Today had been the best, most embarrassing day of your life. You kept the pictures the two of you had taken in separate picture frames on your side table. There were five in total. The first with his arms around you, the second with him holding you bridal style, the third with you giving him a surprise kiss on the cheek, the fourth with the two of you hugging, and the fifth with him lighting a cigarette.

Matt had thought you would only get four pictures, and with his nicotine addiction just as bad as your shower fetish, he had lit one right away. You liked that one best. You were staring up at him surprised and slightly disgusted, confused at why he had chosen that as a wedding pose.

Matt had had the same reaction when the camera flashed. The man taking the pictures laughed. He couldn't help but take one of him smoking, and had offered a sixth picture. You didn't accept, although Matt wanted another one.

"I want all the memories I can get of you in a wedding dress standing next to me in a tux," Matt had told you. You remembered blushing and sweating a little, but you stopped when he added, "It was the only time you've ever even looked relatively attractive next to me."

Through the whole thing, all five pictures, you had been blushing. It was caught on camera. That means you must have been sweating at least a little bit. You bit your lip in confusion. Why didn't it bother you?

It was dinner time now. You were eating in your room, laying comfortably on your stomach looking at the five pictures. In front of you on a plate was something black and burned that had once been something like tofu. You laughed to yourself as you wondered who had cooked it.

Matt knocked on the door of your room and let himself in before you could tell him whether or not he was welcome.

"I could have been dressing!" you argued.

Matt rolled his eyes. "You only get dressed after a shower," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "which you haven't taken in six hours. Congratulations! You're not overly obsessed with cleanliness anymore."

"I doubt a day at the amusement park cured me," you laughed.

Matt shrugged and sat next to you. He was looking at the pictures, too. He leaned over you and grabbed the third one.

"I want to keep this one," he told you.

"Ok." You didn't really want to ask him why.

Matt looked at the picture and rubbed the glass. "Do you remember what I told you today?"

"The crack about the wedding dress?" you asked, your voice annoyed.

"Yeah. I didn't mean that last..." his voice trailed off. He puckered his lips and stared at the picture.

"You didn't mean that last part?" you finished, feeling slightly egotistic.

"I- never mind. Forget I said anything." He stood up and sighed. "I'm taking this picture. It's the only one where it wasn't me making the pose, so I like it."

"Wait!" you called as he reached the door. "What did mean just now? Never mind what?" He gave you a look. "Oh, just tell me!" you pleaded.

He stood a moment and then said, "I thought it sounded mushy alone, so I made a joke. So what?" But before you could say anything, he left.

--

"Mello, buddy," you called when you had finished your tar-black-probably-tofu dinner.

"What?" he asked you.

You grabbed him and pulled him into your dark room. You pushed him onto your bed and stood with your knees against his and your arms crossed.

You could sense his eyes widen. "Oh, Hail, look.. I just see you as a friend. Not that I wouldn't do you, seriously, but I can't get it up for Matt's girl-"

"Matt's girl? What? Ugh! Shut up, Mello! That's not what I'm looking for!" You rolled your eyes in disgust and whispered, "men!"

"Oh. What do you need then?"

"How does Matt feel about me?"

"Damn it, Hail. You on your period? Why're you asking me about feelings?" Mello tried to get up, but you pushed him back down on your bed.

You tapped your foot. "Tell me."

"No!" He stood up, measuring about three inches taller than you.

You grabbed his neck, your long nails digging into his skin. "Tell. Me."

"You are on your period, aren't you?" Mello slapped your hand away. "Crazy bitch!"

Your eyes widened, but you couldn't help but laugh at his bewildered tone. "Please, Mello?"

Mello sighed and gave in. "You should know him well enough that when he not only tries to screw you, but also makes you dress up like his bride-" he nodded toward the pictures "and takes the one you kiss him in, he's not playin' you."

There was a knock and then the door opened, letting the light in, along with Matt.

"Thank God we're vertical," Mello muttered. You giggled in response. Matt smiled and rubbed his neck then nodded toward Mello, who had four, small finger-shaped bruises and one cut where your longest nail had dug in.

Mello looked in the mirror. "Damn it, Hail! Damn you and your menstrual tempers! Don't expect me to cook for you again!"

You laughed. "You called that cooking? It was more like grabbing a handful of coal, putting it on a plate, and calling it tofu."

Mello's mouth dropped. "It. Was. Chicken." He stomped out dramatically, his boots banging into the ground, making the walls shake.

Matt closed the door. "If he was anime, I bet he'd have a big red vein on the back of his head."

You giggled at his joke. "He's only mad because Near can cook."

The two of you laughed for a long time.

"Hey, Hail?"

"Mm?"

"I was wondering if you'd do something for me." Matt's eyes looked down, as if he were too afraid to ask.

"Anything," you insured.

He looked up at you. "Absolutely anything?"

You cocked an eyebrow, but didn't pause. "Absolutely."

Matt smiled. "Good."

When he didn't say anything else, you asked, "What do you want me to do?"

Matt took a deep breath. "Marry me."