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Partner

Author: Webkinder (@thats-pretty-gay-art) For: @lightsturtleneck Pairings/Characters: Mello/Matt (can be viewed platonically or romantically) Rating/Warnings: T (for mild swearing) Prompt: How did Matt react to Mello leaving Wammys? Did he follow? Did he stay and they met up later? Author’s notes: Sorry this ended up so long, haha. There’s just not that much info about Matt and Mello’s relationship in canon, so I wanted to establish their relationship in the fic itself. Hopefully, it doesn’t stray too much from the original prompt. This is meant to be broken up into two chapters, but due to the formatting of it being fit into one post, I just listed the chapter titles. I hope you enjoy it! (Word count: 7,871)

Chapter 1: November 27th, 2004 - December 5, 2004

Tiptoeing around the locked door in front of him, a boy with goggles on his head peeks through a clouded window, desperately searching for a spot that allows him to see the broad range of the room behind it. Skimming his eyes across the desks inside, he tries to gather what was left on them. After a few moments, he backed away. The sound of steps could now be faintly heard; the sharp, solid quality to them indicated they belonged to one of the adults who worked at the orphanage. Only they would wear the heels required to make that sound. The boy takes it as his cue to leave before he’s caught. Sulking back to his room, he successfully evades any workers that might have caught him snooping through the staff-only section of Wammy’s.

Lazily pushing his weight onto the lever handle of a white, wooden door with a room number plastered on the front. It swings open, thumping against the springed door stop above the wall’s molding. Stepping inside, he hooks the base of the door with his foot, kicking it backward to slam it shut, all the while his hands remain in his jeans pockets. A paper flutters a few inches across the floor in the wake of it. Looming above it are stacks consisting of more papers and an endless amount of books crowded around one of the room’s desks, itself weighed down by even more textbooks and study material. At it sat a blonde boy, engrossed in his study process. He didn’t spare a glance at his roommate’s clumsy entrance. Pausing to observe the blonde boy, he lightly kissed his teeth before walking over to his bed on the other side of the room, flopping down on it, and letting out an unreasonably loud and melodramatic sigh.

…

When he receives no response, he sharply inhales with intent to let out an even louder one— but is interrupted before he makes it any further.

“What?” The other boy snaps at him.

”Turning from your precious study time for little-ol’me? I’m ho-“

“Cut the shit, Matt. What do you want to tell me? Or did you just come here to bother me out of boredom?”

He shifts on the bed, now lying on his stomach with his folded arms propping his head up. “A little bit of both.” He admits. The blonde kid turns just enough for his furrowed brow to be visible from the bed. Huffing, Matt continues, “Ms. Davison confiscated my Game Boy Advance,“ he pouts.

“Then go play on the GameCube in the common area.” He rolls his eyes at the minuscule inconvenience he’s been dragged into dealing with. ”It’s the middle of the day,” Matt whines, “if I go out, there’s gonna be other people. I don’t want to interact with anyone right now.”

“Rich, considering all you’ve done about it is come bother me so you can have someone to bitch and complain to.”

“You’re an exception and you know it.” Mello doesn’t refute, instead wearing a soft smirk at the words, although his vision remains focused on the rough equations in his notebook.

Matt relaxes and looks to the other half of the room, neat save for school supplies stacked on the floor and chocolate wrappers pouring from the mini trash can the orphanage provided them. A stark contrast to the clutter that littered the foot of the bed Matt rested on, clothes draped on the bed frame, empty chip bags across the floor, crumbs that had fallen from them, and the only school supplies dumped to the side of the nightstand. Compounded with the messy bed sheets, the only organized corner of Matt’s side of the room was his desk, holding his computer and other electronics, and his tightly nestled bookshelf, which stored a handful of minimally worn textbooks alongside various DVD and game cases.

“I’m starting to realize why you’re so mad at Near all the time. I swear he could do an entire papier-mache project in the middle of a class and the teachers won’t say shit. I’m honestly kind of jealous.”

“Yeah…” Mello grinds his teeth as he spits the word out to restrain himself from going further at the name of his rival, “You know they only do that because they think you’re not applying yourself, right?”

“Which is bullshit.”

Mello stops his pen for the first time since Matt entered the room. He leans back, twisting around to stare at his friend. He catches Matt’s attention, now looking up innocently from his spot on the bed. Mello’s eyebrows raised, now tucked behind his bangs, as Matt blinked back.

“You’re joking?”

“Uh, no?“

Mello turns back around, plopping his hands on the edge of the desk, pen still in hand, creating a click sound alongside the loud thumps. Huffing, he locks his arms and leans back in his chair. He speaks under his breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Matt flounders to sit up. “What?” he shouts.

“We are in the same history class.”

“And?”

Mello swipes a book from beneath one of the shallow piles of papers on his desk. “This is our textbook.” It’s lined with colorful sticky notes protruding from the pages. He drops it, the hardcover smacking the wood of the desk. “Where’s your copy?”

