Matt x Mello

BY : Genevieve
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8296
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.



There follows a period of learning during which Mello and Matt are
instructed as to the specifics of how they are to carry out the murder
of Kira.

Misora is not the only one who wants this; there is a structured group,
an organization almost, among those special agents who know that he is
kept alive and who feel he should be dead.

Mello and Matt’s close relations with L without any ties to actual investigative
forces puts them in a unique position to take on the job: there is about
as little scrutiny or curiosity about who they are as there is about their
real names.

It’s supposed to look like suicide, a turn at the IV dial to a lethal
dose, and back-wiring of the transducer should lose trace that a connection
was initiated.

They are given time to familiarize themselves with the means of operation
of the plate-operated transducer, with how to turn it on and how to recognize
the brief interval that the connection can be dually cut, and it isn’t
as easy as it sounded, and neither is memorizing the floor plan and check
points of the facility or learning to use fake prints or practice giving
subcutaneous injection.

“L will know for sure,” Mello whispers to Matt, and it’s what he thinks
about and it’s what he wonders about and what he feels so much regret about
when he gazes at L across the table and when L pats him on the head and
when L asks him for the analysis he wrote, which, in a hopeless display
of anxiety, falls right out of Mello’s hand and scatters on the floor,
and he thinks the tension he feels must be ridiculously obvious because,
when wide eyed and frozen, he kneels down to collect the scattered sheets,
he finds, to his horror, that among them is also an unpaid phone bill and
a sheet or two of scrap paper.

There comes L’s white hand on of his when he begins assembling them,
and, biting down on the anger and despair that suffocate his throat and
line his eyes with a tremulous film of tears unspent, Mello gazes back,
aggravated and angry and sorry, and it’s heartbreaking that even then,
even then L smiles at him kindly, long fingers taking the sheets from his
hands and, one by one, assembling them back together without a word.

But he has to know, he has to know, and for Mello this is pure torment,
because, within his very being, he knows that even now he will not change
his mind about the job. Even as he suffers beneath L’s warm gaze reflecting
simple love and kindness, his curiosity flickers far too great and his
desperation too forlorn to give this up.

How much would this hurt L, and could it really hurt more than it does
already, and would it hurt more than the fact that

I don’t think Light ever loved anyone—

Was this really true, did Light really never love L, and what did he
think of, locked and tied and restrained and drugged, what did he think
of in that great mind of his, and was it really never about L, was it really
never about—

No, he gave it up, he forgot everything,

It comes almost like a real voice echoing through the sleeping recesses
of his mind late after he thinks he has fallen asleep, and Mello is pretty
sure that this whole episode has damn near driven him insane.

Also quite fascinating is the issue of the Death Note. This horrific
device came equipped with an intricate series of rules meticulously constructed
for the sole purpose of teaching people to use it. It was L who ultimately
obtained it from Kira, and then there followed an almost world-wide controversy
about what should be done with it.

Almost as frightening as a nuclear weapon, the Death Note stirred an
ethical debate between scientists and national leaders as to whether it
should be destroyed or kept for research as to better understand it. Still
others claimed that L should decide what is to be done with it because
he, after all, successfully extracted it from Kira.

The decision was ultimately to keep the thing over a limited period
of time for the purpose of investigation as monitored by high inspection
and security, after which point it was destroyed. This is what Mello had
come to understand, and it’s what he kept in mind when, researching the
topic years ago, he all but memorized the various rules with which it was
associated.

Mello and Matt were never really ones to learn cooking, and even more
so following the later-addressed “kitchen incident,” so, in rather a commendable
culinary effort, Mello had set up an intricate network of sockets and wires
connecting the television power bar to a toaster and parts of a hot plate
in the living room.

It worked wonders, that is, when it didn’t short the electricity in
the left half of the apartment, or when it resulted in a higher flow of
voltage than the hot plate really could handle, so it was a good thing
that Matt was usually around, and it was a good thing he was around that
Tuesday evening when—

Maaaaaaaaatt!!”

Following the recently-familiar flash of Matt’s computer monitor to
dark, there comes the blackout of the lights, and finally Mello’s cry of
despair—in that reassuring, regular order.

Half-dressed and irritated, Matt walks into the living room, wondering
if really they should get to cleaning the kitchen once and for all. Without
so much as a word, he passes Mello’s casually naked figure and unlocks
the front door to their apartment, stepping out into the hall to begin
work on the electrical board for what may be the third time that week.

Mello waits, eyes large and dilated as he gazes at the strip of light
coming in from outside the door; he doesn’t get mad this time. A lot can
be said of his friend, but one thing he has always known and silently respected
in Matt is his fascinating talent with machinery. The guy really was good
with his hands. Mello remembers with astonishment having watched Matt kneel
over hardware for hours, cigarette hanging between his lips and quietly
engaged behind his goggles as he tinkered and fiddled with the wires and
parts inside, until, some long time later, he had flawlessly deciphered
a code or disabled an explosive or hacked a password.

And he almost seemed to enjoy it, and he almost seemed to enjoy working
on the electrical board now, so when, smiling at Mello, he bites down on
the cigarette between his teeth and all but glows with contentment as he
walks back in through the front door, Mello suddenly wants to fuck him
real bad, and he’s just about to do it, too, when again the stupid phone
begins to ring.

“God damn it, Misora!” Mello yells into after picking up, “Why have
you always got to call when I’m about to screw Matt!”

And Matt smirks, but soon his face grows serious when he hears her voice
from the receiver in Mello’s hand—

It’s time.

 

To be continued…

 

 

 

 



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