*checks legal documents* Yeah, still don't own anything... Damn. :/
~-~

"Hic- Dave, gimme some –hic– more." Matt slurred. Over an hour had passed since he came in, one spent with very little sobriety. The redhead had come close to falling off the barstool four times, and knocked over who knows how many of his drinks before they even touched his lips.

"Matt, I think you need to stop." Dave advised him, very concerned about his customer's well-bring.

"Naww, 'm fine!" Matt laughed. "Gimme another!"

Dave hoped that the redhead didn't plan on driving home. Not that Matt seemed to know anyone else here, but it'd be nice if he had a buddy to call to come get him. He really didn't want to give Matt another drink. A light bulb went off in his head. "Hey Matt, you need to pay me for all those drinks before you leave." Hopefully he won't be able to afford anymore, Dave thought smugly.

Matt pouted, quite cutely with his now pink cheeks. "Fine, fine." He muttered and pulled out his wallet, then proceeding to pour all the money on the counter. He didn't have too much with him- only about ten bucks- nor did he have his debit card none of that mattered to him.

Dave took the money and rang him up. Matt sat like the drunken fool he was, staring at the cabinet of booze across the counter and lost himself in wondrous thoughts of his Zelda game. Dave came back after a few seconds, and futilely attempted to get his friend's attention.

"Matt. Matt. Hey, Matt." Dave said, slowly losing patience. Why had he let the boy drink this much? Especially when it turned out that Matt hadn't been able to pay for even half of his drinks. "Matt, you still owe about twenty bucks." He said, trying to hold his frustration inside.

"Whasstha?" The redhead slurred out, slowly returning from the Lost Woods of his mind. For some reason, Near had been the Skeleton Kid, the trees had seemed to be made of Jell-o and instead of being a wolf or a human, Matt had been a hedgehog rendition of Link. Of course, it had all made sense to him, as his hedgehog self ate through the trees while trying to find the Skeleton Kid that awaited him at the end of the maze and kept sending damn puppets to come attack him for being a fatso. "I sill owe monneh?" He drawled out, his breath reeking of unattractive alcohol. Unfortunately for Dave, he'd moved close enough to smell how polluted Matt's breath was.

His nose crinkled, and the realization of how drunk Matt was hit him full-force. He grinned. "Yep, you owe quite a bit. I can't put it on your tab because god knows the next time you'll come in. Do you mind doing a favor for me to clear away the debt?" His inner eyes shined wickedly. His chance had finally come.
~-~

I finished my shower, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. Matt had wanted me; I'd confessed to him; all was going well until…well fuck, I don't know where it'd gone wrong. Only that now Matt was in his room, probably underneath the blankets, afraid that I was going to rip his balls off. Why am I not doing that? I asked myself, bewildered. He had just taken my confession, thrown it to the wind, and here I was, not breaking anything, not cursing, nothing that would expose how upset I was. Instead, I calmly started to shampoo my hair. The now lukewarm water sprayed my head; my eyes closed. I felt my lips slightly rise into a smile. Figures, I chuckled. The first time I say 'I love you' in who knows how fucking long and he pushes me away. After years of me not noticing him, maybe he realized he didn't really love me… Bullshit, if he had known that, he wouldn't have kissed me back. I thought for a minute longer, considering all aspects of why my game-addicted redhead wouldn't want me to screw him senseless.

Maybe he's just not ready. Yeah, that makes sense. I nodded. I turned the water off, grabbing a towel from the shelf across from the toilet. I dried myself off, humming some random song. It wasn't a happy song, not many of my songs are, but this one was about the singer killing a cheating bitch, a few days after slowly murdering the other guy and showing her the stinking heart of her dead lover. It helps calm me down in those moments when I really feel like tearing someone's head off. It shows how karma will get you in the end. Of course, if the instigator of my rage is in sight, I usually do attack them, justifying my acts with the concept of karma.

Speaking of instigators, where fuck is Matt?

By this point, I had already walked out of the bathroom, the towel loosely wrapped around my hips. I had seen his open door, and automatically knew he wasn't in there, and probably not in the house, for that matter. "Matt? You better not be in the fucking kitchen, damn it!" I yelled out in warning, just in case he actually was here. No response came. He either was cowering in fear somewhere, or had left sometime during my shower. It didn't matter, I'd see him soon enough. He had no place to run to, and let's face it, he's definitely not the saver in the household.

