Forty Seconds (MattxMello -- Death Note)

6 // fourteen and fifteen

[A/N: this is my favorite chapter so enjoy! please vote/comment if you like. thanks so much for reading!]

Mello believes in fate. But only when it counts.

Only when it's 2am and mello is counting his own heartbeats. Wondering anxiously when might they stop. Mello believes in fate because it's the only thing holding him together. If he believes his fate is written out in blood-red ink -- that it is irrefutable, and inevitable - it makes it a little easier to accept. If he could take a peek at his future he would be horrified. It's like standing in the middle of the train-tracks and waiting to be run over.

Regeneration. Immolation. He believes in those, too. These were all thoughts too sooth his mind.

For the third night in a row, the what-ifs and the could-have-been's had kept him awake and staring at the ceiling in the dark.

When he wakes up, he wakes up to running water. Matt's absence hurts more than it should when he reaches out to touch his arm but instead ends up smoothing the mattress. Mello was a lot of things, and had a reputation for doing a lot of things that might piss someone off. He was snarky, sarcastic, short-tempered, and rather ungrateful and unappreciative. Sure, he would admit to all of these things. But late? No, he was never late.

Except for now. Now, he was late.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He rolled off the mattress and thudded onto the hard floor, scrambling to his feet instantly. he caught a glimpse at his own reflection in the stainless-steel fridge. he looked disgusting -- blonde hair a greasy mess. Which he simply couldn't stand for. he slid on socked feet to the bathroom door. Shit, Matt was in the shower! He didn't have time for this. He tried the knob. As always, Matt had left it open. He rushed in, his tired face met with steam. Matt's shocked silhouette through the half-translucent curtain. He either wasn't going to like this, or he really was.

"Mello? What the fuck? Get out!"

"I'm running really late, and I don't have time to wait for you to get your goddamned twenty-minute long luxury shower," Mello said as he stripped out his black boxers. "plus, it's not like we've never showered together."

It was true. At Wammy's, three kids at a time had their bubble baths together. Mello used to squirt the other children with water guns and splash them as an adolescent L attempted to lather up the suds in his blonde hair. The memory made Mello cringe as he pulled back the curtain, giving matt a blunt once-over, and stepping in as Matt awkwardly covered himself with the curtain. "get over yourself, dumbshit. I'm not looking at you." He reached over and winded down the faucet until the luke-warm water turned to ice. Matt yelped.

"Oh, fuck! Cold, cold, cold!"

But he didn't get out. This was Mello's expectation.

Instead, the taller boy reached over his shoulder, and cranked it over to scolding. The water running over them was hot enough to raise welts, but the two endured it, both too stubborn to change it again.

"Where are you going that's so important, anyway?" Matt's voice said just behind him. Mello scrubbed the major spots - under his arms, around his bare torso - with soap and then began lathering the first layer of his hair. Matt didn't understand the maintenance. Fruity-scented suds ran over both the boys.

"I have a meeting with someone. It's Kira-related."

There was a long pause as Mello rinsed out his hair. And then

"...you can come, if you want. I can't say it will be spectacularly riveting or anything, but it must be better than sitting on your ass playing that damn video game of yours."