junii.
It had grown to be oddly and comfortably silent in the apartment until a thump resounded and Mello turned swiftly to catch a glimpse of Matt sprawled out on the floor. He began to laugh loudly, marching up and glaring at the other in his position exalted over him. It felt good to look down on someone, no matter what the situation, and how much pain the person below him was in.
"You okay?" he inquired facetiously, failing to contain the smirk that was growing on his features.
"Shut up," Matt muttered, annoyed to have had his sleep disrupted in such a fashion, even if it hadn't been a very good sleep. It had the potential to be, for all he knew. Scowling, he gathered himself up from the floor, wincing when he put weight on his left hand. He sat back against the couch and glared at Mello, as though he really expected anything better of the other. Of course not.
"You fall off the couch all the time," he shot back—and it was true. Of course it was true. But the one day Matt did the same, and Mello got to see it, didn't he have the right to poke fun at him at least a little bit?
"And now you know what it's like," he said silkily, holding out a hand to offer his help. Well, that was the least he could do. He had to admit, it was an interesting way to break the silent monotony and wake Matt up, even if it didn't please the other all too much. But that wasn't Mello's problem, was it?
"Yeah, you're a douche."
"Right, right," Mello said in response to the insult, having heard it often enough from the redhead.
All right, fine. Matt would tolerate it. He seemed to take this, of course, grudgingly, and fell to grumbling and complaining as he took Mello's hand. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to stand up quite yet. He felt pretty woozy from a combination of sleepy dregs, falling off the couch, and being off kilter from the drugs and whatnot. Nevertheless, he pulled himself up with the other's help, swaying slightly on the spot when his head decided that it wanted to lead him back to the floor, but his body and sense of balance adamantly protested.
Mello was displeased by Matt's altogether vertigo and the way he could scarcely keep on balance. That would be less than favorable in the process of kidnapping Takada if strenuous physical activity was necessary. That was probably his fault, but he wouldn't dwell on guilt anymore. He had done enough of that after the deed was done.
"Are you okay?" This next question was serious. He figured he owed the other some sort of sincerity.
Matt felt a twist of some form of discomfort in his stomach. Where Mello hated showing emotional weakness, Matt hated showing it physically. He couldn't help it, though--running amok around the city, even in a car, wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do when people in his state were ordinarily hospitalized.
"Fine," he responded tersely, even though Mello was being seriously sincere with him. He wanted to fend the other off, but as it were, he had his balance while he held onto Mello's hand, albeit a little too tightly. Letting go could mean that he'd make an ass of himself and fall on his face, but he had to do it some time.
Mello frowned. Right; if Matt was fine, he wouldn't be clinging so tightly to his hand. Still, he was patient, and stood there with a look on his face akin to passive impatience. It was a sight to see, since those were two emotions that didn't coincide all that well in the same expression.
"Then let me know when you're going to let go," he said blandly.
As though suddenly reminded, Matt dropped Mello's hand with astonishing speed. He and his one-track mind had, within a couple seconds, forgotten that he was indeed holding onto Mello's hand after all. Luckily, jerking his hand back only induced a couple of backwards steps to maintain this thing called balance.
"Shut up," he muttered, a sour expression touching on his face before he decided to try his luck in making it to the kitchen for some more of those pain killers. He'd have to be sure to snag some more tomorrow, he was going through those things by the handful.
"A little touchy, hmm?" Mello asked, feeling rather superior now that he was the one with the sarcasm, and Matt was the one with the irritation. "Maybe you should sleep some more." The edge to his voice was softened only by amusement as he turned away, keeping one peripheral eye on Matt as he sauntered into the kitchen. There was no telling when the redhead would sporadically lose his balance and land ungracefully on the tile floor.
This must be how Mello feels all the time, Matt concluded silently as he set about getting himself a couple of pills and swallowing them with what juice they had. Add juice to his list of groceries tomorrow. "Maybe," he answered after a while, contemplating the chances of getting to the bedroom without tripping over anything. "Maybe you should too." And, maybe it was waking up abruptly upon falling off the couch, or just his head being an asshole on him, but he didn't feel so great. Grumbling, he slowly made the trek from the kitchen towards the couch again, deciding to settle for that since it was closer. Fuck him if he fell off again, though.
