Thread: Shitheads (captain levi and Razz)

RE Shitheads Inspirit and Razz call me a s i n n e r , call me a s a i n t tell me it's o v e r, i'll still l o v e you the same Great. Now he had one of his classmates from chemistry class lying, bloody and beaten, on the floor of their hideout. He had expected Matt to be a little more shaken up, maybe even curious about his surroundings, but the redhead didn't give a damn and was treating the gang stakeout as his own living room. This... he was going to be an interesting situation to explain to the other members if one of them stumbled into this. I don't live here, he bit back an insult. It was too easy calling Matt something derogatory, so, for now, Mello wouldn't give him the pleasure of knowing he was easy to agitate. That tidbit about not living here was sort of, kind of a lie. Technically, Mello had no home, no permanent roof over his head to call his own. He was always running, hiding, and scheming, occupying whatever space was left vacant by the gang to spend his lonely nights. But Matt didn't need to know that. He unintentionally ignored Matt while he scrubbed the dry, rusty blood caked on his hands with lukewarm water. As much as he loved the thrill of having someone else's warm blood splatter on his skin in the middle of a slaughter, dried blood was a bitch to clean. He wiped the crimson blotches from his tight, leather jacket with ease, then from his scarred, warped face. Mello was mildly surprised that Matt, being as annoyingly nosy as he was, hadn't asked him about nor poked fun at the nasty burns covering half his face and downwards. It was the first thing people at least his classmates noticed about him and often teased him for it. I don't know, he lied nonchalantly, tying up his hair into a messy ponytail. That's what a 'bunch of pussies' do, apparently. While the redhead sated his cravings with a cigarette, Mello reached into his worn-out backpack for a chocolate bar. He preferred milk chocolate, the sweetest kind, but the supermarket next to his temporary place had only restocked the 70 pure cocoa crap this morning. That was better than no chocolate, though. After peeling back the gold foil, he snapped a corner off with his teeth and waited until the chocolate melted on his tongue to swirl it around, savoring the way the sweetness masked the bitter iron of blood. Oi, get up, you're lying on rat shit, Mello gently nudged the side of Matt's temple with the toe of his boots. If Matt was true to his word and he truly went against what people told him to do, Mello didn't give a shit. He could be swimming in rodent feces for all he cared. Whether or not Matt listened to him after that was none of his concern. What he was concerned about was school, and how he had missed a day of it dealing with street thugs when he could have been doing something more productive. Like working on that science fair project. He glanced at Matt under the messy curtain of his fringe, figuring it would be convenient to settle their last score now that his partner for the assignment was actually here. Forcibly put together by fate, but together, nonetheless. Mello took a seat on a worn-out couch and crossed one leg over the other, placing a few of his notebooks on top of his thighs. I already have an idea for the project and I'm going to finish it by tonight. It really was no daunting task to finish a one month long project in one evening for someone like Mello or Matt, for that matter. He paused. You might as well be useful if you're going to stay for a while.