It feels good to be back into the swing of things :)

Suggested Listening: "Swallow" - Crystal Fighters

Take Your Time

~The Bitter Pill~

To be perfectly blunt, I couldn't hold my liquor worth shit.

This wasn't a surprise to any of my friends, who, on several occasions throughout the last few years, had seen me make a fool of myself while under the influence. Back then, I'd gotten shit-faced on cheap beer and vodka of uncertain origin, given that it was distributed in water bottles. Tonight, though, I was getting properly drunk from some fancy red wine that Wedy's boyfriend had brought. You know, I was being really fucking classy about it.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The festivities started out innocently enough.

It was my intention to delay the inevitable, though I'm sure it seemed rude, when I veered away from Wedy and her plus-one and approached where L, Light, and Misa were standing in a clump on the far side of the living room. I didn't look to see whether Matt had decided to follow me.

Light gave me no further acknowledgement than a slight lift of his chin. His mouth was already compressed into a sharp line, his almond-shaped eyes filled with barely-veiled distain; both aspects of his expression were no doubt aimed toward Misa, who had resumed her preoccupation with clinging to his arm like a leech. It was as if the two of them had never been absent for so many months. It was L who shocked me, as he was the one to step forward and wrap his arms around me with a warmth that I usually did not associate with him.

He spoke in a low tone near my ear: "Watari informed me of what has happened to your father. I feel deeply for your family, and wish your father a swift recovery."

As he let me go, I swallowed thickly. I blinked once, twice, feeling off-balance. "Thank you," was all I could think to say.

Light was watching the two of us closely, an air of brooding shrewdness about him. "My sympathies, as well," he said, though he was matter-of-fact in contrast to L's warmth. "My father also recovered from a heart attack a few years ago."

"I didn't know your father had a heart attack!" Misa looked up at Light with wide eyes. Neither had I, for that matter.

Light shot her a look filled with surprising animosity. "My family prefers to keep certain things quiet." He might as well have slapped her across the face, given Misa's expression.

As if shrugging off the comment, Misa turned a wavering smile to me. "Misa-Misa wishes Mello's dad well, too."

Before any more loaded remarks could be made, Linda walked up, carrying a tray filled with cups of a punch that she'd made. I'm ashamed to admit how much relief I felt when Matt and Near came along not too far behind her, involved in what seemed to be a very technical conversation about some of the hardware problems Matt had fixed at his job.

"Is there alcohol in this?" Misa asked as the cups were distributed.

"A small amount." Linda smiled. "It's mostly juice."

Misa put one hand up to refuse, while the other rested on her abdomen. "I'll pass. I'm watching my figure, and alcohol has so much sugar!" As was certainly her intention, we all looked at where her second hand was placed. The only thing that I noticed was that she was dressed exponentially more modestly than she used to be in the past; the smock top that she was wearing right now completely concealed her waistline.

Light scoffed loudly. Then, he grabbed a cup off the tray and tossed its contents back.

"Um… I guess I'll take that as a compliment," Linda said.

L, meanwhile, looked back and forth between his blonde and brunet companions, the dark circles standing out under his eyes like smudges of ash, with both hands curled around the plastic cup as he sipped.

The conversation between Matt and Near reached a natural lull, and their attention turned to the rest of us. At that moment, Near started in on a stilted, monotone speech, thanking us all for coming, and Matt took advantage of the distraction by whispering to me, "I'm kind of freaked out about talking to Wedy."

My hand involuntarily clenched around my cup, and I forced myself to relax. "Why?"

Matt didn't seem to notice my unrest. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the carpet. "Well, I still feel like an ass for what I did." His eyes hurriedly met mine. "Not that I'm not crazy grateful for what it got me. And… I mean, texting her is one thing, but seeing her in person?"

I sighed, and the grin that spread across my face afterwards probably gave away more than I wanted it to. "Matt, you have a boyfriend now, she has a boyfriend now; what does it matter? You've both moved on." He shrugged, still looking unsure. "Do you want me to walk over with you?"

Now it was Matt's turn to look relieved. "Well, I was thinking it might be easier to just get it over with…"

"Like ripping off a Band-Aid," I assured Matt, slinging an arm around his shoulders. With my other hand, I followed Light's example, and downed my punch in one gulp. And so it started.

