Suggested Listening: "Near Town" - Amazing Broken Man

Take Your Time

~Denial~

In that funny, fuzzy half-state between sleep and wakefulness, I felt the mattress dip and shift as Matt got out of bed. I felt the loss of his body heat immediately, and I snuggled further into the mess of blankets. Eyes shut, I listened to the quiet rustle of cloth as he dressed and the brush of his feet against the carpet as he meandered around the room. The sound of his footsteps faded as he crossed the hallway and entered the bathroom. The snick of the door closing in its frame; the woosh of the water cascading from the faucet.

As far as my onomatopoeia were getting me, I decided to chance opening my eyes to check the time and bring a better sense of context to why the fuck Matt was being an early riser.

The result of this decision came in the form of a stabbing sensation directly into each of my eyeballs as my pupils took in the offensive, albeit little, amount of light that seeped through the cracks in the blinds. Attempting to glance at the clock was worse; I caught what might have been a very blurry 5, before I clenched my eyes shut against the pounding sensation behind my eye sockets.

Oh, yeah. This again. A reminder of why I shouldn't drink – not that it will matter the next time I'm faced with the decision to be pulled under by the tsunami of my emotions or take a drink and give myself a temporary mental vacation.

My stomach clenched with nausea even as I was laying completely still, and it was clear my body was saying, You fuckwit. A few hours of discomfort at a social gathering is nothing compared to the hell I'm going to put you through.

I could hear the door swing open, the whine of the hinges giving me the impression that it was done slowly. I waited, keeping my eyes shut mostly out of a sense of self-preservation. I felt a weight settle on the mattress next to me, and then fingers brushed along the shell of my ear as my hair was swept back. Lips ghosted against my temple, and then they were gone. I turned my face towards Matt's hand and nipped the pulse point at his wrist, betraying the fact that I was awake. I heard and felt the low rumble of his chuckle, and it made me feel warm, like a cat stretching out under a beam of sun.

"I gotta go to work," he murmured. "Will you be okay here?"

I groaned. Then, I groaned again as I realized how dry my mouth felt; my voice sounded thick and raspy as a result. Not to mention my morning breath was nothing to be proud of. "Honestly, I feel like shit."

I imagined the smile that must be on his face as he said, "It's just a hangover, Mells. I'm certain you'll live."

"But it feels worse than usual," I protested. Before I could complain some more, his mouth covered mine, kissing away my pout. He left the taste of the minty toothpaste he'd just used lingering on my lips, and I swiped my tongue across them, opening my eyes to look up at him despite the consequences I knew were forthcoming (and my body did not disappoint; my head started pounding immediately.)

"Work, you say?" I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow. "Sounds dull."

It's hard to look alluring when it feels like your brain is swelling to bust out of your skull, but I think I did alright.

Matt rolled his eyes. "So says the guy that nagged me into getting the job."

I nuzzled deeper into the covers and blinked slowly up at him. "Who? Little, old me?"

Matt grinned. "No – the other naked man in my bed."

Grumbling, I pointedly rolled over, making sure the covers were tight around me. "Careful who you say that to, sex-bomb. Wouldn't want you to gain a reputation."

"For what? My gold-star standard of devotion to my boyfriend?"

"Good boy," I sighed contentedly, letting my eyes fall shut.

Moments later, I felt his warm breath against my neck as he spoke in a low, insinuating tone near my ear: "You know, I don't mind it so much when you call me that. You should do it more often."

I snorted. "I thought you were going to work."

"Fine, fine. If you insist." He left the room, chuckling all the while. But before he was entirely through the doorway, he stopped to say, "I hope you feel better."

"Thank you," I mumbled, my face mushed into a pillow to block out the satanic influence that is sunlight.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit double-fucking shit

I am in so much trouble.

When Mom saw the marks around my neck, she cried. When she saw what I'd done to the other guy's face, her tears had stopped.

For a second, I think she was afraid of me.

