hachi.
The day had progressed much without conflict. Matt had taken a shower, Mello had eaten more chocolate, and they both had looked through further information on the Kira case. Currently, they were taking what Matt would like to call 'a break'. In truth, it was the few minutes where they ceased to touch anything electronic and Mello was rebandaging Matt's chest. In addition, they were attempting to hold another civil conversation, which was what made this 'break' a phenomenon.
"You're still in a bad mood," Matt commented, knowing for certain that their earlier argument couldn't have jarred Mello. They argued all the time. Granted, most of the time it didn't end with Matt socking Mello in the face, but it had been a punch waiting for years to happen, in Matt's defense.
Mello cocked an eyebrow. He had an urge to say "No shit, Sherlock", but he figured that that wouldn't help the situation much, and it was rather an immature thing to reply with when he was trying to be, well, somewhat serious. So, thinking over what he should say instead, the male exhaled with little conviction and finished winding the bandages and hooking it together.
"Nothing," he insisted. "I'm just pissed that you had to open up your wound again and make me go through all this trouble." He cast him a slight smirk, to indicate that he wasn't all too serious about this. It was his mostly his fault, after all.
Matt indicated some gratitude with a slight sort of smile, leaning into one corner of the couch and observing his newly bandaged chest for a second, clearly uninterested in getting a new shirt to put on. He'd already ruined enough; he would rather lay off for a bit. "Oh come on. It was your fist in it that made it bleed," he pointed out with a wry grin. Granted, he had been the one to punch Mello, but he wasn't about to bring that up.
"You started it," Mello said, addressing what they were probably both thinking and sounding to all the world like a child trying to negotiate his side of the fight. Then again, it seemed the most appropriate thing to reply with, though it may or may not have been true depending on whom you asked. Though Matt had initiated the fistfight, the blonde had probably begun the conflict long ago with either his words or his presence. Either could incite the worst in anyone.
"It's a general rule that if you still have a healing gunshot wound, you don't start fights immediately afterward."
"Hey," Matt laughed out his defense, his good nature still in tact despite Mello's bad mood. And if anything, Matt would like to say that Mello's mood was lightening a little. He was making jokes, anyway, and being witty, which was fine by the red-head. "Excuse me if I haven't memorized the gunshot wound rule book. I've never been shot before."
"Well, now you have," he said, seemingly uncaring. "Not everyone has been shot in their lifetime. You've experienced something rare, so feel privileged and learned," Mello said, his tone of voice indicating that while he wasn't necessarily angry with the other, he was looking on everything with contempt and dull annoyance now.
For some reason, Matt found Mello's sarcasm horrendously funny. It showed, too–there was a vague sparkle of hidden laughter behind those tinted goggles of his. "Mmhm, I do," Matt lied through his teeth, although he was enjoying Mello' sarcasm. He was genuinely at ease with the sarcasm–because usually, that meant that Mello was tolerable. It was when the insults were whipped out that he might start to immerse himself a little deeper in his games. "Should I be glad my teacher's you?"
"There's no better," said Mello, with a verbal flourish, leaning back imperiously and tilting his head into the couch as if it were his throne. He didn't spare a grin, or even the semblance of a smile at the time, not being able to find the muscles. Usually after a spat, though, he tended to get overwhelmingly angry; he also tended to get over it easily and return to his slightly domineering, indifferent self. He had taken a break from his searching to gather his thoughts, which had spread quite a bit once he started talking to Matt. Perhaps that was because the discussion was so obscure, and maybe...at ease.
Matt, quite frankly, was enjoying Mello's company quite a lot at the moment. Maybe too much, actually. He was willing to bet that his enjoyment during this particular time was banking on dangerous. He didn't really know why he found Mello's company particularly pleasant now, when he couldn't have stood him but an hour or so ago. Maybe it was the fact that he had finally punched Mello in the face that was making everything chipper and dandy now.
"You know, you're kinda hot when you're pretending to be regal," Matt pointed out with all the nonchalance that followed him around. It wasn't exactly a provocative comment–in fact, it had no aim. It was just a comment.