"I already got my full night's sleep," Mello retorted, retreating into the kitchen after Matt had left. Without his chocolate, his mouth felt dry and strangely empty. There was nothing else to do then except occupy his neglected jaw with something less taste-appealing. He scanned the inside of the refrigerator, withdrawing some expired hot pockets with resignation. It was something, at least, and it would take him awhile to make. That would not only keep his mouth busy, but his thoughts also.
Matt was inclined to sprawl himself over the couch and, to occupy himself, took out a cigarette and lit it.
"You're crazy." he told Mello, regardless of the fact that sometimes he got by on a couple of hours' worth of sleep, or none at all in the event that he had a high score to beat, or wanted to unlock a new character, or just wanted to beat a game in general. He let his smouldering cigarette hover over his lips for a moment, observing the burning end, before he closed his eyes with a sigh and tucked the cancer in a cylinder between his lips. Mn…that felt damn good.
Mello stared at Matt through the doorway of the kitchen, frowning. This was the absolute last cigarette he was putting up with until he forced the other outside each time, or at least bitched about it for awhile. He had had some pity for him, at least for a moment after he got shot, but now he was past sympathy, and just wanted some clean air. It seemed that no place was safe when Matt was around; there were video games on the floor and smoke in the air.
The least ideal place in the world, and yet Mello stayed. It was fantastic.
"So I've heard," he replied loftily, turning his gaze back to watch the hot pocket heat up in the microwave.
Matt very rarely went out to smoke when Mello told him to—he usually just shrugged it off. It was scarcely any use to tell him to do otherwise, but there would be rare times, like the previous night, where he would actually venture outdoors to smoke. Speaking of, it was best time to start poking at Mello to see if he could get some answers—or at least, some talk to keep him awake.
"Y'know, Mell'," he started in that way that he did when he thought what he was saying was quite amusing in some way or another. "You haven't changed a bit since Wammy's. You still hang onto me like a little girl when you're having a bad dream."
"What?" Mello demanded. If it wasn't for that fact that he was distracted by the question, he would have been more fierce. Being compared to a little girl made things less pleasant. The microwave dinged, drawing his mind away from the budding conversation only long enough to take out his hot pocket and rip it open, snarling as it stung his fingertips. Half-melted cheese and sauce melted onto the napkin he had used to occupy the snack, and he had to left it gingerly to avoid being burned again.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Matt took his time in answering, which he figured Mello wouldn't mind seeing as he was somewhat occupied with his hot pocket anyways. "Last night," he stated to clarify, breathing out a stream of smoke before he replaced the none too helpful filter between his lips. "You were having some kind of bad dream, talking in your sleep and stuff." Breathe out. A ribbon of smoke curled over his red-haired head.
"What does that have to do with anything?" the blonde asked coolly, knowing that though he was referring to his crack about Mello clinging to the other in his sleep, that particular topic had nothing to do with anything. Unless, of course, there was some kind of narrative going on in Matt's head that the blonde just couldn't figure out. That was possible.
Mello began to gnaw half-heartedly on his hot pocket, weighing it longingly against his usual supply of chocolate. It couldn't compare.
"Nothing, actually." Matt answered smoothly in response to Mello, somehow retaining that same cool air around him, half-battered and blinking twice as many times as necessary to stay awake as he was. He glanced over to Mello, smirking wanly. "You look dumb eating hot pockets," he pointed out. "I mean, the chocolate bar wasn't so badass... but a hot pocket in a napkin does not make me want to take you seriously." Not that he did in the first place.
"I'm not eating this hot pocket to please you," Mello stated, grimacing as he neared the center of the snack. It was cold and tasted awful, but it was keeping him busy. He ate through half of the first half of his hot pocket, and then a few bites of the second, then tossed the rest in the trash.
"Don't buy those anymore," he growled. "They're disgusting."
"They taste fine if you're not a chocoholic," Matt answered. Of course, the difference between his mouth and Mello's was that his pallet was accustomed to nicotine with a faint hint of cinnamon—and Mello's was addicted to sugary creamed cocoa. Big difference. "Guess we should've gotten you more than three, huh?" the gamer pondered out loud, exhaling smoke through a tiny part between his lips.
"Probably," muttered the chocoholic, having finished his hot pocket and having no further use for the kitchen. He strode into the living room and sat against the couch, where Matt's feet were. He might as well be in close proximity if he was going to have a conversation with Matt, at least for awhile until the redhead more than likely drifted off again. The carpet was still bloodstained...hmm, maybe he'd bug Matt about that later.
