juyon.
Come morning time, Matt woke up feeling like shit.
Granted, given the circumstances and the rather unforgiving chain of events, Matt couldn't say that he blamed himself much for it. Surprisingly, he was up before Mello--although, considering that he had more or less slept the whole way through the night, this should have been predictable. Lazy and shitty as he was feeling, though, all he did was grope for his handheld and resume his urban ninja game.
And, as patterns go, Mello woke up not long after, the first thing he heard being the obnoxious clicking of video game keys. He took a minute to predict getting up, and then did so, rising and casting the other a withering glare before sliding numbly out of the bed.
Boots met carpet with a muffled 'bmmf', and the rest of his body came with, until he was fully standing.
"Hey, Mel', you wanna get me a couple of those pain killers and a soda...? Please?" Matt questioned, tacking on his manners in an attempt to be less of a douche. He didn't consider his manner of asking for things particularly douche-like, but he decided that he was going to play it safe for a little bit. Playing it safe also meant not getting out of bed, because...he didn't really feel like it. That being, he felt like if he were to wander out of the confines of his comfort he'd fall flat on his face for reasons unknown.
Mello considered refusing, because, though this was merely a request from someone who probably needed what he was asking for, doing anything he was asked felt like he was taking orders.
"Fine," he said, stalking into the kitchen to retrieve not only what he was asked for, but also another bar of chocolate. To hell with controlling indulgences.
He returned and tossed both onto the bedspread.
"Thanks," Matt responded, genuinely grateful. Mello was probably saving him a cracked skull. He took a couple pills after cracking the soda open, reclining back against a couple of flattened pillows and picking up his game again, expertly controlling it with one hand while the other was still occupied with his drink. Maybe they could go out and get ice cream today. That sounded like fun.
Mello stood there awhile, watching him play the game with a conflicted expression on his face. Soon, though, he stalked back into the kitchen to eat his chocolate, all the while vaguely wondering why he hadn't stayed. Maybe not knowing was for the best.
He polished it off quickly, unlike the bar that had preceded it, and disposed of the wrapper before searching the kitchen for nothing in particular and going back into the room to sit on the end of the bed.
Matt had considered getting up and going after Mello, but a particularly daunting headache and an obvious laziness kept him from doing much more than considering.
"Hey, do you want to go for ice cream later?" he questioned the other, feeling completely ridiculous in this quest for something as normal as ice cream, but in the past few days, they'd gone to the arcade, gone to the candy shop, played video games, made out, eaten a candle-light dinner...ice cream scarcely seemed like a strange thing against all that.
The blonde turned slightly to watch Matt, sizing him up as though trying to determine whether the other was being serious or not. He didn't notice anything incriminating.
"Are you serious?" he inquired. Sure, they had done a whole bunch of abnormal (well, for them; for other people they were daily things) things in the past week, but hell, he didn't expect to be asked to go get ice cream. It was a bit...random. Mello dismissed the sneaking desire to label it as 'endearing'.
Matt smiled somewhat puerile sort of way, nodding. "Yeah, I'm serious," he answered, knowing full well that his odd request would have elicited this kind of response from Mello. He couldn't help asking, though. It was a good question and, for some reason, walking around and terrorizing the general public with solely their appearances and ice cream cones sounded incredibly appealing.
"Why?"
Obviously the blonde was making this a lot more complicated than it was intended to be, but the request of going out and getting ice cream of all things still hadn't settled well in him. He imagined what would happen if they did go, summoning images of them, looking quite out-of-place in their...unique clothing and walking around with ice cream cones. He inwardly laughed.
"Why?" Matt echoed, having thought that the purpose of ice cream was worldly known. It was, after all, a universal dessert. Strangely, though, even though the meaning was supposedly so easily divulged, he couldn't think of a reason. "It tastes good? I'm really fucking hot and I can't stop thinking about ice cream? You probably haven't had ice cream in years?" There were plenty of good reasons.
Now, Mello cracked a grin. All right, those were some damn good reasons, and it was true; he hadn't had ice cream in years, which was a disappointment. Then again, when you were a mafia bigwig, there wasn't much time or room to eat ice cream—on a weekly basis or otherwise.
"Alright," he said, part of him wondering why the hell he agreed.
Because it tasted good, because apparently Matt was hot, and because he hadn't ice cream in years. Oh, yeah.
Matt grinned--the day was still young, but they could go now. Who knew? Leaving the apartment early might mean that they could do more interesting things. Things like going to the arcade again, or something. That would be fun. He, after all, hadn't left Mello that time that the blonde had given him the surprising option of remaining in the arcade while he went on.
The excitable gamer abandoned his game and soda, swiftly standing and swaying on the spot. Shit, that reminded him.
"Mel', do you think we ought to change these?" he questioned, plucking at the bandages that wound around his chest. A good-sized spot to the left was darkened with dried blood, but Matt couldn't tell if it was worth changing yet.
Mello frowned, examining the wound for a moment before shrugging.
"We might as well," he said, not exactly sure of the signs that told whether a gunshot wound was due to be redressed or not. Still, it never hurt, especially not when it could mean the difference between health and an infection, and he seriously didn't feel like being responsible for that happening, not when he had just thought that the other was cured.
Mello was probably right--it couldn't hurt. "Can you grab the bandages and shit? I think it's still in the living room," he asked, looking to the other for a second to offer something of a wan half-smile. He didn't know exactly why, but he was aware that Mello had qualms with taking any sort of direction, request or not. He supposed it was just his nature.
Still, these directions Mello had no problem with taking, as he was about to do them himself. Slipping into the living room, he retrieved the medicinal supplies and came back, taking out what was necessary before casting a glance at the redhead.
"Do you need help taking off your bandages?" he asked, unwinding yet another roll of the gauze-like material.
"Probably," Matt answered, having managed to unfasten them and unwind them part way, but going to the left side, he was highly unwilling to move his arm much farther than necessary. It still hurt a considerable deal, but he wasn't as much of a pansy as he was the first couple of times. That, and a good downward tug usually freed it fine—just really slowly.
"I think it's infected, though," he commented off-handedly, peeking under the bandages at his chest and grimacing. He was still sort of squeamish.
