[DN] Guns, Blades, Cars, and Video Games [Matt]

"No!" Matt screamed dropping his head into his lap. "How? Why? You're a girl for christ’s sake!"

I scoffed as I sat beside him and gave him a hard slap across the shoulder. I thought Mello was the sexist one, not Matt. Never use the girl excuse when it comes to me. It doesn't mean a damn thing. Like in this case, just because I’m a girl doesn't mean I'm not good at Smash Brothers. I just kicked his ass, not once, not twice, more like ten times in a row. Zelda stood in her victory pose on the screen while the pokemon trainer applauded his defeat in the background. Do not fuck with me and Zelda. You will not win.

The matches had been close for the most part; first one to take all five of their opponents lives won. First game he underestimated me. It's not my fault he thought I'd be an easy kill. Unfortunately he found two of his lives gone before he had time to process he was getting his ass kicked. From there on out the battle had been brutal, some matches lasting well around an hour.

I tapped him on the shoulder.

"What? What do you want?" He moaned from his lap. Yeah. He should know better. I poked him. Then again. And again. And again. Needless to say I continued to poke him for a matter of minutes, until I got a response.

One of his hands latched around my wrist before I realized what was going on.

"If you don't stop poking me, I will be forced to attempt to kick your pint size ass," He said menacingly. It would have actually been intimidating if he hadn't thrown the word "attempt" in there. I think he knew he didn't stand a chance against me. It wasn't that I was the world’s most brilliant fighter; it was more that I just didn't fight fair. Screw going in with honor. I'm smaller than they are, so I'm going to use every advantage I can get. It doesn't mean I can't cause a lot of damage once I get them down, because obviously I could when you think about all the mafia boys' asses I'd kicked. Again, I don't fight fair. I play my innocent, weak appearance to my advantage before going in for a low blow. At that point most guys are far too incapacitated to do much to defend themselves, so I take complete advantage of the situation. Hit them where it hurts: That was the most advantageous motto and personal fighting technique I knew. Because no matter what, they dropped like... well, like they had been kicked in the nuts. Which they had.

He looked at me for a few seconds, "Second thought I'd probably be better off smothering you in your sleep."

I shrugged my shoulders in partial agreement. Yeah. He would. I pointed at the screen, wanting to play again.

"Dude, fuck that. You've kicked my ass enough for one day," He said setting his controller down on the sofa beside him. I bent down, picking the Wii Sports disk up off the floor and holding it up. He shook his head again. "Look, you've humiliated me at the one thing I pride myself on being better than everyone else at. Can't you just give me a break? Please?"

I sighed. Damn. Looks like I'd have to find something else to do, or just play by myself. Either way it wouldn’t be as much fun. Well, I would have had to find something to do had my stomach not began making noises. That made me realize what I should have been doing: eating. I hadn't had an actual meal in a few days, thanks, but I don't consider that stuff they feed you on the plane actual food. So yeah. Matt looked at me, and began laughing. My stomach had been loud enough for him to hear, how lovely. But it's his fault. He was the one forgetting to feed his "pet." I glared at him accusingly.

He stopped laughing, frowning slightly at me, "Alright. I get it. I'll go check the kitchen, we might have to run to the store though, I don't know if we've got anything here."

Ha. Typical of a guys' house. It's a complete wreck, video games scattered everywhere, things growing off of the pile of laundry in the corner, which hasn't been done in who knows how long, and probably no food. You could easily tell young men lived here. Not young men actually, just guys, or dudes, or whatever name you preferred. Let's just say it's utterly pathetic. The mafia boys at least kept food in the place, if not kept it somewhat organized.

Sighing, I stood up and strode into the area designated as the kitchen. Oven, refrigerator, counter, sink. It looked like a kitchen alright. I watched Matt look in the fridge, a slight disappointment coloring his face. I didn't hesitate to begin to rummage through the cabinets. It didn't take me long to find a box in one of them. As expected of me, I didn't think twice about opening it up. The contents made it difficult for me not to laugh. It was an entire box of chocolate bars. I guess this was gay-boy's. I needed something to tide me over until we got actual food so I took one. Pulling back the foil, I took a bite. It wasn't hard to figure out why my leather-clad friend ate this stuff; it was amazing. Chocolate had never tasted this good.

