A/N: Matt/Mello... kind of. Cute, maybe just mildly fluffy. The implications can be there, if you want to see 'em in there. I leave it up to you. ; ) Enjoy the cute happy stuff while you can 'cause this is going to become very dark and angsty in just a few chapters, and the rating will rise for violence.
In any case, I couldn't think of a good 'un-' title, so I finally settled on "Unfaltering" to exemplify Matt's feelings for Mello. And maybe Mello's unvoiced but always-present-trust in his ever-loyal gamer.
Enjoy (and perhaps reviews would be nice...)!
The door to the apartment creaked open slowly as a dark, blonde-haired mass pushed inside, smiling devilishly, face pale and tired but darkly satisfied, and gripping the upper part of his left arm with the other hand, a faint hint of dark red blooming between his gloved fingers and glistening in the fading sunlight streaming in through the open blinds.
The lone occupant of the apartment looked up at the sound of the door opening and felt his fists clench automatically.
After he'd taken his much-needed shower earlier that day, most of the anger and irritation Matt had been clinging to had died away, and his mood had drastically improved, leaving him with a clear head. That is until he'd seen, or at least seen what part was visible of Mello's bloody encounter.
The blonde had gone up against much greater odds, even before the Kira incident, and was in no way incapable of handling the situation. Hell, this was nothing for a trained professional like himself. The enemy had been slow and incompetent, and Mello had been everything but, a yellow and black blur, tearing into the room, and bringing everything to chaos, leaving the room with nothing but the scent of blood, leather, and chocolate.
It was obvious though, now that the mission was over, how much his plan had revolved around stealth as the key element. A stealth that came from the tips of Matt's fingertips as they glided across the keyboard in a pattern known only to him. A stealth--and it was here that his thoughts turned once again to anger--that would not have been there without the boy behind it pulling the strings.
It was extremely likely that without the hacker's assistance, the situation could have easily gone down hill, and though the outcome would have probably been the same, Matt was sure that there was no way the blonde could have come out of it unscathed had that occurred.
And Mello knew this too, and yet, Matt surmised that even if the blonde hadn't been with the technical assistance, he would have gone in anyway, reckless moron that he was.
It was with these thoughts churning bitterly through his head that the fuming boy left his station at the computer to go and meet the object of his infuriation.
He strode to the front door with steel in his eyes, only to find his companion smiling a smile that could only be described as maniacal. It only served to make Matt's blood boil further, and the pissed-off brunette had to physically restrain himself from wiping the smirk off Mello's face with his fist. Instead he chose to exhibit his anger verbally.
"Are you a moron?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the livid strength in his tone was hard to miss.
Without waiting for a reply, he continued on, his voice growing in volume as he went. "Or are you just suicidal, because I swear you might as well be, all things considered. Do you have any idea what could have happened if I had woken up too late to watch your back?!"
He slammed his hand into the wall to emphasize his point, and something in the back of his mind deplored his actions, telling him that he was overreacting. He ignored the voice, almost all rational having fled him by this point.
"What the fck were you thinking?!"
The self-satisfied little smile slowly faded from the blonde's features, eyes narrowing slightly as his pale lips twisted into a snarl.
"What?!" he demanded, voice low but barely containing sudden rage. "Don't you fing tell me off, you little prude!" he spat, slamming the still half-open door shut behind him with a swift kick and pushing into the room, shoving the livid gamer out of the way and into the wall.
"What the hell kind of greeting is that, you ungrateful bastard?" the somewhat disheveled blonde growled, rounding on him, right hand clenching over the shallow wound in his left arm. 'Where the hell is this coming from, you bastard?' he thought in a mixture of anger and a dully hurt sort of shock. And after he was just thinking what a great team he and Matt made and how well everything had gone and still with that full and prideful satisfaction fluttering happily in his chest...
And then he came home ready to celebrate and was greeted with this? This accusing angry stare and heated nonsensical shouts?
