No, I'm not actually dead... Ok. So I haven't updated in ages. Feels like ages, anyway... Heh. So yeah, the next chapter! Yay! Thanks to the wonderful reviewers, and I apologise again for taking ages. So, here's my excuse; I've been sort of busy, and I've been feeling horribly uninspired, so it's lucky I even managed to write this chapter.. So, I hope you enjoy!

Mello crashed down onto the battered, worn out couch, half expecting it to collapse underneath him. When it didn't, and when he was suitably satisfied that it wasn't going to – which he tested by numerous hesitant jumping attacks – he went to fetch himself some chocolate, then slouched back
across it.

He was halfway through his second bar, when his sharp ears picked up footsteps. It far too late – or early, however you wanted to look at it – for any of the residents of the crappy little apartment block to be mobile, and the blond was automatically on edge, pulling his gun from his trousers swiftly as he repositioned himself, all his muscles tensing as he heard a key in the lock of his apartment.

Outside, Matt continued trying to open the door, without even thinking to check if it was open already from a previous – supposedly dead – 'visitor'. After several minutes, he finally gave up, giving the door a kick as his revenge, his eyes widening as it swung open. Tentatively, he stepped inside, and the next few steps would be full of suprises for him, he quickly discovered.

He turned to shut the door, and as he did so, something very solid and about an inch taller than him slammed him against the door, with another very cold object shoved against his head. Matt raised his hands slowly above his head. After escaping a near-death situation, he was now going to be killed in his own apartment. Oh, the irony! He silently damned the sarcastic part of his brain – mostly picked up
from a certain gun-wielding blond – to hell, if he ever got out of this. Stupid, manic, house jackers!

There was a very long pause, while Matt expected to be shot, or at the very least, threatened for money, or something similar, and while Mello stared at the red-headed figure he was currently holding a gun to. Somehow, the neatly frayed jeans, odd furry jacket, and messy, dark crimson hair hiding a strap to the goggles that were worn around his neck were very familiar…

"Matt?" The voice startled the younger or the two, who recognized it very easily, but refused to believe it. Party because this guy was dead. Very dead. Wasn't he?

Slowly, the blond boy released his partner from his death-grip, letting him turn around, one hand threading through his hair nervously, messing it up further.

After a few moments of shocked staring, the red-head nodded. "Mello? Are you a ghost or something?"

An even longer silence followed, where the usually bad-tempered blond considered smacking the unfortunate gamer. "No," he finally sighed, an exasperated look on his face. "I'm not a fucking ghost, you retard," he added, his tone rude. Most of it was for show though; he was actually relieved. Incredibly so. He'd thought he would spend days, maybe weeks trawling the city to find his friend, and now he had simply been restored to him. Heh, sounds like I'm talking about a piece of property, Mello thought to himself, shaking his head.

Matt continued to stare as if it were some sort of miracle. "But, there was the fire.." he mumbled, cursing his stupidity. Mello had escaped? And he hadn't thought of this earlier? Too much to think about for a guy, he eventually decided, before throwing his arms around the half-irritated, half-amused blond in a haphazard hug.

"Alright, alright! Get the hell of me, would ya?" Matt grinned as he disentangled himself quickly, before making his way over to his couch and flopping down onto it, massaging his chest slightly. What with walking, no smoke, and violent impact, he wasn't in the greatest shape.

Mello rolled his eyes, dropping down beside Matt. "So-" he began, but Matt cut him off, by way of waving a hand in front of his face. "Get me my smokes."

For once, Matt's words were simply an order, as opposed to his usual soft, politely hopeful questions. It was more out of surprise that Mello found himself on his feet and heading to Matt's room to collect said item than anything else. Usually he would've laughed and told him to 'get them yourself, you lazy fuck'. Ah, how the times had changed.

Returning to the room, he tossed the packet at Matt, who caught it without looking up and grabbed the lighter of the decrepit coffee table, holding one of the cancerous sticks to his mouth and lighting it, taking a long drag, before puffing it out into a hazy cloud that hovered over his head for a few seconds before dispersing.

The two boys sat in their apartment, exchanging stories of their little adventures, and either eating – chocolate, if course – or smoking.

"So, you're glad I'm a paranoid idiot now, eh?" Mello joked, while his red headed friend nodded fervently.

"Yeah! Bloody saved my life," he replied, in possibly a too-cheerful voice, sighing happily. "I seriously thought you were dead though! You could've called or something.." he added, pouting in his cute, small-child way. Or possibly like a puppy. Something small and innocent, anyway.

A lot of the time, his expressions were much more innocent than they should be; his facial muscles seemed to still think he was a six year old. For someone of his experience to suddenly grin like a kid on Christmas Day was weird. Once or twice, people could understand. But it always happened. He had a permanently, ridiculously childish face.

Unless he was being quiet, or deep in thought, or sad. He still looked too young, but older than he usually looked. Some of his experience and age actually showed on his face.

Mello was different. He did look mature, and not just because of his badass scar. Even while they had been younger, at Wammy's, Mello still looked more mature. He and Matt could've been described as polar opposites.

And yet, there they were, laughing and joking, obviously on the same wavelength. The gamer and the… Well, frankly – in Matt's eyes at least – the most gorgeous guy ever. Not that he'd admit that to anyone. Not a chance. But still.

Not so much a cliffie, but maybe? A little? No? Oh well. Was it a good chapter? I hope so, I was going to write this one longer, but I found it slightly difficult. Anyway, reviews? I love them, and it takes me ages to write without enough incentive :3 Heh, so yeah, hopefully I'll be back with a new chapter soon, yeah? Cool.