kyu.
"You know, we really are kind of a depressing pair." After the Takada discussion, Mello put this fact into plain sight.
"Don't you think that would give us incentive to talk about happier things? Instead of, you know, death and faith and lost causes and all this bull shit?"
"If we want to talk about something happy, how about a plan that isn't a suicide mission?" Matt proposed.
"I'm not changing my mind," the blonde reminded forcefully.
Matt shrugged. He didn't think that there was any harm in considering their options, but if the other was so adamantly opposed...
Then again, they didn't have too many options, and Matt would admit that the outcomes of managing to wrangle Takada into their midst were pretty damn good. Then again, if she got to be too much of a problem, Kira might kill her—unless he was planning on using her to get to Mello first.
"I have no other effective way to do this."
Mello paused, turning to look at Matt for a longer time than he had all day. "But again, you can always back out. People are easily bent to cooperation with just the right persuasion." A dangerous undertone developed in this last statement,
"No, I can't always back out. I told you I'd help, didn't I?" the redhead pressed. Besides, the idea of sitting at home while Mello was out abducting Kira's spokeswoman was a little more than unnerving.
"Fine," said Mello, as though this settled the matter. He propped his jawbone up with his knuckles, reclining coolly against the arm of the couch. "You're going to have to get a gun." It was strange, to think of Matt carrying a gun, and even stranger still to think of him actually having to use it. Of course, it was necessary for quite a few purposes, though he hoped that self-defense didn't have to be one of them. Takada's guards looked pretty tough, but even they wouldn't shoot Matt unprovoked if he kept quiet and played the innocent. At least, that was what he hoped.
"Okay," Matt answered without commitment, the same way he always did to strange prepositions. To him, the thought of owning a gun or using it was weird too—Mello had always been the one with guns, in Matt's humble opinion.
He fished out his cigarettes, awkwardly lighting it a little lower than he ordinarily would have if he felt like bringing his hands all the way up to his mouth. He tucked his lighter away. "Who am I hopefully not shooting, then?" he posed, wondering if Mello somehow was thinking of him going against Takada's fanatic guards. That, if anything, promised certain death.
"Anyone who happens to come after you," he said casually, not quite implying that, yes, there was a good chance that he would have to go up against Takada's guards. Some things were better left unsaid, or to the imagination. This was, more or less, applicable to both.
He stared at the process of lighting the cigarette, his expression caught in the struggle between disapproval and acceptance. Naturally, these two conflicting sentiments cancelled each other out, leaving Mello to exhale in apparent annoyance and turn his gaze away. Later he'd find the package (even though he was the one who had bought it) and empty a few rounds into it.
Matt couldn't help but to fuel his growing addiction, even if he was inside the apartment or not. In his state, he didn't think that Mello would force him outside at gunpoint to smoke or anything, so he felt pretty safe lighting up where he was. Even if it wasn't the best idea...he would have done it anyways.
"Right..." Matt answered blandly, closing his eyes as he exhaled a curl of smoke. It tasted bitter on his tongue—he'd always liked flavoured nicotine, even if the taste had been strange and artificial. "Remind me again—why are we taking the stupid approach?"
Mello hissed at the other, flashing him a venomous look before allowing his face to wipe clean of emotion and turn back to the pallid glow in front of him. It remained uninteresting. Still, he wanted to occupy his restless mind with something akin to research before he called Hal. Once that happened, there would be no going back on his arrangement. No matter how averse he was to have one of his plans called stupid, it was true. This was the stupid way to find Kira, if not a little desperate.
Matt shrugged a little in response to Mello's all-too positive reaction to his little query there. It wasn't like he wouldn't carry out Mello's plans to their fullest and indubitably do whatever it was that the blonde told him—he just wasn't too keen on firing at Takada's guards, who looked like they'd shoot down a toddler if he happened to be anti-Kira. Therefore, this was the stupid way. But hell, if it was going to work for Mello, it would work.
