IX. Misery's Company
Matt came back several hours later, apparently exhausted and lugging a couple of bags into the room. The blonde glanced up at him from his readied space at the motel provided desk, having dragged out one of the redhead's many laptops and working feverishly on it.
"Couldn't have asked, could you?" the younger one commented, tossing a heavy paper bag onto the single bed before dropping himself on it as well. The rest of the bags that he had brought in were abandoned on the floor, obviously not important enough to be handled with the rest. This, of course, was because the selected bag was Mello's, and therefore merited special attention. Not to mention that there were guns in it. They weren't loaded, of course, but just the thought of having guns in such close proximity was disconcerting.
"You weren't here, so I used your laptop," Mello quipped apathetically. "Don't complain."
"Right, right. I just thought you were a little more courteous than that. Silly me."
The blonde murmured something that may have been 'asshole', but Matt didn't bother to be sure. He laid back, dropping his head against the bedspread with a muffled sigh of content, then rolled over on his side to prop himself up on his palm. Finding this to be a chore, he retrieved a handheld again from his pocket, inwardly lamenting the fact that he hadn't brought a better console. Oh, well. If all went the way Mello intended it to, they'd be back in America in due time, and thus back where Matt could get some good gaming in.
"Did you get what I asked you to?" he asked, his voice clearly hinting something. This made the gamer laugh, and in spite of Mello, he took both handguns simultaneously from the bag and waved them around carelessly. It was easy to play around with them knowing that without bullets, they were just sculpted hunks of metal.
"Right here, boss," he said, lips turning upward into the semblance of a smirk.
Mello, however, was in no mood to jest. "Put those away, dumbass. I was just asking a question."
"Oh right." He sheepishly stowed the weapons back into the bag and then proceeded to put the bag under the bed. Mello surveyed the place where they had once laid with a conflicted eye, and then stood.
"We'll have to find somewhere to put those without having the cleaners poking through."
Matt silently agreed, instinctively looking around for an inconspicuous place to put the guns; none immediate appeared to him, but he knew that he would eventually find someplace. If not today, then first thing tomorrow morning. Still, they didn't have long. It was assumed that Mello would want to move immediately tomorrow, though Matt was sure that he could convince him to prolong the kidnapping to sometime later in the evening.
"Alright," he said, finally voicing his assent. "So what are we doing today?"
Mello didn't answer at first, contemplating something before going over to the bed.
"You mean tonight. In case you haven't noticed, it's ten o' clock."
"I thought the almighty Mello wasn't bound by the strictures of time."
"That's what you get for thinking, ass. I'm going to sleep. I have a lot of things to do tomorrow."
He spoke as if Matt had no clue what he planned to do tomorrow, though maybe he was right; the redhead had, after all, tried to block out the scenario with one of his own devise, trying to alleviate his variant mind by convincing himself that what he was doing was something other than kidnapping the woman he loved in favour of Mello…
And he had no idea what he felt about Mello anymore.
Somehow, it went past loyalty and friendship, and whatever else he had convinced his relationship with the other entailed. He had given up self-delusion long ago.
Mello, on the other hand, was only confused by Matt's decisions so far, about Takada and everything else. He felt as though all these conflictions were needless, especially in the face of what they were about to do. He'd have to pick a side and stick with it, or else his life would be a hell of a lot more difficult.
Banishing these unsettling thoughts to slide onto the bed, not bothering with the dressings, he draped the back of his hand against his forehead to produce some coolness against it with the leather of his gloves, and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again, staring confusedly at Matt, who had lain down as well.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, rolling up to support his slim frame with one propped up arm.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Matt asked loftily, making himself comfortable and tugging his goggles off. He was tired too, after all, and there was no way he was going to be condemned to the floor. Unfortunately, by the look on Mello's face, it appeared as though he had no choice in the matter.
"I'm not letting you sleep with me."
"Then sleep on the floor, or on that chair."
"Hell no."
"Then you can stand me sleeping here for a little while." The younger male rolled over pointedly, as though closing the matter.
But Mello wasn't done yet.
He sat up completely, eyeing the other with obvious contempt. Leaning over in one sweeping movement, he heaved the redhead off of the bed, who yelped and scrambled to stay atop of it, but instead ended up flat on his back, growling as he sat up.