Mello's only reaction was a raise of an eyebrow and the thinnest smile. It was his first in awhile, despite his better nature, but it was more amused than anything. Of course he knew that there was no serious intent behind these words. It was just playful banter. And yet, it wasn't at the same time. It made a frown appear on his face merely seconds after the smile, though that was soon replaced by cold apathy, the usual result of discomfiture or uncertainty.
"Ah, I'm so flattered," he, at last, said, laying on the sarcasm again. "Too bad for you, I don't swing that way."
"Right, right." Matt wasn't exactly sure what the situation called for any more, so he decided to just lean his head back against the corner of the couch he was in and stare at the ceiling with something of a wicked little, diabolical half-smile hinting on his features.
"When was the last time you got laid, Mello?"
This time, his reaction was a lot stronger. His eyebrows stayed fixedly in place while his eyes widened, wondering why such a question was warranted. Was this still all a joke? Maybe, and as long as there was a shred of doubt, Mello would treat it as such.
"That's personal information," he said curtly, but with a note of tease. "When was the last time you got laid?" He might as well ask while he was at it.
Hey, it wasn't an offer.
Matt chuckled; he'd been expecting the question, but it still sounded funny coming out of Mello's mouth. Especially if Mello was just saying that his sex life was 'personal information'. With how brash Mello was, though, Matt was willing to bet that Mello hadn't gotten laid in a while. Otherwise, he probably would have answered.
"A couple days before you came," Matt answered easily. He, unlike Mello, wasn't secretive at all. Of course, if he hadn't gotten laid in a while...he might have said that it was personal information. "But you've made it pretty much impossible to go do someone, thanks."
That wide-eyed look remained on his face, though it dulled slightly. His voice, however, remained placid and deadly cool, not put off by the fact that Matt had probably more action in his life than he. Then again, he never had the chance with his faithfulness to his vendetta with Near. Fucking people was hardly conducive to success; this was the sad but incredibly true fact of things.
"I would never expect that from someone like you," he said. Mello didn't bother to state why, though he had many reasons. Perhaps the biggest one was that it was hard to imagine living a normal life after Wammy's, the way Matt did. In a way, the blonde was jealous.
Matt chuckled and shrugged, oblivious to Mello's jealousy. Really, to him, a normal life was all he'd known. Even Wammy's was normal. Wammy's was just another place with a bunch of kids and they were smart. That was all. There was L, and that was pretty surreal–but then L died. And now, now they were caught up in this big case and this big scene and just... Everything seemed so...fake. And he supposed, that was the part that Mello knew, and the clubbing and the sex and the alcohol was the 'normal' part. But to Matt, all that blended together into something that was basically a day-to-day existence. That was, of course, until he'd decided to help Mello. Sure, the Kira case was just in and out, and Mello's hate for Near leaked on to Matt, but it was all mostly blurry, even if it was going on presently. But…there was something about Mello that just made life seem real.
But Matt would never say so.
"Why not?" he asked finally, raising his head to look directly at the blonde now.
"Well," he said, contemplating on a phrasing that would fit the situation. Mello decided to leave out half of his reasons because most of them were either embarrassing to himself or Matt, and although didn't care all too much about the other's discomfiture, he himself would rather seem unaffected.
"I can't see you with a girl," the blonde stated after awhile. "You seem too withdrawn. But hell if I know you. And I could never see you going out and picking up chicks, or anybody for that matter. You're too wrapped up in your video games and that shit." Not necessarily substantial reasoning, but he didn't dare voice what he thought deeply, for even he didn't know what he wanted to say.
Matt, though, seemed to be satisfied with this. Maybe he was always a little too stupid–maybe he was always a little too shallow. He could feel that there might be something bubbling under the surface of Mello's words, but he didn't press it. He didn't want to. He didn't have the resolve. Matt laughed. "I guess so, but as things are, I'm nineteen years old. I get urges." And really, that was the only way that he could put it because Mello was right. Matt never really was with a girl. Between him and chicks, it was a mutual understanding. 'You're hot, I'm hot, let's do it.'
And then that was the end of it.
"Urges, huh?" Mello stated first, snorting slightly. Of course, everyone had urges, but hearing this from Matt's mouth as an explanation was quite amusing. Maybe even more than that. What was more amusing, however, was how their conversation had suddenly turned to a more erotic light, and now, he couldn't even remember what they had been originally talking about.