Damnit.
Mello scowled; this was just fantastic. He reached up and peeled off the rest of the bandage, revealing the injury which was, indeed, infected. He rummaged through the bag, trying to find something stronger to treat it with. All he could find was the disinfectant, which was hydrogen peroxide. What was he thinking when he bought this? Sure, it would work for most wounds, but not for a bullet wound. Then again...they had limited supplies when not resorting to a hospital, and Mello most definitely would not let him go to the hospital, no matter how infected he may be.
Matt glanced down at the wound in momentary fascination—and then quickly looked away. The otherwise pale skin there was inflamed, but really, it was the yellow fluid that clung to his exposed flesh in pockets that made him shudder and stare off into the corner of the room to avoid looking again. Maybe he could have dealt with this in a less girlish manner if, you know, this wasn't his own body he was looking at.
"I think we're going to need something stronger than hydrogen peroxide, Mel'," he stated without commitment, unable to help another sneaking look down to his chest.
"No shit, Sherlock," commented Mello, shaking his head angrily before inhaling and looking back up. "But this is the strongest thing we have. We're going to need to go somewhere for a stronger disinfectant...the only place I can think of is a pharmacy, because a drug store just isn't going to carry anything better than hydrogen peroxide." He scowled and threw the jug back into the bag harshly.
Or, you know, they could do what normal people who get shot do—go to the hospital. Matt knew that this was completely out of the question, though, and thusly kept his mouth shut. "I'll be fine. I haven't died yet, have I?" he pointed out, shrugging slightly. Although, an infection would explain why he felt like shit. So Mello's kiss wasn't poison after all. "The worst it can do is give me a fever. Let's just go get ice cream and find a pharmacy, then?" He suggested, still up for the treat. He hoped that this little problem wouldn't foul Mello's mood too terribly.
What fouled Mello's mood, contrary to the other's prediction, was the fact that Matt, despite his infection, still wanted to go out and get ice cream. He sighed, using the hydrogen peroxide to dress the wound before wrapping it. He did all he could before they got to the pharmacy.
"Yeah, sure," he said. "But not necessarily in that order, right?"
Matt was a little disappointed that they wouldn't be going for ice cream first, but he was also glad that the Mello was still going to let them get it. So he just shrugged a bit and nodded.
"Right," he stated, agreeing half-heartedly. Matt was still like a little kid--the promise of getting ice cream was enough to tide him over for a boring trip to the pharmacy. He fidgeted with the bandages a little before pulling his shirt on again, slightly put off with it as though it was merely an annoyance. Maybe they could get some Tylenol while they were out, though he was starting to feel like he'd need it. "Let's get going then..."
Maybe they could go to the arcade too...
"Mhhmmm," said Mello, turning around to head toward the door. He made a side trip to the kitchen, however, taking out a couple of chocolate bars. Who knew if he needed them, considering that he was bound to get annoyed later on today, among other things. He then cast Matt a glance before heading out the door without another thought of it.
Matt pulled his vest on for the sake of pockets, stuffing his handheld, cell phone, wallet, and keys into them. He still felt entirely woozy on his feet, but the prospect of ice cream and possible old school gaming was enough to keep him upright.
"I think there's a pharmacy a couple blocks down," he commented to Mello as they made their way down the street.
Mello examined him for a minute, and then quickened his pace. The faster they got there, the more painless this would be. No matter how odd the prospect of ice cream seemed, the prospect of going through a pharmacy sounded even more tedious.
"Sure, Matt," he acknowledged, reaching to his pocket to pull on a pair of sunglasses. If he couldn't wear his jacket, he might as well wear something.
"You wanna hit the arcade later today?" he asked after a while, figuring that he might as well ask now so he'd have time to pester Mello later if he refused ths time. Eventually the other would give in or stalk off in some other direction and leave Matt to chase after him, right?
Matt dug around in his vest pockets, fishing out a crumpled packet of cigarettes, one of which he promptly lit. It was about damn time.
"You're infected," Mello said dryly. "And you still want to go play video games? What the hell is up with you?"
Somehow, Mello found it hard to believe that he was the only one who cared about Matt's well-being, and he was even more surprised that he cared at all. He used to think that the other was expendable, believe it or not.
Matt grimaced. Mello made it sound like he needed to be in quarantine or something.
"I feel fine," he smoothly lied—it wasn't a big deal anyway. He was pretty chipper, if not seriously hot, a little nauseous, and ailed with a headache. It didn't really bother him, though, so why not go to the arcade?
"Why not, anyway? The arcade is fun. You beat me last time, too." He needed to get Mello back, after all.
Mello rolled his eyes, smirking slightly and letting it fade before casting his gaze up in hopes of seeing the pharmacy.
"It's fun?" he repeated. "You're amazing sometimes." But he decided not to deny the other; it seemed like it was futile anyway, since the redhead was probably going to make him eventually. Besides, why not?
On a whim, Matt turned the upcoming corner, peering down the street as though he was expecting to see the pharmacy. Well, maybe if they walked a little further. Matt didn't exactly have a great sense of direction, but he had the greatest luck just stumbling onto things. He grinned a little, though, when he realized that Mello hadn't turned down his suggestion of going to the arcade. An unspoken agreement was as good as a definite yes in Matt's mind.
"Excellent. Let's find this damn pharmacy so we can have some fun."
Mello could have replied disdainfully, but he restrained himself long enough to come upon the pharmacy at last, turning into it and approaching the counter. He looked at the person behind it once before looking back at Matt, unsure if the other knew exactly what he needed.
"What do you need?" he asked, taking a stab at checking with the gamer before he inquired it from the pharmacist.
"Something to deal with infections and Tylenol?" Matt answered uncertainly—he wasn't a medical expert here. He really couldn't care less what they got, either. He just wanted ice cream. And maybe to sit down somewhere--all this walking made him tired, even if they had just traveled the span of a couple blocks.
"Well you're fucking helpful," Mello murmured, turning to the counter again to request the strongest non-prescription infection medication they had, along with some Tylenol. When the pharmacist returned, the blonde stepped out of the way to allow Matt access.
"You're paying." After all, he had no money; not that he would ever pay for anything himself anyway.