Matt idly nudged Mello in the thigh with the toe of his shoe, having yet to take his boots off since they walked in. He usually didn't unless he was heading to sleep in the actual bed, even if he did like to wander around barefoot. With all the stray technology, it was safer with shoes. He cast an idle glance out to the window, where he could see the sky darkening outside. Almost ruefully, he puffed a cloud of smoke towards it and closed his eyes again. "So, are you going to sleep with me again tonight or are you gonna be an insomniac?" He questioned, the mock-implication of his words bringing an immature half-smile to his lips.
Mello grinned slightly, but let it wane after a moment. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said curtly, shoving the redhead's shoe back indignantly and leaning his head back against the couch. It almost made him drowsy. Almost.
He stretched out his legs, pushing any piece of technology in his way out in the middle of the living room. Matt seriously needed to organize all of his things; they were seriously getting in the way, and sooner or later they were going to get broken by Mello's angry foot.
"Definitely," Matt answered, a devious grin taking place of the smile. Matt was always a montage of one playful expression or another--well, most always. "You know I like you in my bed." That was slightly true—just not in a sexual way. Matt did like having Mello in his bed—for once, he wasn't growling, biting, or making sarcastic comments. He was quiet and peaceful and he let Matt hold him and fathom that he could keep the reckless guy safe.
Or at least, that was what Matt liked to think of.
"Then maybe I could," Mello said, matching that grin, though it was a lot less devious. He probably wouldn't sleep, but maybe he could try. Besides, last night he had a full sleep, even if he did allegedly have a nightmare. Whether that was due to Matt or not he was unable to say, but even if he knew, he wouldn't bring it up.
Not of his own volition.
"And have more bad dreams and cling to me?" he ventured, reminiscing on their younger years. He remembered finding Mello really, really weird for crawling into his bed in the middle of the night and grabbing onto him to squeeze him in a murderous embrace—but he'd grown to like it and even be protective of the older male. Maybe that was where his whole 'do the impossible and protect Mello' mentality came from. Probably.
Mello rolled his eyes over to where Matt was sitting, and then stretched his arms over his head.
"But I thought you liked it, Matty," said Mello, using the younger male's name in a pet form, just for good measure. Besides, it was fun, because it usually incited a reaction from the other, and it was humourous. He stood up, suddenly bored of his long sit on the ground. He began to pace again, suddenly and in small circles. It kept his mind and his feet busy, for a time.
Matt scowled at the use of his pet name—that was one of the few things that got under his skin, but in a very harmless way. He didn't much like it, especially since it sounded like...well, it sounded like a lot of dumb things that weren't cool and badass, which he definitely was. "Pssht," he snorted, trying to think of something witty to say—but Mello did have him there. Mello always pegged him with the truth...Damn that guy. "Yeah, well, not if you're going to wake me up sleep-whining again," he stated finally, not to be witty or clever--just to speak the truth. Although not really. He didn't mind Mello waking him up with sleep-talk.
"Well if you're going to set so many boundaries, maybe I'll just sleep on the couch," he said, flicking blue eyes to the couch, as if to make some sort of point. "It sure would be a hell of a lot easier."
Matt scoffed. "What boundaries? I never said you couldn't. I just said I didn't like it," he lied, although it was as smooth and flawless as anything else he could or would say. "Since when was my word law anyways?" Besides, Mello sleeping on the couch was almost a depressing idea. Now that was something that Matt was not going to voice, especially seeing as the blonde had done that many a time already. Maybe he was just keen to have the other sleep so close to him again.
... where he got off thinking like that, though, he had no idea.
"For someone who doesn't like it, you sure do think up a lot of excuses for me to come sleep with you," he said, and this was a valid point.
"You know what? Let's make a point. I'll take you to the bedroom right now," Matt threatened, his wording undoubtedly careless on purpose. He sat up, his cigarette smouldered down to the butt since he'd smoked away most of it. He dropped it into a nearby ashtray, as though he was really about to drag Mello off to the bedroom to 'make a point'. Then again, he might do just that. He was horrendously tired and finding a good excuse to torture Mello by getting unnecessarily close was a good idea.
Mello cocked an eyebrow, trying to imagine Matt actually dragging him off to the bedroom. It was an unusual picture, and he couldn't see it happening. Maybe if the redhead was just daring enough, and maybe if he wasn't so impaired by a certain gunshot wound. So there were the perks to that.
"Oh?" he questioned, stopping his pacing. He might as well bait the other while he could. It was actually something to still his restive mind.
