect in order to gain headway on the case...and then he'd died. Keeping close contact with Kira opened doors to let death in, Matt supposed. He buried himself in his computer work—this technology business was a lot simpler. It was like a giant puzzle that didn't require too much logic—Matt was too lazy to use the logic skills that he had.
"All right. I'll trust you."
"Not that you have any choice," snorted Mello. Okay, he did, but he doubted that Matt would kick him out any time soon. Not the way things were, even though he still couldn't figure out why the redhead was letting him stay, anyway. God knew that Mello didn't deserve it. It wasn't as though he was going to mention it, though. Maybe if he did, he would knock some sense into the other's head...and maybe he would really kick him out. He didn't even know why it bothered him so much, since he could probably live anywhere he wanted in this city.
Mello sighed inwardly, not daring to externally display his exasperation. Well, it wasn't really exasperation; it was more like a resigned understanding that they'd probably go back and forth like this until one of them snapped, which they could do at any moment. Still, it was their flighty attitudes that kept them in the same apartment for so long. If they didn't have a love-hate relationship of sorts, Mello probably would have had his ass kicked out a long time ago.
"Even if you did, I probably wouldn't leave," admitted the blonde, closing his eyes. They stung at the feeling of lids sliding over near-bloodshot pupils.
Matt considered this for a moment and came to the conclusion that Mello was absolutely right. He wouldn't leave.
"And then I wouldn't do anything about it," he responded, shrugging a little. That part was true too. He probably wouldn't do anything about it. "I might ignore you for a bit, but that's pretty common anyway."
Matt continued, shrugging and leaning back against the front of the couch as he waited for a few files to download.
"So really, there's no threat," said the older male with a little more than mild satisfaction. He could work Matt like a dog, and all the red head could do was refuse to do it. Which didn't really matter; Mello had originally planned to do all of this on his own, anyway. Matt was only an added bonus. Not that he wasn't thankful for his presence. Tons of his plans could not have been possible without the hacker's skills.
"I could do what I wanted, at no consequence to myself."
"Well, I would play video games all the time and that might be a little setback," he offered. He knew that he was expendable—as earlier stated, the role of a technician wasn't exactly hard to fill...but he would bet that he was the most efficient one out there, not to mention, he didn't ask for payment or anything like that. "And I probably wouldn't buy you chocolate, so you'd have to spend your own money," he added as he leaned back to the laptop in front of him, pulling the files up and scanning through them.
"That's true," Mello acknowledged. It was, though he didn't think it would be very hard to buy chocolate on his own, not to mention that he could probably steal from whatever money Matt had lying around and merely deny it. Even if he did hate him for that, he supposed that Matt wasn't what he was here for...wasn't he?
He wandered about the living room for a minute, for no credible purpose, then returned to the couch and sat purposefully on it. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. He was restless, but he couldn't go anywhere. It was killing him.
Matt paused in his work to look over to Mello, arching a brow at the other's behavior. "Something up?" He questioned, leaning back against the front of the couch again. He eyed the blonde for a moment before off-handedly moving a hand to fiddle with his goggles. He ended up taking them off to mess with the straps and idly clean the lenses with the end of his shirt. Stalling.
He stopped pacing, patting down his golden bangs and inclining his head to glare at the other between slitted eyes.
"Waiting," he said gruffly. "For tonight...It makes me kinda nervous, to tell the honest to god truth." Even he had to confess himself sometimes, because keeping it inside was fatal, to both him and Matt. Mello flexed his fingers, watching the leather gloves creak over slender fingers. He didn't know why he hadn't taken them off yet, but they made him feel enclosed. In a good way.
Matt nodded his understanding, sliding his goggles over his head before pulling them up to his eyes again. He adjusted them promptly, but failed to return to his work. His attention span was far too short to work for prolonged periods of time—most videogames didn't even hold his attention for too long. Pinball was the only thing he could stay focused on for more than an hour. Everything else had to be switched around and rotated if he hoped to keep still.
"Well, as long as you don't shoot everyone, I think you'll be okay."
Mello laughed hollowly.
"I can't guarantee that," he said. "That little bastard knows exactly what to say to stir me up."
He paused, as if in entranced thought, then went to the opposite wall and leaned against it, only to slide down to the floor and sit squarely. His eyes closed slowly again, then fluttered open. This process repeated several times, to keep himself in a sound mind. Maybe later he'd fix some coffee. Chocolate just didn't seem to provide the sugar high it used to.
"Then again, you do too."
The red-head watched his companion curiously as he wandered to the opposite side of the room and slid down into a sitting position. For a moment, he wondered of Mello was falling asleep. The idea was strangely practical—if Mello was going to fall asleep anywhere, why not sitting up against a wall? Somehow, Matt couldn't picture Mello curling up and going to bed anywhere. He stirred out of his thoughts and cracked something of a smirk when Mello compared his button-pushing skills to Near. "Shucks." He smirked a little more before finally going back to his work—but only for a couple seconds. "You're too kind."
"Mhmm," Mello grunted as a half reply, getting up again. He couldn't just sit here; it was like waiting for his doom. Getting up to pull on his hooded jacket and snatch another chocolate bar to shove in his pocket, the blonde decided that the best way to get through this would be to go out before the time came and...prepare. He had a few ideas on how to do that, namely making his usual dealings. He wasn't just going in without bartering first. He probably had information that Near wanted, and in exchange for that information, he would get his picture back.
It was an almost flawless plan, though it couldn't hurt to have some persuasion. The male stomped to the front door, mentally formulating several different scenario possibilities. Most ended well, though a fair fraction ended in either capture, failure, or a bullet in his head. Brilliant.
Matt glanced up, having been drifting off in thoughts of playing pinball, or whipping out his handheld again.
"Going out early?" he questioned Mello, although it was obvious that the other was doing so. Hell, Matt didn't know. Mello could get ready and wander around the apartment fully dressed and fully loaded for the next hour if he really wanted to. It seemed like something an anxious Mello would do. Without waiting for a reply, Matt leaned back over his laptop and attempted to further his working process.
"Good luck," he offered, although it was more of a well-wishing goodbye than anything else.
He let out a prolonged exhalation before turning the cold doorknob underneath his fingertips and deeming Matt's well-wishes as worthy of a reply. He opened the door and reached under his jacket to place a hand on the handle of his weapon. It made him feel safer, to say the least.
"Thanks," Mello murmured. And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him in anxious irritation and stalking away.
His footsteps faded after awhile.