The Mello Code

"What\'s more important, baby, success or happiness?" They were almost home before Mello broke out of his brooding thoughts long enough to ask.



Matt glanced at him, but Mello just had that half-pensive, half-fierce look he got when he was really panicking inside. "Are you asking me if it\'s ok to fail?"



"No." Mello frowned annoyance. "I\'m not prepared to fail."



"Then you\'re asking me what the rules are which define success over failure."



Mello sighed exasperation. "No. I\'m asking you what\'s more important, success or happiness?" He peered out at the road, as if seeing it for the first time. "Matt! We need to get a part for the sink!"



"Shit." Matt had already reached home in his mind\'s eye. He already had the kettle boiled and his PSP switched on. He turned around in the next lay-by and headed back towards the city. "As for your question, the two are indivisive when applied to you, so it\'s a rhetorical question at best. You can\'t be happy unless you\'re succeeding in whatever is occupying you at the time."



"I was happy before." Mello\'s chocolate was static in his mouth. "When I was just doing college courses and keeping you from slashing your wrists."



Matt ignored the latter comment. "Yes, but you had several things going on there. The courses were not designed with your intellect in mind, so you were always going to do well. I\'m not saying that you didn\'t work hard, but maybe other people worked harder. You were doing whole GCSEs in three months, just to feel vaguely challenged. Ok, the Russian A-level stretched you a bit."



"The Prince 2 exam was hard."



"Really?"



Mello grinned. "I had to concentrate."



"That\'s not the same as hard." Matt indicated and turned into the dual carriageway leading to the retail park. "Be honest, is it a far supposition to say that you were not challenged by any course that the college could produce for you?" He caught Mello\'s half-shrug out of the corner of his eye. "So they were serving their purpose, which was distraction from your recovery after your skin-grafts. Fine. They were practically guaranteed successes. The major thing though was that they had clearly defined rules. You knew what the goal was, so you could go at it like a freaking bulldog."



"Yes."



"And from what you were saying back at the orph..." Matt grinned, "at the Looked After Children\'s Home..."



"The orphanage."



"... was that you\'ve lost sight of the rules now. So instead of working them out, you\'re flailing about trying to squeeze what was into what is."



"No." Mello disagreed. "I\'ve been trying to work out what success is now. That\'s my problem."



"Why?"



"There is no modern criteria. Once it was impressing L. Then it was catching Kira. If we\'re honest, I think the next bit was surviving the aftermath. No. Near wasn\'t signed up to that." Mello punched the dashboard. "Why is that criteria? Why is my whole fucking life defined by what Near signs up to?"



Matt shook his head. There was no response there that Mello wanted to hear. Matt drove them into the huge carpark and found a parking space about as far away from the entrance doors as was possible without abandoning the car on the road. That meant it was busy inside. The prospect didn\'t fill him with joy. Mello should have been ranting on by now, but he was silently glaring out of the window. "I\'m sorry, were you waiting for me to answer that? You know the answer. It\'s because you let him. You set yourself up against Near, no-one else."



"Fuck you." Mello stepped out of the car and slammed the door. It wasn\'t really temper though. He was already looking distantly thoughtful by the time Matt had locked the doors and joined him on the tarmac. "What else can I do though?"



"Interior design." Matt replied helpfully. "You made a cracking job of our house." He lit a cigarette and set off towards the home improvement store. "Teaching. You could tell those kids a lot about the real world. Arms and drugs trafficking. Organised crime. You have work experience." He felt rather than saw Mello\'s sharp look. "Diplomat. I\'ve seen you happen to people. You can change minds on just about anything and that\'s before you start threatening them. You switch on the charm and everyone rushes to keep that smile on your face. Depending on the smile, of course. Sometimes they\'ll do anything just to stop you smiling at them like that." He took a drag on his cigarette. "Actor..."



"You\'re not being helpful."



"I\'ll shut up then."



"Let\'s just stay focused. Forget what I said back there. I want to be a detective." Mello pulled his hood up at the sight of people. It was an automatic response, though he didn\'t always do it. He had learned it during Kira, but now it served to stop children screaming at his scar. "I am a detective. I want to be the best detective in the world."



Matt nodded, throwing his cigarette butt on the floor as the automatic doors opened to emit them. "Unfortunately there aren\'t Best Detective in the World award shows on television. Who\'s fucking counting? You\'re assuming it\'s Near, but just because he came from the orphanage, it doesn\'t mean that he\'s the only one in the running."



Mello dodged to avoid a middle-aged couple walking out with pot plants. "Of course he\'s in the running. You can only count those who caught Kira. That\'s been the only modern stage of reckoning."