Matt cringes and glances at his bookshelf, where the said textbook graces the top shelf, still covered in its shrink wrap.

“Thought so,” Mello sits back down, returning to his work, irritation pinching his face. “Unlike you, I’ve got work. So go find someone else to cry to.”

Matt shuffles and swings his legs off the bed. He perches his heels on the metal frame poking out from beneath the mattress, looking down out of habit, despite not having his Game Boy anymore. ”What’s the score?”

Mello grips his pen tightly, “Four points. I got a ninety-five; he beat me by four points in the last exam,” He mumbles.

He glances back at Matt again. His stiff anger relaxes, and his voice changes to a stern but softer tone, “Stop doing that.”

Matt’s head shoots up, initially confused. Following Mello’s gaze, his eyes land on his fingers. He’d been picking at his cuticles again. The ring finger of his left hand was lightly bleeding. Matt had been staring straight at his hands before and still didn’t notice he had relapsed on the habit, completely zoned out while focusing on Mello’s words.

“Sorry,” Matt rubs his nail beds against his jeans, wiping the small amount of blood and soothing lingering irritation. He stands, lightly bouncing his leg. “Maybe I’ll go play on the GameCube after all…”

“Don’t say sorry.”

He pauses before the door… then turns and smiles at his friend. “Good luck with your studying, you’ve got this,” he punctuates with a wide grin.

Mello continues to stare at the door, even after Matt leaves.

As the day progresses, the common room is flooded with traffic from other children, then abandoned, then flooded again, and then abandoned once more. The cycle repeats with spikes and lulls in the room’s occupation, fluctuating as evening approaches. The only constant was a boy on the couch, completely negligent of the environment around him and unresponsive to any attempts to speak with him.

Footsteps approached, unbeknownst to Matt, still fixated on the screen. The loud clicks of his controller buttons echo in the now nearly empty room as he carefully makes his way across the platforms featured by his console. They get smaller and further apart as his character ascended; a particularly steep jump preceded the level exit. Delicately flicking the joystick back and forth, dancing along the ledge until an opportune moment strikes—

“Arg!”

Matt’s focus is shattered by his body jerking forward, causing his controller to slip from his hands. A deep and unbearable screech claws across the tile. His reflexes kick in as he slaps his hands together on the controller, catching it mid-air and barely keeping it from hitting the floor.

“Get up.”

Turning as the panic cools off, Matt sees Mello standing above him. He looks around the room, desperately searching for any context that would make Mello’s presence make sense. “Uhh, what? Aren’t you supposed to be studying for that exam?”

Mello scowls, “Shut it and take my help.”

“Your help?”

Matt realizes Mello is carrying something in his left hand as he tosses a small cellphone with an LED screen. “Your Game Boy is still in the teacher’s lounge, right? Why sulk on the couch when you can just take it back?”

Matt huffs, shoulders slouching and head lolling back, “Dude, I tried. There’s no way to get in there without being caught.”

Mello smirks and begins strutting toward the hall, “I’ve got it covered.”

Staring into the back of his head, the other boy paused, befuddled by Mello’s behavior. He shook the feeling off and rushed to catch up. Jogging through the shallows of the hallway, he finds Mello progressing to its end, slowing his usual stride for him. Riffing under the rim of his baggy shirt, Mello pulls a bar coated in tinfoil from the waist of his pants. He tears the foil from it, revealing chocolate underneath, balling it up and tucking it into his back pocket. Digging his teeth in, the bar snaps, sound bouncing through the hallway. Smiling softly at his friend’s idiosyncrasies, Matt quickens his pace, now walking shoulder to shoulder. Albeit lopsidedly, as Mello had yet to finish going through his growth spurts, leaving Matt half a foot and some change taller.

Nearing the bend of the hall, Mello cuts Matt off by jutting his arm in front of Matt’s chest, forcing him to skid to a stop. Crossing in front, Mello wraps his fingers around the chipped drywall at the corner of the hallway, leaning into it and peaking past, cautiously waiting. Unable to see in the direction the other was monitoring, Matt rests his hands in his jean pockets, stepping back and closing his eyes. He holds an aloof posture but listens closely, hoping to make up for his lack of a view with his ears.

“What time is it?”

Matt peeks an eye open. Remembering the phone in his hand, he pulls it up, looking at its screen, “Hm, 7:01.”

Mello clicks his tongue and releases an aggressive huff. “It should be any second now…”

Both eyes now open, he gapes and plants his feet firmly to the ground, “Dude, what are we trying to do here?” his question falls on deaf ears as Mello continues staring down the remaining length of the hall.