I strolled to my room, thankful that my headache had gone away; the only remnant from the hangover was the drowsiness that I hadn't managed to shake yet. I turned on my radio, and skipped the CD to the song I'd just been humming. I grinned as the bass and guitars started, and began finding clothes. Like always, I slipped on a tight fitting leather vest and a pair of skinny, black leather pants. I didn't even bother trying to fit underwear into these. It'd just look peculiar, and feel uncomfortable. I frowned. Where the fuck is he?

I left my room, turning off my stereo with the remote before I left. "Matt! Get your ass over here so we can fuckin' talk!" I hollered walking down the stairs. Once again, no response greeted me. "I'm getting really impatient, Matty. You better get over here, before I get really pissed." I warned. I really didn't like playing games like hide-and-seek, and now was definitely not the right fucking time. I waltzed into the kitchen, and saw the note on the counter. However, I decided to grab a bar of chocolate before decoding his barely legible writing.

Going out for a while.
Be back soon.
-Matt

I munched on the rich chocolate, nodding at the words. I guess this means he's not afraid of me. I mused, another small piece of sweetness making its way down my esophagus. He's probably heading to that damn arcade. Oh, well. I sighed. He obviously wants some alone time, I can't deny him that much.

I crumpled up the note, leaving it on the counter. What to do… I pondered entirely bored with the house. There really wasn't much to do. Despite everything, Matt was pretty good about keeping the place clean, although I had to 'remind' him a few times that he did the chores, whether he liked it or not. He learnt after the first few bruises.

I suppose I could have destroyed something –at that point, I just felt like blowing shit up- but nothing destructible came to mind. Well, Matt's game systems did… but why make him dislike me anymore than he already did? Besides, I figured the neighbors would question the sound and the residual smell, and I didn't want the cops poking their noses around my house. Sighing, I walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. I stared at the TV, wondering how many hours it had been on, while Matt played yet another Zelda game.

I never really understood why it wasn't called Legend of Link. Yeah it sounds worse, but the entire game about him saving Zelda; therefore, isn't he the one creating the legend? Whatever, ignore the ramblings of a non-gamer. Doesn't really matter since I barely have any idea what the fuck I'm thinking about.

Bet Matt would look cute dressed like Zelda. Okay, what the fuck? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with my mind? I tried to stop this weird thought process right there, but I guess I couldn't stop the mental image from being conjured.

To be honest, he did look nice in it. Maybe not as cute as I had suspected, but more... pretty… For one thing, the gold contrasted nicely with his hair, and the purple went almost perfectly with his eyes. And the creamy color of the dress almost blended with his skin.

Man, I am fucked up. I just imagined him cross-dressing. That's terrible on several levels. One, I was picturing him dressed as a videogame character. That's… just no. No. Two, it's a girl character. Of course he's not one that wears- would wear, I mean- the pants in our relationship, but seriously? Zelda? Three, he obviously doesn't want me anymore. So there was something wrong with me for thinking that this might become a reality. Lastly, four, he'd make me dress up as Link if I tried to get him into that dress. And dear god, I do not want to dress as a fictional character on any day, except for Halloween, and even then, I want to be something that makes teenagers shit their pants.

I groaned, my mind giving me hell. "That's it." I announced for who knows what reason, maybe to break the silence. "I'm getting the fuck outta here before I end up playing that damn game."