Matt couldn't help but to chuckle a bit at the other's quick aversion of the payment--as things always were with him. Matt stepped up to pay, handing over a debit card that, obviously, wasn't listed under his name. He took the bag from the pharmacist, sliding it down to the crook of his arm.
"C'mon, let's go get some ice cream and sit down…it's kind of hard to play video games while eating ice cream." He pointed out to Mello, unwilling to admit that he wanted to sit down only because he felt like he'd keel over if he didn't.
"Right," he said loftily, glaring at the other over the tinted shade of his glasses.
Though Mello didn't buy this reasoning, he didn't press it any further, shrugging and giving the other a high and mighty half-nod before pivoting on his heel and stepping outside. Matt seemed hell-bent on getting ice cream for some reason.
Maybe it was because he was boiling in his skin and just really wanted to forget the severity of their situation and have fun like they did back at Wammy's. Or maybe it was because he wanted to see Mello smile, or treat the other to some light-hearted thing that he hadn't indulged in for years. Or maybe he was just really craving ice cream. Soon enough, they came to a quaint sort of ice cream shop on the corner of the street—the kind with the checkered floor and the little silver bell that jangled overhead when you walked in. Matt just about worshipped the cooler air, feeling about as flushed as he looked.
Mello looked around, and, Matt being accurate in his assumption in the fact that he hadn't had ice cream in years, inhaled the smell of the place rather pleasantly. This didn't show, however, as he stalked into a corner of the little store, wondering just how many times the other had been here, if at all. It was a pretty redundant thing to muse about, but then again, what else could he safely wonder without endangering his emotional stability? Okay, he didn't consider his emotional well-being unstable per se, but it was whether he liked it or not.
Matt wandered to the glass display, peering down at the multi-coloured tubs of ice cream.
"What do you want?" he questioned Mello, figuring that the other would most likely go for chocolate.. But there were so many bizarre flavours that he might opt to pick something new. Matt, personally, was finding that the peach-strawberry sorbet was looking rather good.
Mello, however, wasn't here to try anything new. He was safe with chocolate, and so chocolate it would be.
"Nnnn, a chocolate ice cream cone will be fine," he said, as though Matt wasn't expecting this answer. He leaned against the counter with a sigh, but wasn't as exasperated with this whole situation as he would have predicted.
Matt only smiled and shook his head, placing their order and receiving a few moments shy of when he paid. He passed Mello's cone over to him, nodding to a table in the corner of the shop to sit at. Conveniently, it was located by an air conditioning vent. "Best ice cream in town," Matt commented as he licked the sprinkles off his scoop. "Good stuff to be having for the first time in years."
Mello experimentally ran his tongue over the top of his ice cream, following the redhead over to his choice spot. Matt was right; this was pretty good, but as far as the title as the best ice cream in town went, he'd have to see. Then again, he didn't think he'd eaten enough ice cream in his lifetime to be a proper judge.
"I'll admit, it's good," he said, flippantly laving at the scoop that had been stacked on top of the cone, stretched and leaning against the back of his chair.
Matt plopped the bag from the pharmacy on the table top, licking all the sprinkles from his ice cream cone before proceeding to devour it. It was really fucking good, not to mention, it vaguely cooled him off. That, and the vent. He could just stay there all day if it weren't for the promise of arcade games waiting for them. "Good," he answered matter-of-factly. "It's about time you lived, Mello." He secretively plotted out the rest of the day in his head: arcade games, clubs, getting completely smashed and being an idiot...well, maybe not all in the same day.
"If this is what you constitute as living, I'd hate to have seen what you did before I came," he replied unconcernedly, being rather slow and languid in his manner of eating the ice cream, unlike he was with most things. "Besides playing video games, smoking cigarettes, and getting laid of course." From what he had heard, that was all Matt had done. Mello considered it, if nothing else, a wasteful way to live, but there was no point in bringing this up, since the gamer obviously didn't care.
Admittedly, that was a good summary of what he'd done with his life before Mello, next to hacking into different governments worldwide for fun, inventing new ways to keep himself from being tracked, siphoning money out of European stock brokers...
Matt did not live a very fulfilling life before Mello. "Come on, Mel'," he tried anyway, leaning back in his chair and brushing his red bangs from his face. "It's fun. You're going to have fun today. Shouldn't you be excited?" Not that he really expected Mello to be excited about anything.
Mello smirked.
"Don't get me wrong, Matt," he said, tracing intangible images onto the surface of the sweet before looking at the other through half-lidded eyes. "I'm ecstatic."
He cocked an eyebrow then, examining Matt curiously. "Shouldn't we treat your wound before we do anything else?"
Matt grimaced at the mention of it, shaking his head almost immediately. "I'm fine," he told Mello. Aside from being exceedingly hot, this ice cream was working wonders for him. "We can do it at home." And besides, would-treating was so…tedious, and a mood killer. As long as Mello was 'ecstatic', Matt wanted to keep it that way.
"Alright," said the blonde skeptically, now down to the tail end of his cone, rather put out that it was gone so fast. Then again, he still did have that chocolate he brought with him. "But don't pass out on me." What killed him the most, however, was the way Matt had referred to the apartment as 'home'. To that, he gave a half-amused smile, and then let it vanish as he downed the last of his chocolate-flavoured sweet.
Matt had been living in the apartment for a couple years—longer than he stayed put most other times, so it was as good as home to him. Hell, he'd had a candle light dinner in it; he would have to say a place had to be pretty homely for you to do that.
"I'll try not to," he answered, although he did feel like prolonging the act of getting up some more. He was through with his ice cream, but he was still feeling too lazy to do anything. Though, they ought to get going.
Oblivious to the fact that Matt was lazy and wanting to sit a little longer, Mello stood, never one to linger in one place once that place had lost its initial purpose. Still, though, he didn't plan to force the other to go anywhere too quickly, in case a simple movement or shift in environment would trigger the infection. Again, the elder wondered why he was so worried, since Matt didn't seem too bothered.