Matt rolled his eyes. "Then you\'re laughing, because the same handful of people who know that Kira\'s been caught also know your role in it. Well done. You pwnt the boss. Game over." He solicited a strange look from an old lady holding a barbecue candle. "As for the rest of the world, it\'s either L, whom you surpassed, or it\'s Sherlock Holmes. Sorry."



"Let\'s talk about this when we\'re back in the car. It\'s not safe in here." Mello looked up at the overhead signs. "Kitchen and Bathroom Appliances."



"That\'s going to be whole bathtubs and things." Matt muttered, but Mello was already heading in that direction, so he jogged a little to catch up. "Anyway, this is all beside the point."



"Why is it?" Mello ducked down an aisle where, incredibly, there were sink parts. His gaze sped along them until he found the U-bend traps. "They are all different sizes."



"Because you\'re missing the real issue again." Matt reached out and grabbed one. "The real issue is that you\'re twenty-one tomorrow and you\'re still not God." He held up the fitting. "This is it. Come on." Matt started walking towards the check-out. He knew that he\'d floored Mello, when his husband didn\'t even attempt to argue the toss over what they were buying. He glanced back just once to ensure that Mello was following, then joined a queue. Mello joined him a few seconds later, clutching two packets of 100 tea-lights. "Am I right?"



"I wouldn\'t have put it quite in those..."



"Am I right?"



Mello\'s smile was almost coy. "Maybe."



"And?"



Mello nodded past him. "Do you think that lamp would look good in the living room?"



Matt grinned. "That\'s my man. Unless that\'s just an attempt to change the subject, go and get the lamp. We\'re nearly at the end and I\'m not getting back in a queue."



"I don\'t know if it\'ll..."



"It wouldn\'t have caught your eye if it wasn\'t perfect." Matt shuffled forward. "Go! Go! Go!"



Mello stayed firmly where it was. "No, it\'s too, I don\'t know, opaque."



"Ok." The person ahead was having his card refused. There was much embarrassed sorting through his wallet for an alternative. Mello suddenly took off and returned with the lamp. Matt raised his eyebrows. "I\'d ask what \'too opaque\' means but you\'d only end up telling me." They finally reached the check-out and paid. Matt lit up as soon as they were clear of the store. Beside him, Mello was smiling. "You going to share the joke?"



"It\'s practically Zen with you, isn\'t it, Matty? I have all of these thoughts racing through my head and you come out with, well, it sounds like crap, until you analyse it. Then it sounds like wisdom." Mello clutched his lamp to himself. "How did you get so wise, baby?"



Matt sniffed, pausing en route to taking a drag on his cigarette. "I\'ve watched a lot of \'Star Wars\'. I took notes off Yoda."



"So your advice is basically to stop worrying so much about things. Everything will be alright, if I just give it time to happen."



"Yes."



"Ok.



Matt chuckled. "Giving it time has never been your strong point, angel. I\'m not talking about giving it an hour or even a day. I\'m talking about doing your best and when things happen, they\'ll happen. Not judging it against some false benchmark, like what Near\'s up to. You don\'t know what Near\'s up to. He might be spending every day hiding under a desk afraid to come out to play. L\'s hardly been in the news headlines since halfway through the Kira case. Is there any evidence that Near has solved a single case since Kira? No. So there. Go and learn Swahali at college. Match lamps up with your wallpaper and sort out your garden. In the meantime, wait for the future to happen because, Mello, it really can\'t happen by lying awake worrying about it. In answer to your question, happiness is more important than success. Sorry."



"Yoda taught you all that?"



"Yes, he did." Matt smirked and opened the car door. He climbed in and waited for Mello to do the same. "You want a decisive future, angel? Here\'s one. We\'ll get home and I\'ll fix the bathroom sink, while you return all those bins to their rooms and whatever else needs to happen for you to live happily in your home. Then we\'ll order pizza and I\'ll put \'The Empire Strikes Back\' on for you to watch and learn. While you do that, I\'m going through your cases and getting rid of any that your neurosis has added to the list. Wammy built L. I\'ll build Mello. End of story."



Mello bit his lip over a smile. "I almost dread to think what a detective code built like you would look like."



"I\'ll log you onto the EHC, so you can see. I built that too." Matt sped out of the carpark. A thought occurred. "Shit. It\'s Wednesday. It\'s Catholic class day."



Mello snorted. "Haven\'t I already let you off the hook on that one?"



