A/N: Guten Tag, everyone! So, this is a oneshot reward type thing from my other M/M fic Celestial, for the 100th reviewer, who just so happened to be SkyiMello! I got pretty free reign on this one, so I sort of went a bit insane with it. It ended up being a lot longer than I thought...way longer, in fact. I was thinking two, possibly three thousand words. Hah, no, nearly seven thousand!
Anyway, SkyiMello, I hope you like this; it didn't take as long as I thought, but that's good, right? Not so much for the revision, but who cares anyway?! Thank you again for reviewing so diligently! X3
I'd just like to point out I have no medical knowledge in the slightest, and though I did do some research, I had to manipulate the facts a bit to make the story work. If you notice something wrong, I'm very sorry. Please forgive me. XD
Disclaimer: Death Note has never been mine, is not mine, and unfortunately probably never will be mine. It's a hard life.
Referred Pain
Referred pain (medical): a pain subjectively localized in one region though due to irritation in another region.
The first thing Matt did when he heard Mello was leaving was place a tracker in his watch, the one he never took off.
The second thing Matt did was sit on Mello's bed and pretend to play Grand Theft Auto as Mello packed his one, small bag.
The third thing he did was accept and awkwardly return with one arm Mello's goodbye hug.
Only when Mello had shut the door to their room for the final time did Matt drop his PSP, curl up on the mattress and begin to cry.
Three years later
Matt had moved to LA, where Mello's gang was based, as soon as he turned eighteen and was finally free of Roger's peppermint-scented breath down the back of his neck. There, he got a 'job', which mainly consisted of skimming money off other people's bank accounts. Only the rich bastards, though. Matt would have liked to say that was because of some heroic, Robin Hood-esque motivation, but really, it was only because millionaires were less likely to notice a couple of zeroes missing from their bank statements.
He checked up on Mello's location a few times every day, mentally noting down the whereabouts of the little red blip on his screen. Matt used to stare at the same blip almost constantly, terrified that if he let his eyes stray from it, he really would lose Mello for good. Fortunately for his health, however, Matt eventually became strong enough to breathe without Mello, though he still got antsy if he left it longer than five hours between check-ups.
This particular day – a Tuesday, if Matt remembered correctly – was not one of these days. Matt had recently stocked up on cigarettes, and with one of the little cancer-sticks between his lips as he lugged his week's grocery shopping through the front door, he felt calm, contented, and unworried about pending lung cancers.
Matt dropped the shopping bags, endeavouring to unpack them later – before the milk went off this time – and flipped on the radio on his way to his bedroom. There, he pulled his goggles off his face, opened his laptop, logged in with the fingerprint scanner and brought up his main email account. There was nothing of import in his inbox, a couple of messages from the various electronics websites he subscribed to, and a spam asking whether he wanted breast implants.
No, thank you, Matt told the painfully happy-looking woman that was staring out at him, I'm not quite that desperate yet.
He exited his account, and promptly brought up another. This one had much of the same, as did the next, and the one after that. Matt's final email account didn't have any new mail, but that wasn't surprising, seeing as Matt barely ever used it anyway.
Nodding appreciatively along to the catchy song that had just started on the radio, Matt swivelled in his chair to check the location of Mello's tracker. He blinked a couple of times before he realised exactly what was wrong.
The little red blip was gone.
Matt's mouth fell open slightly, his almost burnt-down cigarette falling from his lips. It landed wrong-way-down on the back of his hand, branding him, and Matt swore, bringing his burnt hand to his mouth and simultaneously grinding the butt into the carpet. He couldn't give a rat's ass about fire hazards right now.
Returning his desperate eyes to the tracking screen, Matt thumped the side of the monitor hard, twice for good measure.
The blip didn't reappear.
Matt mentally started to panic. The only reason for this would be if the watch had gotten broken.
But Mello would never let that happen, Matt thought worriedly. Matt had given that watch to Mello for his first birthday after they met. The blond hadn't taken it off since, apart from to sleep and bathe.
Biting his lip, Matt thought back to where the red blip had been the last time he'd seen it, at around two thirty that afternoon. It had been at the Mafia base, Matt recalled, not really moving that much.
Matt's panic heightened, and he broke out into a cold sweat. He began, unwisely, to fabricate awful theories as to how the watch had been broken.
What if Mello got into a fight with a guy who had a weapon he didn't know about?
What if he pissed off someone important?
What if he pissed off Kira?