I've been suspended. I have no idea what happened to him... I hate this. I hate myself. I'd rather die than face this.

No-one can know about this.

I can't let Matt find out.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I woke up violently, clawing at the covers that had gotten so tightly wound around me, they were inhibiting my ability to breathe. Every intake of breath was a gasp, as painful as if I had broken glass scraping my windpipe. I didn't stop struggling until both the blankets and the pillows were flung in a heap on Matt's floor. Bringing my knees to my chest, I pressed my face to them as I wrapped my arms tight around my legs. I tried to anchor myself to the present, even as I was shuddering, naked and alone on someone else's bed.

I hadn't had that dream in a long time.

That memory, rather.

As my heartrate slowed, I took in the sights and sounds around me. The blinds had been lifted at some point, and late-morning light was flooding the room. Over the neighbour's roof hung a well-defined chinook arch. The window was slightly ajar, and the chirruping of the chickadees that had stuck around through winter carried up to me as the little birds squabbled over the seed that Matt's mom had put out.

Speaking of Matt's mom, I noticed another change she'd made while I was sleeping. When I'd finally completely calmed down, I paid mind to the itching sensation on my forehead. I snatched at the object stuck to my skin, and pulled away a small sticky note which read: I wrapped up something for you and left it in the fridge. Love, Mrs. J. On the reverse: I know how much you just hate chocolate.

Despite my contrary mood, I chuckled. Smile now firmly plastered on my face, I dragged myself out of bed and set about finding my wildly strewn about clothing. One might think my state of undress could be attributed to Matt and me getting hot and heavy after stumbling home from the party last night, but the truth isn't so lurid nor so fun for either of us. Rather, I bitched and moaned about how much my head hurt all the way home; when we finally got in the door, I was too woozy to make it up the stairs, so Matt had to half-drag-half-carry me to his bedroom; and finally, once in said bedroom, I felt so uncomfortably clammy that I ripped off my clothes and sprawled across the bed, leaving Matt to struggle for whatever little space was left.

Thinking back on last night, the conversation we'd had right before sleep came to the forefront of my mind, and I stilled. The morning after, some things are obscured, some things are entirely forgotten, but things recalled – they all come back in crystal-clear, painful detail.

It was after Matt had eventually coaxed me into taking up a normal amount of space for a human being (and he could claim at least the minimum of what he deserved) that we lay in the stillness of the room, each looking up at what little we could see of the ceiling in the scant light, while neither of us were actually seeing it, so lost in our thoughts. A whisper of movement alerted me that Matt had turned his head. We sought each other's gaze in the darkness.

"Mells?" he whispered, as if we were ten again, and Matt's mom was going to get mad at us for staying up later than we were supposed to.

"Yeah?" I whispered, too, because for some reason I felt it was important.

He was quiet for a few slow, anxious intakes of breath. "Why are you so sad?"

Then, it was my turn to pause. I swallowed thickly. "Because it feels like everything's caving in under my feet."

He didn't have anything to say to that – and he didn't have to. Instead, his hand found mine, and the way he held it, so solidly, so reassuringly, I knew that he meant, I'm still here. I'll always be here. I won't let you down.

I wanted to cry. At that moment, I felt like I could cry: my throat tightened, my eyes stung, and my chest heaved. Instead, infuriatingly, the only release my body offered me was a yawn. I felt cheated.

"Matt?" My normal speaking voice shattered the quiet atmosphere in the room, and it felt like an affront.

But we weren't children anymore. And I had to say the things now that we used to keep left unsaid.

He squeezed my hand as a signal to go on.

"Why do you put up with me?"

He didn't hesitate this time. "It isn't 'putting up' with you, Mells. You know that."

"No, I don't think I do." I closed my eyes, feeling the pressure in my head mounting. Why couldn't I just let myself cry? At least it would release some of this fucking pressure…

I felt Matt's hand slip away, and its sudden absence felt like a sucker punch to my stomach.