What the fck?!
Ever-susceptible to the howling turmoil of emotion that suddenly seized him, the blonde whirled on his friend, fiery blue eyes flashing, angry and confused and hurt.
"Jesus, what's your deal, Matt?" he hissed, grimacing as his left arm throbbed painfully in protest of the sudden surge of angry adrenaline.
Matt glared wildly in disbelieving astonishment at the genuine incomprehension that was apparent just below the surface of the blonde's bubbling anger.
Did he really not remember? Had Mello really not understood the possibly fatal consequences of his decision to allow the gamer to sleep in?
If the obvious bewilderment that Mello was trying so hard to keep locked behind his usual defense mechanism of rage was any indication, he hadn't. Though this conclusion did nothing to quell the hot waves of fury churning and twisting Matt's insides.
The fuming brunette's voice returned once again to low pitches, as he fought the all-consuming anger within himself. A quiet voice in the back of his head demanded to know when his emotions had begun to mirror those of the livid blonde standing in front of him, but he quickly silenced it, sending it to the back of his mind for later speculation.
"The alarm clock…" he finally managed to emit in a low growl through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath meant to be calming before he continued. "If I hadn't woken up on time, you wouldn't have had any back-up, and before your inflated ego tells you that you didn't need the back-up-- because I know you would have gotten the job done with or without my help--think about what it could have cost you." The frustrated gamer managed to barely bite back a remark about the blonde making another life-changing mistake, but was able to stop it at the last minute, even in his chaotic state of mind knowing that it would be going way too far.
After that insightful speech, Matt could feel himself finally coming down from the endorphins pumping through his hot blood, and the red haze that he hadn't really noticed that had been obscuring his vision began to subside, leaving him with clear unobstructed sight.
He maintained his steady gaze, leveling hard emerald with steely blue, until he registered Mello's uneven breathing.
He was confused for a moment, knowing Mello would never allow Matt's words to cause such a reaction, or at least never show it, until his curious eyes found the patch of blossoming red spreading slowly under leather-enclosed fingers. All at once the fading fire in his veins was replaced by ice, and his face paled nearly to the point of translucency.
He could have cared less what he'd been saying only a moment ago, he was instantly at the blonde's side, gently but firmly gripping his seemingly injured arm, and maintaining a strong hold. He knew that after a conversation like that, Mello would probably be less then willing to be in the gamer's presence, let alone be touched by him, but if he was hurt…
Dammit, why hadn't Mello said anything? Though that nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that he hadn't really given the blonde a chance to say anything before he had verbally attacked him the minute he had walked in the door.
He brushed off the sudden nauseating storm of guilt that threatened to overtake him. Guilt could come later, he had a responsibility to Mello now.
"What happened?" he demanded quietly, his throat suddenly constricted for reasons he didn't care to ponder.
Mello had just been preparing an angry retort to the goddam retarded alarm issue which, in his opinion, was the single stupidest thing to come out of the gamer's mouth recently, especially considering Mello wasn't a fcking idiot and would have called to double-check if the stupid stripy moron hadn't checked in with him by noon, and for crying out loud goddammit, that's what cell phones were for and it wasn't like they were living in the Stone Age and Matt was being a pissy little drama queen for no bloody reason...
But the livid tirade he was setting to deliver died in his throat when one second the brunette had been berating him with petty trifles and the next he suddenly had both hands pressed over Mello's own blood-covered one and the blonde couldn't help but stare.
Matt was goddam losing it. The fever had completely addled his brains. That had to be it.
Mello flinched away, practically bristling, and jerked his arm free forcefully, swatting at the hands hovering near his shoulder with his free hand. "Are you fcking bipolar?" he hissed, stalking toward the couch in an attempt to distance himself. Sure, now Matt fcking cared. Big whoop. What was with him?!