Never mind that Matt couldn't think of a kind of death Kira could invent for Mello that would result in his watch breaking, it was the possibility that was the problem here.
Inexplicably, despite his current numbness, Matt's ears automatically tuned into the broadcast playing on the radio.
"Around fifteen minutes ago, there was a large explosion in well-known gang territory. Emergency services have been called, and the amount of fatalities has not as of yet been deduced, but..."
Matt marched over to the radio and almost broke it in half as he slammed the 'off' button. He leaned over the kitchen counter and put his head in his hands, trying desperately to breathe.
Shit.
Oh, shit.
Mello was gone.
The thought snapped Matt out of his trance, and he lurched upright, swaying alarmingly as the world span around him. Then it halted, and Matt ran out of the house to his car.
He sped all the way to Mello's base.
Late base.
Late Mello.
Fuck.
It didn't take long to reach his destination, not at the speed Matt was driving, and less than ten minutes later he was parking around the back to avoid being seen by the countless firemen, policemen and paramedics scuttling about. He clambered out of his Camaro and staring in horror at the blazing inferno in front of him.
The building was engulfed with flame. The emergency services were fighting valiantly, but even Matt could see the shell wasn't going to stay standing for much longer.
He stood, frozen and unable to move, choking on the acrid smoke that stung his goggle-free eyes (he had forgotten to put them back on in his hurry to get out of his house) and sent tears streaming down his cheeks.
Mello.
Matt fought back a sob. Then, he shook himself – Mello would scoff at him for being so weak – and began looking for an entry point that wasn't completely barricaded by fire. Fuck it if he would let Mello's body become an anonymous casualty of a tragic accident that everyone had heard of but didn't genuinely care about.
Matt found an open doorway, the door hanging crazily off its hinges, that was relatively free from flames. He ran towards it purposefully, covering his nose and mouth against the suffocating smoke.
As soon as he stepped inside, Matt was drenched in sweat. It was hotter than Hades in the building, and Matt desperately wanted to shed his layers, although he knew that would be incredibly unwise in his current situation.
As Matt's eyes adjusted to the heat haze and roaring flames, he became aware of black, charred lumps dotted around every so often. Matt narrowed his streaming eyes, trying to make out what they were. Then, comprehension hit him, and he gasped in a lungful of horribly nicotine-free smoke, coughing and hacking immediately afterwards.
There were incinerated bodies everywhere.
Matt had to stifle a grief-stricken sob. Mello! He was one of these corpses, burning gradually away to nothing.
Matt nearly surrendered himself to the urge to lie down and let the flames take him; turn him into one of the charred carcasses as well.
He managed to gather himself, however, and stumbled through the burning building, hysterically searching for blond hair and hoping to whatever God was up there that Mello hadn't dyed it. Matt hadn't actually seen him for the past three years, after all.
As he fought his way towards the centre of the chaos, flames licking at his boots and jeans but thankfully not catching, Matt caught a miraculous glimpse of gold within the hellfire. He stumbled towards it like a dying man to water, hoping, hoping...
It was him.
Mello was half-buried underneath burning rubble; Matt could only see his upper torso and one leg, twisted so horribly Matt was afraid it might not attached any longer. His face had been half-melted away, and Matt felt a twist of nausea at seeing Mello's once-beautiful features so marred.
Rushing towards his former best friend, Matt fell to his knees and heaved the flaming beams off Mello, heedless of his blistering hands and the tongues of fire nearly setting his clothes alight. He pulled Mello out from the debris, put out his burning clothes, and cradled the limp blond to his chest, tears that had nothing to do with the smoke or the fire or the pain flowing down his face.
"Oh God...Mello, no..." he whispered brokenly, voice hoarse from the smoke. He buried his face into Mello's chest, the leather encasing it still too hot from the fire Matt had just put out. He breathed in Mello's unique scent, smothered by smoke and the smell of burnt flesh, and cried silently, mourning the abrupt end to their friendship, their brotherhood, and now Mello's beautiful, irreplaceable life.
Thump.
Matt froze.
No.
He couldn't– he wouldn't believe–
Thump.
Thump.
Mello's heart.
Thump.
It was beating.
Thump.
Matt's eyes widened so much they nearly fell out of his head. Mello was alive! Miraculously, he hadn't perished with his fellows, and knowing that, Matt was suddenly nonplussed as to why he'd assumed Mello must have died in the first place. The blond always survived; always had, always would.
