Work Text:
“Wait, when did you start dressing like that though ? I don't remember ever seeing you walking around campus like that before a year ago. And I very much believe in my ability to instantly notice hot leather-clad twinks from miles away.” Then, as an afterthought - “That's what gets me shagged after all.”
Matt's “You went out with Light Yagami, Misa, no one trusts you with your definition of 'hot twinks'” had Mello weakly snorting without much thought – no, he was mostly wondering about how the conversation had taken such a turn. One moment he was looking at the last Winter Collection with the blonde, sometimes throwing a jab here and there at his unbothered boyfriend endlessly typing away on his laptop next to them, and the other he was stunned into silence by – by what exactly, his morality ? His unwillingness to show his friend how desperate he could be ? Hell no, Mello was not desperate. He was just... stubborn. But not everyone would see it that way and he could not afford to risk his flawless, unstained reputa-
“He thought I was into that and bought a whole wardrobe to seduce me.”
“Matt, for fuck's sake!”
/// A year ago ///
Mello was hot. Mello knew he was hot. If you asked him, he would most-assuredly tell you that he was probably the hottest man on campus. From his always-shining, shoulder-lengthed blond hair to his long, thin-but-firm model-like legs – and was there even a need to talk about his splendid ass –, he always looked flawless and actively worked to keep it that way. The café gained some dozens customers the moment he began working there and he was proud to say he saw it coming. Confidence does wonders for beauty and charm and Mello was not about to let that opportunity pass up. He still had some trouble finding the clothing style that would suit him best – although he could probably pull off any one of them if he dared say so himself (he did) – but, at only 20, he wasn't that concerned about it.
The point was, he was quite confident in being one of the greatest-looking man out there.
So why was this red-haired fucker not looking at him ?
At first he hadn't even been that bothered about it. The guy was good-looking in this geekish emo way and most definitely the blond's type, but he was only a guy that ordered a five-expresso-shot coffee and stayed the afternoon at the café, probably trying to tie up all of his midterm essays just like any other student on campus. (Desperately trying to finish them all, if Mello went by the speed of his fingers moving across the laptop's keyboard – and, trust him, he had stared at these fingers for a long time.) But the guy had come back again. And then again. And again. Till he became one with the café's décor during the afternoon and didn't even have to speak for the staff to bring his order.
Now, Mello was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and just like everything life threw at him, he only saw an opportunity. In this case, a good opportunity to shag. But the opportunity was quite short-lived when he noticed how the brunette hadn't looked him in the eyes once in the month he had established home on the table closest to the back window, even as he got around to paying for his afternoon's order, and appeared as completely unbothered by the blonde in the room. It was not like he was actively trying to ignore him, which, all things considered, would have been easier to understand. No, he was just not looking, didn't even seem to give a single damn. And maybe Mello wasn't one to give up either because that was just unacceptable and he most definitely wouldn't give up.
And thus began the 'Getting Into the Emo Guy's Pants (And Tearing Those Horrible Goggles Off of Him)' scheme. Which... wasn't much of a scheme and more of an increasing pining from afar when pining while being close didn't work much and revealed itself to be quite embarrassing. It's not like Mello didn't have the confidence to just step into the guy's space and give him his phone number on a napkin or something – he just didn't want to. He didn't want to be the first one to give in and be obvious about his attraction because he never had to be that person before. So the scheme could be summarized to the blond brooding behing the register as soon as the redhead stepped into the shop, waiting for just the right opening.
This opening presented itself faster than he thought, in the form of a laptop's wallpaper.
Mello didn't really know what he expected from Hot Emo Guy, but the too-curvy-to-be-humanly-possible 2D dominatrix adorning his laptop's screen was most definitely not it. If he was honest, he probably expected something more among the lines of a Scene girl's MySpace profile picture or a Tumblr half-blurred photo of two skinny emo guys kissing. (Mello had seen the pic, okay, and he wasn't at all gonna be judgey about something that made him hard so easily.) But this ? It seemed so out of his realm that he began to seriously question his still-in-formation plan.
And, amidst all the wondering about the guy's mental health and dubious tastes, something clicked in the blond's mind. Maybe it wasn't the barely-concealed gigantic boobs that Hot Emo Guy – he really needed to get his name – was attracted to, maybe it was actually the too-tight-to-be-confortable, straight-out-of-a-BDSM-dungeon leather decorating the gal's body... And that was something Mello could work with, because Mello never doubted himself and he wasn't about to start now, much less for a red-haired motherfucker with an atrocious taste in sunglasses and impossibly-long fingers he seemed to know how to move really fast and with much precision.
So with that thought in mind, the blond happily sauntered back behind the register and opened his phone's browser. He had some shopping to do.