"Yeah. Oh," Matt answered flippantly, although he wasn't really sure how clever or witty his remark was. It wasn't, actually. but he could try. Mello's reasoning was right, after all. Matt might have been daring enough on a stretch, but he definitely was impaired. He could hardly stand up, much less drag anyone into the bedroom. He'd try, though, and Mello couldn't doubt that. "What, you really think I wouldn't?"
Mello pretended to think about it for a moment.
"No, I don't think you would," he said blandly. "But if you're so eager for me to sleep with you..." The elder gazed at the other through half lidded eyes, eyes that mocked, yet were interested.
"Let's go then," Matt answered, getting up and doing his best not to fall on his face—he swayed and nearly lost his balance, but he threw an arm around Mello to avoid that and thusly proceeded to half-lead and half-push the blonde towards the bedroom.
Mello spluttered slightly at the suddenness at having an ungraceful arm slung over him, but gained his bearings enough to scowl as he was directed into the way of the bedroom. He could have resisted, sure, but what would that accomplish? Nothing but an uncomfortable night's sleep (if you could even call it that) on the couch that still smelled vaguely of dried blood.
"Well, well," he grunted, stumbling at the sudden weight. "Proved me wrong, didn't you?"
Matt chuckled. "I guess I did." He chimed snidely, somehow managing to wrangle them through the doorway and into the bedroom with minimal difficulty. Of course, it greatly helped that Mello was not struggling in the slightest. When they got to the bed, Matt seemed very pleased to be able to kick off his boots and crawl into the bed. Though he winced slightly, he quickly got comfortable and grinned a dare at Mello to join him.
Mello did the unthinkable and pulled off his boots as well, revealing bare feet. His bare feet were a rare sight to see, however--like a rainbow just before the sun disappears.
He strode quite patiently to his side of the bed and slid in with the utmost amount of grace, casting Matt a glance. "Congratulations," he praised disinterestedly. "You got me into bed." He let his head hit the pillow. Pleasant, to say the least, but it wasn't quite reminiscent of the previous night.
"Yes, yes I did."
He dared to scoot a little closer, coming to a mere half foot away from the blonde. "Now I've just got to decide what to do with you."
"It's a difficult question, isn't it?" he said curtly, but not devoid of his brand of humour.
"Then we'll just go to sleep," Matt announced without shame. Apparently, going to sleep consisted of throwing his arm around Mello's waist and unabashedly pulling him as close as possible without sparking something that would merit him a good punch in the face. Smirking slightly, he failed to loosen his grip, thus condemning Mello to that spot until he fell asleep. Undoubtedly that would be soon, but all the same. "Comfortable?"
"As comfortable as I ever could be," Mello mumbled. He was, of course, referring to 'as comfortable as he could be while trapped under the other's arm', but he decided to leave that out for the sake of breath. Or something like that. A hazy mind worked itself in weird circles, after all. He stretched, gauging his own exhaustion. For someone who had been running around all day, he was actually not tired at all, however he knew that would change sooner or later. Something about sleeping in the bed was just too damn lulling. Maybe it was the comparison between it and the couch; maybe it was just who he was in bed with.
Matt was contented to close his eyes and rest close enough to Mello that he could hear the other's heart beating in his chest. It was a little awkward to be this close-- awkward because he wasn't used to listening to anyone's heartbeat but his own when it was pumping in his ears while he was playing a highly vigorous video game. "Go to sleep," he commanded, as though his word would have much precedence. He just knew that Mello would stay awake otherwise.. maybe if he held on tightly enough...
"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Mello, shaking his head almost numbly as he closed his eyes, trying out the sensation of sleep the best he could. Even that didn't coax drowsiness into his system, so he merely pretended, even going so far as to slow his breath to further the illusion. Even he himself was deluded into thinking that he was drifting off, though he was famed for his self-delusion, and that really didn't mean anything.
Matt, however, wasn't awake long enough to see Mello's brilliant little facade. He fell asleep fast enough with his forehead close to Mello's chest and the other's heartbeat drumming softly in his ears. It was a little corny, but someone as dog-tired and as content as Matt was really didn't give a damn about that kind of thing. He did, on the other hand, care enough that he hung onto Mello to make sure that he didn't go anywhere—or at least that he'd wake up if the blonde tried.
And, despite how stupid the attempt was, he did try to go somewhere. Anxious, fidgety Mello try to pull away to pace, or pretend like he was working to assuage his restless mind. But the other clung too tightly, and eventually he gave up. Matt seemed stronger in sleep than in wakefulness, which was odd.