Then again, unless he was on his knees and begging for his life, Matt didn't seem to be too bothered by anything...other than Mello. But that was an entirely different story. He got up and followed after Mello, somehow resisting the sudden shift of balances that made him want to fall on his face. Blinking slowly, he picked up the bag again and headed reluctantly for the door, not looking forward to the outdoor heat again.
"So... We'll hit the arcade…and then…huh. What do you want to do today?"
"I have no idea," said Mello smoothly. "I was just going along with whatever you wanted. Hell, I'd be content just going back to the apartment." Something about going out and 'having fun' laid on a sense of foreboding that was worse than if he would have just hung around the room. It was as though they were fulfilling their last living days, even though he was adamant that none of them were going to die, and everything was going to go well.
Matt should have expected as much. "Well, we can if you want." He offered, figuring that arcade gaming could always be saved for tomorrow. After all, they would still be needing things to do. After all, Matt wasn't going to let Mello go back to being his boring old 'do work to the degree that I'm going to work myself to death' sort of self. Although, now that it was brought up, the prospect of going back to the apartment sounded vaguely comforting. For the sake of it, he threw his arm around Mello, resting his arm forehead against the other's shoulder with a contented smile. "We can have fun at home, right?"
Oddly enough, Mello didn't bother doing anything about the sudden contact. He was used to it now, he supposed, and it wasn't all that annoying anymore. On the contrary.
"Is having fun all you care about?" he asked, shaking his head with the ghost of a smirk. Since just this morning, all Matt had been talking about was having fun. It wasn't as though there was a dearth of fun or interest in the redhead's life.
"Pretty much," he answered Mello, steering him in the direction of the apartment again. The more he thought about it, the greater curling up in bed with the fan on high sounded. "Having fun, getting laid, and making sure you don't get yourself killed..." He glanced deviously to the other. "Or burnt to a crisp."
"Too late for that," Mello retorted, exhaling heavily, quite relaxed for someone who had just endured a trip to the pharmacy and a rather pointless one to an ice cream parlour, though the latter was more or less enjoyable.
"Hah, I guess so. At least you're not dead," the red-head pointed out, grinning wryly. Indeed, Mello had been burnt to a crisp, but no, he was not dead.
In due time, they made it to the apartment, Matt fumbling a bit with the key when he let them in. He tossed the pharmacy bag onto the couch, letting to of Mello and shrugging off his vest.
"That," he stated, nodding to the discarded bag, "can wait for tomorrow. I'm gonna go take a nap, I'm not feeling so hot." Well, figuratively. Literally he was burning despite the inside temperature.
Mello broke away from Matt and turned to the couch, leaning back on it and resolving to unwrap one of the chocolate bars he hadn't touched yet. Then, he stared at the bag, up at Matt's retreating figure, and blinked.
"You're going to keep putting it off?" he inquired.
"Yeah," the younger one answered, looking back at Mello as though he were crazy. Of course he was going to keep putting it off-- he was a lot like a little kid. He didn't want to deal with his injuries because they were nasty and there were much better things to be doing. Although, out of curiosity, he'd take his temperature. He'd always liked doing that for some reason...maybe it was the beeping.
"Fine," said the blonde, not willing to push the matter further. Hell, if Matt wanted to kill himself, he could go ahead and do it. It was as though he didn't think the cigarettes were killing him fast enough; then again, it was Mello who had shot Matt in the first place. Not that he was going to continue to take the blame, not after he had finally thought himself vindicated. He considered his constant worry a sufficient redemption.
After a moment's worth of videogame-reminiscent beeping from the thermometer, Matt poked his head out the bedroom door again, looking somewhat irritated.
"Does Tylenol reduce fever?" he questioned Mello, as though the other was an expert on the matter or something. Or, he could check the medication in the bag next to him, but still.
"Hell if I know," Mello shot back dryly, chewing on his chocolate as though wanting to discern its flavour.
Matt shrugged, crossing the room to shake out a couple of the pills and thusly swallow them dry. Instead of heading back to the bedroom, though, he opted to sit on the couch with his friend and watch the other eat his chocolate for a little while. Soon enough, though, he found himself dozing off on Mello's shoulder.
Mello grunted, but didn't bother moving Matt. He didn't mind the other leaning on him for itself, but it made him feel...how should he put it?...less badass allowing the redhead to cling to him like he did. It made him feel even less badass with the knowledge that he liked it; he found it strangely endearing.
But he would take that to his grave.
Maybe it was just that Mello, in the presence of Matt, simply wasn't badass. Or wasn't as badass as he ordinarily was or could have been because Matt was Mello's friend. Obviously, friends were not badass.
After a while, despite Matt's body's heated temperature, the redhead shivered against Mello and attempted to burrow his nose into the other's shoulder, shifting slightly on the couch as he did so.
"Hey, hey," Mello murmured, propping the other up slightly. The other must have had a fever, because he was burning up. He didn't know how to help this, but, deciding that since any badassery that the blonde was trying to retain was gone, and he at least had to pretend that his companion mattered more than himself. He draped an arm around Matt, unsettlingly getting used to the unique feeling of initiating something like it, even if it was for Matt's benefit.
Matt opened an eye, muttering something as he looked over at Mello. Only then did he realize that he was encased quite comfortably in Mello's arms. This was an unexpected but certainly welcome turn of events... Matt was quickly deterred from his thoughts by another shiver that resonated from his core and spread through his limbs, though, forcing him to disagreeably grit his teeth in an effort to stop.
Mello noticed the sudden movement and scowled.
"Now can we treat your bullet wound?" he demanded, finding Matt's delay ridiculous. This certainly wasn't doing anything for his fever, and was probably only worsening his infection. This time, though, if the younger one refused, Mello would treat it anyway, whether he liked it or not.
"Yeah," Matt relented finally, grimacing at the thought of it. "Let's head to the bedroom." He suggested, not wanting to run the chance of falling asleep on the none-too-comfortable couch.
"Right, fine." Mello detached himself from the other and went to retrieve the infection medicine, which was assumedly in the bedroom. Once there, he took it out and examined the label, all the while waiting for Matt, who meandered in afterwards, ridding himself of his shirt with some manner of difficulty, but great relief. He almost wanted to lose his pants, too, but then decided that it would be unnecessary. He sat on the edge of the bed, picking at the bandages a bit in complete and utter reluctance.