I grabbed the keys to my bike, my precious, precious bike. Being the responsible adult that I am, I grabbed one of my many leather jackets on our coat rack. Black, of course; what's the point of wearing leather of any other color unless it's red and you're a stripper? I also grabbed my phone, just in case, yanno, a certain redhead decided to call me…

My stomach growled as I shut and locked the door behind me. Hmm, well it is almost ten. I mused while checking my phone. Guess I'll head down to that café and get some chocolate cake. Kids, don't eat like me. You'll get cavities.
~-~

It didn't take long to get to the dingy little café. However, I'd spent at least twenty minutes in line, due to all the Saturday morning rush of overly large, about to collapse from heart disease, citizens of this fine, fine city. Yeah, bullshit. As was the thought of the guy in front of me being in shape at some point. I passed time, mentally insulting everyone, from the family of four two spots in front of me, the obviously overworked-underpaid teenager ringing up orders, and the fat chick who was devouring her two maple doughnuts while thinking I was oblivious to the fact that she was staring me down with a rape face. Seriously revolting. It would have been better if she wasn't trying to fit in these hideous metallic leggings which –unfortunately for everyone that glanced her way –showed at least half of her cottage cheese ass, and what may have been a pair of granny panties at one time but now were used as a thong.

"Daddy, daddy! That lady's butt is hanging out!" I heard the daughter from the family chant out, loud enough for everyone to hear. I leaned around the fattie in front of me and saw that the maybe eight year-old girl was pointing at the woman, her nose wrinkled in disgust and her eyes lit up with laughter. Guess even she could tell how embarrassing it was to be dressed –if you could call it dressed –like Miss Piggy, as I have dubbed her.

Everything froze for a few seconds. The woman stared at the girl, and the girl stared back, a wild grin plastered on her small face, apparently pleased with holding center stage.

The woman then scowled, and started screaming at the little girl and her parents about manners. There were obvious tear tracks running down her chipmunk cheeks already; I guess this was just another crazy example of the truth being a complete bitch.

The little girl was now hiding behind her dad, who was attempting to calm down the woman while defending his daughter.

Eventually the cashier started laughing, becoming a new target of the woman's rage. After a few minutes of the cashier's annoying laughing, the now crying girl, and still screaming woman, I decided to intervene.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I bellowed, half-tempted to hit the woman. Everything froze again, this time to stare at me. Even the irritating laughter had stopped. I whipped my head to face the woman. "You're fat. Accept it, because those two doughnuts you were gulping down won't help the problem. Secondly, no one should wear those clothes, least of all you. It's hideous and no one wants the view that you're giving all of us. The kid's right, don't get all bitchy because she had the balls to say what we were all thinking." The woman just stared, uselessly opening and closing her mouth like the idiot she was.

I turned to the girl next. "You've got guts, kid. However, people don't like their problems being pointed out to them. Plus you've embarrassed your mommy and daddy." I didn't try to remove the sharpness from my words. The kid looked a little sad, but she just turned and hugged her father apologetically.

"Now, can we all just go back to how it was before and hurry the hell up so I can finally order my damn chocolate cake?" I growled out.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The manager had come out, a stout little woman with her silky black hair pulled back in a ponytail. "And you too, ma'am." She said quietly yet firmly to the still gaping woman.

I growled as I turned to leave, the disgusting bitch rushing out before me to go cry in her car. I glared at anything that caught my eye- the planter box with its dying flowers, the cars slowly driving in the street, the streetlights… Only when my eyes set on my precious bike did I allow my glare soften into that of arrogant impassiveness. I mentally killed the bitch who had denied me my chocolate cake, yet I knew she was just another victim of ignorance. Ignorant to the fact that she looks revolting, that she doesn't need food to make her feel better, that no one should wear metallic leggings unless they're in a go-go club and they're thin.

Don't let ignorance get you. If there's one thing I absolutely cannot stand, it's ignorance. Ignorant people are worse than stupid ones. With stupid people, they're dumbfucks but they try their best. Ignorant people choose not to understand, thinking people will treat 'em differently because they're 'dumb.' If they want special treatment from me, I'll give to 'em: a fist in their stomach and a foot in their ass. And that's if I'm in a good mood before they show up.
~-~

I hopped back onto my bike, and sped off to another café. Thankfully, I was able to order my cake and some black coffee without committing manslaughter, and within ten minutes, I was eating. It wasn't the best, but definitely not Matt's shitty cooking. He could cook in a five star restaurant if he wanted to, but usually there are videogames to be played and toast to be burnt. The same with cleaning. He's alright at it, since he has to keep his videogame systems in tip-top condition, but his room is almost always dirty aside for five minutes on Cleaning Day. Honestly, he doesn't fail at life, it's just the application. To him, there's absolutely no point in doing anything unless he can relate it to playing videogames. Take, for example, Cleaning Day. The only reason he does an adequate job is that he knows I will use his favorite system as target practice if he doesn't. I gave up on cooking; I can live off takeout.

