It Matters

Three nights later, Roger glanced up at his monitors and then stood to look out of the window. The motorcycle which had been roaring loudly up and down the street was now parked right in front of the gates. The figure upon it, hidden beneath black leather and helmet, was staring intently within. As Roger watched, Matt stepped out from the house and, face equally hidden between goggles and high collar, stopped before the iron railings of the locked gates.



Predictably, it was Mello who moved first. Pushing himself off the bike in sharp, ragged movements, pacing up to the bars and standing there, hands on his hips. He made no move to touch the security pad. He wasn't trying to come inside. After a while, he removed his helmet, tangled, blond hair falling down wildly in its wake. He was speaking, but Roger couldn't hear what was being said. It couldn't have been said in anger though, because Mello's body language wasn't expressive enough for that.



It was impossible to gage Matt's mood. Buried as he was under the sleeveless jacket, his face only emerged, like a turtle from its shell, each time he took a drag on his cigarette. Occasionally he gestured with the burning ember, but otherwise stood perfectly still. Mello was again the one to move. He leaned upon the front gates, gloved hand above his head supporting his weight, as he pressed his face between the bars. Matt shuffled forward towards him then and was gathered up into an embrace.



Roger turned himself away from the window, face burning. But the monitors were showing the same scene in miniature. The couple separated by iron bars; Mello draped over them, taking all of the initiatives. Roger watched Matt point with his cigarette towards the camera and there was a disconcerting instant of both men staring straight at him. Mello grinning wickedly, Matt still concealed under hair and collar. There was something so wanton about it all, yet fascinating.



Whatever their exchange, it finished with Mello reaching through the bars and practically crushing Matt into a passionate kiss. For the briefest moment, as they drew away, Roger could see Matt's mouth and he was smiling, coyly, into the face of his friend. There was a second peck of a kiss, then Mello strode away, straddling the motorcycle in one seamless movement. He neither looked pleased nor displeased, as he replaced his helmet. There was a final look towards Matt on the other side of the gate, before Mello's cycle revved into life and carried him away behind the lime trees and down the street.



Matt stood there for the longest time, smoking and gazing into the direction Mello taken. Then he turned and, with a penetrating stare at the camera, stepped back into the house.



Roger waited for half an hour before treading the distance through the house to the room allocated to Matt. His old room, strewn now as then with computer gadgetry, notebooks and files. The redhead wasn't working at any of them though. He was sitting in the windowsill, cold air breezing past him, intent upon a handheld computer game, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. As Roger entered, the cigarette was thrown guiltily out of the window and a practiced look of innocence was turned in his direction.



They didn't have to speak the admonishments. Matt shouldn't be smoking indoors; Roger should have knocked. Instead Roger cut to the chase, "What did you tell Mello?"



"Enough." Was all that Matt would tell him. He pointed with the game towards the computers. "I've nearly got it. Move my ETD for getting out of your hair until tomorrow, maybe the next day."



"In some ways, I think that your departure would be a shame."



"Planning to shoot me yourself?" Matt sniffed, turning back to his game amid a series of beeps and clicks.



"I meant that it is good to have you around again." Roger sat upon the side of the bed. "You and Mello were you... a-hem... that is to say, while you both lived here..."



"No." Matt flinched, but it was patently at something in-game. "Ah... ok."



"You were always together."



"That's the plan." Matt grinned suddenly, fingers clicking much faster, then a fanfare rang out from the small console. "No, we'd kissed but that's about it."



"I see." Roger shifted awkwardly. "That is as it may be. Excellent." He pointed towards the computers. "You have recalled your promise not to..."



"I haven't even put a worm in Near's server. I'm a little angel." Matt frowned into the game, increasing the sped of his clicking again. "I was so close though... I didn't."



"I am trusting you with everything and..."



"I'm trusting you with my life." Matt jabbed rapidly at a single button and there came the sound of something tiny shrieking. "Pwnt." He looked up as if surprised to find Roger still there. "Next week. Erm, soon as I'm out of here, you can get Near going through it with a steel toothcomb. It'll be clean and lovely, I promise."



"Thank you." Roger rose stiffly and rested on his stick. "I trust that the children aren't disturbing you."



"Not in the way you're asking, no." Matt placed the game back down on the sill and took his place before the main computer again. "They are very quiet." He gave every show of concentrating on a page of code, until Roger had trudged to the door again. "What will happen to them?"



"I'm sorry, who?"



"This generation. Are they already trying to be the new Near?" Matt stared intently at the monitor. "Only some of them might not want to be. It's hard enough for Nate to live up to being Near, let alone..." He ended his sentence with a gesture in the direction of the inner walls.



"I never made the decisions." Roger replied with a sighing finality and closed the door behind himself as he left.