Hope giving him new strength, Matt hauled himself to his feet, taking Mello with him. He laboriously hefted the blond's limp form into his arms, Mello's head resting on his shoulder, and began to escape the burning building.
It took a long time, too long, and Matt was almost beside himself at the thought that Mello's precious heartbeat might stop at any minute. Finally, though, Matt broke out, heaving in huge lungfuls of clean air and ridding his throat of the tang of smoke. Then, he swiftly hurried to his car, avoiding all eyes and placing Mello tenderly on the back seat.
He couldn't take him to hospital, but thankfully, Wammy's classes had included medical training, and Matt knew he was fully equipped to deal with burns, broken bones and concussions. An artificial respirator, if Mello needed one, would be more tricky, but Matt was sure he could improvise.
Determination steeling his mind, Matt drove away as carefully as possible, avoiding all potholes as he dashed as quickly as Mello's state allowed to his home.
Mello had the feeling of being deep underwater. He could still breathe, but it was difficult, as if the air was treacle he had to suck in and out. His ears were ringing, and his eyelids felt like they weighed a tonne each, making it virtually impossible to lift them.
With a herculean effort, though, Mello managed. He slid his right eye open a crack, and then wondered why he couldn't see out of his left one.
Twitching his fingers, he patiently waited until he thought he could move his arm and then lifted it to feel rough bandages covering half of his face.
Oh, Mello thought blankly.
...wait, what?
The last thing he remembered was the explosion. It had hurt a lot more than he'd estimated – still did, in fact. Mello winced at the horrible ache in his right leg, then groaned quietly as that stretched the skin underneath the bandages.
Mello took in the room he was lying in. It wasn't tidy by any standards, and yet there was an order to the mess, separate piles of various pieces of junk dotted around the place. It was 'clean' junk too: no food, no dirty clothes (as far as Mello could see, which wasn't that far), and no used crockery.
There was a lot of technology in the room, too. Computers, TVs, game consoles, tracking monitors and other various pieces of equipment that Mello had no clue about. It reminded him almost painfully of Matt, how the redhead would spend hours curled up on his bed, playing Mario or whatever while Mello studied at the desk.
Mello felt the familiar stab of longing that usually came with thinking of his best friend. Mello still wished he hadn't left so suddenly, at least taken a bit of time to break the news to Matt properly. Mello wasn't sure that Matt had been completely understanding of the finality of Mello's leaving when he'd walked out of their door all those years ago.
Thinking of Matt wouldn't fix anything, though, Mello reminded himself. He still had no idea where he was, how he'd escaped the explosion in the first place, whose bed he was in, and who had bandaged him up, let alone how long he'd been there.
Mello reached to extract his gun (Just in case, Mello justified), only to be met with soft jogging bottoms instead of his customary leather. Of course, Mello had only just survived the explosion himself; his clothes definitely wouldn't have. His gun was gone.
Mello stiffened at the sound of footsteps approaching the closed door. If this person was dangerous, which was admittedly unlikely, seeing as they'd taken care of him for however long it had been, he was helpless, and if the searing pain in his throat was any indication, he didn't think his voice was up to screaming for help yet (though his dignity wouldn't allow it either way).
Then the door opened, and a slim, pale youth with stripes and burgundy hair and too-familiar goggles dangling from around his neck walked in.
Mello's one free eye widened as far as it would go.
Matt, his mind gasped incredulously. There was no mistaking it; Matt had grown up, of course, but the way he carried himself was still the same, as was his dress sense.
Matt evidently hadn't noticed he was awake, strolling over to his laptop. Mello followed his graceful gate across the room with his eyes.
Matt leaned over the back of the chair, opened the laptop and clicked a couple of buttons. Then, he closed it again, glanced out of what seemed like habit over to the blank tracker screen next to him and sighed, pushing hair out of his eyes. Then those eyes strayed to the bed, and Matt froze.
"Mello?" he breathed, his voice husky and deeper than Mello remembered. It sent shivers down Mello's spine.
Mello opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a dry croak. Embarrassed, he shut his mouth again, swallowing to try and moisten his parched throat.
Matt blinked for a couple of seconds before springing into action, disappearing briefly out of the door. Mello heard a tap running, and then Matt was back, holding a glass of water to his cracked lips.
Mello took small, grateful sips, relaxing at the blissful feeling of his throat loosening up, the ache lessening slightly. Matt drew the glass away when he finished, setting it down on the bedside table and smiling down at him.
