Work Text:
The speedometer climbed past one hundred, then one-twenty. After those little pesky reminders, Matt didn't look at it again.
The engine screamed beneath him as tires tore across asphalt, New York's skyline dissolving into streaks of neon outside the windshield. In the rearview mirror, a sleek black sedan refused to leave them alone. Its headlights stayed fixed on them.
"Persistent assholes," Mello snarled from beside him, in the passenger seat.
"They're gaining!" Matt shouted, growing more and more hysterical.
"I noticed."
Mello shoved himself halfway out the rolled-down passenger window, blond hair whipped violently by the wind. A gunshot cracked through the night, then another, as he skillfully held tightly onto his gun, as well as his seat in order not to fall out. He squeezed the trigger of his Beretta twice. Glass exploded behind them.
One of the men leaning out of the pursuing car ducked back inside before returning fire. Bullets slammed into the trunk of Matt's precious vintage car whom he named Bessy (yes, he gave his car a name).
"Oh, you've got to be fucking with me now!"
"Eyes on the bloody road, Matt!"
"I am looking at the bloody road!"
The car fishtailed through an intersection, ignoring every red light in existence. The more road laws he was surely breaking (and the more aware of it he was), the more Matt's pulse hammered in his throat. Yeah, he was a cybercriminal, he wasn't much of a law-follower... But this?! For all he knew, there were cameras all around the city, ready to get a nice shot of his face to post on the Internet, all for Kira to execute him!
Well, sure, Matt didn't believe in the whole Kira thing much... He'd never believed in God, so why believe in the idea of this Kira dude? Nevertheless, one could never be too safe... For all Matt knew, he could end up getting shot by multiple officers and end up like swiss cheese!
"This would be a lot easier if I had another cigarette!"
"You finished the last one five minutes ago," Mello retorted.
"I know, man! Thanks, Captain Obvious!"
"It's good that you know." The blond fired once more. "Means you're sober. Drive faster."
Matt stared at him in disbelief, then barked, "Oh, would you shut the fuck up? I can't do this sober!"
Mello gritted his teeth. For once, he didn't argue. He simply ducked back inside as another volley shattered a traffic sign behind them.
"There!" he pointed.
Matt yanked the steering wheel. The car lurched violently into a narrow tunnel hidden beneath an overpass. Obscurity swallowed them whole as concrete echoed with screaming tires before Matt veered off onto an old maintenance road leading beneath the bridge.
Just like that, the pursuing headlights flashed past the tunnel entrance. Those mobsters were gone.
Matt killed the engine, and silence crashed over the two. Neither moved; neither spoke; solely their breathing slowly filled the car. However, being eager to break that blissful silence, Mello calmly reached forward and opened the glove compartment. Matt watched him pull out a chocolate bar.
"... Seriously, Mells?"
The wrapper crinkled softly as the blond unwrapped it and absently started licking the bar.
"You've got some nerve putting your crap in my car."
Mello rolled his eyes. "I'm the one paying for everything, need I remind you." He bit into the bar, a sharp snap loud. "And if anything happens to your precious car, I'll happily cover the repairs if it'll finally shut you up."
Matt groaned dramatically. "You are un-fucking-believable, Mello."
He grabbed his Marlboro Reds from the center console, fished out his battered lighter, shoved open the door, and stepped outside the car, slamming the car door hard enough for the bridge above to echo faintly and a few pigeons to be rattled.
Mello clicked his tongue, finding the whole display to be awfully dramatic. He took another bite of his dark chocolate bar while watching Matt go for a smoke, as though high-speed chases had become just another inconvenience in an otherwise ordinary evening.
Honestly, Mello didn't understand too much what was the issue... Matt was used to breaking the law all the time! Ever since last August, Matt had been an assistant to Mello for his hunt for Kira, as well as an IT guy for the Los Angeles mafia. Ever since Mello exploded the base nearly a month ago due to the NPA's ambush, well... It had become increasingly hard to deny that the redhead had become more and more on-edge. Even more the past week, following Mello's reunion with Near.
—
Mid-November, 2009
Mello was sitting unusually still as Matt stood behind him, carefully trimming uneven strands of blond hair that had been singed by the explosion. Every now and then, bits of flaky skin and flesh would fall off with the small locks, all drifting onto the bathroom tiles, an eerie sight... Only the faint trembling in Mello's shoulders betrayed his chronic pain.
