This was a contest entry for a group on dA. We were supposed to use a song that reminded us of Matt and Mello. I chose Violent by Stars. So go check that out while reading, if you want. Sorry if it gets a bit lazy towards the end. I had to rush this because I wanted to do a second entry, as well, and the contest was almost closed.

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Ohba and Obata.

In Love and In Hate

The dusty room was filled with a sticky, claustrophobic atmosphere of forced companionship. The feeling enveloped the two men laying on the sweat-stained bed. It soaked into their naked skin like some sort of sick salve, and left them feeling uneasy. When did their relationship get so torn? At what point did it spiral so far out of control that they could barely stand being in one another's presence?

Matt, uncomfortable with his position between the wall and the slicked body to his left, tried to press himself through the peeling wallpaper and plasterboard. He curled up against it, and shuddered at the chill it gave off. Behind him, he could feel the heat radiating from Mello's scarred back. It made him feel nauseous, this mix of temperatures. With a short sigh, Matt closed his eyes. He figured it'd be best to get some rest. Sleep rarely came easily any more, he always felt on edge about something, but it couldn't hurt to try.

Mello, in the meantime, lay on his unburned side and stared out into the room with a bland expression. His hardened eyes watched the lights from outside dance across the floor as cars sped by. Those lights seemed to latch onto the stained carpet to illuminate patches of drying blood from a row he and Matt just recently got into. That fight seemed to dissolve into violent fucking that left them both snarling angry curses rather than words of love during climax. This fighting and fucking was all they seemed to be able to do together any more. Disgustingly, Mello found himself wanting more and more. It was an animalistic urge for sex and violence, and the thought of them together was just oh so tempting.

Behind him, Mello felt Matt relax slightly, their backs touching. They only remained that way for a moment before Matt stiffened, and the feeling of slightly clammy skin on his quickly disappeared. Neither even dared to breathe after that. The littlest thing could set off another round of screaming and bruising regardless of how tired they were. After the moment passed, both men relaxed once more, Mello moving further towards the edge of the bed to prevent any more touching from happening. How were they supposed to keep on like living like this?

The next morning, Mello, after barely getting any sleep, aimed his gun at his target with a steady arm and set gaze. He squeezed the trigger, and watched as the mannequin tipped and fell at the force of the impact. Plastic shards sprayed out from where the bullet tore into the dummy's chest and exploded out the back. His resulting smirk was downright poisonous.

What would Matt look like at the end of this gun? Mello's mind mulled over the thought while he eyed at the barrel. Would he just give off that blank stare that he knew riled the blond? Or would there be a glimmer of fear in that expression? Would he beg for his life if Mello shoved the muzzle passed his dry lips and nicotine stained teeth?

Mello leaned back against the wall. A breathy moan escaped as he let his mind run rampant, and his hands traverse his body. The gun remained in his other hand, forgotten and hanging limp from his fingers. The orgasm wasn't nearly as mind blowing as it was with Matt, but the images of that lovely redhead submitting to him and begging got him off better than any other thought did. The two of them weren't getting on together very well, but Mello doubted there would ever be anyone else for him. No one else was quite as challenging and at his level. No one else was good enough. No one else was Matt.

Once more Matt and Mello found themselves in the same position as the night before. The tiny bed didn't allow for much room, and Mello was nearly falling from the mattress in his attempt to put space between them. The heady scent of protein and raw lust perfumed the air, mixed with the coppery tang of blood. It was intoxicating, and called to Mello who, after some thought, turned to face Matt. He was greeted by the freckle covered back of his so-called lover. He proudly eyed the dark bruises blossoming across that milky skin and the drying red streaks from scratches.

Those marks were Mello's brand on Matt. They made the other boy damaged goods, and no one ever wanted those. Matt was all Mello's whether the redhead wanted it or not. For all the anger the good-for-nothing gamer incited, Mello would kill anyone who dared look at Matt with even a hint of lust.

Tentatively, the blond reached out, placing his palm flat against the center of Matt's back. He could feel the way Matt's muscles constricted at the contact, but the redhead otherwise remained motionless. This wasn't the reaction he had expected. Experimentally, Mello ran his tongue along the ridges of Matt's spine. His efforts received a shudder and a bleary eyed glance.

Wordlessly, Mello bit along Matt's shoulders, sucking and licking until the skin bruised. He listened in contentment to the moans Matt unwillingly let loose. After leaving an impressive mark, Mello pulled away, urging Matt onto his back. The redhead complied, allowing the blond to straddle his waist and sensuously roll his hips, creating delicious friction for the both of them.

Matt reached up, hooking his arms around Mello's neck, and pulled the man closer. For the first time in what seemed like years, their lips met in a mutual kiss. Matt reverently ran his hands along Mello's back before digging his nails in, extracting his petty revenge for what had been done to his own back. Mello gasped at the pain, and Matt took the opportunity to dominate the kiss. Matt had been used and abused in their post-fight frenzy, but it was Mello's turn to take it all.

The shrill sound of the alarm came all too soon. Matt groaned at the noise, cursing in a sleepy, slurred voice. He was surprised into alertness, however, when he felt a weight on his chest. He glanced down to see Mello draped over his body, still sleeping soundly. Viciously, Matt pushed him off. The soft contact, the cuddling, made him feel uncomfortable. Besides, Mello's bony chin had been digging into a bruise anyway.

Mello woke at the rough treatment, nearly slipping right off the bed. Once he blinked away his confusion, he harshly reprimanded Matt and slapped him, relishing in the harsh sound of skin smacking against skin and the sting it left in his palm. He stood to get ready for the day, not sparing Matt a second thought before leaving the room.

Matt yelled after Mello, but gave up fairly quick. His expression shifted into a mask of neutrality, and he tongued where his canine slit the inside of his lip. After all this, all the fighting and yelling, all the violence, he stilled loved the boy. At the same time, he hated him with such a passion that it left him terrified. Matt didn't doubt the fact that he could very well take the sheets one night and smother Mello in his sleep without feeling a thing, only to feel the pain of the loss a week later. It doesn't get much more fucked up than that.

Maybe this was normal. No, it couldn't be normal. Maybe it was normal for them. They grew up in competition, and entered what could only be considered a war at such a young age. They, or rather Mello, survived the Mafia. Violence was just natural at this point. They'd torture one another, and at the end of the day still be hopelessly in love (regardless of how twisted), never even thinking of leaving for another.

With that, Matt removed himself from the tangled bedding and followed after Mello.

So now we go and click the review button, yes? 8DD