"You finally woke up," he said, eyes full of relief and tenderness.
Mello licked his dry lips and tried to speak again. "Matt?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.
"Yeah, Mels," Matt replied, "It's me."
Mello closed his eye, relief flooding into him. Without opening it, he asked, "How...did you find me?"
He heard Matt shuffling on the carpet and opened his eye, looking at Matt directly as the redhead bit his lip and looked decidedly awkward.
"Uh..." Matt began, "I kinda placed a tracker in your watch. Y'know, the one I gave you ages ago? Yeah, so a few days ago it kinda vanished, and then I heard the news of the explosion on the radio and went down there..." Matt trailed off.
Mello tutted. Typical Matt, refusing to think things through before he acted. He was surprised about the tracker, though. It hadn't even crossed his mind once that Matt might be keeping tabs on him. "A few days?" he asked, wondering how long he'd been out.
"Yeah, it's Friday now. You were unconscious for around two days," Matt told him. "To be honest, I was slightly terrified you'd never wake up."
Mello's eye softened, and with a huge effort, he reached out to stroke Matt's cheek gently.
"Thank you for taking care of me," he whispered to the furiously blushing youth, before his eye slid closed and his hand fell back down to the mattress.
He slept solidly for another eight hours.
The following Sunday, Mello felt well enough to sit up, though it stretched and irritated the burned skin on his abdomen.
Matt had to change his bandages again that day, the only difference now being that Mello would be awake for it (Matt always changed them at night). Mello couldn't stop himself from groaning slightly as the fabric was peeled away from his face. Matt stopped immediately, looking at him in concern.
"You okay?" he asked softly, obviously upset that Mello was in pain.
Mello smiled despite himself; Matt hadn't changed. He'd always had the habit of feeling Mello's pain as well.
"I'm fine," he answered, his voice finally back to normal after the explosion, though it was still slightly husky.
Matt nodded and continued to remove the bandages. Mello suppressed any other various noises, and when the bandages were completely gone, he tried not to let himself be too worried about the horror written all over Matt's face.
"That bad?" he asked drily, forcing a smirk to try and fool Matt into thinking Mello wasn't terrified of what had befallen his body. It wasn't that the blond was vain, per se, but he'd always taken pride in the fact that eyes (both male and female) followed him wherever he went. It was what made him stand out. His looks gave him leverage in bargaining too; battle-hardened men always seemed more compliant when faced with a pretty visage.
Matt didn't seem to buy it, biting his lip and looking loath to answer.
"It's not so bad," he answered finally, his bright smile immediately giving away the lie.
Mello resigned himself to a doom of forever hiding behind hoods and sunglasses. He didn't even want to think about his (lack of) hair yet.
Matt started cleaning the burn gently with a mild saline solution, and Mello had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out. How had he managed to sleep through this all the other times? Tears sprang into his eyes and he bit the inside of his right cheek until he nearly broke the skin.
Matt finished cleaning and, seeing the expression on Mello's face, immediately began apologising.
"Oh, Mello, I'm so sorry! I don't have any anaesthetic, and –"
"Shut up," Mello told him, voice strained. "I can handle it."
Matt hesitated for a moment, before nodding and picking up the tube of ointment. Mello sighed inwardly and braced himself. However, Matt applied the cream so carefully and slowly that it only hurt slightly, and it was then that Mello realised exactly how much he'd missed Matt, the only person in the world who cared for him enough to try and lessen his suffering.
Uncharacteristically emotional (probably due to the trauma, some part of Mello theorised), Mello reached out a hand to take Matt's free one that was resting on his leg. Matt glanced down at their hands in surprise, before smiling slightly and entwining his fingers with Mello's, squeezing lightly. Then, he had to let go to cut the gauze, but after he had placed it tenderly over Mello's burn and bound it up again, he picked up Mello's hand again. Matt traced invisible patterns onto his palm, seemingly lost in thought.
Mello watched his face carefully, trying to see into Matt's head and find out what he was thinking, but it seemed Matt had become more skilful in hiding his expressions; Mello could only pick up a slight hint of contentment.
Then, Matt looked up to lock eyes with Mello again, and the blond felt a plunging feeling in his stomach as he saw how green Matt's eyes were. Matt's lips curved into a rueful smile, and Mello was captivated by the movement. He'd definitely missed Matt far too much.