"Yeah."
Matt almost grinned. "Y'know, I think you know me better than you're giving yourself credit for," he said calmly in a rare moment of reflection.
An expression of intrigue crossed his face. "Oh, really?" Honestly, Mello never took the time to know anyone. Of course he had memorized the other's idiosyncrasies, the little things that set him apart, and maybe sometimes he could almost exactly predict his thoughts and opinions, but that was as far as it stretched.
"Yeah, now would you quit questioning everything I say?"
"Alright, alright." Mello stared off at the wall opposite of him, still idly pondering the other's words to such a degree that he barely heard Matt in time when he started speaking again.
"And yeah. I think you do. Don't ask me why I think so, though." Matt said this because he really didn't know why he thought so. Maybe because he was just comfortable around Mello–he was casual with everyone else, but he was comfortable around Mello. There was a difference. Really.
The conversation, while it had its points, was dwindling off now. It was getting to the point where he forgot his original task: his work. He sighed, closing his eyes for a minute and opening them to stare not at the equipment around him, but at his clothes. The leather was squeaking more often than usual, almost like a protest. His body had been enclosed in the same ensemble for days, and had only ever washed his hair in the past many hours. Perhaps that was because he wanted to keep at least a decent hygiene, even if that meant being lazy and only tending to his hair. It was all the same, he supposed.
Matt followed Mello's gaze to his clothing, blinking slowly at the attire before remembering that these were the clothes that Matt had seen Mello in for the past three days. "Go change," he said suddenly, like this was something he could just make Mello do.
He regarded Matt for a moment, seriously considering retorting something condescending just for the sake of it, since he didn't like being told what to do even if he did want to do it, but he really did want to change. "Yeah... I need it," he said, surprising Matt with his compliance. The truth of the matter was that he wanted to get out of that room. Sitting in one place talking to Matt was... different, and he felt strange because of it. Maybe a change in scene would help things.
The bedroom scene wasn't exactly ideal, Mello realized as he walked in, but it suited his needs of slipping out of his shirt and slipping into another one before beginning to slide out of his pants, wincing as the leather peeled from his thighs with a squelching sound.
Matt had something of a short attention span. After sitting there, jiggling his foot for a few minutes, he decided that he ought to go fetch himself a shirt. Of course, he could have picked a more adequate time to go do that–but he wanted to see if he could surprise Mello in the midst of undressing. Why, he wasn't entirely sure. Probably just for kicks.
"Need help?" he taunted as he wandered in the door, hardly giving Mello any more than a passing glance as he moved to his dresser drawers. The second one was already open, which allowed him to easily pluck out a striped, black and white shirt.
Mello growled, tugging on new pants as Matt strode in. "Was it necessary for you to walk in here?" he demanded, now fully dressed.
"Yeah," Matt deftly answered, somehow managing to convince both his arms to slide through their proper holes once he managed to get his shirt over his head.
Rolling his eyes, Mello pulled on his boots as well to get the full effect. He predicted he may go somewhere later anyway. There was always a method for his madness. "I know I'm incredibly attractive, but you're going to have to restrain yourself."
"Right, right, me and my urges won't bother you." A smile played in his blue-green eyes, both hidden behind his tinted goggles. "Planning on going somewhere?"
"Later," he admitted, chuckling lightly—very lightly—at the mentioning of before. "But first...I think I may call Hal. Not now, though, because I have some things I need to look up."
Matt inwardly grinned at the fact that he managed to get the smallest of laughs out of Mello. He knew that Mello was way too wound up–he had every right to be, of course, but Matt liked to see him lighten up every once in a while. The red-haired gamer nodded in response to Mello's needing to call Hal, heading out of the bedroom to go find his handheld, wherever he'd put it.
"I have a plan," he added. "But like I said… I'm going to need your help."
Keen to hear what the blonde's plan was, Matt stopped in the door way. When he heard that Mello would be require his help, he only gave a wry smirk. "What else am I here for?" he questioned almost airily. "Are you filling me in yet, then?"
"I will after I talk to Hal."
"Okay," Matt answered simply, heading out to find his handheld. He ended up circling the living room once before he found it between the lamp and the shot glass on the beaten table. How it got there, he wasn't quite sure.