Matt instantly noticed. His stomach twisted painfully, repeating to himself that he should've been there sooner, should have prevented the situation... He should've anticipated the NPA's ambush. After all, he was the IT guy! He also shouldn't have agreed to plant the explosives all around the mafia's base in the first place... Maybe then...
He felt like cutting Mello's hair was the most he could do. The first day Mello had been conscious and seen himself in a mirror, he nearly punched the glass, unable to reconcile with his new appearance. Matt knew how Mello probably saw the scar: a reminder of his recklessness and a near-death reminder, ugly and breeding insecurity. The guy was probably dealing with a shit ton of chronic pain from then on, as well.
"I'm making it uneven, aren't I?" he muttered.
Mello huffed quietly. "You've said that like six times."
"I just... I dunno, man... Nevermind." Once he'd finished styling Mello's hair, he sighed. "I'm heading to the rooftop."
"When are you gonna quit that habit of yours?"
"Just leave it alone already, Mells... You've got bigger things to worry about." He grabbed a bottle of pills that had been lying inside the bathroom sink and handed it to him. "Take two. It should help with the pain."
"Please tell me you got these at an actual pharmacy," Mello retorted.
"Yes, Mello, I did. I'm not giving you morphine, you can calm down."
—
Early December, 2009
Matt stood against the railing, cigarette between his leather-gloved fingers. As Mello climbed the apartment complex's staircase that led to said rooftop, he wondered, not for the first time, whether the reason why Matt never seemed afraid to throw himself between Mello and a bullet was because the redhead smoked like each cigarette was his last anyway.
It seemed as if, every single time, Matt drove toward danger instead of away from it if it meant getting Mello out alive. It irritated the blond to no end just as much as it terrified him.
He joined him on the rooftop without uttering a word. Before Matt could react, Mello plucked the cigarette from between his fingers and took a drag. Matt blinked.
"What are you doing?"
Mello exhaled slowly, making sure the whole gesture was as exaggerated as possible.
"If I can't get you to quit, I'll just join you," he said matter-of-factly.
"Quit fucking with me, Mells."
"No, I'm actually quite serious."
"You haven't smoked since we were teenagers. The first time I saw you again, back in LA, you strictly said you don't smoke and preferred 'the more-natural stuff, like wine.'"
"Habits change, 'Matty.' I can commit to more than one thing, y'know."
Matt stared, stunned, before quickly snatching his cigarette back. "No."
"What?"
"I don't want you smoking, Mells."
Mello raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "Says the chimney."
"I'm serious."
Matt hesitated, briefly glancing at the burn scar running beneath the blond's hairline all the way down to his left shoulder and side.
"Your lungs are probably already..." He searched for another word, knowing damn well that perhaps using the term 'weak' when referring to a part of Mello (and to his face) maybe wouldn't be the best idea. "... not exactly in perfect condition after, well, the explosion."
"Well, yours must be pitch black by now," he quipped, smiling.
"... Yeah," he snorted. "Fair enough."
For a while, they simply watched the city. Matt was smoking that cigarette, whilst Mello didn't ask for it back.
"So," the redhead broke the peaceful silence this time, "have you ever... actually had a relationship?"
Mello shrugged. "Nah, never really had time."
"No?"
"I wasn't against the occasional hookup, however."
"Straight to the point," he laughed.
"What about you?"
Matt scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, having hoped the day of Mello asking him this would never come.
"Well, not gonna lie, you kinda make me sound like a whore."
"When have I ever called you that?"
"My dating history's... surprisingly longer."
Mello looked sideways. "And?"
"Well, they were all short. More like flings."
"Hm, I see." Mello reached over with no warning, taking the cigarette one final time before pressing its burning end against the metal railing until it hissed out. "There."
"The fuck?! I was still smoking that!"
"You've smoked enough for today. Surely even until next week too."
Matt opened his mouth to protest, then, as if a light bulb had lit up, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat.
"Speaking of next week..." he mumbled.
He pulled out a clumsily wrapped package, the paper wrinkled and one corner already torn due to friction. The tape was already of shit quality and had been applied at wildly different angles. Mello stared at the mess, an eyebrow arched.