Matt voice brought him back to matters at hand. "I'm going to have to change the dressing on the rest of your body now, you know?"
Mello groaned, dreading it already. "How far do the burns go?" he asked, though he was slightly wary of knowing. Anything to postpone the imminent torture.
"Down to your left hip," Matt told him, "though they aren't so bad there. You're lucky they didn't reach your crotch; I'd have really had to take you to hospital then," he teased, though his eyes were more serious than Mello was comfortable seeing them.
Mello scowled. "I hate hospitals," he groused.
Matt chuckled. "I know," he said. "That's why you're going to have to man up and let me change your dressings. Sorry again about the lack of anaesthetic, but you're lucky I decided it'd be a good idea to stock up on medical shit a few months ago. I already gave you your tetanus jab, just in case."
Mello nodded, mentally preparing himself for the pain to come. How was it that taking care of the wounds almost hurt more than getting them in the first place?
"How long do you reckon it'll take for these to heal?" Mello asked Matt as the redhead began unravelling the bandages.
Matt hummed in thought before answering, "I'm not completely sure, but around a month? More? I don't know, luckily most of the burns are second degree, but there are a couple of patches that are worse. You're gonna have some serious scarring, Mels."
Mello sighed. He'd known that already.
As Matt started peeling away the gauze, Mello quickly asked another question to distract himself. "What about my leg?" There was a huge cast encasing his right leg, and Matt had told him it had been broken in several places.
Matt didn't have to think so long about that one. "Definitely more than six weeks," he said. "We can get you a pair of crutches or whatever when you're well enough to walk around."
Mello grimaced. Crutches were unwieldy and ugly, but even he saw the necessity of them. "Guess I won't be going out until I can walk on my own, then," he muttered.
Matt laughed, but the mirth stopped abruptly. "Y'know," he said, "If I thought you'd listen to me, I'd tell you not to go out at all."
Mello sighed. "I have to work on the Kira Case," he reminded Matt.
Though Matt's head was tilted down as he concentrated on cleaning the burns around Mello's stomach, the blond could see the frown furrowing his brow. "I know," the redhead told him curtly, evidently displeased.
"So then why are you so grumpy?" Mello asked, only half teasing.
Matt raised his head to look at him. "Well, I was worried anyway when I first worked out you'd started hunting Kira, but the explosion just proves it, Mels. This can only end with you dying, and...I don't want that. Ever." Matt's voice was only just above a whisper.
Mello blinked. "Or...it could end with Kira dying. Personally, I'm hoping for the latter."
Matt scowled, and went back to work on the wounds, perhaps applying the ointment a little bit more roughly than before. Mello winced.
After a few minutes of silence, Matt spoke up again. "Seriously though, Mello, you can't be naïve enough to expect that everything's just going to end all hunky-dory. At the very least, you'll get hurt like this again. Kira's not exactly small-fry, you know."
Mello felt put-out. All he was trying to do was avenge L, save the world and perhaps gloat a little bit over beating Near, and yet here was Matt, his best friend, telling him he was being stupid. "And so?" he asked, a little more venom leaking into his voice than he'd meant.
Matt dropped the bandages he'd been about to wrap around Mello's torso. "And so I don't think I can survive you leaving another time, after I've seen you again like this!" he shouted, face flushing and eyes flashing like emeralds in anger and despair.
Mello fell silent. He hadn't let himself think about how much his leaving Wammy's would hurt Matt, and now he realised how selfish that had been. He hadn't even said goodbye properly, rash teenager that he had been (and, at times, still was). Looking at Matt now, so different to the one he'd left behind, and yet almost exactly the same, Mello could see that he'd broken something inside his friend, and left him without anyone to treat it. And yet, Matt was here, helping him, treating him and caring for him like no one else had. The guilt almost tore Mello apart.
"I...I'm so sorry for hurting you, Matty." Mello looked away, not comfortable with apologising and also unwilling to let Matt see the unshed tears behind his uncovered eye.
Matt huffed, but seemed to mellow out, picking up the bandages again and beginning to wrap them around Mello's chest. "Don't apologise for hurting me, apologise for hurting yourself. Fool that I am, that always seems to hurt me more in the end."
Mello squeezed his eye shut, refusing to let any tears fall. Matt was so kind to him, and yet he only ever threw it back in his face. With a terrible feeling of inevitability, though, Mello knew he was going to have to do it again
"Matt..." he started, voice slightly thick, "I'm going to have to leave again. I'm sorry, really I am, but I have to finish this case."
