Leather and Stripes

Usually Matt didn't particularly care about the state the world was in. Things like the weather didn't mean much to him considering he spent most of his time indoors glued to the couch with a game controller in his hand. But sometimes, such as this, when he ventured past the walls of his small, one bedroom apartment in the middle of Los Angeles, he came to appreciate the sunny or cloudy times of the day. Windy and Rainy weather could be hindering but there were times when he wouldn't mind braving the forces of chilly air and getting wet. Snow, however, beat all other forms of climate changes. There was just something about the mixture of cold crystals falling from the sky in random patterns.

It was beautiful and calming. Not loud like rain when it hit the many surfaces of the world, but you knew it was there nevertheless. And it sent pleasant shivers up the spine when touching the skin.

But most of all, Matt liked what snow resembled; silence, innocence, purity, so easily tainted.

And it was fun. Every time it fell from the sky Matt felt an indescribable joy bubble in his chest and put a bounce in his step, jiggling the bag filled with a box of cigarettes and 23 king sized chocolate bars (the last on the shelf). He jogged up the steps to the lobby of his Apartment complex and through the front doors. Giving a small smile to the desk manager he strolled to the left, walked into the adjoining hallway and up a flight of stairs to the second story. Three doors to the right he pulled out the key and unlocked the door, welcoming the warmth from within.

"I'm back," He called out, toeing off the black boots. There was no answer and Matt set the grocery bag on the kitchen table before walking through the living room in front of the couch. A blond haired man occupied the piece of furniture, black leather adorned the body, golden tresses surrounded the head like a halo, and half a chocolate bar laid in his hand. His eyes were shut, lips slightly parted, and his breaths came in tranquil, even pants. He looked like an angel.

Matt knew better.

"Hey," He called, a hand reaching out to lightly shake his friend's shoulder. "Mello, wake up."

Slowly, the eyes opened, revealing a bright, almost crazed, crystal blue. For a second, the blond just blinked, looking at Matt blankly until his brain seemed to click in recognition. "Did you get the chocolate?"

"Yeah, how are you feeling?"

"Better. I think my fever is gone."

Matt's hand moved up to feel Mello's forehead, testing the temperature, much to the blond's dislike as a very heated glare was sent his way. "Looks that way," He replied before his hand was slapped away, but continued without a beat, "Do you want the solid chocolate bar or should I fix some hot chocolate?"

The glare disappeared rather quickly and suddenly Mello looked quite tired despite his little nap. "Hot chocolate." When Matt moved away and into the kitchen, Mello groaned, "I can't believe I'm sick. It's so stupid."

"It's all this cold weather. It came so suddenly, people everywhere are getting sick," Matt said from the counter, filling up a glass with milk to warm up in the microwave. "It's snowing too."

"Really? Los Angeles usually doesn't get much snow, if at all. How much?"

"A good bit. Enough to cover the ground." They were silent then as Matt heated the milk and dropped quite a lot of chocolate into the cup to melt. Mello stood from the couch, stretching a bit. He looked around, giving a small, almost non-existent sigh before walking across the room to a glass door leading to a small patio, sliding the door open and slipping outside.

When Matt had the mug of hot chocolate ready he followed, his friend outside, shivering when hit with a gust of cold air. "You know, I didn't think I would have to remind you of all people that being out in the snow with nothing on but your skimpy black leather is not a good idea. Especially since you are just recovering from a fever."

Mello sent a half hearted glare to the red head, taking the cup of warm liquid with a little gratitude, making his face twist strangely from the mixed expressions. "Whatever. Being sick is such a waste of time. That little albino shit is probably ahead of me now."

Smiling, the gamer sat down in one of the plastic chairs, leaned back and opened his mouth to catch snowflakes on his tongue. The blond laughed at that, "The snow is probably polluted, you know. You'll get sick, and I am not taking care of you."

"Even if it is polluted I'd have to eat quite a bit of snow to get sick off it. But thanks for showing your concern. I feel the appreciation."

Another sigh came from the blond, louder this time and Matt turned his head to look at him. "What's wrong?"

Swallowing a rather large gulp of hot chocolate Mello took a moment to answer, looking out to the city around them. Watching the silent snow fall as the familiar loud music of the city continued below was captivating. Finally, Mello opened his mouth to answer in a low voice, "I'm just tired."

"Physically or Emotionally?"

"Both."

Matt let out a sigh of his own and, for a second, just allowed himself to sag in the chair in a moment of surrender. "Me too."

"But you're always tired," Was the answer, but the tone was teasing.

"You know what I mean, Mel. This whole thing is so exhausting. Battling Kira and Near is a little too much to handle for much a long period of time. I miss the old days where we could just pick on the kid, and didn't have to worry about it being the last thing we'd ever do."

"Yeah," Mello said, still not looking at Matt. "I miss it too sometimes."