Mello followed Matt into the living room, mulling still over the plan that would only work if Matt knew every detail. Still, it would be dangerous. It made him rather hesitant to resort to something like it, but he had done far worse in the past.
Then why did this bug him so much?
He thought this over with a pronounced frown, waiting for the other to leave so he could return to the semi-circle of laptops that was just calling his name. Maybe he was worried more because… well… He was dragging the red head into certain death, and he knew that Matt was too loyal to say no. It made him rather angry.
A second after he flicked the game on, though, he looked up at Mello. "Something wrong?" he questioned, although he was very well aware that something was. Something was always wrong–and in this case, something was especially wrong.
Mello began his usual angry routine: stomping around and scowling fiercely, he picked up a laptop and shoved it into his own lap, pounding on the keyboard furiously. He had too much to do. "It's just you," he said, quite casually, Googling Takada Kiyomi and her future appearances, along with what type of security she kept with her at what times. This latter was harder to research, since it wasn't a typical thing to look for, but scanning clips of her on her Kira talk shows and studying pictures of her out in the open gave him a general idea. Shit did she keep a lot of people with her... It only made Mello wonder what she was preparing for.
"Me?" he questioned, though, taken back a little once he realized exactly what it was that Mello had said. "What did I do this time?" He asked this like it wasn't him they were talking about–almost like someone else had affronted Mello and Matt was trying to make it better.
"What honestly can you be gaining from helping me?" he accused, as though wanting to help was one of the original sins. He didn't say any more for the moment, too engrossed in his task to keep a focus on the conversation. Still, that ideation was nagging at his subconscious, mostly telling him that it was dangerous to worry about things like that. What happened, happened, and it was Matt's choice--and his alone--to assist. But it didn't always feel that way.
Matt shrugged a little–although it was more of a half shrug than anything. He shrugged with one shoulder, his right shoulder, and then relaxed back into playing his game with lightning fast fingers. "I donno. You're my friend. I help you, you don't kill me, win-win situation, right?" Matt answered, dodging the subject just as much as Mello was.
What he did say was that helping Mello achieve what he wanted allowed Matt to want something; wanting something was not a thing that Matt had openly done in the past. Not seriously. Not like Mello.
"I wouldn't kill you," the elder said, affronted slightly by this, though he knew it wasn't completely serious. He didn't like to think that he was someone who would openly kill people because they opposed him or said something he didn't like. Then again, he did shoot Matt without a thought about it beforehand just because he had compared him to someone who was now dead, and someone who was living far above him. Alright, so he had a point. "Maybe I'd get pissed at you and threaten you, but I'd never kill you." There was a pause. "I'd probably just end up leaving."
Matt winced. "Leaving's pretty bad too, Mello," he commented. It almost seemed to be light, the way he said it, but since the blonde knew Matt since Wammy's, he should have seen the dark undertone hiding in his voice. "I don't want you to leave. I'd rather leave you first."
"You could refuse. You know, when people get roped in with me, they end up dead. You're going to die, and it's because you never refuse to help me."
"Okay, then it's just because you're a friend." Mello was saying something about dying and Matt didn't exactly think that his possibility of death was up too high while he sat in front of a laptop in his cozy little apartment. "Just, if I die, don't make it an accident." Matt was vaguely surprised that he was still playing his video game. "If I die, make it count."
Mello could almost feel the mood drop, just like before, except now was different. It was as if all the warmth in the room had siphoned away, but it wasn't completely gone; it had just floated off into some sort of distant place, where they could still see it, but couldn't quite feel it. It almost made the blonde shiver. He couldn't help it.
In the past, the blonde had always threatened to leave, and often times, he actually did. But eventually...he would come back, whether he felt it was the right thing to do. Maybe if he just stayed away, it wouldn't be a problem. Yet he couldn't do that. It was as if he was afraid to, and he found that to be a weakness.
"Trust me, Matt," he said, tone as hard as it would ever get, so soft that you had to strain to hear each individual syllable. You would think that Mello only had three phases of volume: angry loud, pissed off louder, and the wrathful loudest. This bitter monotone was, although not unheard of, quite rare. "I never leave permanently. You know that." The corners of his lips twitched. He had admitted a weakness, or at least, a semblance of one.