"Damn, Matt," muttered the blonde, comparing the redhead to a cat in his sleep.
Matt shifted slightly himself and muttered something that sounded strangely akin to 'don't go' when Mello moved, tightening his hold just for a moment before slacking again. Relaxed, he breathed something of a relieved exhale and quieted down again.
Mello snickered lightly, somehow worried that he would wake the other, though he knew that Matt had a selective way of doing things and would only wake up to what he deemed worthy. So he decided to content himself with thoughts of chocolate tomorrow and the possibility of catching Kira, and experimented with different expressions that Near would have when he was beaten, though it was doubtful he would have an expression at all, being as apathetic as he was.
One could always dream, right?
But these daydreams gave way to slumber, and he suddenly fell asleep himself, despite his mental decision that he would never get to sleep, and turned to ordinary dreams, which kept morphing into different images: Matt dying again, Near winning, Near losing, Kira winning, Matt as Kira...
It seemed like Matt knew that Mello was asleep—or at least, he gave the illusion that he knew because he appeared to rest easier and keep his hold on the blonde a little less tightly. As the night progressed, the younger one's grip continued to slacken until he was barely holding on at all—just keeping his arm draped over Mello and aligned with his back, his nose pressed up against the heat of the other's heart. It was one weird way to sleep, but somehow, Matt was managing comfortably. Quite comfortably.
Two people as supposedly badass as Mello and Matt sleeping together in the positions they were in was something new, and undoubtedly amusing to an outsider's eye. If Mello had been watching himself at that moment, he probably would have been ashamed, not only for his appearance but for his pride, or whatever he had left of his pride. In the past years the blonde had to sink fairly low in order to get where he was.
That usual hum rose in the back of his throat, and then died a little, indicating the ins and outs of the blonde's REM periods. It seemed as though he highlighted his sleeping stages quite clearly.
The hours slowly progressed into the still of the night, breathing a sense of peace and serenity. Despite this, however, Matt suddenly found himself awake, blinking harshly at the leather of Mello's shirt just an inch shy from his eyes. Maybe less.
Struggling to sit up, he somehow managed a compromising situation where he had his right elbow propping him half up against the bed, sleep and pain, not dulled by pain killer, preventing him from going much farther.
"Mello," he hissed, shaking the other awake with a strange sense of urgency, even though everything was, more or less, peachy keen.
The elder growled, tossed slightly, and then cracked one irritated eye at Matt. He was getting a good night's sleep, so this had better have been pretty damn important. Despite his annoyance, however, he managed to stay awake, lifting himself off the bed to sit up, the sudden change in posture resulting in a heavy dizziness.
"Whadda you want?" he demanded sleepily, his voice slightly slurred from fatigue.
Matt sort of felt bad for waking Mello up, but the thought had just struck him and—well. It was kind of stupid, but it was far from petty. Or at least, not to Matt. Maybe it was the fact that it had deep roots, and maybe it was the fact that Matt was plain weird. Either way, satisfied that Mello was awake, Matt lie back down and spoke.
"I don't want you to die," he stated, his tone of voice taking on a new airy carelessness, like he was continuing a conversation and not starting one in the middle of the night.
Mello was speechless.
Not in the good kind of way, when you hear something so wonderful that you have nothing to reply back with, but in the unhappy sort of way where you're woken up at an inopportune time for something stupid and completely random. He sighed, puffing an exasperated breath through his nostrils before lying down as well and feeling quite satisfied once his head hit the pillow. But still...he had to answer.
"I won't," he assured sleepily.
"Really, Mello," he muttered, wrinkling his nose slightly in distaste for his own words. "If I die, that's one thing. But if you die..." He trailed off and shrugged against the mattress, closing his eyes before rolling over and daring to take a stab at fiddling with Mello's hair. One, to annoy him and keep him awake, and two, to mess with something tangible.
Mello half-consciously shoved Matt's hand away, but doing so without any real motivation, so as to succeed in only lightly tapping at the warm fingers.
"Stop it," he murmured, talking about both Matt's persistence to talk about his own death, and his touching of his hair. How many times had he brought up this subject? Too many times for real comfort, because it got Mello thinking about it as well.
"I'm not going to die; you're not going to die. We're going to be fine, because we make a damn good team." After this semi-heartfelt rhetoric, he paused for thought. "Now go back to sleep."
