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]

"On me, huh? That mean I treat you too well? I could be more of a dick to you if you'd rather." Treat him more like Mello treated everyone else, instead of his best friend. Not that he really wanted to do that, or seriously meant that he would.

Memorize him, huh? Mello couldn't blame Matt for feeling like that, not when his most recent memories were of his own death. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, shutting his eyes again. He trusted Matt; he could touch any part of Mello he wanted. He just didn't want to watch. "I'm not going anywhere." Just to say it, since he could tell Matt was worried about it.

He didn't tell him that he didn't think of the scar as part of himself, not yet. Maybe he would one day, but it still felt alien at the moment. He could barely feel Matt's fingers through the ropy scar tissue, separated from the nerves and living skin of Mello himself by this barrier made from his skin but no longer of it. He didn't think Matt would understand and it would be far too revealing to say.

[nicotinic.livejournal.com]

"No, I'd rather you weren't." Scowling, he poked him in the side (gently). "If you treat me like a dick I'll start kicking you in the shin." He probably wouldn't, but he'd most likely try and beat the hell out of him until his attitude adjusted accordingly. He liked Mello and all, even if he was a dick, but Matt preferred the foul part of his personality to be directed at other people, rather than himself. Made things easier, it did.

Fingers stroked over his back, touching the expanse of his scar, traveling up and then moving down over his arms. Matt was imprinting every possible thing into his mind. What if Mello disappeared like he had? Matt had lost him too many times without being able to properly remember things about him. He wasn't going to make the same mistake. He'd already remembered the way he smelled. His face, his hands, his mouth; everything that had touched him today. Now he was moving on to everything he hadn't encountered so far.

Moving back up, once he was satisfied with the current memorization, he lowered his head close to Mello's. Closing his eyes, he whispered against his cheek, breath ticking against it. "Kiss me?"