"Just saying," Matt went on to state, "if I end up dying now, I won't be around to help you with a smarter plan," he pointed out. After all, finding Kira wasn't going to be the end of it.
Not by a long shot.
"Then you think of something, idiot," Mello snarled, now positively uncaring as to if Matt died in his struggle. Of course, that would change, but when his temper was provoked even in the slightest, he would blatantly decide to be indifferent about anyone other than himself. It was a vicious cycle that kept the blonde under a soothing facade of normalcy. It was odd how selfishness placated him.
He shifted, lifting the laptop off of his burning thighs and setting it on the ground, where it whirred indignantly at its misplacement amongst a mass of wires and cords.
"Be nice to the technology," Matt reprimanded half-heartedly, clearly teasing as he always did. He knew that Mello was in a bad mood, but to the redhead—times like these were the best times to fuck around.
Mello shrugged. It was a carefree gesture, but his expression didn't match it at all. A sort of grimace had plastered itself there, and it lingered until he rested back against the seat. Later, he resolved. Procrastinating was never his style, and neither was being apprehensive about something he was about to do, but it seemed as though there was a first for everything; even a stomach that was currently rejecting the idea of chocolate.
"Yeah, yeah," he replied curtly. He almost added on a scornful retort, but decided to let it go. It would accomplish nothing, to be honest. "You know that I'm not going to give you special treatment for too long." The elder was, of course, addressing the cigarette. "You're going to have to go outside eventually."
Matt chuckled, clearly amused by Mello's casual demeanor, despite the fact that he wasn't much one to be like that. Matt, of course, would know.
"Of course," he commented with a shrug, waving his cigarette around pointedly. He smoked inside anyways—mostly, he obliged Mello's wishes to go out to do it...but for the most part, he was too lazy.
"You're the only one who would make me smoke outside after mortally wounding me, and I'm the only one who would take it," he teased, waggling the cigarette in Mello's direction and deftly tapping the ashes off of it into a shot glass. "I knew you weren't going soft."
"How could you ever think that?" asked Mello, chancing the ghost of a smile. You would have to look extremely closely to detect the weariness behind it, and even then it wasn't evident. After all, despite the ease in which the blonde revealed his emotions, he never wanted to appear as if he was exhausted or worried. Only in few cases, and in most of those cases, no one was around to see. Matt had had the fortune of witnessing his worry.
Unfortunately, though, he probably would never see it again.
"I don't know," Matt answered, eyeing Mello for a second. He, being Mello's old-time friend, searched for evidence of Mello getting tired because honestly, he had no idea how Mello could keep such a fast-paced life, never take a break, and never chill out a bit. This time, he swore he saw something of it, but...he didn't really try to pry. As observant as he could be sometimes, he didn't have the resolve to really look.
"I have an active imagination," he ventured. "The video games do it to me."
He cracked some semblance of a smile as he took a long drag off his cigarette, taking full advantage of the fact that Mello wasn't kicking him out to smoke yet.
"If you have such an active imagination, why do you always reject my plans? You should be full of your own schemes," Mello rebuted.
"They breach anything I could dream of...?" Matt laughed at his less-than-convincing attempt to accommodate his rejection. "My schemes all involve video games somehow," he lied smoothly—although for the most part, it was kind of true.
"I should have known, then."
What could the blonde honestly expect from a smoking gamer? Obedience, for one thing. Maybe he wanted something else. Better plans would be nice, but that wasn't what he had in mind.
Matt arched a brow at the other—another thing about being a long time friend of Mello was that Matt could generally tell when Mello had something on his mind. There was a subtle change in the way he worded things—or maybe, he was just kidding himself and he had sixth sense. That would be pretty badass.
"Yeah, you should have," Matt responded casually, puffing smoke in Mello's general direction. "What're you thinking about?" he asked after a lapse of silence, quite pointedly and curtly, actually.