It turned out that Matt's fears were unfounded, because as soon as Wedy saw us approaching, she walked over and embraced us both. I'm sure the look on our faces was quite comical.

She was smiling pleasantly (not even with a hint of irony) as she said, "It's great to see you guys. How have you been?"

Matt shot a startled look at me. "Great," he choked.

"Fantastic," I drawled. I had an easier time keeping my expression neutral, though I did eye her warily.

"This is my boyfriend, Aiber," she introduced as a man with, long, dirty-blond hair walked up beside her. Uncharacteristically, Wedy giggled nervously. "Well, Thierry, that is, Thierry Aiber. He prefers Aiber, though…"

The man smiled, and it reached his eyes. "'Ello," he greeted us with a wave.

Hearing his accent, I quirked an eyebrow, and posed a question in French. He look surprised momentarily, but then a light came into his eyes, and he quickly answered. We went back and forth a few times, Matt and Wedy's eyes ping-ponging between the two of us as a torrent of what must have sounded to them like gibberish sprang from our lips. The exchange ended with us both laughing.

Matt was staring at me. "Um… what?"

"I concur." Wedy looked at Aiber expectantly.

I smiled. "Oh, I just asked where he's from."

"I said, 'France.' And then, I told him he talks funny." Aiber and I started laughing again.

Matt raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's not very nice."

I snorted before deigning to let them in on the joke. "Matty, my mom's family is from Quebec, so I speak Quebecois-style French, while Aiber speaks Parisian Standard. It's the same reason our French teacher used to give me hell for using slang in class."

Wedy and Matt shared a look. "Oh," they said. And just like that, shit got awkward again.

After standing around, twiddling our thumbs for a few seconds, Wedy spoke up: "It's too bad that Halle couldn't be here."

All of us nodded, even Aiber, and I assumed that he must have some idea about whom we were talking about, as Wedy had probably told him all about her best friend.

"Where did you say she was?" Matt asked me.

"She went to dinner with her mom and her mom's new boyfriend. She didn't want to go, but her mom can be an awful bitch when she doesn't get what she wants." I rolled my eyes, sharing in Halle's exasperation.

Aiber's eyes widened at my rough language. Wedy smiled tightly. "Well, it's nice they're spending time together at least," she said.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered. I decided to let it go. It was Halle's decision how she wanted to handle her alcoholic mother.

"Hey!" Far called over to us from where he'd spread cards out at the table. "We're going to play some Texas hold'em. You guys game?"

None of us needed much encouragement.

As soon as everyone was squished around the table, elbows and knees bumping, more alcohol was introduced to the picture and the wine that Aiber had brought turned out to be my favourite. I have no idea how much I drank; I would just sip it slowly until it was halfway down in the glass, and Far would take it upon himself to refill it. I wasn't the only one he was trying to get slammed; he seemed to be pushing booze on everyone, and he was drinking heavily himself.

Soon, I was playing pretty passively. I had no idea what was even going on in the game, so I was making all of my calls on a whim. I just sat back and watched everyone, the wine sitting heavy on my tongue. I felt distant. Watching my friends talk and laugh had as much impact on me as speeding past a house with my motorcycle on a quiet street. Did I ever pause to wonder afterwards who lived in that house? What dramas were unfolding in their lives? Did they love? Did they hate?

Did it even matter?

Across the table from me, Matt was absorbed in the game, staring hard at his hand of cards, and his eyes as impenetrable as if he were still wearing his goggles. A cigarette rested in the corner of his mouth, sending up fumes to the ceiling. He wasn't the only one indulging in the habit; both Wedy and Aiber were smoking, too. Linda had long ago thrown open all the windows in the apartment, and the night air left goosebumps on my bare arms.

I hadn't seen Matt drink anything, though. It made me feel self-conscious, though I didn't cut down on the amount I was imbibing.

While watching him, I decided I was going to start my own game.

Slipping off my boot, I reached out with a socked foot and found his calf. He didn't seem to think anything of the nudge at first, as there was a lot of jostling going on given the large amount of people sitting at such a small table. But he surely took notice when I moved my foot upwards. Broken from his deep concentration, his eyes found mine over his cards. I held his gaze, my mouth curling into a smirk. I reached his knee, and this is where I had to make a choice; everyone's legs were pressed so close, I couldn't tell whose was whose. Matt frowned.

