Jacqueline by Franz Ferdinand-

Matt had an intensely frightening ability to return whatever emotion you showed with equal tenacity. He was a wonderfully perceptive individual, but Mello lived in constant fear of not being misunderstood.

Matt loved Mello, and so he locked that bit away. It was better when you never took anything seriously, anyway. So fucking hilarious. Do anything. Won’t hurt, I promise. As long as you never ever leave.

He still frightened Mello, a little bit. Mello couldn’t quite understand someone who wouldn’t fight. He couldn’t understand that Matt, the gamer boy, the striped one, his friend, had convinced himself it was just better not to care. So Mello tried his best to hurt Matt.

He only won once, and he wasn’t there to see it.

---

Powderfinger as covered by the Cowboy Junkies-

Matt remembered the day his parents left him. He remembered everything about it except- not saying he loved them. He forgot to say he loved them, not his fault though- too busy screaming. Thirty seconds, a few gunshots. Same thing again, he’d forgotten to tell Mello he loved him. It was all for the better, though, wasn’t it? Mello would know- this was his last declaration. This one’s for you, Mello.

All he hoped was that Mello wouldn’t forget him. It hadn’t been the same, none of it had ever been the way it should have been. The world warped them and they warped the world. Still, there was beauty in the twisted thoughts and triggers pulled too soon, but Matt knew- believed- as long as there was Mello, there was hope.

---

Save Yourself by the Royce-

Get out of here. Matt, this isn’t here, leave me. Too dangerous. This isn’t one of your goddamn games! What do you think I have for you, anyway? Take what you had of me and be happy with it. I promise, I will that piece to you, but this isn’t the same. It can’t be. You should know that.

You were always a stubborn bastard. Believe me, it’ll be better if you just go. Keep what we had. Don’t ruin it- don’t stain it with this- my blood- and don’t you fucking dare put yourself in danger by staying here.

Don’t you know, dumbass? I loved you. There. Said it.

Now get the fuck out. I don’t want you.

...to die.

Please, really. Do you want to see? I have scars I can show you. People die, Matt, everyone does.

Just... I don’t know-

Save yourself. From this kind of life, even if this kind of death can't be avoided.

---
Come As You Are by Nirvana-

Mello cried out in pain. It was the first time Matt had ever heard him like this, reduced to a state of- a state of nothing less than sheer desperation.

“...You blew up a building. While you were inside it.”

“Get me out of here...”

Softly, Mello muttered something about needing help.

“Where are you?”

Matt figured it was best to cut to the chase. The new sound of fear in Mello’s voice had cut through his apathetic exterior.

---

36 Degrees by Placebo-

Matt supposed what Mello said was true. They’d had something, but it was long ago.
He could tell Mello’d made a point of breaking from the person Matt had known.

Matt had never really been one to connect with others- he saw it as just another source of pain, until he’d built up his armor- but he’d still been vulnerable when Mello first came around.

Right now, he really, really needed to just breathe. Mello had been ranting at him for a few minutes now, telling him to get out, and Matt felt cold already. He couldn’t understand how Mello even moved in those clothes, anyway.

He made his decision.

---

The Turnstiles by the Velocet-

As Mello drove to where he’d get Takada, he realized what he’d been telling Matt the whole time. Of course, he’d known it was true, but he hadn’t believed it. He also realized Matt had believed the whole time. For some reason, knowing this brought up new waves of guilt, but he had practice stifling those and it came to good use then.

...And another thing he realized was that Matt had really loved him, and he felt like a monster. He used Matt. The whole time.

Matt, on the other hand, knew far more than he let on. He understood, though, that Mello burned far too brightly to last long, and he was determined that if Mello went he would too. Today was the day.

He was almost certain Kira did not know the meaning of the word love.

Of course, L hadn’t either.

...He had no time for those thoughts now. The sun was setting fast for them, and he needed to at least entertain the police before they shot him, didn’t he?

---

Gloria by U2-

The boy was almost certain it wasn’t just his own heartbeat he was hearing. The silence of the church was almost stifling, but there were two other boys there. He could tell they didn’t quite fit, though. One of them had tears in his eyes. The other looked at the figure on the cross with perplexion, and Mello couldn’t help but draw away from him. His eyes were a kind of black that verged on red, and it looked just a little bit too close to blood for Mello’s taste.

He closed his own eyes and began reciting the prayers he’d known for as long as he could remember. It did make it easier, prayer. He would give everything to the God that promised eternal salvation.

A whisper broke the silence. He opened his eyes, and saw that it came from the bloody-eyed boy.

“Do you really believe this? What’s it for, anyway?”

Mello stared, wide-eyed, until he could muster a response.

“Leave. Now.”

The decisive tone, coming from such a small child, provoked laughter from both of the other boys, but the blood-eyed one left, and the other- the one with hair almost the same color as the other’s eyes- retreated to the back of the church and began reading.

---

Drug + Religion by One Small Step for Landmines-

The radio blared in a corner of Mello’s apartment, but not for long. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the dissonant clamor in his head wouldn’t allow it.

He knew he was an irresponsible bastard. It was Matt’s birthday, and he couldn’t help but remember. He tried to remind himself he wasn’t the same person any more, that he was no longer tied. That contract had been broken.

As his fatigued body gave in to sleep, Mello dreamed of a new contract signed only with the pull of a trigger.

He felt another kind of guilt when he realized he knew exactly what it sounded like when Matt was really hurt. It was a kind of pathetic whisper, not a scream, not a plea- Mello couldn’t quite explain it, and he wished he could take it off repeat in his mind.

---

Teardrop by Massive Attack-

Matt stared blankly through the open window. All he could see outside were more buildings, but he hoped beyond hope that maybe if he tried hard enough he’d wake up and be back at Wammy’s with Mello and sometimes Near, not here, not in this hellhole where he would never find Mello.

He remembered how every so often they’d get into arguments about semantics and hijack their composition classes. Mello had never really done very well with poems, but Matt equaled his failure when it came to memorizing technicalities.

He wondered, absently, what the etymology of the word love was.

And, still acting only to fill his idle time, he walked over to the keyboard housed in some corner of his room and started playing with it. He’d taken piano lessons for a while, back when he had a home and a family and what he remembered as an utter lack of hope, and he tried to think of what he’d played for them.

---

Tecumseh Valley by Townes van Zandt-

Even for the Mafia, it was a little bit sad to see a beautiful boy like Mello brought down so low. He was amazing- brilliant, and without remorse. Rod recalled his own child, and could see that even behind Mello’s exterior there was a hurt child. None of the others had much experience with children, as far as he knew, and he figured it was for the better.

When the other boy, Matt, came back- when he walked in that day- Rod finally understood what it was that had cracked Mello, because he was watching the breaking happen once again. This time, though, it all fell apart. It was almost comical, the exquisite tragedy of Matt and Mello. Almost.

Frankly, it annoyed Rod. They were trying to get work done. He understood these were broken children, but he’d grown used to the almost-perfected show Mello put on.