Dropping his shoulders, Matt moves away from the wall, “Mello, what-“

Mello throws himself around, spinning on his heel so fast that a loud screech would have given them away if he weren’t barefoot. He roughly grabs Matt’s arm, yanking him around. Disoriented Matt dizzily stumbles along as Mello drags them back down the hall, pivoting halfway and diving into the boys’ bathroom. Matt uses the tentative grasp he has on his surroundings to narrowly avoid falling over when they suddenly stop. Leaning his forearm on the wall, the one that Mello didn’t currently have in his grasp, he swayed, shaking off the newfound disorientation. Squeezing his eyes shut with a minute tip of his chin down, he rapidly blinks. Bringing himself back to the space around him, his eyes catch the harsh fluorescent lighting pouring through his bangs. “Dude,” the word reverberates loudly across the room due to the bathroom’s acoustics. He flinches and continues at a subdued volume, “You’ve gotta’ explain what’s happening, I’m seriously losing the plot. How does playing hide and seek get me my Game Boy back?”

Mello glares at him, muttering through gritted teeth, “It’s the teachers.” Taken aback, Matt stops the conversation, focusing on his hearing once again. Sure enough, the clack of multiple pairs of shoes and a dull but frenzied dialogue played from the hall. Confusion grips his face, “What’s going on? That sounded like half the teachers here.”

“And the other half are probably all there already.”

Glancing back at his friend, he catches a wicked grin, melting any of the boy’s prior frustration. Despite Matt’s excessive doubts on their current plan of action, he relaxes; Mello’s confidence leagues more contagious than it ought to be.

Matt chuckles, “So?”

“We can’t get into staff-only areas with so many teachers; we’ll get caught.”

“No shit, but why the hell are they ditching?”

He brings the chocolate to his lips, maintaining his smile throughout, “I managed to… arrange a profitable scenario for us.”

“Huh?”

“You familiar with that obnoxious kid who got called to the office for vandalizing a classroom?”

“Uh,” Matt sheepishly sinks back, aware how oblivious he tended to be when it came to the world around him, “nope.”

“Of course,” Mello rolls his eyes, “well, it happened. I snatched his backpack while him and a bunch of others were playing football. Dug through it and found twenty quid.”

Matt whistles, “Damn, and here I thought we were the only ones stealing from teachers.”

Mello’s smile lightly broadened at the quip, “I took the cash and then dumped the bag by someone else’s belongings. The staff call the games off at around 6:45 so that everyone has time to pack up and be inside by our 7:00 pm curfew. Incidentally, fifteen minutes is just enough time for news about a fight breaking out to reach the adults around the school.”

Matt’s eyes widen, enraptured by the scheme, “No shit… so what from here?”

“We need to be quick.” His smile fades to a focused pinch, “The lounge is probably still locked, but at least one of the teachers had to have left their keys in the commotion. We need to find one of those key rings and take a photo of it, that way we can leave it in the exact same position as we found it when we’re done.” Matt’s fingers graze over the cell phone in his hand.

“The rest is pretty straightforward. Get in, find the console, and get out. I can stand guard while you’re looking for it.”

A bright grin grows on Matt’s face, eyes shining with admiration at his friend’s brilliance. He takes a moment to soak in the scene. Upon catching the stare, Mello flounders and looks away, red blotches giving away his embarrassment. He locks his eyes to the bathroom tile, unable to respond, and finally lets go of Matt’s right sleeve. Noticing Mello’s freezing, Matt shakes off his trance, though still smiling.

“Come on. Let’s do this while we still have the time.” Quickly recollecting himself, Mello nods in agreement, and the two jog through the halls with a new bounce to their gait, soon reaching the corner of the building dedicated to classrooms. Not bothering with locked doors, they enter each open room, glance at the front desks for discarded items, and leave when none are spotted. That is, until Matt spots a burgundy purse lying on a signature rolling chair. Jumping over to it, he peeks inside, careful not to disturb it. Once he sees a glimmer of light reflecting from inside, he whips the cell out of his pocket and documents the purse’s position. Opening it, he repeats this with its contents, then yanks the keys and speeds out to alert Mello of his findings. They rushed to the teachers’ lounge Matt had been stalking around earlier that day. Testing each key until they find the correct one, they finally gain access to the lounge. While they call the room a lounge for lack of a better term, it really functioned more like a shared office. Desks and stations with computers filled the center of the room; some were clean, but the majority were littered with papers, sticky notes, and various other office supplies. Cabinets lined the walls, most not much cleaner than the desks. Matt had been in trouble enough times to know where confiscated items were usually kept. Making his way across the room, he slides a bin off a shelf above his head, careful not to reflexively drop it at the weight. Lowering it as softly as possible, it falls to the counter with a deep thud and rattle. As he skims the objects it held, he grew increasingly concerned at the lack of any handheld console inside, reasoning it should be at the top of the pile, considering how recently it was taken. He begins digging through, remaining empty-handed. He hears scolding from the entrance, “Just grab it already, Matt!” Mello stresses, eyes still scanning outside of the room. “I’m trying! It’s not where it’s supposed to be.” Matt drums his fingers on the bin’s edge, combing through his memories to find a location it might be. A potential answer dawns on him. He returns the bin then quickly circles around the room, staring down each desk for indications of who they might belong to. He skids to a stop when he sees one with a vacation photo featuring his teacher and her husband pinned to its cubicle-esque divider. Sliding each drawer open, letting the end of each track slam against its wheels. At the bottom drawer, he strikes gold. The exact handheld they’ve been looking for was wedged between comic books, toy guns, and MP3 players. Grabbing it, he proudly lifts it above his head. Closing every drawer, he makes a dash for the entrance. “Got it!”

