A.N.

Tada!

Disclaimer: No own.

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Matt

I knew Mello was scared about that shoot.

I knew he was.

When he didn't return after a six hours, I called him, wondering if he'd been held up or simply out getting something to eat before he came back as he liked to do sometimes and occaisionally the photographer argued that it was all wrong and had to start again. You know, whatever, it happens in the modelling world, it's not a regular nine to five job. However, my call went straight to voicemail, yeah okay, he could be on set now, unable to take the call, that's fine.

The next six went to voicemail as well. Spanning over the next three hours.

At this point it as nine in the evening. Pretty late to be doing a dusk shoot in winter. The sun had long since set. Needless to say I was worried, choosing to phone him over and over again, getting more and more worried when I got greeted by the irritating voice mail lady, apologising for that asshole not picking up his damn phone!

Eventually I snapped, dialling the blonde she-devil also known to the world as Misa. She squeaked that the shoot had ended hours ago and that Mello didn't even turn up to it, wailing on about how 'Misa-Misa is in so much trouble with Light-Kun now!111!one!' I could feel the vein on my forehead threatening to burst from the stress as I politely (Well…I thought it was polite) snapped at her that Mello hadn't come back yet. Misa simply told me that Mello sometimes wandered off to be alone with his thoughts.

Though that didn't stop me worrying. It wasn't like I could even file a police report until they had been missing for twenty four hours. Fucking legal system.

Those hours snailed by, taunting me as I gripped my phone tightly, occasionally deluding myself into feeling it vibrate with my palm, only to have my sky high hopes bitterly crash around me. I instead put the volume on high, sitting it on the arm rest of the couch, television tinkling in the background as I stared at the small piece of machinery, begging for it to play the Zelda theme tune.

Eventually, I didn't have a choice, dialling in the three numbers I hoped to never have to press regarding Mello. I was immediately directed to a droning woman, asking the protocol question. She only seemed to jump into action when I mentioned his name. Apparently she was a fan.

I could hear orders barked behind her and mouses being clicked as she pulled up the reports that we had filed previously. I was told that an officer would be with me shortly and several were out on patrol looking and if I could list places that he may go. I rattled off a few (Mainly chocolate shops), being kept on the phone until a soft knock at the door was heard. I thanked her for her time and hung up before answering it.

I must've looked a state as the officer blinked a few times before asking me quietly if 'I was okay'. The scathing retort I gave is not fit for even the vilest part of the internet.

I sat him down and answered the questions that he asked, yellow pencil scribbling quickly on the black notebook, though it seemed like nothing I said could be helpful in the slightest, the only lead I could give was being Damon. But the calls, texts and emails had stopped.

I sighed, sitting back on the couch, fidgeting in agitation as the police man just seemed to drink more and more coffee and gorge himself on biscuits. I jumped as my phone rang, scrambling to pick it up. "Mello?" I asked the receiver only to get a humourless chuckle in reply.

"No, but don't worry, he's doing fine. You'll have him back. Just wanted to see how long it took me to get a Kitten to scream. You know, it's not much. Isn't that right?" I heard some movement, and a guttural scream being ripped from Mello's throat. My insides clamped into tighter knots as I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. "Tell you what, I'll even let you come get him, well what's left of him." And address was grated through the phone, which I quickly jotted on the back of my hand, ignoring the officer who asked what I was doing as I grabbed my car keys and hurtled down the stairs. "Only a matter of time. Better hurry up if I were you, he doesn't look like he can take much. Then again, he always did break easily." The call disconnected itself as I threw myself into my car, hurriedly gunning the engine.

He better not lay a damn finger on him.