Reunited. [ Active ]

[nicotinic.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Mello (chocolatefetish) and Matt (nicotinic).
Content: Matt shows up in Paixao with no idea as to what's going on, Mello comes to fetch him and explain. Hopefully.
Setting: At one of the cafe's close to the Vanaheim Gate.
Time: The afternoon of July 25th.
Warnings: They both have foul vocabulary, I'm sure. And later comments are definitely not appropriate for younger viewers♥

Matt poked at his journal a bit, lacking in things to be occupied with. Turning it over in his hands, he narrowed his eyes a little, evidently trying to see if he could get it apart without tools. Realizing, unfortunately, that there wasn't any possible way for him to, he turned it face up to look at the screen and see if there was anything from Mello. Noticing that was, in fact, negative, he flipped it over.

Leaning back in the chair, balancing it on its back two legs, he rocked back and forth on it. He seriously hoped he didn't fall. Dead again after two minutes of being alive; that'd take some real skill. Either way, he continued to move, back and forth, lazy rocking. It kept him entertained for all of five seconds before he stopped, checking the journal again before writing a response -- noticing his hands were shaking already from lack of nicotine -- and dropping it back to the table, leaning in to balance his chair again.

As he waited for Mello, he motioned the waitress over, ordering some baby tea; half tea, half milk, and lots of sugar. Debating on getting something for Mello, he thought about it for a moment before requesting a milkshake; chocolate, of course.

He just hoped the idiot would show up soon. Impatient much?

Comments

[chocolatefetish.livejournal.com]

"It doesn't." Mello was nearly finished with his milkshake, idly stirring the remains with the straw, but he wasn't looking at it. Instead he was glaring at Matt, the motions of the straw becoming more emphatic. He was nothing like a kitten! They were weak and helpless and Mello was the opposite of that, damn it! Plus it sounded girly and he was definitely not that. "Girls get called kitten, Matt. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not one."

He'd been called one often enough, growing up, and he'd hated it. Yes, he kept his hair longer than the average boy and sure, he was small and slender, but that didn't make him feminine! He'd made a practice of kicking the ass of anyone who said so until they stopped; it was part of the reason Mello had gotten into so many fights, especially when he'd first arrived at the Wammy House.

"The journals, who the hell knows? They act like they're sacred or something. Maybe they think having one makes us part of this world, like we belong here?" But they shouldn't be talking about this, not here, so Mello tried to change the subject. "There's a church, but it's outside the walls. I haven't seen it."

"Sure you still do, considering?" He couldn't blame Matt if he didn't. Getting killed was a hell of a thing to forgive. After a mistake like that, how could he trust Mello again? What if he fucked up and it turned out the same way? Of course Mello would go out of his way to prevent it from happening again, but he couldn't stop everything. That asshole who nearly shot Matt here had proved that.

He forced a smile, helped by Matt's sudden expression of disgust. "I don't care if people look. It's touching I'm picky about." Hell, let them look, if they wanted. Might be the most normal thing the people around here ever did.

[nicotinic.livejournal.com]

"It does, actually." Having far too much fun instigating Mello, he relaxed into his chair, inhaling off his cigarette again. Stretching his arms up behind him, he arched an eyebrow, watching him as he stirred the remains of his milkshake. "Nope. You get called kitten, too. Although you definitely aren't a girl, from what I can remember." Flicking the ashes from the end of his cigarette, he watched them scatter in the air before landing on the ground.

The fact that something there was sacred and that Mello might refer to it as such, even on someone elses behalf, gave him half a mind to believe him. It was rare, definitely, for Mello to make any sort of religious reference. His eyes shot straight to the blond's chest, gaze landing on the rosary. He wasn't surprised to see he still had it. At the mention of a church, he looked up, tilting his head, "Haven't you tried to leave? Or is that not possible to do..?" He sure as hell hoped it wasn't. You could only do so much in a city before getting bored to tears.

Leaning forward against the table, Matt drummed the fingers of his free hand across it, the other moving up so he could take another drag. Most people, under the circumstances, might hate Mello for what happened. Luckily, Matt wasn't most people. "The way I see it, you didn't get me killed. I chose to follow you, help you, and I also chose to get out of my car like a dumbass. So it was all because of choices I made that got me where I ended up, why would I take that out on you?" He shrugged. "I still trust you now as much as I did then. You're my best mate. I couldn't just bail on you now, you know. Big deal, couple of bullets. Not many people get to have that happen and then end up well enough to tell the tale afterwards." As an afterthought, he wondered if he ended up with any scars; he made a mental note to check later.

Matt snorted at that, dragging a hand down over his face before yawning. "Mm. I'm sure. So what if I suddenly went 'round showing off my nice legs and some random bloke thought it a good idea to grope me? What then, blondie? Going to shoot them?" It was pretty much a rhetorical question, he had a good idea as to what the answer was.