"Well, then theoretically…" Matt insisted, paying no heed to Mello's attempt to brush him away, seeing as how it was half-hearted as all get out. Maybe he should let the other go to sleep, with how malnourished he was and all that. He settled down, watching Mello for a little bit before deciding that whatever, he'd let the subject drop. It wasn't a big deal and he didn't really know what he was saying so...why not?
"Fuck you and your...just fuck you." He muttered, although he obviously didn't mean it.
Mello, who had already closed his eyes again, opened them again to peer over at Matt.
"What did I do?" he inquired harshly, all on one breath. Now that he had been roused, he wasn't sleepy in the slightest. Thanks, Matt. Still, he had to know what he had done to deserve the almighty 'fuck you', besides deny the fact that they would die and require at least a few more hours of sleep, if not less.
"You're just an asshole," Matt answered nonchalantly, exhaling in an almost exasperated fashion. Now that Mello wasn't sleepy, Matt didn't appear to be interested in staying awake anymore. He did, however, finally open his eyes and look over at the older male. "You know I don't get worried too often, right? So when I do, something's gotta be up. I just woke up in the middle of the night for no fucking reason—I would say that's pretty damn worried, even if it is over nothing."
"Okay, I'm an asshole," admitted Mello coolly. "But I fail to see how this conversation has anything to do with anything...so maybe if you'll enlighten me, I'll care a little more. I'm sorry if I was sleeping." An obvious note of sarcasm rang through these words, but it was carelessly said. He did care at least infinitesimally about what Matt was saying, or else he wouldn't have even bothered to listen. How that warranted an insult was beyond him.
Matt shrugged, seeming to not really be paying attention to Mello—although he was, and wholly too.
"I don't know. It really just seems like you're bull shitting me this time." The red-head answered, staring up at the ceiling before glancing to Mello. It was weird to think that by the end of the week, one or both of them could—and probably would be--dead. Great. Matt cracked some semblance of a smile for no particular reason except to lighten the mood. It didn't do much. He just didn't like talking about such melodramatic things—even if they were the truth.
"Hey, if I could control life and death, I would," he grumbled, the smile doing not only little, but nothing at all. "But all I can do is tell you that we're going to be okay and hope you believe it. Don't expect too much from me; I'm not a fucking god." Mello squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that, by some miracle, that would whisk him off to sleep. Nothing of the kind happened, leaving him with a mild sense of disappointment before he opened his eyes again and stirred slightly, readying himself to sit up and slide his feet over the side of the bed. He didn't do that quite yet.
Matt snorted a little, wanting to a.) punch Mello, or b.) snatch him up and make sure he never died. Although, eventually, he would die of starvation if Matt decided to snatch him and keep him hostage in the confines of the bedroom.
"I'm not expecting anything from you," he continued, warily eyeing Mello in case he did decide to move. "I'm just saying. Don't bullshit me about this kind of thing. Going in like everything's gonna be okay is what's gonna make everything not okay." Eloquent, Matt.
Mello did move, shoving his still-drowsy body over the side of the bed and standing to stretch busily as he replied.
"Fine," he said, rather confused by what Matt wanted. He didn't want Mello to die, yet he didn't want the assurance that he wasn't. "Next time I'll just ignore you. Is that what you want?" He tossed his head back and glared at the ceiling as he stretched his neck, disliking the after effects of a disturbed sleep very much.
Matt would like to think that the remaining answer would be pretty damn obvious. If he didn't want Mello to die and he didn't want the assurance—he just wanted Mello to not die. Was that too hard to fathom? Matt sat up, grabbed Mello by the back of the shirt, and pulled his ass back down to the bed again.
"You ignore me and I'll kill you," he threatened, although he didn't mean it. "Don't go, Mello. You do this all the fucking time. You shit me, you leave, and then I sit and think about what an asshole you are. And then you wonder why I get pissed all the time."
Mello looked over at his shoulder at Matt, scowling, then decided that this was an inefficient method of scrutinizing the other and turned around to stretch his legs out against the sheets and glower down at the redhead who seemed to be experiencing too many mood swings for a normal person to handle at one time.
"Then what do you want me to do?" he demanded, disliking the prospect of being carted around by the other very much. It was supposed to be the other way around. "Stay here forever?"
"Not die," he stated factually as though the other could really help it. Staying there forever didn't sound like a bad idea either. Since last night—their first time actually managing to sleep in the same bed without one of them kicking the other out—Matt had deemed his bed something akin to a safe haven. Well, not quite. More like 'base' in tag. A place to at least take a breather.