"... That is the worst wrapping job I've ever seen."
"Aw, come on! Appreciate my efforts!"
"I don't even know yet what this is, what is there to appreciate?"
Matt laughed. "Just open it."
Mello carefully peeled away the paper. A vinyl record slid into view, and his eyes lingered on the familiar cover.
A vinyl of Charles Aznavour's Les plus belles chansons album.
"I know you'd rather I'd gotten you Christian Death or something, but... well, I remember you used to love Aznavour lots when we were, what, nine? In any case, I was gonna wait to give this to you on your birthday next week, but I dunno, this moment feels right." He shrugged. "Been real nostalgic lately. Call me sentimental."
Mello looked at the vinyl and hugged it to his chest, then placed a gentle kiss to Matt's cheek, leaving a glossy-black imprint on the latter.
"Thank you, Matt."
Matt had to contain a ripple of giggles as he grinned ear to ear. "Of course, no worries!"
"I promise you, once I get Kira's head, you won't need to worry about me anymore. And I promise, we'll spend the entire summer together. I'll take you to see the world. Name a place, we'll go to it."
Matt's grin only grew bigger hearing Mello say that, thinking it all to be too good to be true. He'd always hoped to have a nice life with his childhood best friend and partner-in-crime once the latter left the mafia chapter of his life behind him.
He knew Mello wasn't the cozy-life type, but a part of him wanted to see Mello live a calm, serene life where they'd simply live in an apartment together, listen to good music, and carelessly be public nuisances. It was the life he had before agreeing to work with the blond and the LA mafia; and it stayed the life he wanted to share with Mello.
Mello lowered his gaze to the vinyl, the wind tugging lightly at the loose wrapping paper still caught between his fingers.
"Thanks, again."
"My pleasure, man."
'Tandis que le monde nous juge (while the world judges us)
Je ne vois pour nous qu'un refuge (I only see a refuge for us)
Toute issue étant condamnée' (any outcome being condemned)
Another silence stretched, then Mello sighed, a big one. "... but I don't want you getting the wrong idea from any of this."
Only then did Matt smudge away the gloss stain on his cheek. He pushed up his goggles to look at his partner better, without the orange tint.
"What wrong idea?"
"That..." He bit the inside of his cheek, searching for words as he found that they now seemed to feel strangely heavier than any gun he'd ever held at someone's head. "... that we're a couple."
"... How come?"
Mello turned around, resting his elbows and back against the railing. He didn't wanna look at the slipping smile from Matt's face.
"You shouldn't want someone like me."
Matt frowned.
"I'm serious, Matt."
"I know, I know..."
"I'm not... As much as I want to live an ordinary life, I can't promise you that a world-trip with me will be ordinary. I don't think it ever can," he laughed bitterly under his breath, "see, I'm not built for ordinary, I guess." His fingers brushed absentmindedly over the scar climbing his neck, beneath the leather material of his jacket. He tried not to itch, but an occasional one came nevertheless. "I chose this life of crime. You deserve somebody safe, somebody who'll give you maybe a dog or a cat, maybe kids if you want them. Someone who doesn't wake up wondering whether today's the day they get a heart attack or get shot up like Swiss cheese."
Matt had listened to that mini-monologue without interruption. However, once Mello fell silent, Matt stopped leaning against the railing and stepped closer.
"I want a safe life," he told the blond. "For you."
That caught Mello off-guard.
"I don't really care whether it's selfish of me, to be quite frank," Matt continued, shrugging. "I'm going to keep dragging you toward one anyway."
Mello scoffed. "You're gonna try to force me out of this?"
"I've been trying for ages."
"Clearly, you're failing."
"Oh, I know," he laughed. He then looked at Mello, then at the Les plus belles chansons vinyl, taking him back to the House. "... but I'll keep trying. And if one day, I can't, then I'll just join you."
Mello stared at him.
"Whether, it's in crime, hiding, or even death. We're partners in this, like it or not. I've already committed to this manhunt."
'Tu es le printemps, moi l'automne (you are spring, I am fall)
Ton cœur se prend, le mien se donne (your heart is taken, mine is given)
Et ma route est déjà tracée (and my road is already traced)
Mourir d'aimer' (dying of love) x3