Mello honestly felt stupid, for a lot of reasons. For one, he had confessed already too much, and now that he was being further, he couldn't exactly explain. Of course he stayed because one, Matt was useful. Actually, useful was an understatement. Not only was he good with computers and could go through with nearly every plot Mello could conjure, but he was damn loyal. It was very clear that the younger would die for him, or at least come close.
"I know," he said finally in regards to Mello's never leaving for good. That didn't stop him from thinking that Mello might, though. One day, just like back in Wammy's... For a person who didn't care, it was weird how seriously one event would affect Matt if it was the right event. "Why don't you? Leave, I mean."
"Because I'd have no where else to go," he said, rather feebly. This was a half-lie, since he could probably get another place to stay if he needed it. "And because I couldn't tolerate anywhere else." This next was closer to the truth.
Where Matt had actually sworn off friends for some time after Mello had left Wammy's and left him, Mello had little reason like that. Friends were simply a rare luxury that the blonde didn't want to associate himself with. Unfortunately, Matt had become a friend anyway. That was why he stayed. He didn't know how close he would be to Kira without Matt, and sometimes he figured he'd be dead. That, however, was never uttered. It was almost a sin for Mello to admit any sort of need for another person. He freely devoted himself to objects and ideas, but living dependence was another thing. A forbidden thing.
"Well at least I'm good for that," the gamer answered, almost bitterly.
"You've already helped me enough, Matt, goddamn." All Mello had been originally looking for was a place to stay and a little cooperation. Now, though, the red head had given him not only cooperation, but his life, too. It was insane.
"Well, what else am I supposed to do? If I refused you, what kind of friend would I be then?"
"It's not about being a friend. It's being stupid. Being a friend is letting me stay with you and using your shit. But this is like you don't even care about if you live or die."
All Matt did was shrug and answer. "I know."
There was a pause. "You have to care about that."
Another pause. Then, Matt said, "Okay. Maybe it's stupid. And maybe I do care. But…I dunno, Mello. I don't feel too strongly for just anything, but if I do, I'm willing to die for it." The thought of getting himself killed was almost frightening to Matt, but...he was okay with it.
"It's needless to die for a lost cause," he pointed out. "I'm ready to die to beat Near, but it isn't your thing." Not that he didn't want his help. He needed it, actually, if this plan was to work the way he intended it. True, he could pay some other sap to do the job, but it just wasn't the same as getting Matt's help.
Matt jabbed a button on his video game. He wasn't interested in what was needless or not–if anything, he would think that Mello's willingness to die for an intangible cause was odd. If Mello died, he wouldn't be able to relish in his victory, would he? And even if he did beat Near, Near wouldn't really care, would he? And if Mello beat Near and Mello died, and Matt happened to still be around, Matt certainly wouldn't be happy now, would he?
"Then are you saying you're a lost cause?" he questioned, jabbing harder at his handheld. "I never really know what I want. What I want never stays the same either, so what does it matter what I'm willing to die for?"
Mello pointedly decided to ignore the first question, deeming it unimportant. And chances were Matt wouldn't even care if he didn't answer, given that his attention span was fracturing to several different things, and different thought topics.
"Exactly," he said, instead addressing the second question. "If what you want never stays the same, and you want to die for something right now, you'll regret it because later on down the line, that thing won't be all that important to you anymore. And then you won't be able to regret it, or do it over, because you'll be dead."
It was a rather good point, if he said so himself, given that Matt's reasoning made no sense at all. If he was so flighty in his needs and desires, what was the point in focusing on something that could be redundant later?
Matt noticed that Mello didn't answer his question, but he didn't push it. Honestly, it was a valid question and he had been hoping he might get a valid answer out of it, but he hadn't really been banking on it. It hadn't seemed like a question Mello would answer, after all.
He looked up at the blonde for a moment, then back to his game. True, his attention was split in multiple ways, but he was coherent, wasn't he? Admittedly, Mello had cornered him using his own thinking, and Matt had learned of this back in Wammy's... But he'd never minded his mouth and he didn't see any reason, even when it contradicted him. What he thought and what he said and what he felt rarely matched up anyways. "But you'd think that if you felt strongly about something for a long time when you're as indecisive as me, that thing's gotta mean something important, right?"
