Jesus, the inside of my car engine stunk like hell. "Okay," I breathed out, grabbing a small wrench from my toolbox, "if I turn this here, then it should fix the problem. I just need to concentrate… focus my full attention on the problem at hand… almost there…"

"MATT!" My head shot up and hit the inside of the hood at Mello's scream, causing me to swear more than my mother would ever have stood for. The hand that was holding the wrench started to clench tighter until I closed my eyes and reminded myself why exactly I put up with Mello's shit.

The things I do for an unrequited love, I thought to myself, rubbing the back of my head and stepping away from my car for the sheer sake of not wanting to hurt myself again. "Yes, my love?" I answered, turning to see him standing in the doorway with a confused look on his face.

He raised an eyebrow. "What did you just say?"

"I said, 'Yes, Mello?'" I lied, filled with the sudden urge to run up to him and violate him in every way possible. Boy. This was getting ridiculous. "You buzzed, Mels?"

Flipping his hair over his shoulder (which looked really, really gay, by the way), he said, "I did not 'buzz,' you lazy ass. I simply called out for you so I could figure out where the fuck you were and murder you, you useless freeloader!"

I cleared my throat and pressed my lips together tightly. "Christ, blondie, who pissed in your Corn Flakes? I was out here trying to fix my car until your unearthly screech made me bang my head on the goddamn hood. What could you possibly need that requires my assistance right this fucking second?"

"Hmm, let's see… maybe your fucking job? You're a hacker, Matt, not a damn mechanic. The way you complain about it all the time makes it sound like I give you the work of two people."

What the fuck. "Shit, man! You do! That's the main problem! If you want more work to actually get done, why not hire another friggin' hacker?"

"Why don't I just get one to replace you?" he yelled back.

"Why don't you?" I challenged, wiping my hands on a rag.

Visibly deflating, he continued screaming, "Why are we fighting?"

"I don't know!" I didn't. It just sorta happened sometimes between us.

He stormed back inside. "I'm gonna use the restroom!"

Following him inside the house, I headed toward the kitchen and replied, "I'm making sandwiches!"

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. Right after lunch Mello left to go somewhere (apparently, I wasn't on the 'Need to Know' list as to where), which left me home alone with nothing to do for an unknown amount of time.

Cue the game shows.

Don't judge me.

At about five in the afternoon, right before I was about to call Mello and bitch like a needy girlfriend about how I was gonna start eating dinner without him and he could fend for himself, he walked through the front door with some geeky-looking weirdo tailing right behind him.

He had outrageously normal-colored brown hair, cut in a bowl shape akin to that of a certain male 'pop star' that pre-pubescent girls seemed to idolize for some strange reason; big, childish brown eyes; a bright yellow shirt boasting the word Hollister right across his chest; acid-wash skinny jeans with holes in both knees; and really fucking purple Converse high-tops.

Oh, and braces. Can't forget the braces.

Knowing the kid couldn't have been older than seventeen, I grit out, "Mello, who the holy fuck is this guy?"

Braceface waved at me as Mello explained, "Matt, meet Josh Nitley—your new co-hacker."