My foot continued upwards, until it was pressed snug to the place between where a man's legs join the body.

All of a sudden, Near cleared his throat. "Whoever has their foot jammed against my crotch, please remove it, or I will be forced to remove it for you."

I pulled back so fast, I slammed my knee against the underside of the table, knocking over the neat stacks of poker chips and sloshing everyone's drinks onto the tabletop.

I scrambled out of my seat, feeling the eyes of everybody on me. My face was red from both my alcohol consumption and my mortification. "Wrong person," I muttered, before retreating to the kitchen.

I stopped behind the wall, leaned my head back against a cabinet, and listened.

"Is that what you meant when you said he is very… outgoing?" Aiber asked.

"Not quite," Wedy replied.

Far snickered. "What's a little pinch and grab between friends? Ow!" Alfie must've whacked him.

"Matt," Lydia said, "I hope you guys aren't doing that under the table every time we hang out."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Matt shot back. I heard the sound of cards being slapped down on the table, the clinking of poker chips as they were swept towards someone in one long motion, and everyone else groaning.

"Dammit, Jeevas…" Wedy sighed.

Atta boy, Matty.

Opening my eyes, I noticed for the first time L sitting on the floor against a cupboard on the other side of the kitchen, his knees tucked to his chest and the tip of his thumb resting against his bottom lip. His eyes looked even larger than usual. I strained to hear what he was listening to, and I caught the sound of raised voices coming from the bathroom on the far side of the kitchen. Light and Misa had disappeared to the kitchen a while ago under the pretense of grabbing some food. When they hadn't come back right away, L had gone to investigate. I hadn't really given it much thought.

Now the clues were beginning to click together even in my addled, drunken mind.

The door to the bathroom slammed open and Light burst out, followed closely behind by Misa.

"Light-kun! Please listen to me!" Misa was tugging on his arm.

"No! You listen to me!" Light wheeled around on her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her hard. "I don't want anything more to do with you!"

Misa hiccupped before starting to sob in earnest. Light stopped shaking her and stumbled back a step, as if shocked by what he'd done.

However, he glanced at L, who was just staring at the two of them motionlessly, and seemed to regain some of his nerve. He glared at Misa. "I don't want it." He made a jabbing motion toward her midsection. "I don't want you."

Misa put a trembling hand over her mouth. "Light… please. Why are you doing this? I thought you would be happy." Her voice was thick with tears.

Light's tone grew contemptuous as he sneered at her pleas. "Don't you get it, Amane? You've never known the least bit about who I truly am."

Misa's eyes went blank and she started shaking her head. "I don't believe you." When Light scoffed at her, throwing his hands up in exasperation, she covered her ears and repeated, "You're lying. You're lying! You're lying!" This last exclamation came out as a piercing shriek.

I heard chairs scraping against the floor, signalling that the others were roused by the commotion. There was one terrible moment where Light looked as if he might hit her, but he just barely restrained himself. I think it had more to do with the fact that L stood up and put his body between them right then, rather than any sense of feeling for Misa on Light's part. L held out his arms to her and Misa stumbled into them, hiccupping.

"Let me take you home, Amane-san," L said, stroking her hair comfortingly.

"Yes… Yes, that sounds good," Misa murmured absently. "You're such a good friend, L-kun."

As he guided Misa out of them kitchen, L looked over his shoulder, and his eyes met Light's. For the first time ever, I saw Light look vulnerable. But the funny thing was…

L looked like he understood that vulnerability. Like somehow, they were in this together.

Later, when my mind wasn't so foggy, I looked back over my recollections of this fight, and I picked out several key nuggets of information that turned into epiphanies. At the time, however, I just thought the whole thing was extremely fucked up.

Once L and Misa had left the apartment, Light moved from his frozen state and seemed to notice my presence for the first time.

He smiled at me wryly. "Well, it's not like you can judge me." Then, he turned on his heel, and walked briskly out of the kitchen. On the way out, his arm clipped several bottles and they tumbled off the counter to the floor and shattered; he didn't even pause. A slam of the front door signalled his exit from the apartment.

Ironically, the main casualties of the spill were the bottles of wine. The deep maroon colour spread across the linoleum like blood seeping from a wound. I grabbed the roll of paper towel off the counter, dropped to my knees, and tried to staunch the flow.

