A/N: Sorry for making you wait so long… so here it is. Um… I really don't have much to say except that I'll be trying to update sooner. I know this may not be written very well… but… stay with me…? Please…?
Warnings: shonen-ai, yaoi, swearing, and the next part in italics is kinda' dark and if you don't like that kind of stuff, I suggest you don't read it. :
I tense up in the corner like I had been doing for the past four years when the door clicks open.
"Hey Mail… how's my favorite little boy..? Eh?" It says as it kneels next to me in the corner.
I look up in distress at the 32-year old man that caresses my cheek. I shutter and squirm away from his hand.
"Please… don't do this…" I whisper desperately
He ignores me and slides between my legs. His cold fingers are already at the waist band of my tattered jeans. He easily slides the denim pants down my hips; they're twice my size.
"S-stop…!" I whine as my thighs are exposed to the cold air of the room. He crawls aside for a moment to fully pull off my pants and remove his own.
He gets between my legs again and pushes his hard member against me. I cringe.
He starts on my boxers; I try to get as close to the wall as possible to avoid his rough touches.
That was a mistake.
He hastily removes mine and his offending garments and pushes me firmly against the wall.
"No… please no, stop…" I groan. He ignores me and grinds his hips against me, letting out a sound of satisfaction.
He pulls his white shirt over his head; revealing pale skin and a muscular body.
He reaches toward me and pins my waist awkwardly to the wall. Cold, rough fingers reach up my shirt; grabbing, groping, and pinching before he finally removes the cotton barrier.
He stares hungrily at my pale body, and I move my arms to cover myself, but he takes my wrists and pins them behind me.
"I've got something new that will help me…" He says. He turns around a pulls something from his pants pocket.
He holds out a coil of rope with a vicious smirk on his face. He starts to tie my wrists together.
"No!" I scream. I shove him off me with all the strength I have.
"This doesn't happen to anyone else…! I-I know this isn't right! I hate this, I hate it all! I hate everything and everyone because of them and you! I hate it! Wh-why can't you just kill me?! Just… just go away!"
I stop yelling and look at him in horror. His face is twisted into the most sadistic and sick smirk.
"Mail, Mail, Mail…" He starts. His voice has an edge sharp enough to cut me in half. He inches closer to me, "No one else has to do this because their parents aren't crack heads!" He screams and slams my head against the wall.
I let out a small whimper and he pulls my face back to his by pulling on my hair.
"This is how your pathetic parents pay me for their crack, and I'm not about to be ripped off by a little twelve-year old brat!" It yells, shoving my face against a wall.
My nose is bleeding and I can taste blood from where I must have bitten my lip. I feel warm, sticky liquid dripping down my face from my forehead. The ends of my hair stick to my skin, the blood the glue.
He turned me around; my face on the floor now and I'm lying on my stomach.
I feel the bite of rope against my wrists as he roughly ties them.
I bite my bleeding lip and don't say anything as he pushes into me roughly. I whimper and barely choke down my urge to scream.
I can vaguely hear him moaning and grunting, buy my mind is buzzing from the burning, white-hot pain; I can hardly hear my own thoughts.
I feel him release inside me; a gross, sticky feeling between my legs.
Bile burns the back of my throat as he starts pulling his clothes back on and whispers huskily into my ear, "good little Mail…"
My left cheek is on the hard floor and I watch the blood from my forehead drip onto my red hair. He walks out, the door squeaking as it shuts, his footsteps disappearing, and I puke up blood before my eyes slide shut; my wrists still tied tightly with the burning rope.
Matt woke up with a start, the white hotel sheets stuck uncomfortably to him thanks to the sheen of cold sweat all over his body.
He heard the faint sound of weather sirens wailing in the distance and the redhead got up and looked out the window at the dreary sight. Rain and hail pelted the busy street several stories beneath him.
Matt checked his wrists for rope, just to make sure. He sat back down on the bed… no rope.
The gamer sighed and pushed back his sweaty, red bangs. That dream had been so real… almost exactly like that day so long, yet not so long ago. The day before he ran away from home, the day that three weeks later exactly he was found by Wammy and taken to the orphanage that would change his life forever.
Perhaps that was the reason he started fighting crime in the first place; from his life with his parents that were stoned all the time, to life on the streets as a twelve year old. In his short lifetime he'd endured more than someone should have by the time they died.
But he wasn't complaining.
Matt got up and filled a glass of tap water from the small kitchen in his room. The hotel wasn't the best, but he didn't want anything big where he could be found.