Mello nodded strongly, “Finally.” Matt makes his way out briskly, then waits impatiently as Mello relocks the door. The moment a solid click is heard, they rip the key out, bringing it back to the classroom. Peering through a doorway to see the burgundy bag exactly how he left it, Matt goes to the chair, kneeling in front of it, and whipping out the phone to reference how it was previously placed. Mello leaned over his shoulder, checking his work as he put the original scene back together. Stuffing the keys back into their designated spot, Matt catches a flare of blonde move from the corner of his eye. Turning back, he looks up to Mello, attention glued to something in the distance that Matt is not yet aware of. “Did you hear that?”

Stilling his movements to prevent any unintentional noise, he joins Mello’s search. Until he catches it.

“Damn,” Mello hisses, “they’re already in the hall, they’ll see it if we close the door.”

A pair of heels snapped rhythmically down the hall, coupled with exasperated mumbling.

“Who is it?”

“Ngh!” Mello’s caught off guard, “ it sounds like… Miss Pryce. Why the fuck does it matter? We need to buy time,” He stresses.

Before fully closing the purse, Matt pulls out a different flip phone that was buried in the purse’s contents. Navigating its menus, the clicks grow louder and louder. “Matt, what the hell are y-“ Matt jolts up and wraps his hand across Mello’s mouth, cutting him off. Hitting one last button, a dial plays- but is quickly cut off by a distant ringtone. Footsteps stop at its sudden appearance. The dial soon stops in tandem with the halting of the ringer. “What can I do for you?” is played by garbled cheap speakers, immediately after a similar question echoes from the hall. Matt lets go of Mello, the other’s face painted somewhere between fury and befuddlement, eyes nearly popping from his head. Cupping his hand around the phone’s mic, Matt brings his mouth close, “Hey, Miss P.” Silence falls for a moment. “Who is this? Why do you have Bradly’s phone?”

Maintaining an uninvested tone, he responds, “Hmm, Matt. I found this phone on the floor earlier. Figured you’d know whose it was.”

A sigh flows through the speaker, “Of course, can you bring it to my classroom, I’ll return it to her.”

“Uhh. Aren’t I supposed to stay in my room past curfew?”

“Why are you calling now if you’re still in your room? Could you not have just done this when you found it?” Frustration engulfed the comment.

“Don’t know, forgot, I guess.”

Her response is delayed, Matt crosses his fingers, hoping his excuse didn’t give them away. Finally, “Fine, I’ll stop by your room to pick it up. Please have it ready immediately.”

“No problem mam’.”

Matt ends the call before she has an opportunity to respond. A curt sigh is released just outside the door, and footsteps begin once again, this time fading from earshot.

Mello finally cools down from his previous freak out, “You are so lucky all of the teachers know how goddamn lazy you are.”

Matt smirks and tilts his head, winking in Mello’s direction. Shaking his bangs, Mello grins warmly, “Put the purse back, we can hop through the window and rush back to our room before she gets there.”

“On it.”

…

Slamming the door, Matt closed his eyes, and his head leaned back, bumping the piece of wood. It stops to lie just above his shoulder blades, already spread out against it.

“So?”

He peeks an eye open to meet Mello’s gaze. Sat on his bed with an inquisitive eyebrow raised and an unreasonably relaxed posture, given what they had just been through.

“She bought it.”

Mello smirks as he shifts back, stretching his arms above his head and flopping over onto his pillow. “I envy your reputation sometimes, Matt.”

“Oh, please,” he braces his elbows and launches himself off the door, “you could pull the same thing off if you wanted to.”

“You really think the teachers would believe me if I just ‘forgot’?”

“No, but they’re too scared of you to call you out on it.”

“Tsk.” He dismisses it, but Matt knows the comment bolstered his ego. Matt slowly struts to his side of the room, eventually falling back to the edge of his bed. Digging into his jean pocket, he retrieves the console they’d spent the evening getting back. He runs his fingers across its smooth screen, sliding down, and they reach its bottom swiftly snapping the left-most switch into a new confirmation. The console powers on rainbow lettering flashing across the screen before action-packed low resolution tunes erupt from it. Tilting the Game Boy Advance, he’s halted by lamp light illuminating the immediate area. It shines on his console, making the non-backlit screen brighten with color. Following the light, he notices Mello retracting his hand from his lamp’s metal chain. “Thanks.”