Mello set the bottle down and unwrapped the bandages harshly, he the exact opposite of reluctance. He was actually really irritated, since Matt had waited so long, letting the infection set in. Once the wound was revealed, he shook the contents of the medicine onto a cotton swab he had gotten from the bag he had gotten originally, and dabbed the injury, unsure of exactly how to apply the disinfectant. His method, however, seemed effective.
Matt, however, would beg to differ: Mello's method really hurt. He felt free to express this thought, too, seeing as he hissed every time Mello touched his open wound and whined at every other interval.
"Fuck, Mello, that hurts," he stated with a wince, wrinkling his nose distastefully.
"Shut up, you dumbfuck," Mello sighed, rolling his eyes and continuing his task mercilessly until he thought that his treatment was sufficient. He drew away and wrapped the same bandage around the wound, partially unsure if it was sanitary. Well, he hadn't used it too long, and he hadn't wrapped the same side of the bandage around the wound, so figured it would last at least a little while.
Matt seemed contented with it, too, though mostly he could hardly sit still. He was exhausted, but didn't feel like he could fall asleep again. And besides, he felt completely and utterly nauseous. He was up and to the bathroom before he barely managed to utter a thanks to Mello, and he was throwing up his ice cream and what other contents of his stomach he had before he had a chance to close the door.
Mello wrinkled his nose as he listened to the sound of Matt's retching, and soon he stood up and walked over to the door, tapping on it a few times.
"Are you okay?" he asked, though the answer to this was obvious: Matt wasn't okay, though the least the blonde could do was ask before bringing his left over chocolate to his lips. Nothing ruined his appetite for chocolate.
"Perfect," Matt answered banally, groaning and spitting in the toilet before flushing it, proceeding to lean back against the opposite wall. He really felt like shit now. Maybe he really should have let Mello treat the infection first thing—or maybe they should have been smarter and stitched it up.
"Nnnn, can I come in?" Mello asked after a moment, though he doubted that coming in would solve anything. Just hanging around and doing nothing about it, however, certainly wouldn't help. After a brief deliberation, though, Mello just barged in, mouth a grim gash as he watched the redhead slumped against the wall.
"Haha, man, I feel great..." Matt mused to Mello, smiling bemusedly in his sarcasm when the other entered the room.
Mello rolled his eyes and stomped in further, folding his arms as though he wasn't sure exactly what to do with the crumpled outline of his companion. He eventually let it go, mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "oh, shut up" and exited, looking over his shoulder one last time.
"If you need anything..." He somehow didn't know how to phrase this. "...just ask."
Matt blinked at the other for a second before smiling half-way and nodding.
"Yeah, sure," he stated, managing to watch Mello go for a moment before leaning forward and, once more, heaving quite unceremoniously into the porcelain bowl. Oh yeah. He felt really great.
Mildly disgusted, Mello returned to the living room, pacing awhile nervously before sitting on the couch and pulling a laptop on his lap for the first time in a few days. He browsed it disinterestedly before pushing it away to sit and wait; maybe if he was lucky, time would pass quickly and he would fall asleep.
--
Matt finally dragged himself out of the bathroom after rinsing out his mouth and washing his face. He didn't bother with a shirt-- he was still running a fever, but he didn't mind. He wandered out to the living room, leaning over Mello's shoulder for a second before speaking. "Are you still trying to do something useful?"
"Yeah, I am," Mello responded almost immediately, shifting and finally pushing the laptop off of him and rolling his eyes. Now assured that Matt simply wasn't going to keel over on him, he stood up and moseyed into the kitchen, just to go somewhere…do something. He contemplated sitting on the counter again, like he had done not long ago, but contented himself instead by merely opening the refrigerator and standing there, glaring inside of it, not really looking at anything in particular.
Matt decided to occupy the couch, feeling completely drained now that he'd thrown up anything that was in his stomach, which wasn't much to begin with. He was worried that food would make it worse, though, so he opted to just sit there while Mello played a staring contest with the fridge. After a moment of silence, though, Matt couldn't help but to pipe up, albeit sleepily:
"Do you want to go to the arcade tomorrow...?"
Closing the refrigerator and wheeling around, eyes closed exasperatedly, Mello returned to the living room.
"Are you a complete moron?" he demanded. "Do you think you're in any shape to go to an arcade?" It was true, though it was also true that Matt was in no shape to hoof it to Japan and participate in a kidnapping. Though that wasn't nearly as important, it seemed.
"The day after that then?" Maybe he'd be better by then. The day after that happened to be Friday, too, their last day before going to Japan. They might as well do something fun, right? Even if Matt was feeling peaky? He eyed Mello hopefully as though staring the other down would increase their chances of going to the arcade.
"Maybe if you're better, dumbass," frowned Mello, not disconcerted in the least by Matt's staring, nor should he have been. He didn't actually intend to go to an arcade.
"Besides, you can play stupid video games here. Why do you have to walk somewhere to do something you can do without lifting a finger?" Despite his simplicities, Matt really was a conundrum. In comparison to Mello, that was.
"It's more fun to play in an arcade," Matt answered matter-of-factly, as though this were the most obvious answer in the world. For a gamer, the noises of fellow gamers wasting their money and shooting their hearts out in a dingy, barely-lit, crowded hall packed full of old school games was like heaven. Plus, he could smoke. He seemed to be satisfied with Mello's answer, though--probably because he didn't know that the other didn't intend to go at all.
"I don't know how you were third in line," Mello muttered, shaking his head. It was a good thing the other never was chosen to be L, because if he had, not only would he have not cared about anything, but Mello would have had to stand the shame of being shown up by someone like Matt...
The blonde sat down against the wall, stretching one leg out and pulling the other against his abdomen, though didn't plan to stay in that position for long unless somehow occupied.
"Why don't you just go to sleep?" the elder asked, cocking his head and feeling all of his hair spill over his face and onto his shoulder.
Mello was feeling sort of restless himself, though not for the same reasons. And he wasn't tired. This was a dangerous situation, considering if Matt wasn't well enough to sleep with him, he probably wouldn't go to sleep. Strange to admit, even to himself, but he figured it was true. The redhead calmed the savage beast, as it were.