"Sadie what are you doing?!" I turned to Matt in mid chew, my cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. A look of utter horror masked his face as he looked between me and the chocolate bar in my hand. I allowed the chocolate to melt in my mouth as I looked back at him. Why was he looking at me like that? To say he looked slightly uncomfortable was perhaps an understatement. It seemed like I'd touched something sacred, or precious, something that no one but a king was allowed to touch. I watched him take a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

"Your funeral, not mine," He said calmly, shrugging. I gave him a confused look, before glancing down at the chocolate bar and pointing at it.

"Mello's going to kill you," He stated nonchalantly. Over a chocolate bar? I continued to stare at him waiting for further explanation. "Rule one in this house: Don't touch Mello's chocolate. I should have warned you before, but I didn't think about it, considering you were passed out on my couch."

Oh no. Fairy-boy is going to kill me for touching his chocolate. Whatever shall I do? I finally swallowed the bite I'd taken, and wrapped the remaining part of the bar back up before placing it back in the box. So what if it had a bite taken out of it? At least he still had most of it left.

Matt gave me a look of complete disbelief, "He's going to kill you."

I smiled at him, pulling a butcher knife out of the block beside me. Leaning back against the counter, I playfully waved it back and forth. I watched his eyes follow it's every motion, a slight uneasiness overtaking him. I'd like to see Mello try to kill me. The only reason I'd put that back was because I wanted to see his reaction to finding a partially eaten chocolate bar in his precious supply. I liked seeing him pissed off. It made me smile.

"Or not," He backpedaled. "If you put that down, we'll go to the store and get some actual food. Anything you want, alright?"

I frowned at him, but put it away. Appeasing my growling stomach was my biggest priority at the moment; not torturing this guy, for once. I knew I was hungry, but I didn't realize how badly I needed food until I attempted to step forward. Somehow before that moment I'd managed to ignore the shaking in my legs and arms, how I don't know. Instead I felt my legs give out as I tried to walk towards the door. Instead of getting closer to the doorway, the floor appeared to be what I was heading for, not only that but it was spinning. My hands shot out in front of me to stop my face from meeting the unclean linoleum below me. Strangely it stopped coming at me. It took me a second I realized a pair of gloved hands firmly held on to me, keeping me from continuing my journey to the ground. I looked up into the worried face of Matt, who had begun to haul me upright. I tried to push away from him; I didn't need any help. I didn't need to depend on anyone. His grip didn't loosen as I struggled against him; in fact it just seemed to strengthen.

"Sadie, what the hell just happened?" He asked as I was still trying to loosen myself from his arms. Unfortunately for me, it was no use; he had a vice grip on me. I glared up at him, and watched as his face even began to spin. I realized there was no way I was keeping my balance now. I said I hadn't eaten anything in the past few days, which was true. I didn't consider that before that, ever since I had known my boss had allowed for two new guys to have some control over us, that I really hadn't been eating much. I had began skipping meals frequently, and I never considered it having this kind of effect on me. One of my hands went to my stomach as it made another loud, abnormal noise.

His face became stern as he looked down at me, "When was the last time you ate?"

I averted my eyes from his face, not answering with even a nod or a shrug. My body was just beginning to let me feel weak, and I didn't like it. I didn't want to be weak, not then, or ever. But right now I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"I wish you would just talk, it would make things so much easier," He mumbled, probably more to himself than me. I felt a pang of guilt at his words. I was being ridiculously difficult, by not saying anything. I'm sure I'd be easier to live/deal with if I did speak. I myself didn't even fully understand why I was putting this guy through so much hell. He'd never done anything bad to me personally. In fact, he'd been more than kind to me. He had saved my life, and taken me in when he didn't have to. Never before had my treatment of someone actually bothered me. I always felt that they'd deserved what they got from me; until now.

I didn't realize what he was doing until I found myself in his arms. He carried me over to the couch, setting me down carefully on it. Normally I would never allow that. No guy ever carried me. But he didn't stay beside me. Instead, I watched him walk to the door.

"I'm going to the store. So I'll be back soon, don't do anything or try to go anywhere when I'm gone, please?" He turned back to me with the door open. I stared back at him, a part of me still wanting to be defiant, a part of me still wanting to make his life a living hell. Nice had never come easily for me; it was so much easier to be a bitch. But something about him made me want to try to be nice, and try to allow him to befriend me. Instead of shooting him a dirty glare, or a smirk, I gave him a shy smile and a nod. His face lapsed briefly into a suspicious glare; I felt my own fall into something unexpected. It matched what I felt inside; regret. Then his features softened.

"Alright. I trust you. I'll be back as soon as I can," And with that he shut the door. Only a few days with this guy and I was going soft. Something was wrong here.