Matt drove. He considered this development. Mello could be downright mercurial in what he wanted from life. The promise that Matt had made to become baptised had been in such circumstances that it was difficult to imagine reneging on it now. At the altar, during their impromptu commitment to each other, where it felt like vows were more binding than those silently thought over a kitchen table. He remembered the look in Mello\'s eyes. He recalled the utter dissembling of the man, almost to an innocence and sweetness that was unforeseen and never quite seen again in his husband. Mello was badass now, kicking out at life because it had ceased to make sense to him, but deep inside it mattered. Some deep wound was being salved with the notion that Matt might be baptised, regardless of his own beliefs. It was a child\'s wound and a child\'s hope, that somehow God could magically make it all ok again. Matt nodded. "Yes, you did. But I\'m going anyway."



Mello\'s eyes rounded. His whole body tensed and his fist tightened around the chocolate. He spoke very softly. "I meant it, Matty. Mail, I meant it. You don\'t have to go. The theology is wrong, the way we\'re going about this. Holy water on your forehead would just turn to water."



"Nevertheless, I\'m going." Matt didn\'t want to. The people and the tedium and the utter stupidity of it all caused a pang inside at the mere thought of it. He just wanted to sit down at home and play his game. Matt kept his expression blankly neutral, though his foot pressed down further on the accelerator. They sped into the country lanes. His mind reeled through what would have to happen for life to be kind again. He would have to go home, fix the sink, shepherd Mello into doing his Catholic class homework, put the bins back, go to church. Inwardly, his spirits sank, though overwashed with grim determination. It was a bind, but it wasn\'t as bad as finding Kira. In fact, it wasn\'t as bad as a lot of things that had happened in his life. He had to remember that. Mello hadn\'t spoken again. "Ok?"



"Yes." Mello licked his lips, staring at his own knees. His gaze slid up and onto Matt. "But the offer stands. If you don\'t go, I won\'t mind."



"I\'m going, Mihael."



Mello nodded. They had arrived at the house. Matt didn\'t bother putting the car in the garage, but abandoned it near to the backdoor. Mello scowled, but quickly smiled when Matt looked at him. "Don\'t worry, I\'ll park the car."



"Mello, it\'s parked. You need to do homework."



"Yes, but it could be recognised if someone was looking at the house via satellite." Mello whispered, sliding across into the seat recently vacated by his husband. "Humour me. I\'m..."



Matt sighed. He had already grabbed the part for the sink. He shook his head and let himself into the house. Without bothering with a cup of tea, he took the stairs two at a time and rounded the corner into the bathroom. There was blood on the carpet, sink and bath-tub. Matt closed his eyes briefly, before tearing off his jacket and gloves. Sleeves rolled up, he set to work screwing in the trap. There was a quiet moment of satisfaction when it fit. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and the landing. Mello placed a mug of tea on the carpet beside Matt. "Thanks. Have you done the Catholic class homework?"



Mello nodded. A sudden smile light up his face. "And I can come with you."



Matt blinked. "What?"



"I called the priest and he said that it\'s ok for you to bring a friend. So I can come in with you."



"Why would you want to?" Matt saw the future stretching out before it. There were many ways in which this could play out, all of them bad. "You\'re already baptised."



"Because I want to." Mello replied simply and backed out of the room. Matt could see him through the opened doors, lying on their bed. Matt stared at the trap. He knew that there was a world of possession and paranoia behind Mello\'s reasoning. At the very least, it was Mello not wanting Matt to have an experience not shared by himself. Sometimes Matt thought that what Mello really wanted in a husband was a doll. Something he could carry around with him and mould into what he wanted it to look like. Matt sipped his tea. There was more here. Matt was prepared to go to these classes, but it was on the understanding that he could stop going at any time. With Mello there, the choice seemed diminished. Mello would become fired with enthusiasm. He could hurtle down a path of Catholicism that, with Mello\'s usual brand of all or nothing, would end up with horsehair underwear and the cilice around his thigh. Matt wondered if he could just walk in there and tell Mello that he didn\'t want him to come. But what excuse could he give? \'Mello, if you come then I\'m stuck there for a year and you\'ll wind up so ultra-Catholic that you\'re flogging yourself in the mornings.\'



Matt breathed out. He was becoming as reactionary as his husband. He fixed the sink and stood with his tea in his hand, lighting a cigarette. He sauntered through into the bedroom. Mello was scribbling words onto a pad. "I can\'t believe you called the fucking priest. Who did he think you were, my dad?"