"I can't," Matt assented, grimacing slightly at the notion. He really, really wanted to--but he couldn't. "It's too fucking hot." He turned over onto his stomach as he said this, shifting over on the couch to find a new, cooler spot that appeased him and his skin for a moment before succumbing to the heat of his body. Damn. "Why don't you?" he questioned back as though this were a duel, lifting his gaze to Mello. It lingered for a second before breaking when he turned off and rolled over again.
The blonde considered going to the freezer to get some ice, but as far as he could remember, they didn't have any ice. Maybe he could just stuff Matt in the refrigerator for awhile, and then see what happened. The thought brought a scathing smile to his lips.
"I can't," Mello said, mimicking Matt's way of saying it.
Matt looked over at the other, challengingly glaring at him for a moment before deciding that he didn't want to indulge in the game quite yet. "Fine," he stated, sitting up fully at last. "I'll go to sleep if you go to sleep," he wagered, standing up with some manner of difficulty before somehow retaining his balance, however drugged up and feverish and slightly nauseous he still was.
With an exasperated sigh, a grudging acceptance, but no movement, Mello assented.
"Right," he said, figuring that if he told Matt what he wanted to hear, the other would eventually go to sleep. Maybe it wasn't completely clear to him that he had a dangerous infection and that rest would be the best thing, whether the elder one as well or stayed up all night. That really was no concern of Matt's.
Matt, upon seeing that Mello was making no move to follow him, scowled and held his hand out for the other to take. If he didn't, Matt would very well grab him and force him off the couch and tuck him in if he had to. And don't doubt that he would.
"Come on," he goaded, clearly not leaving unless Mello was coming to bed with him.
Mello stood, glaring fiercely. He was clearly displeased, yet he knew that the other wouldn't go without him, and that would only be doing him a disservice. Folding his arms, the blonde went into the bedroom, unabashed at whether or not Matt followed. He sat on his usual side of the bed, staring at the opposite wall interestedly.
Matt ambled off into the bedroom as well and wasted no time in crawling into the bed and laying flat on his back, the covers kicked down to his knees, one hand tucked behind his head, the other—his left—resting languidly on his bared stomach.
"Go to sleep, Mello," he told the other, hoping that the blonde had some sense and would get some rest.
"You can't tell me what to do," mumbled Mello, but eventually slid onto the bed and fell asleep, much to his unconscious surprise. He hadn't been tired at all, but somehow he couldn't resist. His position changed from sprawled out to curled up after a moment's wait, and soon he was turning and shifting as he always did.
A knowing sort of smirk passed over Matt's features. "I told you so," he murmured past it, clearly amused by Mello and his antics. Soon enough, though, the restlessness in his limbs faded, chased away by the escalating heat in his veins. Despite the discomfort, though, Matt fell to rest, sleep taking over his senses and, at least for a few hours, relieving him of his uncomfortable disposition.
--
Unlike how he normally acted, Mello didn't wake up during the night. Though where Mello didn't wake, Matt did. Periodically, he'd be roused for absolutely no reason and become painfully aware of his disagreeable infection. In due time, though, he'd coax himself back to sleep, beginning a cycle that continued until morning. When the sun did come streaming through the slats of the window shade, however, Matt groaned and rolled over, nearly planting his face into Mello's shoulder due to the fact that he had kindly overlooked their distance apart.
Mello blinked and grimaced upon wakefulness, heaving himself off the bed and away from the offending nearness. He stood up, staring blearily down at Matt, who looked a little worse for wear. If the blonde had any sense of decency, he would have been conflicted on whose fault exactly that was. Having a lack of such, however, he decided that it was the gamer's damn fault for getting an infection in the first place. To hell with the fact that he had not only shot him, but had failed to properly prevent infection.
Matt was slightly disturbed by the fact that Mello had gone away from the bed--that, or just a little confused. Admittedly, he was still plagued by the dregs of an unrestful sleep, his mind wanting to hold onto unconsciousness and invite the bliss of not knowing heat and pain like none other. He did have to say, though, that while his skin burned, he felt like he had ice water sloshing around his body. He also felt like a loose sack of organs--he felt like shit. Mostly because his body was confused, trying to heat itself and cool itself off all at once. "We're not going to the arcade today... are we?"
"I'm glad you suddenly decided to develop a brain," muttered a perturbed Mello, who was now surveying the redhead with a blatant look of contempt.
There were a couple of problems with his state: one, he would be next to useless in the kidnapping attempt, and two, he could die. Both were two bad things, considering it would throw things off. Mello had at last crawled back into his selfish morale.
Matt reluctantly sat up, determined to be of some use-- but upon doing so, he realized that his side of the bed was damp with sweat. Making a slight face, he scooted over to the side and leaned back against the wall behind his bed.
"Fuck, Mello, what the hell are we going to do?"
He had two days to get over this infection. Two days, or he wouldn't be of any use to Mello. Well damn.
Mello frowned. He supposed they could wait it out, doing the best they could to treat it before giving up and seeing how things went. That was the best plan he had so far, since hospitalizing him was out of the question and there really was nothing else that could keep them on track. There was no way he was rescheduling his trip or leaving Matt behind. The younger one probably wouldn't appreciate that anyway.
"Wait it out and keep treating it," he said resignedly, when he wasn't able to think of anything better.
Matt breathed a slow exhale that was secretly a cleverly disguised sigh of relief. Well, maybe not so cleverly. He had been thinking that Mello might leave without him and attempt this suicide mission alone, but he was saved that.
"Mmkay. What if...you know…" He alluded to the chance that he didn't get well in time.
Though it was known that Matt would be none too happy about being left behind, there was no way Mello would take him if he was nothing but a hindrance. Besides, the sick shouldn't travel; that was a bluntly decided fact.
"Then I'm going alone," he said determinedly, bearing a face and posture akin to one a hero in a Disney movie would make. It would have been comical. Hell, it was comical.
