It Matters

Present Day



Matt danced around the room with his iPod loud in his ears. He\'d just defeated the boss in his game and this was a celebration. He sang aloud, "Well, I lie and I\'m easy all of the time, but I\'m never sure when I need you..." His red hair flew wildly about his head, dashed across his eyes, as he thrashed to the beat. "Pleased to meet yaaaa...!"



Thus it was that he didn\'t notice the front door opening and slamming, nor did he spot that he wasn\'t alone until he nearly collided with the man. A second later, Matt was lying winded on the floor, clutching his stomach. Through watering eyes, he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun and, beyond those, to the ice cold blue eyes of his lover. Mello was patently in one of his moods.



Pain receding, Matt mentally switched gears. This could go one of two ways. He could launch himself upwards, tackle Mello to the settee and physically restrain him or else...

"I bought you some chocolate." He managed to sound casual, even though the ache in his gut caused a traitor groan to his tone. "It\'s on the table."



The gun disappeared and the slim, blond man strode away in the direction of their kitchen. Matt pushed himself into a sitting position, propped up against the settee. He judged the pain faded enough to risk reaching for his iPod. It was undamaged in its hard case, but he turned it off anyway. He glanced at the kitchen, noting that Mello was slumped on a chair at the table there. Staring into space and snapping off bits of chocolate. The tension radiated from him in waves of ill-ease. It was difficult to work out if this was a Mello who wanted to be left alone or one in dire need of company.



Matt chose a compromise. He picked up his Gameboy and carried it into the other room, seating himself on an empty kitchen chair. He was soon studiously engrossed in his game, ostentiously ignoring the other man, but ready, just in case. It took a good ten to fifteen minutes before Mello spoke, wistful but growling too,

"I prefer the dark chocolate."



"They were out." The sound of electronic music rose, tinny and repetitive, from the game. "And fuck off."



Like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Mello smiled. His moods could change like that, sudden and complete, but always intense. Mello never felt anything by halves. "Did I hurt you?"



"Yes."



"Was it good?"



Matt froze and glanced up. It was the wrong moment. The Gameboy sounded the death of his character, and the subsequent game over, in descending octaves of thin tunes. Mello rose, gracefully, though his tight, black leather creaked with the movement. Feline-like, he stalked around the table and snaked a leg over Matt\'s thigh. He sat on his lap, facing him, and took the Gameboy from him. "You won\'t be needing that." Mello leaned in for the kiss, hard and famished.



Matt surrendered, as he always would, his heart thundering against his chest. His hand, encased in elbow high driving gloves, reached up to hold Mello\'s head, that silky, blond, shoulder-length bob an endless source of fascination. Mello reached back to stop him. He clutched Matt\'s wrist and held it tightly, pinned against the cupboard door behind him. The other hand crawled beneath Matt\'s striped top and found a nipple. His mouth followed, trailing melted chocolate from the square of it that had been in his mouth all of this time.



The telephone rang. Mello was off him and out to answer it before Matt had even registered its calling. He sat, stunned, but still, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. Or that Mello would give up on whatever drove him just this once. This moment couldn\'t end here!



But Mello merely paused, within view of the open doorway, with a glance that promised so much and a smile to say he would be back to get it. Then he was gone, striding out of view and signalling his departure with his customary slammed door.



It took several long moments before Matt felt able to move again with any hope of his legs supporting him. He shuffled into the front room, wiping chocolate from his mouth and neck, and found his iPod again. Settling down in front of the PS3, he whirled through the music library to the song that he wanted, then sang it as he began to play, "Mihael, you\'re the boy with all the leather hips, sticky hair, sticky hips, stubble on my sticky lips..." He paused as he felt the chocolate around his nipples starting to harden, so reached to scratch it off. He ate it. "You\'re dancing like a beautiful dance whore, Mihael, waiting on a silver platter and nothing matters now..."





(Song references: \'Song 2\' by Blur and \'Michael\' by Franz Ferdinand)