I supposed I still had some time to kill. If I had to guess, Matt would stay at the arcade until it closed or his bank told him he withdraw any more money for the day. He's not allowed to even think about starting up a credit card account. He tried to once, when we just arrived in America. Damn idiot nearly got us kicked out of our apartment. And how, you may ask? By using that stupid card to pay for every bill thrown our way. That shit adds up, and it's damn near impossible to get rid of your debt when you don't have a job. Remember this: credit cards are fucking evil devices manufactured out of selfishness. Destroy them.

Anyways, I decided to walk around the area after I finished my cake and coffee. Many families were out, it being Saturday and all. Seeing them just pissed me off. Don't ask me to explain it; I'm guessin' that it's because that chance was stolen from me. Mom died in a car accident, and Dad… well, let's just say it's no surprise that I'm working with the Mafia. Wasn't fun trekking my way through a snowy Moscow once I found out he was dead too.

You know, I never did find out how Matt ended up at Wammy's. I don't think I should. It'd just backfire and make this distance between us… Fuck, I wanted to forget about that for a while. I thought bitterly. He's the only other person truly in my world. Wh-what am I saying? I'm not lonely. There's other people I talk to, others that I interact with. It's not like Matt's the only one I know. No, I know lots of people. I don't trust them yet, but I know 'em. So what if Matt's the only one that knows me. It doesn't mean jack shit. I hopped back on my bike (when did I get back here?) and sped off, paying just enough attention so I wouldn't crash. That was more instinct though: my brain was otherwise distracted.
~-~

I ended up spending some time at a movie theatre. No one seemed to notice the blonde that sat in the top row of theater 2 for three and a half movies. I watched the first, zoned out the second since it was the same movie that had just played, watched half of the third and walked out halfway through a kid's movie about some old guy that attached a lot of balloons to his house and ends up having an adventure with a boy scout, a bird, and a talking dog. What the hell.

During the second movie, I had been debating with myself what I was going to say to Matt. 'It was all just a joke?' Yeah, he wouldn't really believe it. 'How dare you just run out on me like that? ' What the- since when did I become a housewife? 'Don't you ever fucking do that again?' Better, but now I sound like a controlling, abusive drunk… Withhold all comments about my actual nature or I'll bust open your nose with a bottle of booze.

I decided to stick with silence. I'd listen to him if he wanted to talk, and if he didn't so be it. No matter what, I'll stop bringing sluts home for a month or so. Just to be safe. I checked my phone. It was almost eight p.m. "Fuck it, I'm getting alcohol." I murmured as I walked out of the theatre. No need to pick up my bike, no one tended the parking garage that was supposed to be 'movie attendees only.'

I walked a few blocks and found myself at one of my favorite bars. Not only did the bartenders leave you alone if you wanted to drink in silence, it was also a great place for meeting chicks. Not that I was planning to do that. I walked in, and noticed some very familiar people walking out the back to the alley. I blinked, and sat down at the bar. There was no way Matt came here.
~-~

:D I live! And I'm so sorry that nothing major has happened until now. v.v Please forgive this pathetic excuse for a writer. v_v Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this new chapter. Inner critic: It was basically filler. Me: You know what, bitch? Shut the fuck up! I'm working with they decide to today, and if Mello decides that a chapter will be filler, then it'll be filler! ;w; Mello: Who the fuck said it was filler? A lotta shit happened! D: *whips out gun* Me: Now now, Mello, this isn't the time or place to shoot people. o.o A-and you're right. Lots of stuff happened. Like the metallic leggings woman. Mello: Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with you? The real woman you saw in those wasn't THAT bad, or that fat! Me: I'm sorry! That's all my brain could produce! *hits head against wall crying*
And yeah, that's how it was in my head five minutes ago... Yes, metallic leggings woman exists somewhere in the world, no she wasn't that horrendous, she just had a really bad wedgie she needed to take care of... . .
Anyways, please review! Or yell at me. *mutters* I'm more likely to work that way anyways...