"Important, maybe," he confirmed. "But not important enough to throw your life away for."
"So you're not important enough," Matt commented–it wasn't a question. It was a statement; it was a challenge, almost.
"I just don't see why you have to make me important," he said. Of course he considered himself important; he had thrown away dozens of other lives for his own cause before.. He hadn't cared when the entire mafia behind him had been killed by Kira. He hadn't cared when he slaughtered people to get where he was. That didn't matter for some reason while the red head's life did, even if Mello was sure that Matt wasn't doing anything with the life he had. Maybe that was just because ambition was such a familiar thing to the blonde; he assumed everyone else had the same track mind about the situation.
"Friendship is all well and good, but you shouldn't be ready to die for just anyone." That was Mello's philosophy, after all. He had never cared for anyone enough to be ready to die for him, so it was a completely foreign concept for him to grasp.
"You're not just anyone." If Mello didn't understand why he was important, that was fine to Matt, because Matt didn't really know how to explain it. Mello was important to Matt just because he was. They'd grown close pretty quickly back at Wammy's. Not close by the normal standards, by any means, but... close enough. Finally, Matt looked up at Mello with a strange severity on his features. "Are you a lost cause?"
Ah. So they had come back to that...
"Yeah," he said. A plain, unconcerned, monosyllabic reply. But he was far from unconcerned. He was beyond that, ever since their conversation escalated from a fight to a discussion about death, to wondering exactly where they stood with each other. Half of the conversation was nonverbal; they merely felt the response in the atmosphere, which was now dreary and strangely serious. Like everything was banking on Mello's answer.
Everything was banking on Mello's answer.
Kind of.
Matt continued playing his game, but his ninja was getting hit by cars, running into trees, falling through windows, drowning, et cetera. He wasn't really paying attention to it.
"I guess you kind of are," Matt agreed finally. It didn't make sense, then, that he'd die for a lost cause–but Mello was...a lost cause with a goal. Maybe his goal was only to defeat Near, but Matt thought that it was good enough. Matt didn't want for Mello to be happy, or satisfied, or successful. He just wanted to be there for Mello, and that in itself was inexplicable... but he found himself wanting to try and explain himself anyways. He really couldn't, though.
Right then, he kind of wanted to punch Mello again, but this time, he wanted to punch Mello so Mello would finally get the idea.
Sadly enough, Matt didn't think that would work.
"Is the idea that I'd die for you that hard for you to get?"
"Yeah, it is," he said. "That may not make sense, but I'm thinking the way I think, really. I couldn't imagine anyone being important enough...maybe that's just me."
Mello sighed. Though this wasn't necessarily as complicated as it was, he still found it oddly puzzling. They were both thinking different things. Matt just wanted to be there for Mello, while Mello wanted to beat Near without having to lose the other's life. His own was just fine, but if the red head died in that process, he would feel the same guilt that he did when he shot Matt himself. Though he wouldn't be directly killing the other, it would be almost an equivalent. Just because it was his fault; that was the thing... he wouldn't be able to live with the guilt.
"Maybe it is just you," Matt echoed, sounding somewhat remorseful that Mello wouldn't understand him. He had a feeling that no matter how much he explained, Mello wouldn't ever get it because he'd never feel that way. Or at least, Matt didn't think so. He put his game aside, running his hand back through his red hair like he could extract his thoughts and show them in tangible form to Mello. He couldn't, of course. "You know," he started, eyeing Mello like he was reading his thoughts as well as an open book. "If I die, it's more my fault than yours." After all, Mello had said it himself. It was Matt who never questioned that Mello would eventually lead him to his death.
"But I'll always know, Matt," he said, trying to enforce his point; he wanted the other to know exactly why he said what he did, and why he was so worried. He would never say the word 'worry' straight out, though. "I'll always know that it was because of me that you got dragged into this. I'd always wonder if I would've done something different, I could have saved your life." Mello was explaining too much again. Sometimes he wished he had that admiral self-control that Near and L did. They could always conceal their feelings like pros.
