Track Two: Hello Seattle

I followed behind Mello back to the room. My legs hurt some, but I tried to ignore the pain by keeping my attention on the screen of my video game. Mello had been bitching about how I should stop my complaining and get off my ass every once in a while. But, seriously, that just seems like too much work. And who does he think he is, anyways?! The guy knows me for three days and he thinks he has any right to judge me? Fuck that.

Arrogant little punk that he is. At least I don’t have some unhealthy obsession with chocolate or something stupid like that. And I’m in great shape, there’s no reason for me to have to exercise. My body is just that amazing. Chyeah.

Spending the day with Mello isn’t too terrible, really. He’s okay… when he’s not acting like a physco-crazed bitch. But when he acts half-way normal, he’s actually pretty cool. To me. Although, to other people, I’ve learned that he ‘s not so nice. As in, everyone is afraid of him and his glares of doom and death. Yeah. Apparently, he’s not a people-person.

Not that I am. Before him, I never talked to anyone in this place. Maybe a few times when someone asked me a way-too obvious, common sense question. Other than that, however, nothing. I was never one to be very social. So sue me.

Anyways.

Mello is kinda scary, yet he’s not. He’s kind of insane, yet he’s not. And he’s my friend. Yet he’s not really… because I don’t know how to make that official or whatever.

I’m not sure if he’s the one with the problem or not. Maybe it’s me, now that I think about it.

“So, Matt,” the blond said as we threw our bags on the floor. “What do you wanna do?”

It was said in a question format, but I knew it was a command of, “I’m bored. Entertain me or die, bitch.”

Hm…. Let’s see… What to do…. Video games? Yasure.

“Do you want to learn that game?” I asked. And…. yup. He’s clueless. Heh, ignorant Mello.  “With the… guitar thing…?”

“I, uh, guess,” he said, shrugging. I nodded, my head staring at the ground. I felt my face get really hot. How embarrassing. Of course I’ve no idea how to communicate with people. I haven’t had to for five years.

I walked to my TV and took out my second Wii remote. Picking up the guitar, I hooked up the remote into the guitar. I turned on the console and beckoned Mello over to sit beside me on the floor. He did so. I gave him the guitar controller, keeping my eyes down. My face was still a bit hot and I swear I could hear him chucking in his head.

When he had taken the guitar, I took hold of my own. The game started up and I looked over to see Mello fiddling with the white faux guitar. He was pressing all the buttons on the neck, testing them some and stretching his fingers out.

I laughed a little under my breath, at which he turned to stare at me sharply. I grinned sheepishly before taking the strap off of my shoulder. “Here, lemme show you how to do it…”

Cautiously, very cautiously, in fact, I moved over to the blond and set his first three fingers on the right buttons. “Okay, only worry about these three for now. When a note, or a colored button circle thing, rather, you hit the fret button with the same color and strum at the same time. Pretty easy, right?”

That was… the worst explanation ever.

“Um… sure.”

Surprisingly enough, Mello was pretty good. He played on his own while I played Pokemon on my DS. I looked up when he exclaimed that he was the best Guitar Hero player of all time. I stifled my chuckle that came to my throat. No need to bring up the fact that I had beaten the game on all levels within two days. Because I’m not arrogant.
At all.

Mello played for forty-five minutes before he got bored. He decided then that he wanted ice cream. Therefore, deciding that we were to sneak into the kitchen and steal some. I told him he was insane. It was two and a half hours before dinnertime, so I was sure it would be downright impossible. He insisted, though, that we at least try. Meaning if I didn’t go, I would probably end up losing another DS.

So we tried. We walked casually side by side to the kitchen. I ranted about my latest Pokemon progress, and Mello pretended to listen. I think. Maybe. Most likely not, though. But we’re going to say he did because it boosts my self-esteem.

Once we reached the back door of the kitchen, I shut up. I followed the blond inside, where it was pretty quiet. Kind of creepy, actually. The two chefs were most likely prepping food somewhere. Mello led to a room to our left, a freezer room. There were three freezers, one on each wall. I went to the one on the left wall.

“Meat,” I stated simply, seeing piles of boxes labeling the types of meat. I turned back around to see my partner in crime scourging around in another freezer. I went to his side and looked as well. It was mostly boxes labeled yogurt, the kind with no flavor, no doubt.

Suddenly, a rough cough dragged our attention to the door. A female with her hair tied back tight and a dirty apron on stood with her hands heavily on her hips. She scowled at us.

Roger gave us five days of ‘suspension’; meaning no free time. So after dinner, instead of hanging out with the other kids, Mello and I had to wipe tables, sweep the cafeteria floor, and wash dishes. Beautiful.

Mello didn’t say anything. All night. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all through the entire thing. It was kinda scary. I kept quiet as well, a bit frightened.

When I laid down that night, I could swear I heard him mutter across the room, “We’ll get them back.”

I think I had a nightmare that night, the fear of not knowing what lied ahead scaring me.


The suspension assignment wasn’t that bad. Although I sis a little more than half of the dishes. Mello, I’m sure, was busy planning our revenge the whole time. Five days passed slowly, and by the end of Friday night’s work, I felt like celebrating.

He ate two chocolate bars, while I dug up a cigarette from my stash and smoked. Then we passed out on the floor.

The week was moderately okay. I made a ninety-three on our test in World Languages. Mello and I, in my personal opinion, were now officially –almost- friends. And I caught a Mudkip.

Saturday was weird. When I woke up, I was tangled up next to a certain blond. His head was on my chest, one arm around my torso, and I think we were holding hands. Holy shit, right?

I coughed lightly and asked aloud, “M-Mello?”

Gradually, his blue orbs hit my face and the realization formed. It got a little awkward. We both stood up fast, staying silent and not looking each other in the eye. I stretched and Mello spawned a chocolate bar from virtually no where.