Title : Tragic

Disclaimer : Death Note isn't mine, nor are the two lovely babies. Sadly. -sighs-

Pairing : MattMello [MxM]

Sitting on the bed, his head had fallen back and was resting against the wall.

He didn't even want to think of what he looked like at this very moment. His hair was not smooth like it usually was, and despite all the care he put in this so special part of his appearance, at this very moment he could not bring himself to mind. Blond, honey strands were disheveled, standing up in every direction and making him look nothing like the tough, perfectly well-groomed gunman he was.

His lips must have been slightly swollen too, he could tell to this pretty particular taste they had when he ran his tongue over them, a little close to blood yet sweet as ever –for he had been munching on this chocolate of his not earlier than an hour before, and the feeling still lingered. Running a hand tiredly over his face, he wondered if his mouth would ever taste anything but sweet and maybe bloody.

As he glanced over to the second figure laying in bed, he caught his heart starting to beat faster and he shivered despite himself -and despite the room being rather warm. Oh yes, how could it be anything but warm after their hours of lazy, bruising, sweet, burning, delicious, playful, childish, hot, breathtaking and sometimes so desperate lovemaking?

Sighing, he dropped his hand and stared down at it, blankly. This could not be called 'fucking' anymore, he knew this way too much. Gods, he didn't know when the lazy, lingering kisses and feverish sex had somehow turned into this mindblowing... this mindblowing...feeling, he even wondered if it hadn't been there from the start. He already knew their relationship had never been quite the regular one, they had never truly had this 'best friend' thing between them, when you talk about girls you have crushes on, for fear of making each other jealous, nor had they ever been just fuckbuddies –the thought wasn't even acceptable.

Mello sighed once more and shook his head. Just why did he start having this internal debate thing whenever his lazyass lover was asleep, and just why couldn't he help but watch him? This was useless anyway. Pondering about the how and why and when and so on of their relationship wasn't going to get him anywhere, it wouldn't change a thing, and he wouldn't want anything in this damn weird relationship to change. Plus, it was a girl's thing to make such a fuss about this. And, as he reminded himself quite often –for the sake of his pride–, he was not the girl in this relationship.

Why was it that he couldn't hold back, that he just had to reach out and dig his hand into this beautiful pepper hair and caress it so gently- he did not give a damn, he just did. And he sighed for the third time, closing his eyes as he drunk into the feeling. It really was a waste that he could only do those things when the other was asleep, because it felt just so good it almost made him want to throw away his pride and stop holding back like this all the time.

It had always been a wonder how Matt could keep his hair so bright and soft when he was such a geek and probably didn't even know what shampoo was. Mello didn't notice the fact that he was leaning down now, and crawling closer and closer to the other's body despite himself, wrapping his arms around his bare waist, pressing himself against his back, eyes still closed, and drinking into his scent with an unhidden pleasure. He smelt like chocolate. Was it because of Mello's hands, caressing the soft skin whenever he knew he would not be noticed, or did his whole wonderful being just have this particular flavor that he craved for so much?

Mello didn't care the slightest bit. He knew Matt would wake up soon, and it would be the end of his secret cuddling. He had sworn to himself he would never let the redhead know about it, he already had enough with the other's teasing him about just how girly he was, and how girly his hair was, and how girly his clothes were, and how girly his alluring moans were, and how girly his deadly attractive hips were, and how girly his adorable bellybutton was, and how girly his so cute and sweet little nose was, and how girly his lovely yummy toes were, and how girly this perfect kissable pout of his was- and fuck, he couldn't take any more of those shitty girly comments. Matt would tease him and chuckle whenever he would blush -even though Mello was positive that he did not- because of them, and that would irremediably get him smacked into a little puddle of blood.

If the redhead ever heard of his love of cuddles, he would never let him hear the end of it.

A fourth sigh was heard when Mello's pressed a soft kiss against this so perfect nape, but this time, it came from Matt's smiling lips. He was getting a bit tired of faking sleep, yet he did not dare explain to his lover that he knew about this cute little cuddly habit of his, for fear that it would cease as soon as he did so -and that his sweet baby would probably murder him dare he just mention it.

Mello really didn't understand his eternal undying love for him, and always mistook his fondness for some more teasing. (Though he had to admit, teasing Mello was still quite the fun thing.)

Keeping his eyes closed, he decided to accept his sad fate of having to pretend to take naps all over the house whenever he wanted some caressing and sweet cuddles from his tough little lover. This was tragic -to him, this was actually the most and only tragic part of their lovely relationship. But this had to be love. Tragic, and bruising.