That being, he decided to lay off the severity of the topic just a tad. "Yeah. Staying here forever sounds good." He really did experience too many mood swings for one person. He was like a pregnant woman where Mello was a chick undergoing PMS.
"Hmmph," said Mello, now altogether too lazy to lift himself off the bed for a second time. He wouldn't stay there forever, but he'd stay for a good long time until he deemed it necessary to get off. Again he found himself wondering if lethargy was contagious, and if he had caught it from Matt.
"No, staying here forever sounds like a waste of time." He yawned. "Then again, I haven't gotten such good sleep twice in a row."
Matt seemed to be somewhat satisfied that his lethargic attitude was catching on—he would very well like it if they just stayed around his apartment for the rest of their days playing video games...although he doubted that they would do anything like that. The chain of events didn't look like it would open its doors to such free-hearted activities any time soon. "See? Go back to sleep," he told Mello, like he wasn't the one who had woken the other in the first place.
Mello cast him a skeptical look, just to make sure the other one wasn't joking, and formed another yawn.
"Hell if I can do that now," he mumbled, hand going up to tug nervously at the leather that protected his chest. Now that he didn't have tiredness distracting him, that same feeling of disquiet was settling over him again. The signs on his face weren't visible, but if he wasn't careful, he could very well get premature grey hairs.
The very thought made him open and close his eyes in disturbed succession.
While the other was distracted, Matt seemed comfortable enough to roll over and try his trick again—hugging Mello close enough to him that he was certain that the other wouldn't get away, and that he could listen to life itself in his friend's chest. The thought was strangely comforting.
"Now you can," he stated with the matter-of-fact attitude of a child, seeming quite pleased with himself despite his somewhat melancholy demeanor, as though this was seriously going to keep Mello from going anywhere. Hell, who knew? It might.
"Mmmm," hummed Mello, with a mix of satisfaction and slight discomfort. It was an odd combination of sentiments, and he wondered how he could be so inwardly conflicted at the oddest of times. "You think that can just fix everything, don't you?"
It would be odd to admit that it did, in many cases. Matt was warm, and since he didn't wear leather as the blonde did, he was rather soft; it was almost excusable that he smelled like smoke. Almost.
"Yeah, I do." Matt answered, the tone of his voice carrying something like a 'you got a problem with it' factor. Despite Mello being all leather-clad and apathetic and generally unrequiting, the red-haired male found it very necessary and very comfortable to assault Mello at any given moment in time. Granted, he'd always been like this. Back when they were younger and not so stressed out, Matt would always throw an arm around Mello and walk around the grounds like there wasn't a care in the world to be worried about. Holding Mello like this now almost mimicked that on-top-of-the-world feeling. Almost.
And boy did Mello really wish that were true; if an embrace or a simple matter of physical could really change the world somehow, or at least the things in life that desperately needed changing, Mello would have adopted the practice long ago. Alas, this wasn't the way things worked, so he had to simply get used to it.
"Hmmm, but it doesn't," he replied simply. "So you're just going to have to learn to let go."
The blonde mused momentarily. "And you can start by letting go of me."
Matt pulled a slight face at Mello's denying him, keeping his eyes closed despite his displeased expression. It appeared as though he was going to try very hard to go to sleep, even with Mello wanting him to let go. Hell, if the blonde kept this up, Matt had no qualms with getting up and sitting on him if he had to. Try sleeping then, Mel'.
"No thanks," he stated squarely, like Mello had just offered instead of instructed.
Something about being directly disagreed with didn't sit well with Mello, no matter the reasoning behind it. He squirmed slightly, giving something that could have been mistaken for a pout.
"C'mon, Matt," he said. "You're going to have to let go eventually."
The elder's nasty feeling of restlessness crawled upon him, reminding him that important things were about to happen, and that lying in bed would not prepare him for it. No matter how much this nagging voice irked him, he couldn't rid himself of it.
Matt gave Mello a particularly harsh squeeze at the other's fidgeting, and although that did kind of hurt him, he didn't give a damn.
"No I don't," he denied adamantly, seeming none too interested in being mature any time soon. He, once more, was sleepy—and he wanted Mello to sleep with him. Or at least, stay beside him. Mello's restlessness could just fuck off--they had a half week to do whatever they needed, and granted that now was the middle of the night, to hell if they wasted their sleeping time in preparation.