Matt stopped moving, though he didn't freeze as though startled. He'd known this was coming as well as Mello had.
When Matt raised his eyes to Mello's, Mello expected to see tears glistening in those green orbs, but instead was surprised to see grim determination.
"I know," Matt said calmly. "That's why I'm coming with you."
Mello's eye nearly fell out of his head. "What?! No way!" he yelled, jerking upright before falling back against the headboard with a moan of pain. Matt slapped him lightly on his good shoulder, quickly finishing binding the burns and tucking the end in.
"Don't move," he ordered, "you'll only aggravate...well, everything."
Mello looked at him disparagingly. "Matty, there's no way in hell I'm letting you work on the Kira Case, okay?" he said decisively.
Matt raised a rebellious eyebrow. "Uh huh? And why not?"
Mello glared at him. "Because it's too dangerous!" he yelled.
"That's exactly why I refuse to let you do it on your own, you fucking idiot!" Matt screamed right back. "Just try and stop me! I can follow you, and I will, Mello, you know that. So you may as well just grow a pair and accept it. You're not leaving me again."
Mello's shoulder slumped as he gave up, partly due to exhaustion, partly because he knew there was no talking Matt out of this one. "Fine," he sighed, "Just...fine. But promise me you won't get hurt."
"Only if you do the same," Matt told him.
Mello sighed wearily. "Fine. I'll do my best. But you have to stop smoking," he said bluntly.
Matt's eyebrows disappeared below his fringe. "What?! No way! How'd you know I smoked anyway? I didn't do it in front of you."
"The room reeks," Mello told him. "Cigarettes are about the worst thing for your health there is, so quit it."
Matt scowled. "Nuh uh. No way. That's like me asking you to give up chocolate. Not happening, Mello, I'm drawing the line there."
Mello grinned despite himself. Matt could be so stubborn when wanted to be. "I'll wear you down eventually," he warned.
Matt shook his head. "No way, Mels, I'm sticking to my guns on this one. I won't smoke in front of you, though, how's that?"
"Better, but still non-negotiable."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you more."
Mello stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
"I look hideous," he observed bluntly.
It had been around two weeks after the explosion, and Mello was finally up and tottering about on crutches, despite Matt telling him he should stay in bed until his leg healed at least a little more. Unfortunately for Matt, though, Mello had been so bored lying in the same place for days on end, even with the redhead to talk to, that he had been ready to put a fork through his eye just for something to do.
Matt bit his lip and scrutinised Mello's reflection as well. "Hey, it's not so bad," he tried to comfort the blond. "Not as bad as it could have been, anyway. At least it's only half of your face."
Mello refused to grace that particular comment with a reply, instead choosing to further contemplate his ruined face and hair. The hair wasn't actually so bad anymore; a good amount of it had been burned away while he was still in the building, but it was starting to grow back – just above his chin now, though it did look slightly frazzled still.
Mello's face, on the other hand, would probably never grow back, or so Matt reluctantly told him. Mello could see why, too: the entire left side of his face looked like it had been dunked in corrosive acid, with its almost liquid-like furrows and ridges. His skin was still an angry, inflamed red, but it was certainly healing. After Mello demanded to have the itchy bandages removed, Matt only saw it necessary to place a piece of gauze soaked in cool saline solution over it every few hours. Mello would have protested indignantly at the babying, but it felt far too good to be worth it.
The burns on his body were healing too, though Matt was determined to keep the bandages on those, at least. Most of them weren't as bad as the ones on his face, though some patches on his chest and shoulders would probably scar permanently as well.
Overall, however, Mello noted with surprise, he wasn't actually too upset at the loss of his looks. He had thought he'd be devastated, seeing as they were one of the very few things in his life that he took pride in, but Matt was right; it could have been much worse. And Matt himself didn't even seem to be averse to the burns either, which helped more than Mello was willing to admit.
"Actually, Mello," Matt spoke up suddenly, startling the blond, "you look pretty badass now. It's kinda sexy." Matt grinned before he realised what he'd said, then blushed deeply.
Mello smiled fondly. Matt's what-goes-out-and-what-stays-in filter was still dysfunctional, even after all these years.
"You think?" he teased, smirking.
Matt bit his lip, drawing Mello's eyes to his mouth. "Uh...yeah, I guess...to other people."