Of course, Mello had no intention of spilling his thoughts to Matt. It was all apart of his desire to keep as much to himself as possible. If someone knew you too well, they had a weapon against you. Not that Mello thought that Matt was considering using anything against him. Maybe for blackmail in the dealings of smoking outside, but nothing serious.
"Nothing," he answered, brushing off the question as he did the smoke that was billowing his way. "Just your future. I see lung cancer."
"I see me dying faster than that."
"And I thought I was the cynical one," commented Mello offhandedly. He glared pointedly at Matt, as though wondering if he would say something else, though he knew that nothing else was coming. So, in response to the silence, he mimicked the redhead's earlier question: "What are you thinking about?"
"Beating my high score in Blades of Fury," Matt answered immediately, delivering the answer that he knew Mello was expecting to hear—or at least, he gave what he was guessing Mello was expecting to hear. No doubt the other was thinking that all he would think about was videogames and things of lesser importance than the Kira case. Maybe, even with the true answer, he still was.
"I'm also thinking about how you're a douche because you act like a rock and I know differently, He-Who-Used-To-Have-Nightmares-and-Kick-Me-and-Cry," Matt told Mello with a wan grin growing on his features.
Mello had been satisfied with the first response, but frowned immediately when the next followed. It wasn't as though the answer pissed him off as much as it confused him. Maybe he was just too used to only divulging what was necessary. Matt, however, seemed sincere.
Still, he reached out to yank the cigarette from Matt's fingers. "Oh?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. "You think you know so much about me?"
Matt, strangely, was quite pleased to have elicited that kind of reaction out of Mello—or maybe, he was just pleased to have gotten a reaction out of the other at all. He smiled faintly, seeming a lot like a roguish dog.
"Hey," he protested when Mello snatched his cigarette away, scowling slightly. He was, however, successfully deterred by Mello's question.
"Well if I think about it, I spent almost ten years at Wammy's, and most of it was with you." Matt responded. "Maybe not 'so much', but more than most people."
"We've known each other that long?" Mello inquired to no one in particular. The blonde shook his head to himself and flicked the cigarette on the pile of wires below him before cocking an eye toward the other again. "I'm surprised you're not sick of me."
Hell knew he was sick of himself.
"Mello," Matt stated with the air of a parent scolding a child who had done something particularly exasperating. "If you're not careful, you'll set something on fire," he patiently told the other with a shake of his head. "And yeah, we've known each other for that long." He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm surprised too. I don't think I could get sick of you though...I 'unno. You're you."
Mello ignored the reminder about the cigarette, finding it funny how Matt was chastising him about the proper treatment of a cigarette. In fact, he even laughed a little after the fact, before retaining his composure and leaning back again. It was strangely satisfying, what Matt had said afterward. It was sort of like reassurance.
Of what, he had yet to fathom. Somehow, though, he didn't want to. Ignorance was, after all, bliss.
"I'm me?" he said, snorting a little bit. "What's me like?"
Matt smiled faintly—he was always happy over the stupidest things with Mello. The blonde had laughed, and Matt just felt like Jesus came bursting out of his floor. Well, not quite that good, but almost.
"You?" Matt echoed, leaning back into the couch and blinking slowly behind his goggles. That was a tough question. "Infuriating," he stated, for one. He couldn't come up with much more. "Complicated. Dumbass. Asshat. Annoying." Okay, so it was coming a little easier now that he could throw some insults in there too. "Weird as fuck. Douche. Compelling, motivating, cap...captivating..."
Mello absorbed each description with a grain of salt, knowing that he deserved most of the insults thrown at him. He could take it, as long as none of them were too personal. However, as the list drew on, he couldn't help but tilt his head, intrigued.
"Captivating?" he questioned, grinning again. He had never heard such a word used in allusion to himself, though he couldn't say he was angry at it. The only sentiment he could conjure was interest, and another few unnamed. Amusement, maybe.