From a normal, rational, point of view, one would say the way Mello acted was merely the way he reflected on the past; remembering the good times shared within his childhood. But when dealing with Mello, rationality was the last thing thing involved in decoding the boy's attitude. Such a calm demeanor for anybody else would be a good thing but with Mello, well, let's just say that Matt was getting worried. "Hey, no worries. We'll get him, Mello. Kira will be caught and Near will look like the fool."

"But what if we don't, Matt?" The question was said so softly, the red head had to strain to hear it over the city's noise. When the words registered he froze.

This was quite the role reversal. Matt was the one suppose to be calm, unbelieving of any results towards what they were working hard for. Mello was suppose to be saying- albeit in a more forceful way with a lot more colorful words, how they would accomplish the impossible. He didn't like this at all.

"What are you saying Mello?"

"L," The single word, a name, was said with a somewhat choked voice. "L died fighting Kira. He was killed even with the help of Watari. He had so much more experience! And Near... he may not have someone he ultimately trusts to help him but he's got the aid of the SPK. We have nothing, Matt!"

"Since when has that ever stopped you," Matt's voice was getting louder, a sure sign of his rising impatience. He was usually so cool headed, especially when regarding Mello as that was the best way to stay alive. But the conversation was foreign to him- never, in the entire expanse of their relationship, did he ever think he'd have this kind talk with his temperamental friend. "Where is this coming from? If you have such little faith then why the hell are you doing this, Mello?"

"I don't know!" And suddenly, those blue eyes were on him, a glint of something flashed before the orbs and Matt's anger reached the top so quickly he would later be astounded. Insecurity was not something Matt ever thought the blond had the right to show.

Standing, the red head moved right up to the blond, shortening the distance between them in a threatening way, something he had not dared to do in years. "Then give up! Walk away right now! Go back to Whammy House and tell them all how you joined the fucking Mafia, blew up your fucking face, and risked your life for nothing! And when all those kids ask you why you quit, what will you say?! I was a coward?"

There was a second where Mello's eyes widened in surprise at Matt's outburst before narrowing in anger, "I'm not a coward!"

"You sound like one," Matt scoffed and turned around, sitting in the chair again, trying to force his anger back into his chest. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes, the last one inside; thank God he had the foresight to buy a box at the store while getting Mello's chocolate. He brought it to his lips along with the cylinder shaped lighter he carried with him everywhere and lit the cancer stick, taking a deep breath of smoke. It warmed him slightly from the chill in the air and worked at his tense nerves. Mello watched this with a icy hard glare that would make anybody else flinch.

"I didn't chase you down to listen to this shit, Mello," He said, letting smoke crawl from his mouth with the words. "I thought you wanted to avenge L, become number one, beat Near, and save the world. If you don't think you can do that, or at least try to, let me know. Cause you're wasting my time."

"If you want to leave then get the fuck out! It's not like I'm holding you here!"

"Are you?! Because the last time I checked this wasn't just some boss and employee relationship. I was under the impression we were partners!"

"Maybe you're impression was wrong! I don't need a partner, I work alone, that's why I left your ass in the first place!"

He went too far, Mello realized this the instant in which it came from his mouth. But the words were said, and despite their hurtful meaning, both of them knew Mello had meant it. And suddenly, the urge to argue disappeared.

Matt's green eyes, hidden behind orange tinted goggles experienced a burning sensation and his throat constricted. Rolling his thick tongue around his mouth, Matt spoke, "I guess you're right. Sorry if I've been in your way. I suppose I'll take the hint and 'get the fuck out' so you can do your business."

With that, the red head stood, cigarette in his mouth, and slid the glass door open, slipping into the warmth of the apartment. Mello's lips parted, as if telling him that this was the time to protest; to tell his friend that he didn't want him to leave. But the words wouldn't come, getting stuck in his throat and threatening to choke him with meaning.

Silence surrounded him, although he hardly noticed with the torment of thoughts swarming around in his genius of a mind. Blank eyes turned, once more, to stare out at the snow still falling beautifully, unaware of the horrible happenings. He watched. For minutes, or hours he didn't know, but by the time he finally decided to go inside it was dark and his body was numb.

He noticed the lights were out around the apartment and, without paying much attention, strolled past the couch and into the doorway of the only bedroom, one that he and Matt shared. Two beds laid against opposite sides of the room, a desk with a lap top in the middle, against the wall underneath a curtain covered window. A bookshelf with only the barest of books sat to the right; mostly covered by newspaper clippings of Kira murders and tapes of recorded videos Mello had Matt set up. Two doors were on the right; one led to the bathroom, the other was a closet occupied by leather, striped shirts, and jeans.

No Matt.

The blond wondered to his side of the room, stopping short of falling onto his bed when he noticed a piece of paper on the pillow.

Mello,

I'll be back tomorrow to get my stuff. You can take the apartment, I'll have the papers signed over to you by next week.

Matt

Mello flopped forward onto the mattress, burying his face into the black comforter, almost immediately feeling his eyes drop. The night was full of dreams in which he felt incredibly alone and helpless. Something was missing, and he knew it was his fault.