Mello raised an eyebrow. "So you don't personally think I look sexy," he said, turning away from the mirror (awkwardly, thanks to the crutches) and taking a step towards Matt.
Matt had the grace to look mildly trapped as he gazed upon the advancing invalid. "Um. Ah, no, you – well, obviously I...uh...fuck." He gave up trying to form a coherent sentence.
Mello tried not to grin like a rapist, as it stretched his face a bit too much for comfort. "Slightly mixed messages there, Matty. Though, I can't blame you for being flustered; one half of my face is still as stunning as always, after all."
Matt gritted his teeth and looked away. The blush on his face was ridiculously adorable in Mello's eyes.
The blond took another step forward, his malformed face only a few inches away from Matt's. Green eyes snapped forward, startled, as Mello leaned in even further, until he could feel Matt's warm, nicotine-scented breath on his lips.
"Me, though...I think your face is far sexier," Mello whispered huskily, seeing Matt's eyes widen in shock before he closed his own blue ones, tilting his head to the side and leaning in to taste Matt's lips as he'd secretly ached to do for far longer than acceptable, in anyone's eyes.
At the last second, though, Matt drew back, catching Mello when he stumbled forward, losing balance. His face was like a tomato, and his ruffled mop matched to the point where Mello couldn't even tell where skin ended and hair began.
Matt smiled nervously, false cheer written all over his face. "Time to cool your burn!" he announced brightly.
Mello just stood there as Matt walked out of the small room faster than strictly necessary, more than slightly put out. Damn Matt and his fucking stage fright; Mello could see clear as day the redhead wanted it as much as he did.
Ah well, he reasoned with himself as he followed Matt out with a hobbling gait, I still have time. He'll have to break eventually.
Matt bit his lip and looked at Mello for what had to be the billionth time that day.
The blond was sleeping on the couch, crutches on the floor next to him, with his head resting on a cushion. He hadn't meant to go to sleep, Matt knew, but it seemed the movie they'd been watching had been slightly too monotonous for his healing body.
Whether he'd meant to or not, though, Matt thought the small amount of drool collecting at the corner of Mello's mouth made him infinitely adorable, huge-ass scar or no.
The scar...
Matt told himself every day that he was supposed to hate it, wish it wasn't there, because it meant Mello had suffered unbelievable pain; nearly been burned to death. And yet...it just made Mello's face more unique, more striking. And Matt loved it. Because it was the evidence that Mello needed him after all.
That, and it was more sexy than any disfigurement had the right to be. Not for any kinky, sadistic reasons – the mere thought of that sent a shudder down Matt's spine. No, it was sexy because it was just purely Mello, angry and defiant and in-your-face.
It was very nearly healed now; Matt estimated about a week longer before Mello wouldn't feel any pain when it was touched. Matt refused to think upon the various meanings of that. Yeah, he wanted Mello, but not just for the sex. If anything, he wanted the sex least, despite him being a teenage male. He just wanted Mello. The angry rants about nothing, the melodramatic monologues about how pointless a life without chocolate would be, the lectures on how smoking would kill Matt slowly and painfully, the teasing...
Though, actually, recently Matt had been wishing nothing more than for the teasing to stop. Yes, it made him happy in a sense, because it meant Mello was attracted to him, but what Matt couldn't figure out was whether Mello was attracted to his face and body, or him. Matt could only accept one of those, because he certainly wasn't the type to proffer his heart for the stamping.
These past few weeks since Mello had first seen his new reflection had been torture. Mello had tried everything: caresses, attempted kisses, inappropriate groping at inappropriate times...it was killing Matt. He wanted to hold Mello, he wanted to kiss Mello, he wanted to have Mello, but he wasn't willing to trade his as-of-yet approximately whole heart for one night of tainted bliss. There would always be a piece missing because Mello wasn't his to keep, but far better that than having no heart left at all.
Screw whatever dick said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Fucker evidently had no idea what he was talking about.
Matt hadn't realised Mello had awoken until the blond said quietly, "Matty, what's wrong?"
Matt's head snapped up, and tears he hadn't known were there splashed into his jeans. "What?" he said stupidly. "Nothing, I just...have something in my eye." He rubbed at them to make his story more believable.
"Bull." Mello hadn't been fooled. The blonde heaved himself into a sitting position and grabbed the crutches. His progress in standing and making his way over to Matt was slow, and yet Matt still didn't seem to have quite enough time to convince his heart to let him run away.