"Fine, asshole," growled Mello, now officially trapped. If he tried to leave, there was a definite chance that Matt would find some way to keep him in the bed, at least until morning, which seemed forever away.
"You know, we wouldn't be having this problem if you hadn't have woken me up."
Oh yeah.
Matt had almost forgotten about that.
"...Sorry," he stated, although he didn't sound at all like he meant it. Guilt was a hard thing to come by when it came to Matt and something as trivial as waking Mello up in the middle of the night. He was too lazy to be guilty. "We also wouldn't be having this problem if you could stop being such a workaholic and go to sleep. I feel like some neglected housewife," he joked, although it was a pretty good analogy.
Really, Mello had nothing to say to that, not that he considered it relatively true. Anything that conflicted with his opinions were written off as unimportant in his mind. But he took a stab at a reply anyway
"Maybe if you could fall asleep alone," he pointed out. "You haven't changed a bit since Wammy's."
But despite his certain qualms with being pinned down, he had stopped squirming.
"Neither have you," Matt answered, even though he was trying to fall asleep. Mostly, he sounded wide-awake now. As soon as their banter ended, though, he probably would fall asleep again without problems. The gamer had never been one to have trouble falling asleep—it was always Mello.
"You still cling to me when you're having bad dreams," he stabbed. "'Least you don't have to crawl into my bed anymore, huh? You're already here." Seeing that the other had at least stopped trying to get away, Matt loosened his grip slightly—but didn't exactly release Mello. No, he was too comfortable and comforted for that.
"Lucky for you, eh?" Mello sensed that the conversation was sliding, mostly because Matt was already beginning to fall asleep. He knew that once the redhead had gone to sleep, he would follow not long after, just because that was the routine. He had no idea how the other fell asleep so fast, but he was willing to bet that his constant lethargy played a role in it.
"Mmhm, because having you in my bed is the best thing ever," Matt drawled, scooting closer to Mello. With a newfound audacity, he buried his head in the crook of the other's neck--if only to make him uncomfortable. Matt could push buttons in more ways than one. Lo and behold, button-pushing (both the video game way and the figurative way) and being lazy were things he'd always been adept at.
"Hmmm? Better than getting laid?" Mello gibed.
At this new contact, however, a weird, uncomfortable feeling rose up in his stomach, in a way that made him recoil as if in pain. Being touched at all was a foreign thing for poor Mello, and though he could handle it if he was the one making first contact, he wasn't so keen on being 'violated' the way Matt was so clearly reveling in.
Matt seemed to be completely aware of the fact that he was doing a very thorough job of bothering Mello—and he didn't look like he was about to lay off any time soon. The upside, though, was that he didn't appear to be going any further either.
"Maybe," he stated finally, decisively. Hell, he kind of sounded like he was insinuating something, too, but he was evidently too tired to roll over, much less get down and dirty with anyone at the present time.
That seemed good enough for Mello, because afterward he fell silent. Continuing to talk would only encourage Matt, whereas shutting up would allow the other to sleep, and in turn, allow Mello to sleep as well. He attempted a yawn in order to assuage his seemingly nonexistent weariness, but nothing came, only a huffy breath that rode down his throat.
Persistent Matt, however, kept his place, making the blonde more than slightly irritated.
Matt, unknowingly, fell victim to Mello's plans. After a couple failed attempts to resume conversation (mostly, they failed because whatever he was saying was completely incomprehensible), Matt succumbed to unconsciousness and fell asleep with his forehead still firmly planted against Mello's shoulder, his arm still draped over Mello's side. Despite Mello's irritation with his placement, Matt looked quite content and highly pleased with himself, even in his sleep.
As he predicted, Mello drifted off. His dreams didn't bother him again, leaving his sleep to be, all in all, quite peaceful. He had grown quite unaware that the thing lying against him was Matt. After all, this wasn't an ordinary way to sleep; not since Wammy's, at least.
So, unconscious and damn comfortable, the blonde snatched the warm figure against him and pulled it into a crushing embrace, clinging as though it may disappear at any moment.
Something kind of set off in the back of Matt's head that there was something touching him—and touching him in a way that made him feel like he was in a cocoon, but...it was a nice cocoon, a safe cocoon of mutual warmth and neediness which he hadn't felt for a damn long time. His subconscious registered this, but for the most part—well. Matt was snoring faintly. That just about went to show.
Gently returning the gesture, Matt shifted and secured his left arm around Mello a little better before sleeping on.