How To Torture Mello

~Bonus Chapter~

Drool dripped out of the mouth of a large blonde man, rolling down the side of the leather couch he was draped over and pooling gently on the floor. The man's fingers twitched as he snored, one hand slowly moving up to scratch at his chest. The rosary dangling around his neck jingled with the scratches. The hand moved back down, dropped bonelessly until the fingers scraped gently against the concrete floor. Some of the drool on the floor got on the fingers- the hand shook trying to get it off, gave up.

Matt slammed open the door to the warehouse and Mello jumped off the couch, fell on his shoulder, cursed- "FUCK"- tried to salvage the landing by crouching with both his hands on the ground, tried to jump up as an intimidation tactic, and fell back over the couch. "Oh uh hey Matt." he said, wincing.

"Hey," said Matt, putting down a plastic bag of groceries. Mello could see the outline of a pint of ice cream in the bag, making condensation roll off the plastic. "I stepped out for a bit, you seemed pretty tired."

Mello grunted.

"And by pretty tired I mean possibly dead."

Mello grunted again, eyes focused on the bag. "What kind of ice cream didja get?" he asked. Matt looked down at the bag, back up at Mello.

"None of your business," he said. Matt grabbed the bag and coasted into the tiny kitchenette, lit by a bare bulb that dangled from the ceiling. Mello followed, sliding off the couch and using as little muscle power as possible to get from point a to point b. "Seriously," said Matt, watching Mello fairly crawl across the floor. "The floor is dirty and you're not eating this." He put the pint into the freezer, shut the door.

"Eughhhhh," said Mello, rolling over on his back like a beetle.

"Okay but that doesn't mean the floor isn't still filthy," said Matt, looking down at Mello through his goggles. "Also you disgust me," he continued, walking away, "and you smell terrible."

Mello stayed there, keening softly, for at least fifteen minutes before he gave up on Matt coming back and decided to go back to sleep, still on the floor.

—

Elsewhere, Near yawned and began to make some red flannel hash. Here's the recipe!

- one beet, baked until done (about an hour in tinfoil), peeled and cut into cubes

- two medium sized potatoes, cut up into cubes and boiled until mostly done but not falling apart

- one onion, diced

- 2 cloves garlic, minced

- one egg, traditionally poached but you can cook it however u want

put some butter in a skillet and melt it. when hot/bubbling, add the garlic and onion. fry until the onion is soft and transparent. Add the potatoes and beets. cook until everything is hot n sassy, add salt and pepper and w/e other spices you desire (montreal steak seasoning is p good) until it tastes good. put it into a bowl and serve with the egg perched on top. Garnish with like, some chopped green onion or something? Near didn't garnish it, the kitchen was a bit too basic to have green onions lying around, and he didn't feel like putting in the extra effort to make a garnish especially knowing that he'd have to do the dishes when he was done eating anyway.

Blearily, he wondered what Mello and Matt could be up to, but then put it out of his mind because they'd been out of his life for a good six years. Near sat at his kitchen's island and ate the red flannel hash while watching an episode of How It's Made. It was an episode he'd seen before, but he didn't mind, because at least this one had an agreeable narrator whose voice didn't make the fillings in his teeth hurt. In the episode, small blobs of bread dough rolled through extremely complicated series of conveyor belts before plopping gently into loaf pans. This made Near feel a deep sense of calm.

Once he'd finished the red flannel hash he put his bowl in the sink and peeked out the window. He could see the buildings across the alley and hills in the distance. There was an enormous puffy cloud blocking out most of the sun, but this didn't bother Near much. Most things didn't bother him at this point, considering the trauma that he'd inflicted on Mello and the resulting trauma inflicted on himself. Plus the inherent abuses that came with being groomed to be a world-class detective from the age of 3.

Near dismissed burgeoning memories that threatened to destroy his bread-and-breakfast vibe and opened the window. A cool breeze wafted in, Near took a deep breath, and as he let it out the world seemed to shudder for a split second.

Near said "Ugh fuck it," turned around, and went back to bed.

=end bonus chapter=

hi folks it's been like 4 or so years and i keep getting author alert notifications on this thing so i figured heck why not add something else

red flannel hash is probably my favourite breakfast food and it is easy to make w/ a hangover! try it out sometime

anyway this is really the last thing im gonna post re; this story so i wanna thank everyone for being a pal when i was like 14 and had no friends! kudos!