Mello stood in front of him, leaning down slightly so he could see Matt's face better. "Tell me, Matty. I can't bear it when you cry."
Matt's tears fell harder and he wished Mello would stop giving him cruel hope that the blond genuinely loved him back. Mello removed his left hand from the crutch handle to stroke the redhead's cheek, wiping away the tears. "Matt? You're scaring me a little bit, you know?"
Matt shook his head. "I can't, Mello, I just...sorry."
Mello frowned in concern. "Why the hell not? It hurts when I see you in pain, Matt, and fuck knows I've had enough of hurting recently. Please tell me, I'll do all I can to make it better."
"You can't make it better," Matt told him, his voice thick.
Mello raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Well, we'll just have to see, then, won't we? What is it? Did a friend of yours get hurt?"
"Yes," Matt said, "but that was a while ago, and he's getting better now so it's okay."
"Huh. You never told me one of your friends got hurt."
Matt looked at him. "That would be because I was pretty sure you knew already. You're the friend, dumbass."
"Right. So if you're not crying your eyes out over that, what is it? Was there a world ban issued on all computer games?"
"Mello..."
"Fine, sorry, I'll stop joking around." Mello tilted Matt's head up with a hand under his chin. "Matt, please just tell me. Please." The look in his eyes made Matt's heart bleed so much more.
"I just –" Matt's voice cracked. "I hate being in love," he whispered painfully.
Mello's face froze. "You're in love?" he asked, though the lack of inflection in his voice made it seem more like a statement than a question.
Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah. With you, you fucking idiot."
Mello's face was a picture. He was absolutely flabbergasted. "...you what?" he finally managed.
Matt shook his head. No way he was saying it again.
"That's what you're crying over?" Mello asked, and the hint of disbelief in his voice made Matt want to vanish and never reappear.
He ducked his head and clenched his fists, trying in vain to hold back more tears. He felt like a complete pussy weeping his tear ducts out, but he hadn't had many emotional moments in his life before, so he felt it his due to get this one.
"Why would you cry over that?" Mello asked, still looking mildly shell-shocked.
"Isn't it obvious?" Matt voice was bitter. "Unrequited love's a bitch. And yeah, sure, you might touch me and try to kiss me and shit, but all you really want is a one night stand or some kind of fuck buddy or a friend with benefits or whatever, and I can't take that, Mello! I wish you'd just stop! You pretend like you might love me back, and when I let myself be fooled for a second, remembering just about tears me apart. You broke my heart once already, Mello, and no offence, but there's no way in fuck I'm letting you do it again."
Mello's face was wiped of all expression. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're looking pretty broken-hearted now anyway."
"Piss. Off." Matt spat, his sorrow turning into fiery anger.
"Matt, why didn't you just tell me?!" Mello cried in exasperation. "You could have skipped all this shit!"
"I already told you why I– wait, what?" Matt was confused.
"I'm sorry if I put across the impression that I just want sex, Matt, but I don't. I want you. I love you too, I guess...ever since Wammy's." Mello swallowed, unused to baring his feelings.
Matt blinked. "You...love me?"
Mello gulped, and nodded. He knew he wouldn't be rejected, but still...he felt awkward.
Matt breathed in deeply, not quite believing it yet. "If you loved me so much, why did you leave me that time three years ago?"
Mello winced. "I'm sorry about that, Matt. I was angry and irrational, and I just wasn't thinking straight. I regretted it for all that time. Still do."
Matt raised his head to look up at him, eyes still shining with tears. "I forgive you," he whispered softly. "Just don't do it again."
Mello leaned down and finally, finally pressed his lips against Matt's. "I promise," he vowed, their lips millimetres away. "But you've got to promise me you'll be careful with the Kira Case."
Matt nodded. "You too."
Mello kissed him again, bringing up a hand to tangle it in Matt's hair. Slowly, as if waking from a dream, Matt's own hand reached up, stroking the good side of Mello's face before cupping the back of his head and pressing harder into the kiss.
As their mouths opened and their tongues danced in synchronisation, Matt couldn't help but hope this would be the one good thing in his life that lasted.
Finis.
A/N: Yaydone. Hope everyone, especially SkyiMello and all my other Celestial readers, enjoyed! I tried hard on this one, and yet I still don't think it's perfect. Ahh well, it's a oneshot, right? Short (or not, in this case) and sweet.
See you next time!
~tii-chan17