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Mello never shared his chocolate.
Not willingly, at least.
Matt had known better than to try and get into Mello’s secret stash from the very moment they’d met, but not all kids at Wammy’s had been that clever. Plenty a punch had been thrown as a result, after which the perpetrator tended to quickly learn their lesson.
These days, there weren’t any kids around to try and steal Mello’s chocolate. Matt sometimes hid some of it for entertainment purposes, but he only did that occasionally. He valued his life enough to want to stay on Mello’s good side at least for most of the time.
Heck, Matt didn’t even like chocolate all that much. He didn’t care if that made him some kind of criminal in Mello’s eyes – there were plenty of other, much worse things for which either of them could be considered a criminal – but he’d just never really had that same craving for it as Mello seemed to have.
The exception being, of course, when he tasted it from Mello directly. The taste of it on his tongue, the last remaining layer of sweetness on his lips…
Okay so maybe he did like chocolate, but only under very specific circumstances.
Thing was, Mello didn’t share his chocolate with anyone, for any reason. And Matt didn’t need him to, because he didn’t like it all that much anyway. He preferred his cigarettes over the gooey sweetness that was chocolate, even on a bad day.
When his DS refused to boot up that morning, no matter how much he charged it, Matt did not yet consider it a particularly bad day, and simply reminded himself to pry the thing open and check for issues later on.
When his goggles fell and cracked as a result of something that seemed to be a mix of clumsiness, bad luck and built-up karma, Matt considered it to be a shitty day, but not the worst one he’d ever had.
When a cat suddenly jumped in front of his car and he had to go and tell some sad, wide-eyed seven-year-old girl why her beloved Mr Fiddles wasn’t going to come home anymore, Matt was just about ready for this excruciating day to be over. Obviously he’d tried to hit the brakes or swerve out of the way in time, but the damage had already been done. The cat had been too fast, or Matt too slow, and that had been it.
He didn’t think he’d had this bad a day since the day Mello had left Wammy’s without telling him.
Which was saying something, because that had been the worst day of his life.
When Matt entered the apartment that afternoon, one cat-burial, two drawn-out speeches by angry parents, and about a dozen smokes later, he was pretty damn certain he looked as shitty as he felt.
Mello, ever the observant one, could immediately tell.
‘Jesus Matt, you look like someone died.’
‘Well, someone did.’ he replied, ignoring the concerned look that earned him. ‘I killed Mr Fiddles.’
Mello raised an eyebrow at him in an expression that was equally concerned as it was confused.
‘I hit a cat with my car.’ Matt explained.
‘Shit.’
Admitting it out loud only made things worse, because now Matt was remembering that girl’s teary expression as he’d told her the news, and he had to rapidly blink in order to stop his own eyes from watering.
‘And I broke the goggles you gave me back at Wammy’s.’ he added, even if it seemed insignificant in comparison. Everything had been piling up today, and it was all spilling out now no matter how much he tried to stop it. This was one hell of a shitty day in the history of shitty days. ‘And my DS won’t boot up, either. Which is stupid, because it’s just a DS, but…’
He felt ridiculous.
Matt’s shitty days consisted of dying cats and broken goggles and malfunctioning electronics. Mello’s shitty days consisted of being blown to smithereens and almost being killed by world-famous criminals.
(Matt’s shittiest days had technically consisted of those things too, but he felt he’d always played more of a supporting role in those cases. Credit for the shittiest possible days still went to Mello).
‘Actually, forget it.’
He’d go mope in bed and sleep it off and hope tomorrow would be better or something. Bothering Mello with such insignificant things felt like a silly thing to do.
Except when he tried to move towards the bedroom, Mello unceremoniously took hold of his shoulders and plopped him down on the couch with no room for argument.
‘Mello—’
Without saying anything, Mello walked towards the kitchen and left Matt to his own devices for a minute or two. Technically he could get up from the couch and move towards the bedroom whenever he wanted, but going against Mello was never a good idea, and Matt especially didn’t feel like it in that moment.
When Mello returned, he was holding something that looked suspiciously much like a bar of chocolate. Which would be stupid, because not even Mello was addicted enough to consider walking away at a time like this just to get his fix…right?
Right?
But then Mello held out the chocolate for him, almost as if he wanted him to take it, which surely couldn’t be what he meant, and Matt’s eyes went wide in disbelief.
There was no fucking way.
‘Eat.’ was all Mello said when Matt didn’t get into action quickly enough, which caused Matt’s eyes to widen impossibly further. Because clearly, Mello had meant what Matt thought he’d meant. Clearly, Mello wanted him to take the chocolate.
Mello never shared his chocolate.
Except today he did, because Matt had had an incredibly shit day and he thought maybe chocolate would help him feel better.
Mello was good with words in the sense that he knew how to use them to get people to do what he wanted. He knew how to tell a compelling story. He knew how to threaten people. He knew how to persuade them. He did not, however, know how to offer comfort.
Clearly, sharing his chocolate was the next best thing he could think of. And coming from him, that action alone spoke so, so much louder than words.
Matt felt like he might cry.
‘Thanks.’ he croaked, before hesitantly taking the chocolate. As if Mello might change his mind at the very last second and pull it away again.
Except he didn’t.
When Matt started tearing off the wrapper and all Mello did in response was sit next to him, Matt could hardly believe it.
‘Who are you and what have you done with Mello?’ he asked, a watery laugh leaving his mouth.
At this, Mello rolled his eyes.
‘I can be nice sometimes.’
‘Sometimes.’ Matt agreed. ‘But I like it when you’re a little mean, so that’s okay.’
‘Yeah well, you looked like you could do with nice Mello today.’
Matt took a bite from the chocolate, and thought that maybe Mello was right about that. If Mello only acted nice every once in a while, then he was glad that it was now.
And then Mello pressed a soft kiss against his lips in-between bites, and Matt thought maybe he might come to like chocolate a little more after all, even if it didn’t compare to getting a taste directly from Mello’s lips.
Or maybe this was Mello’s way of training him to like it.
(It was working).
‘Feel better?’ Mello asked when he was about halfway through.
‘A little.’
‘You should eat some more, then.’
So Matt did. He finished the whole damn bar – all the while wondering how on earth Mello managed to finish whole chocolate bars regularly, because Matt felt a little queasy after just the one – save for the last bite. When he’d reached the last bite, he put it between his teeth and tilted his head towards Mello.
He half-expected Mello to roll his eyes again, but instead, he leaned in and took the piece of chocolate from his mouth in a slow, affectionate kiss. He purposely drew it out longer than necessary, though Matt wasn’t complaining.
‘Chocolate really does make people feel better.’ Matt murmured once Mello had pulled back once more.
There was a triumphant little grin on his face as he did, though not the smug one he usually wore. This time, he looked almost pleased or relieved somehow.
Mello wasn’t good at offering comfort through words, but he sure as hell knew how to provide it through his actions.
‘I know.’
Mello didn’t share his chocolate, but on occasion, Matt was grateful to know he was the exception to that rule.