"Nothing happened," he snapped, perching on the armrest farthest from the suddenly rather shaken-looking brunette and slowly peeling off his torn jacket with a frown. Dammit, now he needed a new one. Well, at least they had plenty of money now... Making it a point to turn his back to the gamer, Mello sat on the end of the armrest, shoulders hunched over and emitting soft curses as he tossed his gloves to the floor and tentatively began to nurse his wound with a sour expression, head down and tongue flicking out on instinct to taste the hot metallic substance slowly oozing past his fingers from a long but shallow gash just below his left shoulder.
Not surprised in the least at the standoffish reaction, but still concerned despite the blonde's sharp insistence that the wound was nothing, Matt bit down on his bottom lip to keep from voicing his own thoughts aloud:
'Nothing' doesn't bleed.
He was aware though, that at this point, anything else he said would be either ignored, or worse, bring out the aggressive side (like he had another side, the gamer thought dryly) of the blonde, and possibly aggravate the wound further, so he kept his mouth shut.
He stood at a loss, arms dangling limply at his side until an idea came to him and he quietly slipped out of the room.
Making his way to the bathroom, he opened up the painted-white wooden cabinets beneath the sink, the hinges whining loudly. After a few minutes of rummaging around, and finding only body soaps, a few different kinds of cleaner, and some extra towels, he at last located what he'd been looking for, silently thanking Near for having the foresight to put it there, and returned to the living room.
He approached without a word before tapping on Mello's shoulder lightly to notify his friend of his presence, though he was sure the blonde was already aware of him, and held out what he'd brought like a peace offering, keeping the small white rectangular box close enough for the blonde to see what it was, but not close enough for him to snatch it away, as he knew Mello would try.
Though the injury--Matt had deducted from Mello's reaction and the relatively low amount of blood loss--was not great, it was still better for someone with the use of both hands to treat it, and he could only hope his friend could see the sense in that. Although small, it would cause a much bigger problem if the wound were to become infected, and as such it needed to be treated promptly, and with care.
"Let me see?" He inquired softly, the question in his voice indicating to the blonde that he had a choice, and the power in the situation was therefore his. Mello hated to think someone was forcing him to do something, so Matt played his game and pretended it was a mere suggestion in the hopes that the blonde would agree. In any case, if he didn't agree Matt would still be the one to treat the wound, it would just be a hell of a lot more difficult and would probably involve a variety of colorful languages (languages because the blonde knew at least three, and on more then one occasion the gamer had known him to shriek expletives in all of them in one sentence), and possibly some punches thrown. All in all, something he'd like to avoid.
He held out his hand patiently for the blonde's, only hoping Mello would make it easy on both of them and allow the gamer to help him treat the gash.
Cerulean eyes glared down at the proffered hand in resentment and Mello's lips pursed critically as if he was about to make a nasty retort, as usual. But after a few seconds, he merely mumbled something under his breath which sounded faintly like it might have contained the words bipolar, two-sided, ungrateful and it definitely contained bastard.
"Why the fck are you being so uptight?" he growled a little louder. "You were pissed at me for no damn reason and now you're acting like you care so much and all this shit. It's goddam annoying." He reached for the first-aid kit with a grimacing frown, baring his teeth as Matt held it close to his body and out of reach.
Seeing as he suddenly felt very drained and really didn't want to get off the couch to pursue his goal further, Mello just sat there and seethed, blue eyes flaring and still holding an odd sort of offended shimmer. And it had just occurred to him that tomorrow was Matt's goddam birthday, wasn't it? Well, fck. His earlier plans of sparing some of his newfound wealth to reward Matt for his good work with video games for his birthday were quickly going down the drain.
Some tiny nagging voice in the back of his head was attempting to let him know that the gamer was only trying to show he cared and didn't want to let Mello down, but the voice of reason had always had trouble getting through to the easily-upset blonde. If there was one thing he hated more than being told was to do, it was being goddam reprimanded. It really fcking grated.