“Better than you keeping me awake all night with the overhead lights.” He stands to flip the light switch on the other side of the room. “I mean for the whole thing. I know you’re busy with studying and important stuff.”

“Anytime, Matt.” he sits back down on his own bed. “That’s what partners are for, isn’t it?”

Matt snorts at the name, a familiar title he’d given the two of them years back. A reminder that whenever they got in trouble for a scheme at Wammy’s, it was always together.

“Yeah, it is.”

…

Chatter from other children and layered footsteps fill the halls of Wammy’s as students flood out of their classrooms. An orange tint begins to slowly color the white tiles, affirming the clock above their heads, using its hands to display the time 6:45 pm. Buried among the crowd is Matt, too engulfed with the Game Boy in his hands to pay mind to the riot being caused around him. His muscle memory guides him along, taking turns along with the rapidly thinning herd of children. Pulling open his door, he shuts it behind him without breaking eye contact with his game console. He’s interrupted when the door fully closes, cutting off any light reaching the room beyond the faint sunset from the window. The darkness wipes any visibility from his gamescreen, forcing him to look up and find a solution in the space around him. He turns, reaching the light switch on habit, but stops when a difference in the room registers in his peripheral vision. Even in the dark of the room, he could feel the absence of certain belongings. It had been cleaned, even from Matt’s side of the room, but it wasn’t the only piece missing. Books and notes, boxes of stored chocolate, black clothing hanging from the laundry basket, trays of previously written papers, all of it was gone. He tossed the console on the now-empty desk, rushing to Mello’s side of the room and crouching to inspect it all in more detail. Sure enough, all that was usually under the bed or in the nightstand drawers was missing. All of it was vacant. Reeling at the discovery, Matt leaned back on the balls of his feet, balancing himself with the pads of his right fingers touching the floor.

Is he… What happened? Why would he just gut the place? He can’t be… I just saw him this morning, and nothing was different; he couldn’t have. Okay. Wait. What’s the last place I know he was? In mid-afternoon, he was in Roger’s office. I heard one of the others gossiping about him being in trouble again. I assumed they were just spreading rumors, but if they’re not and he actually did do something severe enough, is that why? Did he get kicked out? No, there’s no way, if he did something serious like that, I would know. Either it would be something he did today, and I would have heard about it, or he would have told me. Can I ask Roger? Will he tell me?

He fully falls to the floor, legs pulled out from under him and tangled as his heels hit the ground. Not able to conjure the strength for it anymore. He takes deep breaths, slowing his thoughts to solve the situation.

His eyes shoot open, an epiphany having made its way to him.

Near. They were saying Near got in trouble, too.

A glance at the clock above their nightstands tells him it’s now 7:01 pm. Everyone should be in their rooms. He jumps up, but as he exits, his hand lingers on the handle once more. He walks to Mello’s desk and swipes his Game Boy, safely tucking it in his pocket, then finally leaves the dorm. He proceeds cautiously, aware that any sighting of an adult would mean getting sent back with no answers. Tiptoeing over, he finds himself in front of a door, room 108 written on its plaque. There’s no obvious indicator of who the room belongs to, but Matt had been here so long he knew. He timidly knocked on the door, careful not to alert the rooms around it. Staring at his hands, he waits patiently, aware of Near’s sluggishness, particularly when standing. The torn cuticles had finally begun to heal since his foray into the teacher’s lounge with Mello. He has his handheld now, after all, he doesn’t need bad habits to busy his hands.

The clunk of a dead bolt sliding from its place draws him back. The door creaks open to reveal a short-statured boy, draped in white pajamas and looking to him with eyes partially obscured by messy bangs and a slight downward tilt of his head. He doesn’t look at all surprised by Matt’s appearance. From the sliver that Matt could see, his room contained a large series of trays and tunnels, all designed to transport and roll the metal marbles currently resting at its base. The structure only left a narrow space for Near to climb onto his bed, which was leveled lower than most of the bed frames at Wammy’s. The space left from a lack of any roommate must have been taken up with bins of his toys or even more space for his marble slide. Slowly blinking, Near stares at him for a moment. The boys sit in awkward silence, prolonged by the social aptitude both of them lack. Neither had ever been good at striking up a conversation.

“What can I help you with?” Near started.

“You and Mello were called to Roger’s office earlier, yeah?” Matt speaks through a knot in his throat, swallowing to force his Adam’s apple back in place. Near continued to stare at him, obviously aware of the rhetorical question. “What- what for?”

Near averts his eyes down to his feet. As he shuffles them, he also reaches up to wrap a lock of hair around his index finger. “We received updates on the state of the Kira case.” Matt straightened his posture, attention now fully held by Near. “And… what changed?” Matt responded.

Near flicks his eyes back up to Matt before returning them to the floor.

“L is dead.”

He whispers it, so quietly Matt questioned whether he had truly heard him right at first.