"Yeah," Matt admitted begrudgingly. Unlike Mello, he wasn't one to fuck up and say 'nevermind' and pretend he never said anything incriminating. He had, after all, caught himself in the middle of the word and continued on, however embarrassing the thought might be. "You've got to be for me to stick around this long," he stated in a manner of half-teasing.
Contrasting before, Mello's grin lingered. No matter how abnormal the conversation may have been, he still found it intriguing. Perhaps it was because they were talking about him; no one disliked a conversation about themselves.
"Yeah, I suppose I'd have to be in some way, if all other times I'm an asshat," he commented, poking fun at the other's vocabulary.
"Shut up," he told the blonde, snorting indifferently. New and strange words just came to him in a profoundly haphazard way. It was probably all the gaming and smoke going to his head.
"Maybe that's what is so captivating about me?" He cast a lazy glare at Matt. Was that why he hung around? It was because of the loyalty, sure, and his skill in computers and helping track down Kira, but captivating...
He tried to apply that term to the redhead. No, there, it was something else.
He scrutinized Mello in an attempt to figure out what he was thinking—at least he wasn't weirded out. That wouldn't be too good.
"You're a fucking amoeba. Or an enigma."
He figured that he meant enigma, but amoeba worked too. "Changing and weird and…difficult."
"You're an honest fucker, you know that?" Mello mused, pursing his lips together in a thin line.
"Yeah, I know." Matt answered, almost scowling. "I've been told."
"It's..." What was it? Mello couldn't think. Nice to know? Comforting? Annoying? All of the above, probably.
"It's what?" The red-head prompted, rolling his gaze curiously to Mello.
"Different," Mello said, with an unwavering note of finality. That word combined all the elements of the ones he had been thinking, and did so in a very neutral way. He was glad he had discovered it before something else slipped out, something that he shouldn't—wouldn't—have said.
"Different?" Matt repeated, wondering why exactly he felt vaguely let down. Not really, though. He had, perhaps though, been thinking something not so...equivocal. Mello was always like that. Mello was such a dishonest and evasive bastard in comparison to Matt.
"Yeah," the blonde responded very sincerely. There was some hint of Wammy's in his gaze before he averted it to the wrinkled joints of the leather on his thigh. Idly, he ran a finger over the material, feeling the grooves that the gathered leather made closer to the bent knee. He was fascinated by the oddest of things; that was most likely why he wore what he did and had habits and idiosyncrasies that set him apart. Nearly everyone in Wammy's did, whether they knew it or not. Those differences sort of grew on them, until they were no longer of the world. They were something else.
Matt would beg to differ. Even though he had, admittedly, spent most of his younger years counting pixels on electric screens and pretending to smoke lollipop sticks, those were things he'd done as a kid. Therefore, now, he would like to think, he was fairly normal and would be living a perfectly boring, cut-and-dry hacker life if Mello hadn't come along. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing.
"I don't see what's so great about this," Matt stated, suddenly two feet closer than he had been to Mello, one of his own fingers tracing along a zig-zag of leather by the crook of Mello's knee.
Mello was something akin to at a loss for words.
"It's…different."
His attention was drawn by the contact that sort of shocked him in the way being doused in cold water would. It was less surprising when the other had punched him, because it was expected. Mello had it coming.
Matt continued to keep close contact—knowing that for one, it fucked with Mello a bit and he liked that. He had always had a knack for wanting to unhinge the impassive other—most of the time he failed, but that was all right. He tried.
"Different like me and my honesty?"
"No."
It wasn't the answer Mello expected from himself. He was just too bothered by the scrutiny; it made him feel like he was being searched for everything he wanted to keep hidden.
"Like you and the way I can't fucking figure you out."
That was the thing Mello hated most besides being outmatched, wasn't it? Things beyond his control. The unexpected, like a sharp turn left on a roller coaster when you think you're going right. It wasn't hate, though, that made him uncomfortable with unpredictability.