But maybe Matt was trying to admit he was wrong or something by his sudden and more gentle change in attitude, so Mello tried to consider it. Well, mostly it was because he didn't feel like trying to bandage himself with one hand and his teeth. Except for if Matt did it, he'd probably pour that stinging antiseptic shit on him.
Damn, maybe it wasn't worth it.
Mello met his friend's (for once goggle-less) emerald eyes for a moment, debating.
"Fine!" the blonde snapped finally, turning with a huff to show his shoulder to the brunette. "But you're still a fcking bastard, Matt. Now get me some chocolate before you try to play doctor or I swear I'll shoot your sorry ass right now," he commanded imperially, suddenly pissed off at himself for giving in so easily.
Matt released the small breath of air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding and, with the smallest of relieved smiles, made his way into the kitchen to grab one of the assorted chocolate bars he had procured the night before. He was amused, though not at all surprised, to find a good chunk of them missing, and a few wrappers left here and there on the table and counter tops.
"Look," he began quietly but loud enough to be heard in the other room as he fished through the bag of sweets, searching for the substance more like a drug than anything else to the boy waiting on the couch. "I'm sorry, okay? I overreacted."
Matt, unlike his counterpart, had no issues with admitting to his wrongdoings, at least not when it came to Mello. He couldn't have really if he'd managed to maintain a friendship with the other boy for so long.
Always the one to avoid a fight rather then initiate it, he had no problem with pushing his pride aside, and that was probably why the two could tolerate each other whereas they could not really tolerate anyone else. Even Matt, though generally not as antisocial as the blonde, felt that the two shared a unique compatibility, balancing each other out in an oddly asymmetrical design, something he hadn't found with anyone other then Mello. Where he rarely allowed his pride to get the better of him, the blonde did it enough for the both of them, and where his cocky dismissals might lead to stupid mistakes, Mello's overbearing paranoia when it came to cases kept the brunette from really messing up. They fit together like some strangely shaped puzzle piece, keeping each other sane and alive, with just enough of an edge to avoid being static.
It was why he apologized even knowing that, situations reversed, the gamer never would have gotten an apology in return. The fact was, it was irrelevant what Mello would have done in Matt's place. They were two very different people, and what was right for Matt was most likely entirely wrong for Mello, and vice versa.
He did not however, believe himself entirely in the wrong, overreaction or not, which was why he continued, as he made his way back to the couch, chocolate in hand.
"But, I was hardly upset for no reason. My concern was real and justified." Then he frowned. "And don't insinuate that my concern for you is false," he said, almost inaudibly, his stomach giving a small twinge at the idea. He then coughed slightly as his cheeks reddened. It was much easier for him to speak aloud about his emotions than the blonde, but still…
Searching awkwardly for any means of changing the subject, the brunette dropped the blonde's chocolate into his lap before taking Mello's injured arm and beginning to dab at it with one of the moist towelettes provided by the kit. It was really only to get the majority of the remaining blood off, before he would begin disinfecting it with alcohol.
He took his time with the small wipe, waiting for Mello to be far into his chocolate bar before he began disinfecting. It was just the smarter thing to do.
Mello flinched a little when he felt the cold cloth-like texture on his skin, grimacing again, but he said nothing, merely ripping the chocolate bar open with his teeth and gnawing on the edge in an attempt to calm himself.
Well, at least... At least the stupid stripy bastard had apologized, the blonde thought sourly, licking vigorously at the life-saving, sanity-preserving substance in his right hand. At least that was a start, though he still resented being yelled at like that for no damn reason. Matt was just so obstinate. And always so... protective. There was no other word for it, Mello admitted to himself in almost defeated realization. Whether he wanted it or not, Matt was always ready to leap to his side. Usually it was alright. Sometimes it made him feel like a child, and that was another thing he really resented. Still, it wasn't like he wasn't grateful or anything, though like hell he'd admit it aloud. In the vicious, dog-eat-dog world he had been born into and had gone back to on leaving the orphanage, he had just never gotten used to having somebody actually care if he got shot, even if it was only a tiny graze.