His best friend is suddenly gone, and now he learns of his idol, their idol, being defeated. The facts that made up his reality were breaking under the weight of this information. Between just those two changes, his entire view has become tilted. “So, then… Where did Mello go?”

Near shrugs, shoulders falling limp after. Although most would write it off as indifference, the abnormal squint of his eyes tells Matt he does care, that he is worried. Although pitiful when it comes to general social cues, Matt can notice when a difference appears, be it expressions or object organization; he has a shockingly keen eye when he wants to. Near typically isn’t one for change; any difference is concerning with him. “Upon being instructed to work with me, he announced he was leaving the orphanage. I’m presuming by your presence here that he’s already gone, but I have no idea of his whereabouts.” He ducks his head lower, fully covering his eyes with his hair, “I’m sorry.”

Matt leans on the door frame, expending too much energy to hold himself upright, and processes the news.

So he really is gone…

“…Thanks, Near. Have a good night.”

Near looks back up, then nods. Matt clumsily pushes himself from the door frame. He waltzes back to his room. Near’s eyes follow him until he turns the corner and disappears.

Shutting himself back in his and Mello’s dorm room. Or just his dorm room now, he supposes. He sinks to the floor, exhausted. He lays his head on his arms, folded, and left to rest on his propped-up knees. While relaxing himself he ends up peeking through his arms. Through them, he can see Mello’s trash can, it had yet to be taken out. Crawling over to it, he peers over the lip. Among the many reflective chocolate wrappers, a duller sheet is visible. Reaching in, he fetches it out of the bin. It’s a stapled pile of printer paper. Unfolding it, Matt can see it’s an exam, the one Mello was studying for the day they got back his Game Boy. A red circle at the top highlights the final score of the exam.

“An 86%.”

Twisting to reach his back pocket, he takes out his Game Boy, this time delicately clutching it with both hands.

“You gave up study time for this, didn’t you?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. Opening them back up, now relaxed, a wave of determination comes to him. He smirks, turning his head until he can see the trash bin in his peripheral view.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to keep me away, Mello.”

——————-

Chapter 2: December 19th, 2008

The roar of an engine blared, drowning out the crunch of broken asphalt below the wheels on its worn motorbike. Chipped and scratched paint decorated its sides, suggesting a long history; its filter was relatively fresh, but the metal casing for it was cloudy. The surprisingly well-secured license plate had been dented and scraped, plucked from a junkyard, it had been thrown in after the original owner had noticed its expiration date. Any reflectiveness came from a sloppily applied coat of clear paint, designed to obscure its numbers from would-be photographers.

Despite the generous size of the road, headlights from other vehicles were sparse, contributing to the pitch black of the surrounding area. The motorist braces themself and swerves towards the road’s edge, neglecting any use of turn signals. Just as they spot a decrepit road quickly approaching, the bike is whipped to its side, skidding and sharply turning before booking it off the highway and down the detour. The path lacked guidelines, unlike the previous one, forcing the motorist to use distant street lights to identify direction. Slowing themself upon reaching the lit parking lot, they lower their feet and scrape them across the ground. Swinging off, they nudge down their bike’s stand and only then turn the ignition off with the twist of a key. The street lights flicker, giving away how close to death each one was. Given their distance from the main road, it seemed a miracle they were even getting power.

Stomping around to the other side of the motorcycle, they grab their helmet and yank it off, flippantly dropping it to the ground in favor of dedicating all attention to a beeping device strapped to the motorcycle’s handle. Growling, he leaned over it carefully, inspecting the blinking red dot and rudimentary map on its screen, blonde hair spilling over his shoulders.

“Arg!”

Jerking upright again, he takes a step back. His fists ball, the tension inching its way up his arms. Teeth clench and muffle angry grunts.

“Damn it!” He yells, no restraint deemed necessary for such a seemingly abandoned area. Leaning in once again, he fiddles with the screen, flipping back and forth between various menus. “There’s no way this is correct, so why the fuck did this junk lead me here?”

He types in an address, one different from before, yet entering it results in the same destination, the exact parking lot he’s standing in.

Riling himself up, he grasps and tears the navigation system from its perch, raising his arm, he pitches it towards the ground. It tumbles down the floor and its plastic coat chips, but the device remains functional. Preparing to finally do it in he raises his boot.

“Hey.”

The voice echoes throughout the lot. Freezing, he realizes his lack of diligence in checking his surroundings, too upset to be observant when he arrived.

“If your GPS is acting up, I have one of my own, ya know?” A stifled snicker lay under the stranger’s words.

He twists his neck in the direction of the taunts to catch a glance. A boy leans against his car, only slightly visible from his position at the edge of the lot. The boy shuffles and then tucks his hand into a pocket. The motorist subtly starts to slide his hand to his waist, prepared to make it out of the situation by any means necessary. He flinches, a victim of his own heavy trigger finger, as the boy’s hand drags something out of it. A brief ring of metal is heard, again and again. He hears it once more, this time in sync with a dim flame. The boy lights a cigarette; his face is illuminated by the lighter. The inattentive posture, extraneous goggles, and shaggy hair ignited a strong sense of recognition. While he was taller and his previously dyed hair had grown out with stark, naturally colored roots, it was obvious who he was.

