Concerto
A&N: This story happened after Restart. I do not own Death Note, and I won't make profit from this fiction.
It was almost dark when Mello got off the plane. There was a long queue along the customs counter. Standing in front of him were a couple, an elder girl and a little boy. It was probably the first time for the two kids to come to the United States. They were excitedly and noisily discussing their travel plans. While chatting and laughing, the little boy noticed Mello staring at them, as he turned around immediately with a look of fear. Then after a while, he started to turn his head and peek at Mello from time to time, especially at Mello's face. Ever since Mello got the scar on his face, he had accustomed to received strange looks while walking on the road. He sneered, as he took the chocolate bar and bit it. He had been provided a meal an hour before landing, but his stomach was still growling.
He kicked his heels, as he took out his mobile phone and slid the screen for searching a phone number. When he was about to press the dial button, he immediately shut the screen. He originally thought he would stay in the UK for a longer time. He returned to the place where he had stayed for eight years and got back his belongings. Then he quickly booked a flight back to New York and fled from London. Yes, he did flee from London. He lied to Halle. He told Halle that he had to back to the States as soon as possible and deal with something urgent. It's weird. The UK was where he grew up, but he had to flee back to the US. In Winchester, Roger didn't say anything like welcome home or kick him out. Wammy's House was an institution where highly brilliant kids were raised to the next L, but one of these kids who became the member of Mafia, came back unashamedly and swaggered around the campus. Wasn't Roger worried that he might have a bad impact on the children here? He and Halle were standing by the car discussing who would drive back to London that afternoon, as he caught a glimpse of Roger standing at the window of the second floor and looking at them. Roger looked much older. Their eyes met for a moment, but Roger's gaze showed no emotion, as if he were just a casual visitor. The life in Wammy's House was just a page that had been turned for him.
Mello came out of Newark Airport after a long wait and got in a cab. The cab driver turned and scanned over the blonde boy wearing sunglasses and a black leather jacket. He asked, "Where would you like to go?"
"Long Island City."
Mello skillfully opened the door and placed his bag on the shoe cabinet at the door. The dust on the cabinet made him frown uncontrollably. He found a cloth which looked clean from the bathroom and casually wiped the dust off the couch. Then he lay down on the couch exhausted.
Unsurprisingly, this was the first place to stay he thought of, when he arrived in New York,. He had thought about staying in Matt's studio in Brooklyn for a few nights. Considering that the last time he contacted Matt was a month ago, he didn't know what Matt had been up to. If you go to somebody else's house for the night unannounced, you may bump into what you weren't supposed to see. Mello shook his head and tried to push the embarrassing experience out of his mind. He noticed the narrow space between the sofa and coffee table, and felt that Halle's furniture was not suitable to be placed in this apartment. He still preferred the apartment she lived in before that he would tell her when she returned to New York.
Mello opened his eyes, his mind was blank for a while before he realized where he was. He lay asleep on the couch. He looked out the window at the bright sun, as he touched his cell phone on the carpet.
"Damn it." Mello complained, jet lag making his sense of time extremely confusing. After he finished washing up, he opened the refrigerator, which was empty. He sighed and forgot that there had been no one living here for a month. At this moment, his phone rang.
It was a message.
"Wanna see me?" The phone number was unknown.
"What the hell?" He was very surprised because he had changed his phone number three times in recent six months for preventing tracking and eavesdropping. Few people knew his present phone number.
A prank?
Beep.
It was another message. "Tomorrow afternoon at 5:30 pm, M, I'll wait for you at the usual place." Melo couldn't help but frown.
"Wake up! The sun is setting."
Matt opened his eyes in a daze. He dreamed he ate delicious lobster roll in Boston , and now he was pulled back to his small apartment in Brooklyn.
"What the hell?" He got up and saw Mello standing by the bed, holding his arms and looking down at him.
"Mello! Why are you here?" Matt rubbed his eyes.
"Help me track a phone number," Mello looked at Matt's greasy table filled with Chinese food takeout boxes in disgust, and pulled the chair at least half a meter away from the table before sitting down.
"Track a phone number?"
Matt picked up his vest on the sofa and put it on. He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of soda. "Would you like to drink some?"
"No." Mello refused. "Today I received two messages from unknown phone number. Wanna see me? Wait for me at the usual place."
"A prank? By the way, Mello, what have you been up to? You haven't contacted me for a while." Matt used a bottle opener to open the metal cap of the glass bottle and drank deeply.
"I don't think this is a prank," Mello showed Matt the messages.
"Tomorrow afternoon at 5:30 pm, M, I'll wait for you at the usual place." Matt took Mello's cell phone, murmuring. "What do you think this is? A conspiracy luring you? Or is it one of your former lovers came to you?"
"Don't you see M?" Mello calmly pointed out.
"You think you're the only M in the world? I could be called M, too."
"Are you gonna do or not?"
"Yes, sir." Matt chuckled.
Mello chewed chocolate, as he watched Matt typing on the keyboard.
"They are clearly not sent by a certain phone number. I mean, it should be sent by some special transmitter?" Matt shrugged. "Dude, you really can't guess who could sent emails?"
"I have no idea. Could you track the location of the transmitter?" Mello took another big bite of the chocolate.
"What are you going to do if you know the location of the transmitter?" Matt's expression suddenly became serious.
"I'm..."
"This is clearly a trap! Not even a trap. It was an invitation that tempt you to appear.""
"I need to figure out who sent messages and what his purpose was. Matt, tell me, where did these two damn messages come from?"
Matt sighed and lit a cigarette with his favorite Zippo, taking a deep puff. "Hive, a pub in the Lower East Side of Manhattan."
Mello wrapped the chocolate and stood up. "Matt, we'll leave in fifteen minutes. Drive your car."
"What? You know this pub?" Matt asked curiously.
"No, I've never heard of it before."
"How dare you go? You were a fucking former mafia. How many enemies do you have? Maybe cops made a clumsy plan to arrest you. Would you like to bite the hook?"
Mello picked up the car key on the table, as he opened the door. He glanced at Matt and walked out.
"Jesus, I haven't eaten anything yet today," Matt patted his forehead, as he said helplessly.