For once, Matt felt like he was going somewhere with Mello. For once, he felt like he wasn't grappling for conversation, or grappling to keep his head, or...or dragging behind in Mello's tirade for success. For once, he felt like he was on the same level as the blonde, that he was paying attention to him. This was, for some reason, fairly reminiscent of his being shot—but he figured that this was better. Much better.
"Really," Matt answered blandly, blinking slowly. It was obvious he wasn't just being bored and evasive, though, and that showed by the mere fact that his finger stopped somewhere on the lower part of the side of Mello's thigh.
"You try to figure me out?" It wasn't quite a change of direction, but there was some curious new air in his query.
The continued contact almost made Mello squirm. Almost. His selective way of expressing things kept him from displaying his discomfiture, but it had to channel somewhere. So it turned into irritation, and that irritation flitted across his face.
"I fucking live with you, Matt," said the male wearily. "You don't think I want to understand you? You and your video games and disgusting cigarettes? I've known you for years, and you don't think it's not just a little sad that I still can't predict you?" There he went, divulging things that were meant to follow him to his grave. Still, it tended to happen when he talked to the redhead. Strange, but true.
"No…not really," Matt answered, blinking slowly—innocently, even. "I can't predict you," he admitted—only sometimes. He could guess, but he wasn't always right. In fact, most of the time he wasn't right. So weren't they even?
"It's not the same," he pointed out exasperatedly, but left it at that. "I sort of..." Hell, if he was going to say something, he might as well say it all. Especially since he was probably going to get Matt killed sooner or later. "I need to understand you, or else I feel like that's just one more thing I can't do worth shit. Got it?" Towards the end of this, his tone became hardened, as though he was to the breaking point of explaining something that was just too obvious.
Matt regarded Mello for a long time before sighing.
"I guess."
Acting on an outrageous impulse, Matt leaned in to press his lips against Mello's, but missed by a couple centimeters. He grinned roguishly, somehow commanding his body to get up and move to avoid any punches that might come flying his way.
"Try understanding that."
Mello reeled. Even if he had thought of throwing a few punches, even for the hell of it, he couldn't quite find the motor skills to perform such an impossible task. So he settled for sitting and staring for the moment. But eventually, he had to react, and so he did, putting on an unreadable expression that matched quite nicely with his nonexistent thoughts.
"What was that?" he demanded, failing to make his voice sound firm. Of course he knew the physicality of what he had done, but the motive was another thing entirely. Was Matt fucking with him? He wouldn't put it past the gamer.
But somehow, that thought was disappointing.
In a way, though, Matt was fucking with Mello. But that wasn't the sole reason.
Matt shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch now that he'd found his way around there in record time. Record time while wounded, though, wasn't exactly the smartest thing for Matt to achieve. In fact, he looked a bit woozy on his feet, but a playful grin counteracted that.
"I 'unno," he answered, although he evidently did. "You tell me."
Of course, he was still fucking with Mello.
The truth was buried deep inside of Matt—so deep, in fact, that sometimes he forgot about it. Like, times when he really thought about snogging the crap out of someone, or was snogging the crap out of someone…times when the real meaning of kisses occurred to him. But childish memories were hard to rid yourself of, and that was the truth.
Though he put up with Matt's mind-fuckery in small doses, when it was a casual thing that was to be expected on a pretty much regular basis, he had no intention of putting up with this sort of shit. So, he stood for the first time in awhile. Apparently, his body wasn't quite ready for this sudden change in position; his eyes clouded over with dark spots, blossoming brilliantly before subsiding so that Mello could properly glare at the gamer across the couch.
"Fuck you, Matt," he muttered, just standing there.
"Why, you won't tell me then?" Matt goaded, really having been hoping that he'd get an answer out of Mello. It would be interesting, really, to know what the other had to say to him about that...but if Mello was going to be a spoilsport...
Matt shrugged.
"I 'unno. It's stupid, really," he told Mello, blinking slowly behind his goggles as he stared off into the ceiling like he was pondering whether or not to tell the other.