"Real nice, Mel'," he moaned, but wasn't giving up just yet. That would only be giving the obstinate blonde what he wanted, and instituting his authority over Matt even further. He didn't mind doing what the other said and following him unquestioningly, but when Mello governed his life, well, that's when he had to step in.
And when Matt actually got up off of his lazy ass to do something, things got serious.
So, the gamer stood, contemplating his reaction. He had no doubt that if he tried to climb back onto the bed, he'd just earn being pushed off again, or worse. And at the rate that his collarbone was healing, he'd hate to have it fractured or sprained again.
An idea struck him in the form of a sly grin, which spread across his face as he neared the bed again, crawling on it and enacting his idea before Mello had the chance to turn and shove him off again. Matt pounced on the other, wrapping his arms around his waist, where there was less of a vantage point to break his arms, and buried his head into his lower back. The blonde stiffened, and with a curse that sounded suspiciously like 'crazy faggot', he began to thrash. Matt was surprisingly strong, or at least strong enough to last until Mello ceased his furious struggling.
"You're a son of a bitch," he stated cruelly.
"So I've been told."
Mello shifted once more, the idea of his companion curled around him while he sat passively quite unfamiliar to him. He, to be quite frank, hated this submissiveness.
"Alright, fine. You can sleep on the bed. Now will you let go?"
Matt thought about it. "No, I think I'll sit like this for a little while. You know, to teach you a lesson."
This was complete bullshit, of course.
Mello muttered something else, but it was unheard and unnecessary. Because, if Matt really did say so himself, he was quite comfortable; maybe he'd end up sleeping like this. No, probably not. The irate elder probably wouldn't let him. This was unfair, he reasoned to himself. Couldn't he humour the redhead for once in his life before he was about to march into certain death to kidnap the woman he loved?
What he didn't expect to happen, however, was that only moments later, the leather-clad male fell asleep. Matt knew this only because he attempted to roll over on his back, on top of Matt, who bewilderedly detached himself from Mello and scooted to his side. Alright, he'd had his fun. He could let the other have his precious sleep before their next to impossible task the following day, which was still rather daunting to the both of them.
He watched the ceiling for awhile, a scene unfolding on the creased white paint:
Takada was aiming a gun at Mello, who was in turn aiming a gun back. They were locked in that position for so long that Matt could have sworn they were statues, beautifully and artfully carven. Finally, though, he himself entered the picture. The two frozen figures didn't budge an inch. The redhead tried to incite some sort of reaction from either of them, but none appeased him; he soon gave up, turning only a fraction of an inch. But in that time, a gunshot rang out, causing him to turn violently and catch sight of Mello doubled over on the ground, Mello bleeding profusely, Mello staring up with crystalline eyes, sadistic orbs.
"Son of a bitch," he called, his voice sounding strange, mocking the way he had said it earlier. "You chose her over me, didn't you? You bastard. You asshole. Go to hell."
This last note was strangled as the Mello ghost gagged crimson and slumped over, the weakness of death something that Matt had never before experienced in his friend. He just didn't seem to share the same mortal traits. And yet, here he was, cold and lifeless by the bullet of Takada Kiyomi, though she was no where in sight.
No, he decided.
He didn't choose her over Mello.
Her love was a folly, and the blonde had been right.
Tomorrow he would help Mello, and they would damn well beat the fucking pants off of Near. Screw Kira, screw death.
Matt hadn't realized that he had been dreaming, though his dream had been vivid. He couldn't shake it from his mind, and yet Mello looked so damn peaceful, as though he hadn't been dreaming at all. Eventually, the leather-clad one stirred and sat up, bewildered to find someone else in his bed. It took him a moment to register Matt's face, but when he did, he rolled his eyes and slid onto his feet, looking around to him.
"We don't have long to get prepared," he told the other, rummaging around for another bar of chocolate as a pre-breakfast treat. "Do you want me to go over the plan again?"
"I think I've got it," sighed Matt, standing as well, stretching, and pulling on his goggles, his vest, and taking out a cigarette for good measure. Mello opened his mouth to protest, but it was met with a:
"Just lemme smoke one, for chrissake."
Mello murmured his disapproval silently for quite while, finally slipping into his jacket and tossing himself into the desk chair and tapping away pointlessly at the laptop that was left there.
They could both be assured that it would be a long and strenuous wait for the evening.