FicWad

You and I

I. Such a small word, one letter, yet it carries so much power identifying. I.

You never were much of a ‘you’ sort of person, were you? Too busy with ‘I’, weren’t you, Mello?

You and I.

So much meaning, those three words.

Words hold such power if we weave them together in certain patterns with certain letters connecting, splitting, separating, smoothing out a sentence. And yet some sentences can hold such little meaning. But why are some so important? We let them be.

You and I, Me and You, You and Him.

It was always him. It was always Near. You really don’t know how jealous I get, do you? Too much ‘I’. I worry too much about ‘You’.

I hung up the pay phone and stepped into the windy autumn streets again, glad for the long neck of my vest and a cigarette to puff on.

Where the fuck were you?

If you were off plotting meaninglessly again I’d- I’d just have to deal with it, wouldn’t I?

You always do what you want.

So, what now, Mello?

What if you really did find a way to beat him? Would you forget me? As if you already hadn’t.

I tugged my gloves on a little tighter and shoved my chilled hands into my pockets, along with four chocolate bars I had promised you.

We all have our addictions, don’t we? Mine was by far the most commonplace. You with chocolate, me, Matt, with my cigarettes and videogames, Near with his puzzles and a bit with sweets, and L- obviously his sweets. I like sweets, I do, just not to the extent of only eating them. I like a good steak.

No, I prefer to be more self-destructive, the slightly masochistic bastard that I am. You’d have to be a masochist to love you.

You and I. It’s been that way for a damned long time.

I wish we could just go back to those days, you know, the ones we’d play heroes, and you’d piss me off by making me be the ‘damsel in distress’ and stuff? I think I punched you over that once when we were eight. You stopped. I got bored and played video games.

I miss back then.

Do you?

Before you had to be ‘number one’?

I suppose you don’t- too focused with ‘I’.

Near has always driven you crazy, hasn’t he?

Always a step ahead of you, calm, collected, always keeping his cool.

You, you’re rash, arrogant, and hasty, no matter how brilliant you are.

Me… I don’t really know. I’m smart, I suppose, but I don’t really have motivation. For now, my motivation is you. Well, I suppose it always has been you.

I pulled out my cell phone and called your number- but your phone was off. I decided to leave a message. A chill ran through my body as the wind swirled, an invisible tempest.

“Where the fuck are you, Mello? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago and I’ve been standing out in the cold freezing my ass off-“

“I’m behind you, stupid. And what ass do you have to freeze off?” you sighed from the window of the car behind me, “Get in.”

I slowly walked around to the passenger seat and slid slowly inside, made myself comfortable, and then shut the door, taking my time to make you impatient. It was amusing. I passed the chocolate over, which you snatched greedily. You tore open one bar and munched on the corner, sinking into your seat, your leather clothing sliding up a bit to expose a pale stomach.

“Better now?” I asked.

“Mmm.”

“I thought you might like some dark chocolate for a change-“

“Matt,” you snapped, glaring at me. I liked your glare.

“What?” I asked, almost impudently.

“Shut the fucking hell up.”

I shut up, shaking my head, smiling, to let you enjoy your chocolate as were stopped in the middle of the road. A few leaves got caught on the windshield wipers, and I was regaining feeling in my fingers.

You sat in silence, eating the chocolate, looking relaxed for once. You always need to chill out. Your gray eyes stared out the window, golden hair caught in the dimming autumn light- damn, I was getting ‘poetic thoughts’ that were disgustingly cliché. But it was true. You finished off the bar and licked your fingers. I knew you’d finish off the other bars just as quickly.

I leaned over in the seat and kissed you. Was that the first time I did? I can’t remember.

You placed a hand on the gun at your hip, angry at first, but relaxed and parted your lips.

I liked your lips lightly- you tasted like the chocolate you’d just eaten. You pushed me back into my seat, still kissing, pulling up the orange tinted goggles I always wore that filtered the world into a dusky glow. It’s so strange- we’re caught by each other’s eyes—yours so chilly, and mine a warm hazel—I think, “Why the hell do I stay with you?” I suppose I’m just as bad as you about ‘number one’.

I don’t want to loose you to your obsession of ‘him’. He has become my rival too, and I don’t even know if he needs to be. So no matter how many times you throw me against the wall and I kick the breath from your chest, we scream and threaten each other-

You know I’ll always faithfully love you.

You know I will, you bastard.

There I go again, more ‘I’s and ‘you’s.

Suddenly, our breathing is far faster than I thought it was, and ‘you’ and ‘I’ are the only thing I care about. Maybe ‘you’ aren’t ‘his’ after all. I’m yours. That’s all that really matters.

“Matt,” you say breathlessly, pressing me against the seat of your car. I can smell the leather of your shirt, ever so easily, like I can still taste the chocolate of your lips, the feeling of them still leaving my lips tingling.

“Hm?” I respond, searching your icy eyes.

“You have clearly forgotten that we’re in the middle of a street, a ‘no parking’ zone, my car is running, and it’s broad daylight. Now fucking buckle up. That would’ve gone longer if it hadn’t been day. Bitch,” you say roughly and move back into yours as though nothing had occurred.

That… that was not fair. At all. You know it wasn’t.

So I was forcefully crash landed back here, pulled out my PSP as we drove home and lit a cigarette, goggle still hanging around my neck. Smiling. ‘I’ wouldn’t lose ‘you’ to ‘him’.