"What's stupid?" he inquired, quite seriously, staring right through the redhead in front of him.
Matt knew very well that he had Mello's interest, and he was damn well going to keep it, thank you. Therefore, the gamer was dragging this out for as long as he could—and it was funny to see Mello react.
"Why I kissed you," he answered bluntly, knowing full well that this was the 'no shit' duh kind of obvious answer. "It's a really dumb reason. You'll probably want to shoot me or something."
"Not that it matters," added Mello through gritted teeth. Of course he was interested. "I shot you already. What have you to lose?"
There was the tiniest of points behind that question. Not that he planned to shoot the other again...he had learned his lesson, as it were. These things were a lot more complicated than they needed to be, though he vaguely knew that Matt was merely coaxing him to stay intrigued. Somehow, he didn't mind as much.
Matt laughed. "Hah, I almost forgot," he answered, smiling wryly. He hadn't, really; it was kind of hard to forget even with the pain killers, but Matt was good at ignoring things he didn't like. Mello did make a point though.
"Well," Matt started, feeling actually apprehensive for once. He didn't talk about his mother a lot, but he was about to. "My mom used to tell me that when you really cared about someone, you kissed them, and that would tell you why you cared about them so much."
And of course, coming from someone who was so hopelessly devoted to Mello for apparently no reason, this had to be pretty important.
"And...you know how we never really seem to get each other? I mean, we get it. But you don't know why I'd die for you and I don't know why you'd die for success you can't enjoy. Well, supposedly, kissing someone lets them know you care, and why, and how much. Least, that's what my mom used to say. But we know different now, right?"
Matt smiled his usual smile, but he almost seemed…sad.
Wow. It wasn't every day you heard that, and from Matt of all people.
To be honest, Mello had no idea what to say back, because the other had said it all. And for once, the truth didn't really piss the blonde off as much as he let on, or make him evasive. He just stared and drank it all in like he knew he shouldn't have, just for the sake of protecting himself from the sentiments he knew he couldn't conceal, like blessed L or infuriating Near. Still, though, he couldn't think of anything to reply that wouldn't sound completely stupid, which was veritably hard to do after that rhetoric. Then again, actions speak louder than words.
And so, Mello stomped up and put one hand on each of Matt's shoulder to kiss him in return, aiming well to connect his lips with the other's.
"What does that tell you?" he asked gruffly, pulling away.
Matt's blue-green eyes continued to stare at some spot just beyond his nose, having just as well spilled his guts out to the other. Of all the things he was waiting for Mello to say—he wasn't expecting Mello to do anything. The kiss caught him off-guard, and for a second, he just stared at Mello incredulously, much like the other had done before.
"Tells me…that..."
Fuck, he needed to lie down, that's what it told him. Matt, being Matt, proceeded to slide sideways and flop against the arm of the seat.
His job being done, in an odd sense of the word, Mello leaned back. He cocked an eyebrow, now figuring that he had gained the upper hand in this back and forth, though it brought him no inherent satisfaction. This was a serious conversation, and though he usually would have welcomed a light victory, this wasn't one.
"What?"
He actually did want to know the answer. No, he needed to know the answer.
"That..." Matt struggled to come up with words—although his mother hadn't been a liar, it was a real stretch of the imagination to actually believe her words. "That... I think we're more than friends," Matt had to admit finally after much thought. It wasn't very deep thought—he couldn't really exercise his brain to think much more than 'man, am I dizzy' and 'fuck, my head hurts'.
What he did manage to get out, though, was that pitiful bit. He eyed Mello for a second, trying to think of exactly what kind of 'more than friends' he was figuring they had to be. "And...we're gonna be okay." He was saying that because he felt it. Even if he died within the next week, or even if Mello did, or even if a plane crashed into the apartment building and killed them both right there, they'd be okay.
And Mello smiled.