In fact, Matt might have been pissed if Mello hadn't decided to go all super-hero-manly on him. He cracked up laughing then and there, not even saving Mello some shame and burying his face in a pillow. Instead, he just laughed openly as he could at Mello until he managed to settle down a moment later. With a renewed seriousness--but mirth still in his tone--he said:
"No, you're not. If you go alone I'm getting on the next flight to Japan and beating you there."
"That's what I thought," sighed Mello, but he was still shooting Matt a positively venomous glare that was disagreeable with this spontaneous laughter. What made it worse was that he had no idea where this laughter was coming from. Somehow, he didn't feel as though he wanted to know.
"But you can kill yourself all you want. If you go, I can at least leave without you so I know it's not my fault you went out and fucked yourself over."
"Actually, it kind of is." Matt pointed out, arching a brow questioningly at the elder as though challenging his word. He kind of was. It was true enough that Mello wouldn't be the one dragging Matt onto a plane and carting him to Japan, but it was Mello who'd shot Matt to begin with, but the gamer didn't think that he needed to point that out.
Relaxing now that he knew either way, he was going to Japan and hopefully keeping Mello from getting himself killed, Matt closed his eyes, rolling onto his back and throwing the covers off himself brashly.
"Fuck, Mello, do we have any ice? Or something?" he questioned, scooting around to find a cooler spot on the bed.
"No ice," said Mello gruffly, choosing to ignore the initial accusation of the fault, and instead treating it with a dirty look. "There's probably something in the freezer, though."
Deciding that he might as well go look himself before he was either asked or the other got up and looked himself, the leather-clad male retreated into the kitchen and opened the freezer, which was, miraculously, empty. He scowled and opened the refrigerator afterward, taking out one of the cokes that had been bought not long ago and tossed it to Matt. It was aluminum, and it was cold. That was sufficient enough.
The soda can was quickly accepted gratefully. Matt sighed in relief and practically worshipped it; he had a conflict of interests, though—opening the can and downing it or putting it against his skin. He decided to drink it later and balance it on his forehead now.
"Thanks," he told Mello, continuing to ignore all dirty looks thrown at him and any comments he'd made to earn them.
"Yeah, sure," said Mello. Finding nothing to do elsewhere, the blonde sat on the edge of the bed and watched Matt, unsure of what he was going to do today if the other was out of commission. Then again, he had the liberty to go wherever he wanted without Matt breathing down his neck like an overprotective mother. That, however, seemed suddenly unappealing. Maybe he'd have to double check the preparations to pass the time.
Matt looked at the other, and as though he was evaluating him carefully through the eyes and poring through his mind like the pages of a book, frowned.
"Quit trying to work yourself to death, come on. You weren't thinking of doing anything today anyways," he requested of the other, looking at his blonde companion with genuine concern beyond his soda can balancing act.
"Going to an arcade is at least doing something," Mello replied lazily. "Now what am I supposed to do? Sit here until we leave?"
Perhaps not the best suggestion; Matt probably wouldn't mind all too much if Mello stayed. Still, that wouldn't satiate him for too long. He would need to go out and get something done instead of passively letting it all happen.
"Yeah, that's a good plan," Matt answered somewhat pleasantly, smiling cheekily because he knew that sitting still wouldn't appease Mello for long. Matt knew that he wouldn't be able to get out of the bed if the Playboy mansion was right next door, though. It looked like he had a nap to look forward to later on. "Really, what are you going to do then?"
Though Mello hated to admit that he had nothing to do, he had no made up chore to tell Matt about or delude himself with. So, leaning back onto one palm while examining his other hand, he frowned.
"I'm not sure," he murmured. "Maybe later I'll go take a walk, and then make sure everything's in order for the trip."
Matt watched Mello for a bit, shifting the soda can around on his forehead before rolling to the side uncomfortably. Holy shit, I'm fucking roasting on a spitfire, he grimaced to himself, placing the rounded side of the coke against his neck. "A walk?" he repeated, not knowing that Mello was the type for such placid activities.
"That's what I said, wasn't it?" he demanded, patience lost because of his lack of things to occupy him later. A walk seemed like the most effective thing to do, especially in light of some of the things he was thinking of doing to pass the time. Double-checking their prerequisites seemed redundant. Researching would lead him nowhere. Maybe on his way he'd stop to get some ice...it seemed appropriate.
The other leaving wasn't exactly something that Matt was looking forward to, but he decided that he'd let the other go fume or do whatever it was that he wanted to do.
"Sorry, just didn't know you were into…walking. Seems a little too pointless for you," he commented, having always known Mello as someone with a goal, and walks were like a miniature version of a goal-less life.
Mello sighed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. Then, finding it awfully boring and futile, he glanced at the bedside clock. It, at least, had some purpose; he could watch the time. Maybe for a little while, maybe forever...it depended on his mood.
"Not if I make a point in it," he said dully. "I could go get you some ice, or maybe go somewhere for groceries."
This was true. Matt would appreciate some ice. Hell, he'd climb in a bathtub full of it, but he didn't think that an ice bath was exactly something you were supposed to do with a fever running, it flipped out your body or some shit like that.
"Touché," he told Mello, half-smiling a bit. "Or...I donno. Ice cream. I feel like someone stuck me in a fire." Matt grumbled disapprovingly, like his body was doing this all on its own with no cause.
The blonde eyed him, and then exhaled miserably.
"Fine," he said, discarding any witty remarks he may have had to combat that request. Matt at least deserved a straight response, even if it was a short and impatient one. Mello stood, figuring there was no time like the present.
Matt wanted to protest the other's leaving, but he did agree to getting something that might promise relief from this fever, so he assented to letting Mello go.
"Thanks," he only said, rolling the can down his chest a bit, being wary of the wound bandaged just over his heart. Fuck man, if he lived to see his upcoming twentieth birthday, he wouldn't ever think of doing any girl he wasn't acquainted with ever again.
"Right."
And Mello was gone. He took what little money that was abandoned on the counter and marched outside, inhaling slowly as he began his stroll outside. It was nice, because not only did it have a purpose, but it kept him busy. His ideal activity. Not only that, but he may be able to catalyze Matt's recovery, which was a plus any day considering what they needed to do.
