Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Godless ❯ Withdrawal ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: Hola. Chapter 3. Not much to say. On with the chapter.

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Takeshi Obata.

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“Mello, let go of me!” Matt yelped. The blonde simply shook his head. “You're hurting me. Let go!”

“No,” Mello refused. “This is nothing. Have you looked at what you've done?”

“And just why does it matter to you?” Matt hissed as he tried to tug his arm from the older boy's grasp.

Mello froze, stung by the gamer's harsh words. He knew it was the drugs talking, but it still hurt. His expression darkened as he remembered how the younger boy was always like this when he came down off a high. Without thinking he struck Matt hard across the face. “If it didn't matter I wouldn't have hauled your sorry ass back here after you collapsed.”

Anger glinted dangerously in the redhead's eyes, but it was soon replaced by shock. “I collapsed?”

“Yes,” Mello spat. “And you're damn lucky I knew where to look for you. Lucky it was me and not somebody else. Hell, you're lucky anybody found you at all! You'd've probably died!”

Suddenly Matt's expression became very solemn and he bowed his head as he whispered, “Good.”

“What the fuck!” Mello shouted. He shook the gamer violently, but Matt just gazed up at him woefully. “What do you mean by that? Good? How is that good?What the hell is wrong with you?”

No answer. The gamer just stared at him, wincing as Mello tightened his grip and drove the broken needle farther into his arm. He should probably see about getting that out.

Mello continued to rage at him. “When did things get this bad? When did you stop caring whether you lived or died?” The irate blonde paused, taking Matt's chin in one hand and forcing the gamer to meet his eyes. “Why?”

And Matt just stared at him. Whether he was hoping to get out of answering or just didn't know what to say Mello never found out. They sat there, just staring, for over an hour before Matt finally broke the silence.

“It doesn't matter,” the gamer said softly. There was something present in his voice that was far beyond just sadness. Depression, apathy, hopelessness. He sounded broken.

Another resounding blow from Mello shattered the silence as it landed just the way the other had. Matt barely flinched. The lack of reaction only served to further irritate the blonde. He grabbed Matt's chin once more and forced the gamer to look at him. “Don't you eversay that again. Understood? Whatever this is, it stops now. The drugs, the sneaking out in the middle of the night, all of it. This,” he said, shaking Matt's arm in front of his face. Again the gamer winced. “It ends now.”

And indeed it had. It had been a little over two years since that night and Matt still remembered every detail, right down to the bruise Mello had left by hitting him. That was one of Mello's worse traits, his violent tendencies. His intentions were usually good, it was just the way he went about it. Right now, as he felt Mello's warm breaths slow and even on the back of his neck, it was hard to believe the he could be so ruthless at times. But there were times when he could be gentle, too. Like when Matt had gone through withdrawal.

Matt still remembered those days vividly, although he would have liked nothing more than to forget them. It had been terrible. He remembered the sleepless nights, sitting there while Mello held him, shaking so violently that every muscle and every joint in his body had felt like it was on fire. He remembered being sick, to the point that he couldn't eat, and weak because of it. He remembered the spiralling depression and the desperation he had felt. Some days he would swear and lash out at Mello for putting him through that hell, while others he would cry with the pain. And yet the blonde had been there through the whole thing and never once left him or gotten angry with him.

He supposed it was payback. How many years ago had it been? It seemed like forever. He knew it had been just before they left Wammy's. Five years at least. Had it really been that long?

He could hear Mello murmuring something in his sleep. A prayer, no doubt. How many times had Matt heard him pray, whether it be consciously or in his sleep? The number was probably in the hundreds of thousands by now. All the prayers during the withdrawal period when he though Matt wasn't listening. He had known he was putting Matt through hell, but he also knew that if he didn't Matt might die. It had gotten that bad. And then there were the prayers from back then, Wammy's and shortly thereafter. Listening to those sent shivers down his spine. Always in Latin, like a proper Catholic prayer, and they would have Mello on his knees for hours, shouting and cursing and pleading and sometimes weeping. It was eerie and not at all what one would expect to hear from someone like Mello.

There was a slight twitch from the older boy and Matt felt the breaths against his neck speed up. Mello was awake and, if Matt was correct, trembling slightly from a very vivid dream.

“You were praying again,” Matt said without bothering to move.

Mello nodded, remembered Matt couldn't see him, and voiced a response. “I know. What did I say?”

“Couldn't decipher it,” the gamer shrugged. “Probably the same old hellfire and brimstone stuff about us that you always recite in your sleep.”

Mello winced. “Does it bother you that much?”

Matt turned over so that their noses were almost touching. “Yes.” He paused for a moment. “Can we talk now?”

Mello nodded. “Fire and brimstone is a little harsh, don't you think?”

“What about before? Do you think I've forgotten?” Matt asked, eyes narrowed. “I couldn't really. All the cursing and crying and yelling at the ceiling. Fire and brimstone seems pretty accurate to me.”

Mello nodded. He knew where this was going and it was a sensitive topic for him. “Fair enough.”

“About us,” the redhead began. “You're still not ok with this, are you?”

Mello suddenly found himself wishing they weren't so close, but they had gone to sleep on the couch, which didn't exactly provide much space. “To be perfectly honest, no.”

Matt nodded and draped an arm over the curve of Mello's waist so that his hand rested at the small of his back to illustrate his point. “Then why are we here?”

Mello sighed. It didn't look like he would be sleeping anymore tonight.