A soft sigh escaped the scarred boy's pale lips as the anger and defensiveness left him, thanks to the chocolate and, in some part--though he would never say it--to the gentle touch on his arm and the intensely focused yet kind expression on Matt's face as he knelt by the couch with the First Aid kit open by his side.
"I... didn't insinuate anything, Matt," he mumbled, recalling the brunette's earlier hurt look. He licked the sweet salvation in his hand absently, shifting a little more toward Matt for comfort.
The brunette said nothing in response to Mello's concession, but rather took advantage of the blonde's sudden change in temperament by choosing that moment to cease cleansing the affected area, and grab a fresh wash cloth from the emergency kit. He knew that if Mello saw that he was switching from just cleaning the wound to disinfecting it, he would begin to whine, and possibly try to escape, and so was glad the blonde was too distracted to notice.
It made it easier on both of them that way, Matt not having to worry if the blonde was going to bolt, and Mello not having to anticipate the sting of the medicine. Anticipating it always made it worse, or at least Matt felt that way.
He let out a small sigh as he went about the task of treating the bullet graze (which he had learned it was from the shape and angle of the gash). The brunette was glad that his angry mood from earlier had left him, not trusting himself to take care of Mello's wound as carefully if he'd still been harboring resentment. It seemed the two friends had come to some sort of silent agreement to end the previous conversation after Matt had pulled a one eighty and changed subjects. Though the conversation's end didn't mean nothing had been gained.
Even if the other boy had brushed off the gamer's words, he was at least aware of what the situation could have been, and why Matt had been so angry with him, and regardless of whether he believed Matt's grim possible outcome or not, the blonde would be sure not to make the same kind of mistake again. If nothing more, simply for the sake of avoiding the kind of argument that they had just had. At least Matt hoped. He didn't think Mello would repeat his actions knowing they would only lead to a fight. Mello wasn't the type to try to start a fight.
Taking a minute to access his last thought, he couldn't help but almost laugh aloud, the idea of a rational and reasonable blonde, bounty hunting, gun-toting, and chocolate obsessed ex-mafia boss almost too much for him to take.
Amend that thought, Mello wasn't the type to try to start a fight with MATT.
There, now that sounded better. Mostly.
Glad Mello was facing the other way at the moment, partially because of his expression that must have been a rather odd combination of concentration and suppressed laughter, and also because of what he was about to do, he braced himself for the string of expletives sure to leave the blonde's mouth, and swiftlyin order to get it done with as soon as possiblepressed the disinfectant-soaked washcloth to the open wound, and quickly began to clean.
"HOLY FCK!" the blonde yelped loudly, dropping his chocolate as he jolted with a hissing gasp at the sudden wave of stinging pain that hit his entire arm. FCK! That hurt more than the original goddam wound had! What the fck was Matt doing?! When had the unfeeling bastard even gotten the devil-spawned substance and why hadn't he noticed in time to flee? Mello wondered woefully.
He tried to jerk away, only to discover to his infuriated shock that the brunette bastard was holding his arm securely, having apparently foreseen Mello's imminent escape.
Damn him. Damn him and the fcking bastard who had invented this shit in the first place. Who would willingly goddam create a substance that hurt more than getting shot?!
Shit, did it fcking sting.
"Goddamit Matt, do you fcking HAVE to do that?!" he snarled. "You're probably making it worse, you bastard!" He squirmed violently, but unfortunately only succeeded in falling from his precarious perch on the side of the couch and practically into Matt's lap, which elicited a very loud and very incensed string of colorful curses in several languages.
Rolling his eyes at the blonde's failed attempt at escape, Matt's firm hold on Mello's arm kept him from sprinting, and at the same time allowed him to haul the boy up and out of his lap.