Hearing Mello fathom a way to operate that would save his life struck a chord in Matt. Quickly, his stomach knotted and released itself in a way that made him queasy. "Well," Matt stated, unable to get his words straight. Maybe that was because he really had no words–his mind was just swimming with whatever Mello was saying.
"You know Mello, you were never really good at controlling your emotions," Matt commented all of the sudden, almost stupidly. But he continued. "You never could in Wammy's, either. You'd come storming to my room, complaining about Near and just be really... really angry. I always thought that was funny."
"Was it really? What makes you bring that up, anyway?" Suddenly, Mello wished he were back at Wammy's. It was that bubbling sickness that always forced its way into his gut when he thought about simpler times, even if they weren't as simple as an ordinary childhood. That just darkened his mood, thinking about how life was then in comparison to how it had turned out.
Matt laughed a little, not really sure why he found any part of this situation funny anymore. Maybe it was because he didn't feel like he laughed enough, lately, and he wanted to put an end to that. Or maybe he was just being weird–or slightly delusional thanks to the pain killers.
"Because you were talking a lot, and talking a lot makes it easy for people to guess what you're thinking if they know what kind of person you are," Matt answered simply. That was indeed, the truth. He, despite a vague wish not to violate Mello, had been attempting to make some headway in why Mello did what he did. "Don't you think about it sometimes anyway?"
"Think about what?" Mello probably knew; in fact, he was sure he already knew what Matt was talking about, but it was better--safer, maybe--to hear things come directly from the other's mouth. Though Mello had not been apt to figure Matt out, as the other was doing to him, and because he still did not understand his desire to lay his life on the line for him, he felt that he needed to understand a bit more.
You know me better than you give yourself credit for.
The blonde was beginning to doubt this.
Matt closed his eyes, tipping his red-haired head back against the crook of the couch and breathing a soft exhale. He pictured smoke curling away from him, but failed to hypnotize himself into thinking that he could taste the smoke. "Wammy's. Near, L. The past. Stuff," Matt answered. He wasn't really one to dwell on past happenings, he really preferred focusing on the present–but Wammy's had been where he'd met Mello. It was natural for him to pay too much attention to it.
"What are you planning?" he asked suddenly, realizing that he felt vaguely sick. It was probably nostalgia, but he was hoping it was just apprehension so that Mello clearing things up would make him feel eons better.
Mello almost laughed at this. If he did, though, it would have been a hollow laugh, a humourless chuckle that was directed to nothing in particular. He shifted his gaze to the other, almost pitying him for some reason. A shake of the head brought him back to the present, and he sighed, ignoring the answer he was given in favour of answering the latter question: what exactly the blonde had in mind.
"We're going to kidnap Kiyomi Takada," he said tonelessly. That was all he needed to know, because though Matt played a small part, it was vital and dangerous. The reaction of the crowd and Takada's guards were key. It really was a reckless move.
If anything, Mello's plan just made Matt feel even worse. The knotting of his stomach was still painfully present every few minutes, tightening its grip on him and making him feel a pang whenever he thought that Mello might feel guilt over his death. Maybe he was just being conceited, because guilt didn't seem like a very Mello thing to feel... But Matt couldn't help but to hope–not that he wished the blonde ill.. It was just, if Mello felt guilt over Matt, it was proof that he meant something.
"We're going to kidnap the most famous and revered face in Japan," Matt echoed in a distorted fashion. "Are you fucking nuts?" Maybe that was why Matt felt like he was going to die–he damn well was.
"Fucking nuts, maybe," said Mello absently, frowning as he did so. "But if this works, we'll be closer to Kira than humanly possible."
"You might want to be careful how close you get," Matt pointed out gravely, slowly. "The other L knows your name from that break in. So Kira knows your name. All he needs is your face and you're a goner," Matt told Mello, secretively insinuating that Kira would nail Mello before he actually beat Near in anything, except getting killed.
"I know," the elder growled. "Shut up. I've thought about it."
Matt regarded the other for a long moment, wondering how much thought Mello really had given this. Still, though, he never had truly questioned anything Mello said and he didn't think now was any time to change. If it meant a Hell-bound route to possible victory, to Hell they went.
"Yeah. Don't worry. I believe you."