"I told him that I was your sponsor and that you are a naturally shy individual, who is finding the process of attending classes to be quite daunting. I said that you are serious in your desire to become a Catholic, but that your reticence is making the classes too much of a trial for you. I suggested that you\'d be happy if I was there to help you socialise."



Matt\'s jaw dropped. "What?"



"None of which is actually a lie. Except maybe the shyness. You\'re not shy, Matty. You close yourself off, which isn\'t the same thing."



Matt came close to saying, \'ok, you can come, but you\'re not joining Opus Dei\', but thought better of it. His entire knowledge of that branch of Catholicism came from \'The Da Vinci Code\' and he wasn\'t confident that that was an accurate portrayal. Plus that would lead straight to Mello reading that book and that could end in rants. "Ok, fine."



"You don\'t want me to come."



\'No, I don\'t\', thought Matt, but what he actually said was, "Yes, I do. It\'s all good." He glanced at the clock and slowly started getting ready. "How\'s your head?"



"Fine." Mello watched him dressing and pulled out his \'phone to see the time. "Wow! I don\'t know where today\'s gone!"



"Conversely, it\'s seemed like a very long day to me." Matt changed his shirt and sprayed some deodorant. "Are you going like that?"



Mello looked down. "Like what?"



"Skimpy, skin-tight leather and blood in your hair."



"Shit! I walked around Homebase with blood in my hair!"



Matt blinked. "Yes."



Mello quickly rushed off the the bed and stalked into the bathroom. "You could have said something."



"Ann told you twenty times!" Matt saw a glimmer of hope. "You haven\'t got time to wash your hair."



"Watch me." Mello snapped. "And bring me a hair-brush."



Quarter of an hour later, they were on their way to church. Mello was grinning, his hair tidy and clean. It was the quickest that Matt had ever seen him get ready. "Dry shampoo and a brush." Mello had smirked in explanation. Matt noted that he had also watched his eye-liner off and had on a black shirt, which didn\'t show his navel. "Onwards and don\'t spare the horses." The journey there seemed too short. Matt wasn\'t entirely certain that the Catholics were ready to be exposed to Mello. It was a view that was confirmed the instant they walked into the church hall. The rest of the group tended towards jumpers and blouses. Matt had felt radical enough amongst them, in his jacket and goggles. Mello walked in radiating sex appeal. To Matt\'s view, Mello was actually looking quite meek, but, to the uninitiated, he must seem like a rock star in their midst. Yet it was a wonder to watch his husband in action. He was immediately the best friend of everyone there and they seemed drawn to him like a moth to flame. "Hello, yes, I\'m Mello. I\'m here with Matt." They all individually told him their name and little things about themselves. Shedding information like the world was a safe place. Matt noticed the pinking of some of the women\'s cheeks, even the middle-aged ones; the men appeared overly friendly or else stiffly formal. There wasn\'t a person there not affected by the mere presense of Mello. Matt smiled, enjoying the observation.



Peter, the Deacon, was ushering everyone into their seats. It was a process made longer by the fact that he stopped to exchange words here and there with practically all of the precatechumens. He generally ended with patting their backs or shoulders, guiding them in the general direction of an empty chair. Matt automatically stepped behind Mello and slipped into a chair without guidance. "I had a call about you!" Peter descended upon Mello. "You\'re here to support Matt."



Mello flashed his most charming smile. "Yes, I am." He turned and seemed to notice for the first time that Matt wasn\'t standing behind him. He instantly scuttled backwards, into the next chair, and continued smiling up at the deacon. "Thank you for allowing me to join you."



"You\'re a Roman Catholic?" Peter asked. He wasn\'t particularly loud, but everyone was openly listening. Matt understood. He was fascinated by Mello too. Mello nodded, starting to say \'yes, I am\', but Peter talked over him. "I understand that you\'re Matt\'s sponsor." He said it like that was a major achievement. Matt supposed, for all kinds of reasons that Peter couldn\'t know about, that it was. "Which Church do you attend?"



There it was. Matt saw uncertainty flash across Mello\'s features. He wasn\'t going to blithely lie, as Matt had done, about them belonging to a small church near to their home, which had no classes like this. Matt had primed Mello. He had no reason not to know the story. It wasn\'t often that Mello was at a loss for words, but this was one of them. Matt hated it. He hated Peter for asking and Mello for taking this religion seriously. He hated the other fourteen people for simply being there. Matt felt the words float up into his mind and knew that he was going to say them. He hestitated for a second or two, but Mello still hadn\'t responded, so Matt did. "My husband attends the same small church that I do."