He gave Mello an amused smirk as he placed him back on top of his respective spot on the couch.
"Really, Mello, giving me a blow job is not going to distract me from disinfecting your wound. Now, if you were a nineteen year old, cute and busty party girl looking for a good time, it might work." He frowned. "Then again, I don't know why I'd be disinfecting a bullet wound on an awesome girl like that." He shook his head, obviously not caring to pursue that train of thought, and began working on the wound once again, ignoring Mello's whiney protests.
"Oh come on, it isn't that bad, and besides, the less you squirm the easier and quicker it will be over with. Now stop moving, and shut up."
Despite what it may have seemed to anyone who had witnessed their strange relationship, Mello did not have all of the control all of the time. While Matt was usually alright with being the one to concede, when it came down to something that was for the blonde's own good, he put his foot down. This was one of those times.
That and Mello's whining really grated on his nerves.
Mello's blue eyes, which had widened to twice their size in a cross between embarrassed shock and seething anger at Matt's earlier comment, now narrowed at being scolded and told to shut up. "Don't tell me what to do, you perverted bastard," he snapped, glaring into the amber lenses of the goggles on the top of Matt's head as the brunette leaned over the wound.
His eyes fell forlornly to the half-eaten Hershey's bar he had dropped on the floor when the sudden sting of the antiseptic had ambushed his senses.
"Shit, Matt, you made me drop my chocolate," he growled, suddenly jerking the goggles off the brunette's head and chucking them across the room with a malicious snarl. "Bastard."
He only wished it had been the Gameboy. That would certainly serve the sadistic jerk right.
Matt stared open-mouthed at the display of childish behavior. When Mello had complained about his dropped chocolate, the gamer had briefly considered getting up to get him a new one if only to placate him, but then the blonde had gone and thrown his goggles across the room and onto the floor.
Matt glared, seething at the only part of Mello visible to him, his arm, and continued his work, adding possibly a bit more antiseptic than necessary. It wasn't as though the blonde didn't deserve it.
Like hell he was going to get the stupid brat another chocolate bar now.
There were very few things that Matt was protective of. Number one being Mello of course, and number two, his goggles, followed by his DS, and all other electronics in his possession.
He clearly remembered the day he had first received his goggles from an older brother that he had known, it seemed centuries ago. He remembered the laughter in his brother's eyes, and the way his father had ruffled his hair. He remembered the scent of his mother's perfume as she assaulted him with hugs, and the way he squirmed to get away, claiming he was, "too old for stuff like that now." It had been before Mello, before Kira, and before Wammy's.
However pleasant it may be though, it was not a memory he wished to delve into; it was connected with too many unpleasant ones, and he was pretty sure he'd not come to terms with all of it yet. Chances were he never would, and he was perfectly fine with that.
After all, the boy who had made those memories was dead now, having died the day he set foot into Wammy's Orphanage for the Gifted. But those goggles were the only remaining physical reminder of the boy Mail Jeevas, and the only proof of existence that said boy had really ever lived.
It was natural that he be somewhat annoyed with Mello for tossing them on the floor, though his annoyance was mild, knowing that the blonde was ignorant of the sentimentality attached to the orange-tinted goggles.
Matt had never bothered to share with anyone about their meaning, just as the brunette was pretty sure the other boy had never shared whatever the significance of his rosary might be.
And Matt would have been pretty idiotic to assume it just a fashion statement.
He finished treating the wound and pushed away from the blonde with more effort than was probably necessary, then knelt to retrieve the fallen lenses. He cleaned them quickly with a puff of hot breath and the hem of his sleeve before he grabbed a jacket and headed to the door.
"I'm gonna have a smoke, be out here if you need me."
And with that, Matt stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Blue eyes stared at the closed door for a few seconds in slight perplexity before Mello allowed himself to fall back on the cushions with a thump, his legs still dangling off the side of the couch armrest. He stared at the ceiling, right hand slowly creeping over to his upper left arm, fingers brushing the clean new bandages where he had felt blood before.