Matt, after a while, realized that his coke can was no longer cold. Groaning, he proceeded to drag his ass out of bed and head to the kitchen, clutching the wall and couch as he went to keep himself steady. Once there, he got another coke and opened this one to take some Tylenol, downing the pills quickly before plopping down onto the tile floor to have his soda in peace. That was, without his head spinning. He just hoped Mello would come back soon so that he could have some company.
--
Mello was gone for an hour, no more, no less. He picked up ice, a gallon of ice cream, and some more chocolate, and returned to the apartment in a neutral mood.
Mello craned his neck to find Matt.
"I'm back," he said dryly, picking out some chocolate and delving into it hungrily. He picked up the bag of ice and stomped toward the kitchen, preparing to throw it into the freezer for awhile.
Matt had been half-asleep against the cabinet doors when Mello came back, rousing too late to answer Mello with a bemused 'in here' like he wanted to. The kitchen wasn't exactly the first place you'd look for him. Understandably, though, the tile floor was consistently cold.
"Have fun?" he questioned, feeling bright enough to stay awake, but not enough to get off the floor. Or maybe he was just pleased to see Mello?
Mello looked from the freezer door to the spot where Matt lay, and, feeling merciful, dropped the bag on the floor next to him. He then proceeded to stow the ice cream where he had been headed originally, and then joined his companion on the floor.
"I did," he confirmed tonelessly, chewing on his bar.
Upon confirming that the clunk of the bag was, indeed, ice, Matt sat up properly and untied it, proceeding to drop an ice cube into his mouth before running one down from his shoulders to his wrists. Damn, that was better than sex. Well, not really. But it was definitely great.
"Jeeze, Mello, you have so much chocolate you're gonna need a separate suitcase for it," he pointed out, seeing as Mello had bought out the last store they went to.
"Actually, I plan to have a separate suitcase for it," said Mello, a smirk playing at his lips, but he was deadly serious. Well, if carry-on bags counted as suitcases. He didn't plan to get on a several hour long flight without his anti-drug, or there would be hell to pay. Mostly for Matt, who would have to endure this dearth.
Matt smirked a little, giving the other a sort of 'I knew it' look before proceeding to swallow his already melted ice cube and pop another into his mouth. Hell, this was better than smoking. He hadn't had one in a while, but he didn't think that he could drag himself outside to have one, and Mello had been too nice to him to piss off.
"Right, of course. I'd have to be stupid to think that you'd go on an overseas flight without your chocolate. That, or suicidal."
Mello cast him a scathing look.
"Right," he said, crossing his arms in front of him and lifting his head off of the fridge. "You're so clever." He absently nibbled on the end of his chocolate, suddenly not all too pleased with it. He wasn't tired, yet all he wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep, whether that sleep struck him or not.
A wan smile crossed his lips before he snorted at Mello's evident sarcasm.
"You don't look too happy," he pointed out, arching a brow at Mello. He was finally cooling down—maybe if they kept a cooler of ice cubes around they'd make it to Japan without his spontaneously combusting.
"Another brilliant deduction," he said condescendingly, shifting in his spot.
It wasn't as though Mello meant to wake up and act like an asshole. It just happened
Matt, though, was used to Mello's attitude and would tolerate it until Mello started picking on him more than he was right then.
"What's wrong?" he pushed, knowing that there were a great many things that could be wrong, but... Mello was obviously upset about something, and Matt wanted to know what it was. He probably couldn't do anything about it, but it would comfort him to know.
"Nothing," Mello said curtly, and left it at that. If Matt wanted to pry, he'd have to try a hell of a lot harder, and even then...well, then Mello would probably just get up and leave.
Matt had known Mello long enough to know when he was being deliberately difficult, and now was one of those times. He looked at Mello long enough to decide that he was going to attempt to get Mello to say even a little something on the matter.
"What? C'mon, won't you let someone give a damn about you?"
"And what will it matter?" Mello snapped. "Once you know what's bothering me, what the hell will you do with that information?"
The blonde positively snarled, releasing his anger and melodrama in that sentence. It had seemed to escalate in but a few minutes, but it was that much sooner that he had cooled down, averting his gaze to avoid starting some kind of fight.
"I don't know," Matt answered honestly, swallowing another tiny remnant of ice cube before looking over to Mello, completely unfazed by his outburst. "Misery loves company."
He watched Mello for a second longer than he ordinarily would have—suddenly reminded of their kiss(es) two nights ago for no particular reason. It seemed foreign to him that Mello could snog him that hard and then drop him in an instant. "Really, Mel'. What's on your mind?"
Mello breathed deeply, but didn't let the breath escape. He instead held onto it protectively, before letting it ghost over the next bit of chocolate that he was bringing to his lips.
"We're going to Japan," he said hollowly. "This trip could make or break me...we could die, or come back with the closest link to Kira besides Kira himself." And despite all of the speeches he had made that denied that they would die, the blonde couldn't help but think that they would fail. It was this conflict that made him so worried. He didn't know what to believe.
Matt, despite his better judgment, abandoned the bag of ice that was gifting him with release from the near unbearable heat and made his way across the tiles to Mello. He just wanted to be closer to the other was all. He wanted to sit like they did at Wammy's on his bed when Mello would tell him how badly he wanted to beat Near and how sometimes, he'd confess, he wasn't sure if he could do it. He wanted to reassure Mello like he always had—just like he always had.
"Don't worry. Worrying just makes trouble you don't need." Those were recited words, but they meant something to him. "It'll turn out however it's supposed to."
"I don't think we're supposed to die," Mello said unconcernedly, as though the prospect of death was just another thing to talk about, another ideal that you brought up in the most casual of conversations.
"Then I think we won't die," Matt answered quietly, confirming with that statement that he had long since placed his complete trust in Mello despite any doubtful comments.
"I think I'm supposed to beat Near."
"Then I think you will."
Matt settled down next to Mello, relishing in the coolness that was still on his skin. He turned to look at his friend, sighing a little. "Seriously. Try not to worry so much. We'll be fine."
Mello hesitated, not always sure what to say to this, though he knew he had heard the same speech a thousand times. He sighed, drawing the chocolate to his mouth just to buy himself a little more time. Finally, though, the thinnest of knowing smiles crossed his face, so slight that it was barely there.
"I believe you."