Matt…

Now unconcerned with his own safety and in disbelief at the situation, Mello pulls his hand from his holster. He swings his body around to confront him.” How-“ he starts in bewilderment, but stills as he sees the grin creeping up his friend’s face. Shooting a glance back at the faulty GPS, his expression sours, and he turns back to Matt.

“You could’ve just called, you know,” he grunts. Matt’s smile drops, he grabs his cigarette from his lips, huffing smoke out, “With what number? You didn’t exactly leave me one.”

“If you can tamper with my GPS signal, there is no way in hell you don’t have my burner.” Mello advances with each word. “You mean burners?” Matt retorts.

Mello grits his teeth, “Case in point.”

“Like you would have listened. It’s not my first time trying to get in contact with you,“ he rolls his eyes, “but you know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit, Matt.”

A frown tugs at Matt’s face, his posture straightens as he backs off from the car, face morphing to a pout along with a cartoonish sigh. “You’ve gotta make this harder than it has to be.”

Mello raises an eyebrow, taping the toe of his boot impatiently. “Tsk, what do you plan on doing about it?”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Excuse me?”

“Unless you’ve got a backup, that GPS ain’t gonna do you much good. You’ve got somewhere to be, yeah? Can’t imagine the LA mafia would be cool with you asking for directions from the gas station clerk.”

“Shh!” Mello hisses through his teeth, “can you not announce confidential shit out loud?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “We’re in an abandoned parking lot, dude, you can cool the spy thriller nonsense.”

Mello bashfully pulls away and bites his cheek, making eye contact with the asphalt. Considering the situation, Matt was right; they’re so far into the highway that he wouldn’t be able to find another map or GPS system in time. Going along with whatever Matt’s dubious plan was likely the only way he could get to the meetup spot on time.

“Fine.” He spats under his breath. For as apathetic and lazy as the boy was, he could also be obnoxiously clever when he wanted to.

A smile stretches across Matt’s face. Without turning around, he backs up to grab the door handle. Popping open the door, the car’s internal lights flash on, illuminating the immediate area around them with a warm hue. Swinging it open and swerving around it, Matt plops himself on the edge of the driver’s seat. He leans down, hand gripping the steering wheel for balance as he sifts through the junk on his floor.

As he does, Mello looks across the items in his passenger seat and the cab. Wires were draped across the back seat to unfamiliar electronics, leading across the center console and into his passenger seat. Each was either secured to an outlet adapter or hooked up to the laptop sitting there. Energy drink tins littered the front floorboards, and although Mello couldn’t see the cab’s floor from where he was standing, they presumably occupied that area as well. Wrappers from fast food joints were stuffed in various locations, and the upper cup holder in the door was sprinkled with ashes and snuffed cigarette buds. Had it been anyone else’s car, Mello would have reeled with disgust, but even after being apart for years, he’s still desensitized to Matt’s brand of messiness.

“Ah ha.”

Matt tugs an item up, untangling it and raising it above his head in victory, light crumbs falling off of it. Mello furrows his brow incredulously, unimpressed at the sight before him. Matt’s eyes narrow from a wry grin. He turns and plugs it into the laptop using an adapter cord. It’s curiously already attached to a pair of antennas. ”This,” Matt begins powering the laptop on, “is a KVM, a ‘kernel-based virtual machine’, it’s been running for about a week straight. No power cycles, no resets.” Scoffing at Matt’s eagerness to show off his tech, Mello considers the acronym.

I can’t tell what makes it ‘kernel-based,’ whatever the hell that means. A virtual machine, though… I have to guess he’s using it to keep whatever he’s doing off the main portion of his laptop. Why would he bother maintaining a separate operating system to do that? Did he seriously do something to get the police on his tail already?

After waiting for boot up and entering the necessary passwords, Matt launched the virtual machine, revealing an incredibly barebones system. Mello leaned in, squinting as he tried to parse the words on screen, “… what is this?”

”My contributions to the case.” Matt propped his elbow up and leaned back in an aloof posture, though the position did offer Mello more space to read closely.

Skimming his eyes across the text as Mello absorbed the content and respective timestamps of what he was reading, his eyes latched onto one particular character.

N.

His eyes widen, and a light gasp escapes his lips. “Near…” he clenches his fists. “This is all of Near’s correspondence.” Matt nodded, laissez-faire to Mello’s reaction. “Was able to track down their communication methods and intercept the messages so they get delivered to this machine,” he points to the KVM, “too. Of course, I can only get info when the system is online, so anything sent prior to me setting this up a month or so ago, along with any messages that happen to get sent when the system is down, are basically unattainable.”