Then, he said, "I used to ask myself why you put up with me." The vulnerability in his statement encouraged me to look at him again. I couldn't make out his features well, but somehow, I knew that he wasn't closing off from me.

"Used to?" Back to whispering. "Did you find an answer?"

"Yeah," he said, and there was a touch of wry laughter in his voice. "You helped me find it."

I shuddered and my eyes fell shut once more. "What is it? 'Cause I think I need to hear it."

He took an audible breath, and then began, "It was that day I was telling you about my worries about my mom and her boyfriend. See, you told me something that, I guess… solidified what you'd been helping me to see all along. And now, with what's been happening with you… I get it."

I shuddered again, and this time, in response, his arms wrapped around me. His cheek was pressed to the top of my head, and the circle of his arms tightened, helping me ride out the waves as the involuntary shivers started to come closer together.

"I used to feel weak," he said, "and I depended on you so much. When I realized how much our friendship was changing after what happened with Wedy, it made me scared. It made me realize how much I love you – which is awesome; don't forget I think that – but it also made all of my insecurities come to the surface. By the time we got together, I was seeing you in a different light, and even as we were being together, I was recognizing that I was okay just… being Matt, too. An individual, you know?

"And I think… that's what this is about. It's not about who's weak, and who's strong – because I think there's always going to be a time where someone's going to have to say, 'Hey, I can't do this by myself,' and someone's going to step up to help them. That's the point: I lean on you, and you lean on me. So, I guess if you're gonna ask why I'm putting up with you, the simple answer is I know that you've done the same thing for me a million times over.

"And"– he rustled my hair in a half-hearted noogie – "I love you, idiot."

"That's my line," I groused, patting my hair back into place while he laughed at me. I sighed. "Matt, I don't think I want to talk anymore."

"That's cool." He kissed my forehead, and I could feel his smile against my skin. "Go to sleep."

And, pressure blissfully relieved, I did just that.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

It's a testament to how much I love chocolate that, even with a residual headache and stomach cramps, I scarfed down the leftover chocolate-chip pancakes Mrs. J had made me like they were going out of style. Somewhere in between the moments of rapture, I checked my phone and found an unread text message. I shot off a quick reply before resuming stuffing my face.

After cleaning up the remains of my meal, I carried on to tidying up the mess from last night in Matt's room, and then straightening my own appearance. I scrawled a note of thanks to Matt's mom and stuck it to the refrigerator, before I locked up the house and went on my way, sunglasses firmly on my face as I walked out into the direct sunlight.

I didn't have a quick mode of transportation to get to my intended destination, but I wasn't inclined to swing by my house and chance running into family, so I decided to hoof it. It was a nice day, after all; the warm, dry wind was already softening the snow, and it turned to slush on the sidewalk beneath the treads of my boots. It was pleasant enough I decided to chance slogging the unkempt path along the gully as a shortcut. By the time I'd trudged up the hill, my jeans were soaked through at the knees, but I considered that a fair trade given that I felt more alive just from that small amount of exercise than I had in days.

While I waited on the step, I decided to run with the theme of simple pleasures and use the stately-looking doorknocker rather than the doorbell – repeatedly and with more enthusiasm than was necessary. What can I say? I'm an ass.

It says a lot about Watari's amount of patience that he actually answered the door – and the fact that he smiled as he did so. "Ah, Mello. A pleasure to see you as always."

"Right back at'cha, Gramps." I grinned at him as I took my sunglasses off. "May I come in?"

"Certainly." Stepping out of the way, he gestured me inside.

Inside, I kicked my boots off on the welcome mat and rolled up the cuffs of my pants. As Watari took my jacket from me, he said, "L is just upstairs. I'll let him know you're here."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it; L asked me to come over today. I'll grab him."

"As you wish." He nodded and smiled, though I noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. I watched him disappear down a corridor of the old house, wondering to myself what could possibly be eating him.