It wasn't one of those sneers or smirks that he was so accustomed to, or a fleeting grin that was so rare that they didn't exist. But this was a genuine smile that lingered for quite awhile. It was like something you'd actually find at the end of a rainbow, if you cared to follow it, or a product of the imagination. Not only that, but it felt good to be smiling like he meant it…because god knew that he did.
"Of course we are," he reasoned, feeling suddenly as if a load had just been lifted from his twisted mind. There was nothing left to say, and nothing left to hide.
It was safer.
Mello's smile was like icing on the cake. But it was like a really unstable cake that threatened to tip over if you put anything else on it—and lo and behold, Matt's eyes fluttered in something like disbelief.
"You know," he commented, almost with the air of returning to the tense subject, "I never figured you to be the type to kiss anyone," he told Mello with a rogue grin.
"You learn something new every day, don't you?"
"I guess," Matt answered, standing and staying still for a moment, preferring to take this slowly than really rush into things. It wasn't that he didn't feel good enough—just...he was comfortable where he stood and he was lazy, if he had to say. "Why?"
"Why what?" asked a suspicious Mello, who had escaped the heavy cloud of conversation in the living room in favour of the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator door and drew out a bar of chocolate. He frowned slightly when he saw that it was his last, and realized that he had finished all of his chocolate within a span of at least three days.
"Why did you kiss me? As far as I know... I'unno. I just wasn't expecting it," Matt concluded finally, feeling rather stupid that he would try and explain himself when he knew that he couldn't.
Mello sighed. He might as well tell it all, and tell the truth, while they were in the habit of doing so. Even though he had decided this, however, he wasn't entirely prepared to say what he had deluded himself into thinking hadn't existed. A good majority of it had already been predicted by Matt, but there was still an amount that had yet to phrased.
"For one thing," Mello began, returning to the living room only to stop short, cast the laptop on the floor a scathing glance, and merely stand there gnawing on his half-unwrapped candy. "You kissed me first." This wasn't a good reason all in itself, but he thought he'd bring it up anyway. "And for another, I figured you had it coming. Ever since I shot you, I felt so guilty. But then, and before then, you were just someone I used. A friend who would follow me to whatever end and think nothing of it. I thought you were disposable. It took a lot of shit and a near-death experience for me to realize I was wrong."
It was killing him to say these things, but hell, they would all eventually leak out, and he felt that leaving it up to Matt to piece together in the future was less than a favour.
"Then, I knew you weren't like everyone else that followed me blindly. You had motives, you were my friend. You were the only one who wasn't either miles below me or above me. You're my equal, and it took me a fuck of a long time to accept that." He narrowed his eyes. "And this is fucking hard to say, so you had better be listening."
Matt was stunned something close to speechless. He looked unaffected, impassive, but the fact that he was very much stunned showed in the way that he didn't blink. At least Mello had a better reason for kissing him than Matt had.
Matt, frankly, was awed.
Thusly, he didn't look like he was listening, but he was.
Really.
"...What?" The gamer didn't seem to have anything else to say—but that was mostly because he was just...he didn't really even know. Processing, he supposed.
"...Wait a second. You admitted that you're guilty, you're wrong, and you have an equal all in one go? Are you sick, Mello?" Matt questioned, not having anything really sincere to say because he couldn't say anything sincere at the moment. He was falling back on the failsafe—being an asshat. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Mello laughed hollowly.
"Yeah, don't push it," he said, letting the sound subside slowly before speaking again. "But yeah. There's your reasoning, believe it or not." And it wouldn't be too difficult to believe, because this was one of the only times when the blonde wasn't being deceitful, or hiding the truth in any way. This was just plain Mello, the side of him, ironically, you never saw, even when you paid really close attention.
Hell, Matt hadn't been paying attention half his life and still he had earned the 'privilege' of seeing his true colors. He was a lucky bastard.
Telling Matt to not to push it was a waste of breath. However, Matt only smiled, feeling the need to wander over to the blonde and clap him on the shoulder like he'd really done something wonderful that needed much merit.
