oo5: grapefruit

karierte

When Matt was twelve, his favourite film was The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Mello would cringe through the gartered, corseted, transsexual Transylvanian transvestitery on an uncomfortably regular basis and Matt would lean his little red head on the arm rest and supply nose-pinched ‘Janet’s at the correct intervals. He’d often glance sidelong at him, Mello, watching the reflected television in the goggle lenses, wondering what kind of shit was going on behind them.

He still has no idea about Matt’s shit, when Matt is nineteen with a skinny white neck that looks like it’ll snap under his sombre face. It’s strange, now, because he’s longer and lankier and altogether more than Mello could have ever remembered. Being with him is like being a child again; all shiny new. The rain dribbles down as they sit together, uncomfortable nostalgia gathering at their socks and it's easy to forget the Uzi tucked neatly in the belt loop of his leather trousers, smiling.

These friendly, bittersweet nothings they’re sharing aren't going to last, after all. Mello keeps his enemies closest.

Mello’s going to kill him, Matt, someday, somehow. And this scene will be dead with him.

A/N

A quick, crap drabble. Oh dear. Dedicated to the wondrous Diabolus Kara, and I hope it didn't disappoint ^^'