Left to my own devices, I raced up the large, curling staircase, taking the steps two at a time. I took the blind corner down the hallway to L's room – and ended up running straight into that very man. We fumbled for a few seconds before L's arms, to my surprise, settled for wrapping around me rather than holding onto me to regain balance. I half-heartedly returned the hug, wondering in bemusement just when my friend had become so touchy-feely.

"I am very happy you are here," L said in a slightly more nasally voice than usual. "Watari has been insufferable." Before I was able to mull over this statement, he pulled away, and his bitchin' specimen of a shiner came into view.

I stared at it, slack-jawed. "Your old man did not do that."

He brought his thumb to his mouth as he made a flippant gesture with the other hand. "Ah, yes. You are correct. Misa was the culprit."

"… You're shitting me."

His expression remained blank. "I shit you not," was his grave assurance.

Despite the fact that I knew the reason for his black eye was not a laughing matter, a chuckle slipped through my lips anyway. L smiled indulgently, as if it were only fair that I laugh at him for saying something so ridiculously out of character.

In the silence afterwards, the atmosphere took a serious turn as we just looked at each other. It didn't feel right to talk where we were.

Out of unspoken agreement, we both travelled down the stairs, where I then suggested that we get out the house for a while. L was well in favour of this, so we got on our boots and coats and went out the back door. We set out on the path beyond the gate, which followed the ridge of the hill. As we walked, I kicked at the slush and swung my arms, while L stuffed his hands into his pockets and slouched into his scarf against the wind.

"I'll race you to that tree over there!" I called over my shoulder, already starting to run.

It was hard going over the slippery terrain, but as I lengthened my stride, I might as well have been flying over any obstacles. I ran with my face into the wind, smiling. As I reached the tree, I slapped the trunk with my hand and wheeled around to crow my triumph – when I got a wet, sticky snowball to the face.

I growled my rage, wiping the moisture away from my eyes, loathing the feeling of it soaking through my hair and down the back of my neck. The entire time, L watched my display of dissatisfaction, looking all too satisfied himself.

"I am a poor loser, you know," he said. I wanted to wipe that smirk of his right off his face.

So, I tackled him to the ground. He went down laughing, which obviously would not do, so I grabbed handfuls of snow and started trying to stuff it down his jacket. L was deceptively strong, though, and it was all I could do to keep him pinned. Pretty soon, it devolved into us just rolling around in the snow until we exhausted ourselves, and then we broke apart and each lay on our backs, panting and soaked to the bone.

"Dammit," I sighed. "I think I left my sunglasses back at your house." The reflection off the snow was already bringing my headache back full force.

L narrowed his eyes at me knowingly. "An unwelcome continuation of last night's revelry, yes?"

"Remind me never to get drunk off of red wine ever again."

"Indeed. Some people have quite strong reactions to the histamine and tyramine present in red wine. Though, headaches are an all too common symptom of a hangover, as well. Perhaps you should limit your consumption next time and see if it makes a difference."

I rolled my eyes. "Noted."

L offered me his hand, and we both struggled to our feet, smacking off the snow that stuck to our clothes as we went. Just on the other side of the tree was a bench, and this is where we decided to sit and have our long overdue conversation.

"So," I started. "Light knocked Misa up."

L had gone back to biting his thumb, and, to my amusement, he was crouching on the bench rather than sitting. The fun times were definitely over. "It would appear so."

"How did it happen?" It wasn't like Misa and Light had a normal relationship for our age. To be honest, nothing about their situation could be construed as 'normal'.

"Light told me that she'd insisted on having sex that night after we'd all buried the time capsule. He assures me that they had not slept together months before that, and since he has been away from her for quite some time, I am ninety-one percent certain that has so far been the last time."

"… Only ninety-one percent certain?"

"They have spent time together since we have come back, you see."

His resigned tone unnerved me. "L, why the fuck are you putting up with this?"

"I did not ask you here to judge me." His gaze had taken on a steely quality.

"Oh, suck it up," I scoffed. "I'm just telling you the truth the same way that you'd do for me. In fact, you'd be mad at me if I did anything less."

