Dropped

6. Launch



“Yeah,” Matt shrugs, and wishes his goggles were down over his eyes but he knows he looks more earnest this way,



“I know I’m young but dad said I just needed to give you this and you could get me on a plane, right?”

The man at the desk looks at him dubiously. He pushes on, trying to only let a little bit of his frustration show.



“It’s me and my two little brothers. Our mother’s having a baby.”



“In Japan.”



“Yes!”



“And you’re here.”



“We’re at boarding school together. I could phone him? If you need to talk to an adult and everything, that would be like, okay, if your desk phone has long distance...”



Matt knows it doesn’t. So does the man at the desk. But he doesn’t know that Matt knows it doesn’t, so eventually he just takes the credit card and books them on the next flight.



“It’s tomorrow, departure six am. You’re required to arrive at the airport a full two and a half hours beforehand for international flights.”



It’s one am.



“So basically we’re staying over,” Matt groans like the late-aged teen he’s pretending to be. “Fuck. Is there a hotel attached to the facilities?”



“I’m afraid not.”



“Well,” says Matt, doggedly, “best give me our boarding passes now then, right?”



“Very good sir.”



Ironically, in the airport it’s only Matt that falls asleep. Mello might have been the type to sprawl out like he owned the place. Near might very well have just curled up, regardless of anyone else. But Matt settles down in the lobby, tugs absently at his shirt sleeve, looks at the clock, then at Mello, and says,



“Wake me up if you need anything,” and his head rolls back and he’s out before he’s even finished slumping down in his seat.



Mello, looking across the gap between lines of chairs at Near’s huddled form, rather envies him. He can’t tell if Near is jealous or not. Probably not, he decides, he can’t see Near sleeping much. What with being the obvious next L and all, he was more likely than not to be training himself to sleep as little as possible. He feels a swell of jealousy.



“Well.”



“Well.”



Sighurd glances between them.



“What’s up with you two?”



Mello glowers at her, and Near sets his chin on his knees.



“Mello doesn’t like me. I know that.”



He tries to make this sound more like an apology than an answer to the question, for the sake of anyone that might be listening.



“But,” Mello adds hastily, unwilling to look like the immature one in this case, “that’s not going to affect this. Because you’re a suckup and you’re too perfect but I like L more than I hate you.”



Mello has met L three times. The first time was when he was new- a little too old to be joining Wammy’s, but clever enough to make up for it by far. Someone called him a name, he can’t remember what now, and he gave them a look of livid disdain, so very clear that they actually recoiled, and L, who had been walking past, had seen and ruffled his hair out of sheer amusement. This counted as once.



The second time he was being punished with extra chores, and one of them was to walk a tray of food to Roger’s office. Lunch for one and enough chocolates, cakes and sweets to feed a small army, the tray so heavy his arms strained to lift it. He knocked on the door with his foot, and was called to come in. He had to set the tray down on the floor, open the door, keep it open with his foot, bend to pick up the tray, and then push through with his shoulder. This was distracting enough that he didn’t even notice L was there, stream of speech uninterrupted, giving Roger some sort of report that only stopped when Mello set the tray between them. L looked up at him, and Mello couldn’t read what was in his expression entirely, but his heart sunk with the knowledge that L didn’t seem to recognize him. But then Roger bent to get a paper from a bottom dresser, and quick as lightening, L’s hand darted out and grabbed a chocolate off the tray, then popped it into Mello’s startled, open mouth. And mouthed his name at him. He left the room in an embarrassingly giddy rush, heart full to bursting.

Returning to the here and now, he fixed his eyes back on Near. Who didn’t look too good, come to think of it, like he was maybe a little uncertain, for once.



“Want to go get some chocolate?”



Near looks once at the sleeping Matt, then up at Sighurd.



“Can you stay with him and wake him if someone’s... you know.”



Sighurd nods. She seems to sort of be developing a soft spot for Near. He’s aware of this and decides that if he uses it to his advantage just yet, or is too ruthless about it, it will vanish, and this is a trump card he would like to save till later.



“Then I’ll get you some candy,” he promises, earnestly, and walks after Mello, who had pushed away the minute he figured Near’s answer was a yes.