"I'm proud of you, Mello," he teased, continuing to act for the fact.
He paused for a moment, scrutinizing the other a little now that they were at such a close proximity. Finally, he slipped his hand around to Mello's other shoulder as to wrap his arm around the other for a brief moment and pull him into something that might have been called a hug if it wasn't so abruptly started and equally abruptly ended. "Just taking advantage of you," he taunted in explanation, pulling away.
"Oh yeah?" Mello said, giving him an equally taunting look as he snatched Matt back, sliding his arms languidly over the other's shoulders to pull him close and press one cheek against his, almost experimentally. The redhead was oddly warm, like hovering over a fire after coming in from the cold. All in all, it was a unique experience. He didn't draw away immediately, either.
"Just taking advantage of you," he said, murmuring these words so softly that they wouldn't have been heard if he wasn't so close to the other's ear. And then, slightly grudging, he pulled away, suddenly extremely tired, as though the mere feat of separating from the other was taxing.
Matt grunted in surprise when he found Mello hugging him back—apparently Mello was only in this eye-for-an-eye thing when it benefited him.
"You're being awfully touchy feely today, taking advantage of me or not," Matt answered with a grin, clearly implying the second meaning that his words could take on the right ears. He faltered for a second though, eyeing Mello carefully now that he realized that they were standing pretty close.
"Y'look bad, Mello." Matt commented, although his tone was almost softly sincere. "Maybe some more sleep would be good."
Upon saying this, he had the oddest notion to invite Mello to sleep with him like they had in their younger years—but didn't say anything about it. For once.
Touchy feely, maybe, but he felt like it was necessary. He didn't know why; it just was. Besides, now that he had told everything to Matt, he felt like he wanted to make some kind of contact. Any kind of contact.
"Yeah," he agreed, knowing that by doing so he was allowing himself a little peace of mind before he plunged into his plan. "I'm going to call Hal tomorrow," he said decisively, his voice somewhat gritty. He brought the chocolate to his mouth again to savour the taste.
Matt smiled wanly—now that he thought about it, Mello kept putting off calling Hal. Maybe it was just a coincidence or something, something with no purpose, but for some reason matt felt like he ought to take shelter in the fact. Prolonging talking to Hal, after all, was prolonging the progression of Mello's plan, and in turn, allowing Matt to procrastinate the fancies of his part. He nodded towards the bedroom.
"Sleep on the bed," he told Mello. "You need it."
He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, nodding as if to usher the other to bed. "I'm going out for a smoke, I'll... be around," he stated discretely, going out towards the balcony overlooking the alleyway. None too pleasing, but...hell. He ought to smoke outside.
"Mhhmmm."
It was like a miracle; Matt was going to smoke outside. He might have stayed, just to relish the smokeless nature of the room, but decided that sleeping was his greater priority. The heavy boots he wore were the only things he discarded on his way to the room, and slipped beneath the sheets once he got there. They smelled awful, like there something putrid had spilled on it long ago and the blankets had been washed with a cheap brand of detergent since then.
Then again, this was an apartment complex. That very well may have been the case.
Thoughts that had been turned over in his mind again and again were flooding back, and it took a lot to force them away. Finally, however, his tiredness overwhelmed everything else, and he found himself soon slipping in and out of consciousness. This was nice.
Matt, on the other hand, seemed to rush through his cigarette—one, it was cold outside and he hadn't bothered with shoes or his vest, and two, he…just didn't feel like being outside. He was just smoking because he needed to and Mello had thrown out his last one.
Therefore, in due time, he wandered back into the apartment to find the entire place kind of restful and quiet, despite the whirring of the laptop computers. He eyed them for a moment before he wandered into the bedroom, inconspicuously climbing onto the other side of the bed and keeping his distance. One, because they hadn't been in the same bed for years, and another because he didn't want to wake the blonde if he was already lost to the realm of the unconscious.
...And Mello was kind of pretty and Matt didn't want to disturb him.
But that was secret.