He had paid for the room with another one of his identities, just to be on the safe side, and had collapsed into unrelenting sobs when he walked into his room. By late night he had somehow managed to get over to his bed… he ended up crying himself to sleep, in fact. Then he had that nightmare. The world wasn't on his side.
Again, Mello came into the gamer's thoughts as he drank his water.
Would Mello be okay?
Would it work?
Would anyone find him?
Will Mello get rid of them?
Or would they get rid of Mello…?
Matt didn't know what to do. He stared down at his glass of water; his hand splashing the water around violently from his shaking. Still freaked out about that nightmare, I guess… He thought absently.
The redhead set the cup down and stared out the dirty window.
I… love Mello, so what the hell am I doing…?! I should be there for him no matter what; I should be there to protect him! Not here pitying myself!
He thought, suddenly angry at himself. Slamming his fist against the wall, Matt stood up abruptly.
"Dammit, it's not supposed to be like this… this isn't right. I used to always be there! Now I leave when he actually needs me?! W-what's wrong with me? I…"
The gamer paused in his rant, slightly out of breath. "I…"
Matt sank down to the floor. His energy felt drained, he felt like he had just gotten the wind knocked out of him… he felt like… he was getting shot with tons of bullets… again.
"I… how could I be so stupid?!" The redhead yelled again.
"I… I have to go back… if it's not too late, oh whatever god that exists, don't let it be too late! It's my fault, not his…" He mumbled frantically.
Matt ran through his room, collecting the few things he left scattered about.
"Augh… I'm such an asshole… such a douche bag! I can't let Mello deal with everything on his own! Hell, I can't let him deal with anything on his own!"
The redhead sighed in defeat, growing used to the feeling.
I can't sneak onto another plane… that was way too hard and too risky. Steal someone's ticket? No… that might make a scene. I can't make it to L.A. by car and definitely not on foot…
He racked his brain for ideas, but quickly shook off his first one.
No… there's not way he'd… Matt sighed, what other option did he have? He might as well try…
He pulled out his phone and dialed a restricted number only a few people in the world were considered special enough to know. The other line clicked and Matt spoke.
"'Ello, Watari? It's Matt… Can I talk to L? … Hey! Yeah, I've got a really big favor to ask…"
Mello found that busting into Matt's garage was harder than he had anticipated. There had been various alarm systems and doors that could only be opened by number codes; but Mello, with much determination, had made it thought and successfully taken a motorcycle.
If Matt wasn't so damn paranoid I would've make it through a whole lot quicker! It took me the whole goddamn day!
Mello rode the stolen vehicle back to his apartment, where he secured it in front of the building.
This should work… No, it has to work! The blond thought.
In his original plan, that involved Matt, the blond was only going to do the shooting. His redheaded partner wasn't a bad marksman, though Mello was better, he planned that Matt do more of the physical fighting.
The gamer had always been stronger than Mello, despite how lazy he could be. It'd always been that way; even when they were young Matt was a lot stronger than the blond, but somehow Mello was always able to beat the other in a fist fight.
In fact… Matt never seemed to fight back at all against Mello.
If all had gone as planned; the redhead would've been armed with a baseball bat to take out someone if they didn't want to make any noise.
But things hadn't gone as planned.
Mello figured he'd just drive through on his motorcycle where the guards stood (possibly running over the troublesome sentries) and shoot as many members as possible before assassinating the head of the group…
Then he'd just have to make a quick getaway.
Not the most brilliant of his plans, but that was the only way he could think of on such a short notice. He didn't really feel like thinking it through all the way, it was only him at risk, so he didn't take as much time making sure it was safe.
Dammit Matt, why'd you have to go and screw this up?! This plan, my life… and yours…?! You're so fucking stupid!
The chocolate addict stormed up to his once-shared apartment and slammed the door behind him, feeling angry about more than just his shaky plan.
Immediately the blond went into the kitchen, searching for his chocolate to comfort his raging nerves. Finding his sweet prize, Mello greedily ripped off the wrapper and took a bite.
The cocoa-based treat did nothing to soothe him and he sank down to the floor in defeat, resting his head against the dingy fridge.
Tomorrow… dammit… tomorrow. I can make it. I have to.
The mafia boss sighed and pulled his knees to his chest, closing his eyes.
Maybe then things'll go back to normal.
Mello folded his arms on top of his knees, his forgotten chocolate bar held limply in his hand. He set his forehead on his bent arms.
Maybe then Matt will come back.
I'd love some reviews... motivation? Cookies? Please? Constructive criticism is encouraged. :