Gold & Guns

AN: *evil grin*

Suggested Listening: Come Closer by Delain (seriously listen to it for this, I wrote it to the song...) Fallen Angel by L'ame Immortelle (kida fits the mood)

Part 4

~Come Closer~

Matt closed his eyes behind his goggles and went onto auto-pilot as the sight of the blonde in the crowd brought back unwanted memories. So much so that he could no longer feel the slowly heating metal of the pole his hands slid across.

He could feel the rain as it beat down on his soaked form, as he sat under a tree on the roadside, a far, far distance from Wammys; towns away even. He had walked until his blistered feet couldn't hold him up anymore, until he couldn't handle the stares of the townsfolk, until he simply couldn't muster another ounce of energy to even lift his head.

The rain had simply been one more thing in his already bitter existence and he hadn't even flinched as his soft cottony clothing had become drenched from something other than sweat. He didn't care; he had simply needed to get away from that place. That place that had been a horrid reminder of everything. Of Mello.

Who had betrayed him when he had left. Mello who he had thought was his friend... Mello...

His heart beat fast in his chest, head pounding as though feeling the reverberations of some drum, and he leaned further against the tree which provided only the slightest bit of protection. He wanted to go to sleep... and with how utterly tired he was... perhaps even stay asleep.

He could hear the rain, the soft yet heavy sounds, as it descended around him, blanketing him in frigid warmth. He couldn't remember falling asleep but he remembered waking up, clothes damp, aching all over, feeling feverish, and hoping that everything had simply been a dream.

The sunlight was bright and burnt his sore eyes, the air felt cold and the wind rattled the branches of the old tree he had called his bed. He needed to move, despite how utterly painful and dizzying it was to do so. He couldn't stay or he would die.

His feet stung as he took each step, vision blurred, heart leaping from exertion, and he hugged his arms close to his chilled body. He would not survive another night like that with the clothing he had. With the meager supplies he had.

So he did what he had to…

He stole from people, simply to have enough money for something hot to be in his belly for the night. He shoplifted, when the money didn't quite cut it. He got into small fights, to keep his pathetic possessions, the only things keeping him alive at the moment.

He threw away his goggles when the lenses became too cracked.

The next had been the stripes as the shirt had been too dirty to wear anymore, to even clean. His spare clothes being the same, and everything he shoplifted had to be dull in color and not eye-catching like stripes were.

The last were the games, not having enough money to live never mind get batteries for the handheld.

He took the pills that had been offered to him by a fellow homeless teen. He couldn't even protest, too high to care, as his virginity was taken from him in that back alley so far from comfort. He let it happen again, and again, and again just for a taste of the mind numbing drugs.

He ran from the police who had caught him stealing, ignoring the stinging in his arm from where it had been twisted painfully behind him. And used his knowledge of computers, while at a cafe, to buy himself a ticket out of that hell, out of England.

He let himself be abused, to get a forged passport.

It didn't get better once he got to the states, having no money. He was still homeless, still too young to pass for a working age and still not having money or access to a computer.

He had gotten into all sorts of bad things, trying anything once just for a place to stay the night, a place to get a meal, a place to stay warm. He wondered, almost incessantly if it was like that for Mello, and in a way, he almost did.

But then he would immediately feel horrible wishing that on his friend. At least until he had been able to chase his thoughts away with whatever had been given to him that night. Pills, alcohol... and even forced sex. Whatever it was that rid him of his dark feelings, even if only for a moment.

He felt lost, unable to focus, and horribly alone, until someone had picked him off the streets 'seeing his potential', as it were. There had been no illusions as to what was wanted of him, being told straight up.

He was given food, shelter, clothing... and he didn't protest as he was taught the ways of the club. The rules of the club. And for enough money he was forced to let anyone do what they wanted with him for the night so long as it didn't leave marks that couldn't be covered up before his next performance.

It almost felt normal for him after so long, comfortable even; better than the soulless druggie he had become after Mello's departure...

And then everything had come crashing back the moment those blue eyes, attached to that leather encased body, had settled, shocked, onto him as he took the stage. Matt had never expected to see him again, and had almost faltered in his routine before his training kicked in and he shoved his emotions to the back of his mind.

He wasn't really there, outside of his body, away from the prison of feelings, and was merely floating. When the music stopped he snapped back, eyes opening and locking with the blondes for an instant before the stage darkened and he was left to collect his earnings.

He knew, almost certainly, that the encounter would not end with that single solitary glance of those watchful eyes. What he couldn't decide, was if he wanted there to be a meeting or not. Matt heaved out a sigh, grinning to a coworker as he passed behind the stage, and headed for the changing rooms.

-End Part 4-

AN: bwahahah i'm such a bitch aren't I? Well, now that Matt's part is over, you get Mello's pov next chapter, good right? Heheheh we'll see...