Despite my harsh words (or maybe because of them), he relaxed his posture somewhat. "Perhaps."

When I'd first starting hanging out with L when we were in junior high, I'd fed Matt some line about wanting to become friends with L because of his grades (but the words I used weren't so polite; I think it was something like: "Talking to him is better than wasting breath on the rest of the fuckwits around here.") In truth, L had been the one to approach me and long before I'd even given this excuse to Matt. The first time we'd talked, L came up to me after I'd gotten into one of the many physical altercations with the Neanderthals unfortunately termed my fellow classmates. The assholes had been taunting me about the usual: my long hair, my skinniness, my too-close friendship with Matt – the list goes on. After I'd sent them packing, L walked over, and he said, "They scorn your relationship with Matt because it is foreign to them, but that does not make it wrong. Do not let them discourage you from being exactly who you are."

As the implication of his words had set in, I'd felt my heart stutter and my face go violently red. I was spitting mad. To this day, I'm still embarrassed to remember how I had told him in no uncertain terms to go fuck himself.

And then, later on, I saw him in the hallways with Light. I watched them talking together, laughing together, and sharing glances that communicated things that no-one else was privy to. I immediately recognized the feeling that started festering in my chest: envy. So, I manned up, apologized, and we started to talk. At the time, I insisted to L that I wasn't gay, but we all know L was way too smart to not see through that bullshit.

We became fast friends. Along with Halle, he was someone I could talk to about the things that I was too confused about to say to Matt. Though, he had an advantage that Halle didn't have: he'd already been through the things I was just going through then.

In the present, I asked him, "So, what are you guys going to do?"

L shook his head. "I do not know." He didn't seem willing to say more than that.

So, I switched tactics. "How did Misa give you the shiner?"

He gave me a sad smile. "Misa is a smart woman; do not be mistaken on that account. She has known the entirety of the situation for a long time; though, why she played along and did not speak of her knowledge, I do not know. When I was driving her home, she threw this knowledge in my face and demanded why I thought I had the right to keep Light from her and their unborn child. I did not answer the way she desired me to, and she yelled at me to pull over and let her out of the car. Foolishly, I wished her a good night, and she in turn gave me this black eye as a parting gift. Watari was not pleased to see it when I arrived back home."

"Speaking of Watari, what's the deal?" I couldn't yet find an adequate response to the part about Misa. Maybe it was better to let that pass without comment.

"He has been dissatisfied with my performance in my studies."

"What? Did you get one ninety-nine percent in a batch of hundreds?"

Apparently, he didn't find this as amusing as I did. "I have been absent several time from my classes. It is reflecting in my assignments." He could tell by the look on my face that I knew why. He continued, "Watari doesn't like Light, you know. He feels like I am throwing away my dream in favour of shallow hopes that will never pan out to anything."

This, too, I felt I had no place to give my opinion on, so I said instead, "I know what that's like. Roger cornered me in the grocery store a little while back and really laid into me."

L frowned. "Ah. That was most likely my grandfather's doing. He mentioned to me that he'd been sharing his concerns with his old friend."

"Yeah, old is right." I snorted. "Those two have way too much time on their hands if all they have to worry about is whether we perform well in post-secondary."

"I thought you had dreams of going to university." L was looking at me thoughtfully.

I shot down his line of questioning with a pointed narrowing of my eyes. "I've also got time."

"Yes." L nodded. "I agree." He seemed content to leave it at that, but then he had to go and throw me for a loop: "Are you still receiving those emails?"

I gritted my teeth. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I see." He carried on chewing his thumb, not even bothering to look at me.

"You see what?" I elbowed him.

He cleared his throat. In one smooth movement, he lowered his legs to the ground and sat down on the bench. "I just wonder why you choose to abide harassment."

Throwing my arm over the back of the bench, I tilted my head back and sighed, closing my eyes. "Then I guess we're in agreement."

"About what, if I may ask?"

"Neither of us understands why the other does what he does."

The kettle always finds it hard to listen to the pot's advice.