"Shit, Matt," he muttered at the Stucco on the apartment ceiling. "You know lung cancer will do you in one day if you keep doing that..."
But there wasn't really any heart in the statement.
Mello was quite aware he was an easily-upset bastard sometimes, but he also knew that Matt usually didn't care, or had gotten used to it. Yet even though nobody would ever dream of considering the blonde to be a sympathetic person in touch with anyone else's emotions, the one person he really could tell when something was wrong with was Matt.
Matt who had suddenly fallen quiet and left the room with a sudden nicotine craving.
The ceiling didn't respond to the blue-eyed glare directed at it. Well, damn, what had he done this time? Matt almost never got touchy or defensive. Unlike the blonde--and Mello knew both himself and Matt pretty well--he was generally a passive sort of guy who didn't let things get to him.
Sure, he got angry. He also had an annoying knack for making a hobby out of trying to push Mello to anger (not a difficult feat) if he was bored. But Matt wasn't the type to look so damn... sentimental. Like he was dwelling on an old wound that still hurt.
That kind of look on Matt's face was unnerving.
Mello sighed, lifting an arm to garb onto the other edge of the couch and drag his body toward it in order to get his legs in too.
Must've been the goggles, he reflected uncomfortably. To make Matt look like that, even if he had tried to hide it. Must've been something important.
The blonde stuck a hand out, groping around the coffee table in hopes of locating a new bar of chocolate. He found an empty bag of chips, Matt's DS, and some wires. No luck with the chocolate. Damn. Well, at least his arm didn't hurt anymore. Matt must've remembered to put some pain reliever on it, probably. Mello hadn't really noticed. He'd been too busy nursing his pride.
Withdrawing the arm, he put it over his face, closing his eyes. After a few seconds of idle deliberation, the blonde decided he didn't feel like getting up now, even for chocolate. Instead, he pulled the silver cross dangling down the side of his chest into his mouth, pressing the cool metal to his lips. It felt strangely... calming. He sucked on it reflectively for a while, recalling with some satisfaction that despite recent drawbacks, the day had been an overall success. And tomorrow...
Well, he hadn't forgotten.
However annoying the jerk was at times, he was still Mello's best friend and birthdays came but once a year. Maybe Matt deserved something nice after all. He really had been a big help earlier, Mello admitted to himself. Actually, he had been a big help just now, he added grudgingly, knowing full well he was no good at treating wounds effectively.
"...be out here if you need me."
It was those last four words which had assured Mello that Matt wasn't angry with him anymore. In a way, it was good to know, even though he still insisted that the gamer's anger had been ridiculous. In any case, Mello conceded to himself that he wasn't angry with Matt anymore either.
Another soft sigh escaped his lips and he let the silver cross drop back onto his chest. He was just so tired all of a sudden. Really, it didn't make sense. It hadn't been that big a case. Still, traveling and researching and planning and then having to deal with stupid Matt getting himself sick really was taking its toll after all.
Mello vaguely thought he should take a shower, but the thought was lost in the feeling of his own breathing getting slower and steadier and he realized he was more exhausted than he had thought.
Tucking his long legs closer to his body for warmth, the blonde boy finally let much-needed sleep take hold of him without reserve, fully certain of the fact that if anything ever happened, his back was always well-watched.
— — —
Matt took a long drag of his cigarette, watching as the puff of smoke he emitted curled around itself, and mingled with his breath in the cold night air. The silky feeling of the nicotine entering his blood soothed his wired nerves, bringing a serene kind of calm to his senses, and helping him to recover from what had been another very long day.
He seemed to be having a lot of those lately.
He hadn't actually been all that busy, but it seemed like he'd been bombarded with more forgotten memories and emotional stress in the last three days than he'd had to think about in years. Mello's accident, L's death, and his own family were only a few of the buried memories that had come to mind lately, not to mention all of the worrying he'd been doing.