There was a loaded silence. One of the younger adults grinned and whispered to the woman next to her. Peter, though, stared with his face flushing from pink to scarlet. There were many raised eyebrows, but no-one was precisely reaching for a pitchfork. Matt watched them. The social alchemy was delicious. In his mind, it was currently bypassing the inherent danger of embarrassing Mello in this context. Still, the potential stormcloud might have passed harmlessly overhead, but for the fact that the deacon reacted. He took a step backwards and a finger wobbled in the air. "I\'m sorry, what did you just call him?"



"My husband." Matt replied, calmly.



Mello\'s head bowed down, his forearms resting on his thighs. Blond hair covered his face and thus his expression. Peter shook his head hurriedly, still stepping back like homosexuality was contagious. "I\'m sorry." The deacon repeated. "No. No. That can\'t happen."



Matt nodded. He would have pursued it, but Mello was unreadable. In that position it was impossible to determine if the blond was crying or on the brink of detonating. Finally, the wrongness of mentioning their relationship in this place, in this company, dawned on Matt. It overtook his own irritation and he realised that what he\'d actually done was humiliate and betray Mello. Matt flushed, craving a cigarette and wanting to just leave that place. They had another hour of this, dependent upon Peter and Mello, it was going to be excruciating and it would be followed by whatever retribution Mello sought to exact. Matt hoped it was anger. He didn\'t think he could stand Mello just crying.



"Peter." It was Lucy, one of the more extroverted precatechumens. "It\'s alright." Matt could have kissed her.



"No." Peter blustered. "No, it isn\'t." He pointed up towards the giant crucifix on the wall. "We don\'t do that sort of thing here!"



"Do what?" Mello finally growled from beneath his hair. His head rose and now Matt knew the source of the tension. Mello\'s eyes flashed with ice. Matt swallowed. Fire was easier to contain, if Mello was going to be upset. This was far more dangerous. This was Mello furious, but in control of his own mind. Matt resisted the urge to place himself between Mello and Peter, because the deacon was not going to win this. Mello\'s gaze was fixed on the man. "Sir, you are acting very unprofessionally. The priest has sent you to represent my faith?" Mello snorted. His words lashed with venom. "I don\'t think so."



"Leave!" Peter pointed towards the door. "Leave now."



Mello had sat back. Matt supposed that Mafia dons had met that look in the past. It was trained in all its full intensity upon the deacon now. "Peter. You are well named. Denying the name of Christ three times before the cock crowed. Do you fear the cock crowing, Peter?" Mello smirked. Peter, in moving backwards, banged against the knees of the seated woman behind him. Everyone was on edge, all frozen in their seats. Matt just watched. They were afraid and yet Mello had made no threat. It was the most interesting thing that had happened in the hours he\'d been forced to sit in this hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise. I apologise that you are being introduced to the word of God through this man. My God is a God of love." Mello nodded towards the crucified Christ. "There is no greater love than what He did for us and yet people like Peter here," Mello stopped to sneer his contempt, "take that and mould hatred out of it. Petty, petty, petty."



Brian, one of the older gentlemen, coughed. "Peter wishes you to leave, son. I think it would be best."



Mello nodded. "Yes, Sir, you are probably right." He inclined his head towards Brian with a faint smile. It was quickly extinguished as he looked back at Peter. "So you are going to teach these people hatred in the name of my Lord? They are here for initiation into the Christian Mysteries, but that\'s not why you\'re here. You are here to indoctrinate them into a corrupt Churchianity." He stood now, sleek and feline. He took a couple of steps and Matt immediately jumped to his feet. But Mello dipped down, crossing himself, in the direction of the far altar. Peter took the opportunity to hurry forward, his hand outstretched to, presumably, grab Mello by the collar and manhandle him out. He didn\'t get that far. Mello caught his hand, in the same movement as rising, and spat out the words, "You would attack me while I\'m kneeling to Christ? Get behind me Satan!" He threw him. Matt wasn\'t quite sure how Mello had done it. For all their escapades and their sexual relationship, Matt had rarely seen Mello actually fight. Peter lay on his back on the floor, rage contorting shocked features. Mello shook his head, glancing from side to side at the stunned people around him. "The Lord be with you."



"And with you." Came the automatic response, mumbled from over a dozen lips.



Mello prowled across the circle and stepped out. "You\'re not coming again, Matt."



"\'kay." Matt swallowed as he followed.



"Incidentally," Mello stopped by the door and looked back. "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. Peter, my gaydar went off the second I saw you. Good evening." He stepped out into the night and Matt, jogging to keep up, didn\'t know whether to feel contrite, afraid or incredibly turned on.