The first few days in the new clothes were... hard. It was hard to get into them, it was hard to walk with them on, and it was even harder still to accept the fact that not even the tiny squeaks the leather pants made every time he so much as moved a toe managed to make Hot Emo Guy glance at him. What the hell was more interesting on this damn computer than a sexy waiter in full-leather ?
Well. Whatever. If the guy wanted provocative, he was gonna get provocative.
When Mello found even tighter and smaller leather clothing on an obscure -18 website he wouldn't even have dared say the name aloud because of the remnants of his catholic upbringing, he didn't hesitate.
To be honest, he began to see the appeal quite quickly. He may not have been blessed by the beautiful curves he envied in most women he had sex with, but the clothes highlighted everything there was to highlight – by which you must understand everything there was to see – and didn't hide a thing. Which was exactly what the blond needed because he had long decided that nothing on his body should have to stay hidden and the real crime here was the fact that there had to be a least some kind of fabric covering his magnificient ass from the world. Leather provided the least amount of coverage he could get away with and that was absolutely perfect.
He swiftly found a good balance between goth and just-stepped-out-of-a-BDSM-session, his rosaries and other religious artefacts that came from a long-lost (but not forgotten) faith helping to string the whole look together.
And if Mello thought he looked good before – and he did – he was amazed at how much hotness was oozing out of him right now. He was so hot that if being hot was a crime, he would be behind bars for the rest of his life. And the umpteenth phone number he received during his shift at the café was just proof of that. But the most unexpected thing – at this point, even Mello could admit that it was unexpected – just drove the nail in : Hot Emo Guy had looked at him. Granted, it was a 2-second-long, bewildered glance when the blond put his cup on the table, a glance that didn't do any justice to what he was really feeling, Mello was sure. Probably. Whatever, all he got from that was that the plan had worked perfectly. Another win really.
So why didn't it feel like a win at all ? Mello was not satisfied. But why was he not satisfied ? Maybe he didn't get a good shag like he originally planned to but at that point, it was really not his goal anymore, seeing as the guy made him work too hard for it. And Mello was not one to work hard for anyone, okay ? Especially not for a guy whose hair seemed to take an etheral glow when the setting sun hit it just right, whose skin glowed just like a flawless pearl when faced with the brightness of his laptop's screen and–
Fuck.
Fuckity, shitty fucking fuck.
He was not in too deep. He was not. Hell, the guy had barely talked to him besides the few 'thank you's exchanged, and even if he voice was like pure unfiltered honey to Mello's ears, he–
Well. He'll be damned. He was in too fucking deep, wasn't he ?
That statement only proved itself further when, after a harsh lecturing from his referent teacher, he realised how much behind he was in his work. Because, yeah, believe it or not, spending every second of every day trying to get a guy's attention for a month did not work well when you had other responsibilities. Who would have thought ? Not Mello, that's for sure.
The next couple of days were a whirlwind of organisation on his part and anger from his manager at the blond's resolve to take a few days off on such short notice. To which he replied that at least half of the regular costumers were here thanks to his godly presence so, really, who was she to deny him of such a small favour ? Her resigned sigh and disbelieving face in answer was all he needed to know before he called it a day and went home with an increasingly painful headache.
He had definitely not missed the library and its eery silence, but he would have to bear with it for the next few days. He could consider that as punishment for going against everything he stood for and actually getting almost desperate for a guy. Almost. His own body had decided on a first punishment on its own in the morning already, when it had decided to not wake up on time and thus make Mello miss the routine he had had for a month. Because perfection was not something to fuck with and it needed time to be achieved. So, at barely 7am, standing in the library's hall in the sole oversized hoodie remaining in his wardrobe and the sweatpants he used as pyjamas, Mello could only think about how some days were just made to fuck him over.
He realised how true this was when, after a short lunch at 1pm to not completely wither away in despair at the library's table he had spent the whole morning on, someone pulled back the chair next to him and sat the most naturally in the world. And really, who dared disturb him when he was so deep in the Pit of Gloom and when most of the library was still empty ? His best death glare was already prepared to slander the poor unsuspecting fellow that didn't know what crime he had just done when–
Oh shit. Shit shit shit. Hell no. He sure as all damned hells didn't need that right now–
“So, who knew you could dress like a normal student ?”
Mello was going to sue the God he had believed in for so long, because this could only be his doing.
“Cute, though”, the deep voice continued light-heartedly.
For now, face-planting on the hard wooden table with a groan seemed like the only sensible option he had.
///
“I mean... It worked though.”
“Yeah well, it would probably have worked sooner if you had just, you know, given me your number like a normal person.”
“Fucking play your stupid BDSM game and shut the fuck up.”