Mello drags the laptop by its screen and scrolls through the reams of back-and-forth conversation. “He’s planning on going to the US president?” Peaking over to see what Mello was reacting to, he replies, “There’s more about his reasoning, around 5:15, December third, I think.” True to his word, a message at exactly 5:15 from what appears to be Roger’s emails. Mello leans back, considering what to do with the information given to him. Matt patiently waits, tapping rhythmically on the car seat leather.

While still staring into nothing, Mello speaks as he puts the pieces together himself. “Approaching the US government because of a lack of manpower… he must be hoping to get the FBI to work with him. I can’t see him functioning without a team under him, so that makes sense. If he wants a minimum on the amount of evidence collected from his independent investigation before approaching them about it, that means he likely won’t be assembling a team for a while, 6 months, maybe a year or more.” He snaps a piece off his chocolate. “We have some time.” His eyes widen as a smile slowly spreads to his face. “This tracking isn’t going to mean much when he begins working with them in person, and I could never be present to keep an eye on his investigation, but someone else can.”

Matt tilts his head fondly. “What’s the plan, boss?”

Mello walks to the other side of the car, harshly pulling the door open and falling into the passenger seat. The equipment left there is shoved to the side, Mello puts a heel on the dashboard, and once again digs his teeth into his chocolate bar. “We need to set up a spy for when Near’s team is formed in the United States. We can either find an existing government agent and draw them to work with us, or we can sneak one of our people into a government agent position. The first would likely be more foolproof; a long-time employee is more likely to be given access to a secret organization to begin with, but it’s more difficult to accomplish, and loyalty is less assured. However, six months is just barely enough time to get someone with the preexisting qualifications into an agent position; if that’s successful, they’ll be much more reliable.” He chuckles to himself. “Either way, having Near do some of our work for us will be incredibly useful. And I can keep an eye on him in case he gets ahead of me.” His face contorts in anger. “He’s not going to win.”

Matt’s light laugh draws him from his focus. “Glad my hard work wasn’t for nothing.” Mello looks to Matt, now properly out of his thoughts. Tracing up and down Matt’s figure, he soaks in his presence, reminded of how comfortable he is around him compared to others. “Why did you do it?” Mello speaks softly

Matt turns to look at him, confused, “What do ya’ mean?”

“Oh, please.” Mello straightens his slouch as he drags his heel back to the car floor, thumping against the carpet-covered plastic, “You hate doing work, there’s no way you would have gone through with this without an incentive.“

Matt shifts his gaze to the steering wheel. “I miss being partners.” A subdued shock reaches Mello’s face. “I was upset when you took off, sure, but I always said to myself that it was whatever. ‘Cause we’ll meet up again eventually. But when it was finally the right time to get back in contact with you, you never let me. Lo and behold, I find out it’s because you’re working on the Kira case, which I guess I should have puzzled out on my own.”

Mello’s mouth thins into a tense line as Matt leans backwards and stretches his arms. “So, I assumed you were doing this for one of three reasons: to keep confidential information secret, prevent me from getting involved for my own benefit, or to keep me from distracting you.” Mello lowers his head and bites his tongue, avoiding looking in Matt’s direction with tensed shoulders. Unbeknownst to Matt, all three were on the money. “So, I figured if I wanna be your partner again, I should take care of all those concerns for you.”

“How have you taken care of even a single one of those? Going off of this stunt, you still lack any self-preservation instinct a normal person would have.”

“You don’t have to worry about those problems because it’s already too late! I’ve got access to confidential information on both your and Near’s end. I’ve already illegally cracked into secure databases, plus I’m carpooling you to your criminal organization meeting, and I’m providing useful information so I can help you instead of distracting you. Every problem accounted for.”

Mello turns around and gawks at Matt.

“What the hell?” Mello shouts.

Matt just continues grinning, “It looks like you’ll have to let me on board now.”

“This isn’t some fucking joke, Matt-“

“I’m not joking.” His face turns uncharacteristically stern. Mello reels back in surprise. “I promised to be in your corner till the end, and I’m going to make good on that. That’s what I’m choosing to do with my life.”

A quiet moment passes. Mello relaxes in his seat, almost limp as he stares down at his gloved hands. After a weak sigh, he conjures up the will to answer, “Yeah, okay… together. Let’s get going.” Matt loosens up, exhaustion peaking through the wrinkles under his eyes. “I’ve got bungee cables in the trunk, so you want to tie up the bike?”

“Nah, it’s an old piece of junk anyway.”

Matt shrugs and starts the ignition to his car; both boys tuck their legs inside and shut the car doors. Matt backs out of the parking lot. Mello shifts his feet to push away brown paper bags from various fast food chains, trying to make room for his legs. Mello scolds him, “Remind me to clean this car soon, I have no idea how you function like this.”

Matt chuckles, “Gladly.”

“…Thank you, Matt.”

Without breaking eye contact with the road, Matt says, “Anytime, Mello.”

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