What with both of them working currently with Near, he also couldn't help but fall back in time to remember their Wammy's days.
God, he missed Wammy's, when the only thing he had had to worry about was what usually failed plan his blonde counterpart was going to drag him into at some obsessive attempt to better Near. Chuckling at the memory, he couldn't help but yearn for such stupid simplicity.
When the worst that could happen was that they would be caught by Roger in the middle of one of their rule-breaking plans, and then be forced to clean up classrooms for a week. God, he remembered suddenly, they would always give the most moronic excuses to get out of their punishment, and he remembered with a laugh that half of the time the excuses would actually work. Not because they were logical in any way at all. Oh, no. They would work because even half-assed excuses sounded flawlessly true with perfect little Linda there to back them up. Even Roger couldn't say no to that angelic face.
This time Matt actually had to remove his cigarette to stifle his laughter with one glove-covered hand.
He hadn't thought about Linda in ages. He'd always been slightly friends with the blonde-haired blue-eyed artistic genius. She'd always enjoyed breaking the preconceived notions that everyone had about her in order to occasionally join in on their insane schemes, though more often then not she was only there to provide back up. Damn, was it enough. He was sure he'd never met someone who could lie as well as her. She'd just blink those baby blue eyes and stare, and no one could ever question her motives.
Now that he thought about it though, she usually only showed up at the end of the schemes, just in time to see Near's reaction or lack thereof at whatever they'd tried to do to him. She really only ever laughed when they were able to get some kind of reaction out of him, and looking back on it, he realized she had probably had some kind of crush or motherly attachment to the white-haired boy that had made her want to see him show some kind of emotion.
Sometimes it was just painful to glance at the emptiness in his eyes.
Matt shook his head, not wanting his thoughts to drift to the white-haired prodigy. He had enough problems with one prodigy, he didn't need to kill himself worrying over another.
He did wonder though what had ever happened to Linda. She'd been lucky enough to stay out of the Kira case as far as he knew, though he was curious to how she was doing. He'd have to make a note to look her up sometime.
He shuddered as a small breeze descended upon him, and hugged his jacket closer to his body.
It was getting late and he'd had enough reminiscing for one night.
He entered the apartment, shaking off the cold and the bits of ancient history still clinging to his thin frame.
"Mel?" he called out softly, wondering where the blonde had gone off to. He placed his goggles carefully on the table, and casually tossed his jacket onto the couch.
The soft grumble that came from the couch startled him a bit, and he was half amused and half annoyed to find the blonde curled into a tight ball, asleep.
"Geez, Mello," he chortled to himself, "Can't you ever make it to the bed?"
Damn, he knew he'd have hell if Mello woke up on the couch for the second night in a row. Sighing, he removed the jacket that had landed on the blonde when he'd thrown it, and--careful not to wake him (he really didn't want to be shot, and he had a feeling Mello wouldn't be quite as adept at treating bullet wounds as himself)--picked the blonde up.
Grumbling about dumb blondes who couldn't drag their lazy asses to the bedroom, he fumbled with the bedroom door, eventually using his foot to kick the door the rest of the way open.
He couldn't help but notice, but Mello wasn't all that heavy, a great feat considering the amount of chocolate he consumed daily. Still, this was just way too much of an inconvenience for him to ever let happen again. Not to mention a hazard to his health (if Mello woke up, anyway).
Seriously though, he thought as he carefully set his friend down on the bed and rummaged through the drawers to find his sweats and change for the night, the next time the stupid moron fell asleep on the couch, he'd have to drag his own sorry ass to the bed.
Sighing one last time for the night, Matt flicked the lights off and collapsed into the welcoming comfort of the blankets, a mumbled "night, Mello" the last thing that left his lips before the inky blackness of sleep overcame him.