"Mello?"

I looked up, my vision swimming, to see two images of Wedy standing above me.

"What happened?" she asked, the vision of her thankfully settling down and becoming just one person.

I licked my dry lips before letting out a chuckle. I slurred, "I hope your boyfriend doesn't take offense, but Light had a hissy fit over the quality of wine that he brought, which resulted in Light deciding to throw the bottles on the floor."

Wedy hummed. "I'm sure that's exactly how it happened."

"Yup," I said, popping the p.

In silence, Wedy grabbed a broom from the closet and helped clean up the glass, while I soaked up the puddle. When it looked as if the accident had been erased (if only as if it had never happened), Wedy offered me her hand and helped me to my feet.

Immediately, my stomach rebelled.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," I choked.

Which was how I ended up with my head in Near's toilet bowl, throwing up the large amount of wine and meagre amount of food I'd consumed that evening, while Wedy (of all people) held my hair back.

After the waves of sickness passed, she once again helped me get up. I could feel my pulse beating at my temples. As we left the bathroom, Wedy helping me walk because I felt weak and unsteady on my feet, I caught my reflection; my skin was pale as parchment and my eyes were rimmed with red.

When we walked back into the room together (well, Wedy was walking; I was stumbling), Matt was so startled by the sight that he leapt up from his chair.

Wedy smiled faintly, and lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. "I think someone needs you to take him home and tuck him into bed."

Our goodbyes to everyone passed in a blur, though I do recall thanking Near and Linda, which I think shocked people even more than my sickly appearance. And then there was what Wedy said to the two of us as we left.

"Take care of each other, you two." She waved.

I stared at her openly, my condition ruining any small sense of artfulness that I usually possessed. "You can't mean that."

"Sometimes people will surprise you, Mello," Wedy said. "I know that you've surprised me on several occasions."

"He has a tendency to do that," Matt muttered. His arm was wrapped around my waist, his fingers lightly stroking at my hip in a way that led me to believe he wasn't even aware he was doing it. His concern was plain on his face.

We didn't talk as we went down the stairs and left the apartment building, but it was clear that we both had a lot on our minds. This visit, Matt had insisted on driving his car the full way, and we were lucky enough to have found a spot just a few blocks over. We stopped just outside the doors to the building as Matt dug in his pockets to get the keys out ahead of time.

"Did you at least have a good time?" I asked, my voice rough from my previous heaving.

He looked up at me, and his expression softened perceptively. "'Course I did, Mells. I just hope you didn't force yourself to come tonight for my sake. I wanted you to have a good time, too. You've been working so hard… You deserve it."

I shrugged, pretending my attention had been caught by something across the street. "I'm a big boy now; I'll live."

Matt was about to say something more, when we heard a door slide shut above us, and two familiar voices involved in a tense conversation.

"What are you doing reading out here by yourself?" Far asked, his booming voice easily carrying down to us as his drunkenness had left him unconcerned about controlling his volume. He snickered. "What is that? A lantern?"

"It's battery-powered," Alfie replied tersely, "and functional." His voice was more difficult to pick up, but his tone came across regardless: angry and more than a tad resentful.

"What are you reading, anyway?"

"Vanity Fair."

"The magazine?"

"No, Far." A sigh. "The novel."

"Oh. What's it about?"

Another sigh. "Far, can we please not do this?"

"… What do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean."

"Uh… No. I don't."

"This, Far. Acting like nothing's wrong. Acting like we're both having a good time. Acting like all you had was a little bit too much to drink, and that the long time you spent in the bathroom tonight had nothing to do with that little baggy I found stuffed in one of your shoes."

"Alf, I swear—"

"No, Farley, don't! You promised me. You promised that you just needed to get away from the lights, the cameras for a little while – that you just needed to see your brother and deal with the scars of your childhood. But you lied. You're still using."

"Alfie…" Far audibly swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies, Far. What I want is when you make promises, I want them to actually mean something." Footsteps and the sliding sound again, meaning that one or the other of them had gone back inside.

Matt and I glanced at each other before embarking on the short walk to the car. No words were needed.

Thankfully, the ride home was entirely uneventful.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"Ah! Vanitas Vanitatum! Which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? or, having it, is satisfied?"

—Excerpt from Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray.

An astute observation from a wise man, as far as old, dead guys go.