Matt can only stare as tears trail down the blonde's cheeks like torrential downpour.
"I'll fucking kill you."
That's nothing unfamiliar, that in fact was one of the more pleasant threats the blonde liked to dish out to him on a daily basis - that he knew how to deal with.
The blonde could press a blade to his throat and his heart wouldn't skip a beat, he could wrap his spindly fingers around his scrawny neck and he wouldn't struggle; hell he could press a gun to his temple and he wouldn't even flinch.
He could name a dozen times when the blonde's done just those things to him.
But what scares him more than all those things put together is the liquid sliding down the blonde's face now.
Pain? Anger? Loss? Frustration? Suffering? Some sort of raging mental battle in the blonde's head finally coming to surface? Cause who knows what the fuck goes on in that screwed-up head of his.
Matt's still staring numbly ahead of him as the blonde's head falls forwards against his shoulder and he hisses out more threats between gulping sobs.
He glance's almost blankly down at the trembling blonde, his mind finally processing the scene before him and he gingerly brings his arms up to wrap them loosely around him.
If it weren't for the fever and the injuries and the sheer agony he must be in right now, then surely the blonde wouldn't be doing this; wouldn't be dropping his guard and letting the defensive wall's he's so carefully erected be crushed so easily under the pressure of it all.
But either way what's he expected to do? He signed up for cleaning the stupid bastard up and nursing him back to health again, fully expecting to then either be ditched or spend his time working on the case of a lifetime (the case he was supposed to trip of over own feet in excitement for as he rushes to get to work. But Matt's never been bothered in the title everyone pushed him to try and take up. Somehow L's shoes just didn't seem to suit him all that well, besides, they were just a little too big, Mello and Near fit them much better) before ultimately dying for the blonde's sake in the course of the investigation, just to push him that bit closer towards his goal, probably.
The blonde knows he'd do that in an instant, even if Matt doesn't know why.
But then again, isn't that why the blonde called him? Called him after all these years, because he needed him? Because he's his safety net and when it comes down to it Matt's all the blonde's ever really going to have, because he'll be loyal to the very end.
What's the best asset to a psychotic internationally wanted criminal who still prays every night and goes to church and confesses like the good little boy he hasn't a hope in hell's chance of being anymore?
Matt.
Who's the only person in the world who puts up with the psychotic bastards insults and threats and general homicidal bitchiness when he could throw idiot out on the streets and leave him with nothing and no one like he probably deserves?
Matt.
Yet still who's the only person who's ever seen the fucked-up blonde breakdown and cry, albeit only three times in his entire life, four if you count now? The one person who can get away with snapping back retorts and insults of his own? The only one whom the blonde can spit 'I hate you' to and not actually mean it? Or issue a death threat and not actually carry it out? The one who can get away with hugging him without getting the shit kicked out of him for his trouble? The one whose bed the blonde will crawl into when he's upset or scared or simply so out of touch with reality he wants to be reminded he's not alone?
Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt – Matt.
When it comes down to it, scary as it might be that the usually cold-hearted blonde isn't as strong as he makes out to be, Matt would never dare wish that it was someone's else's shoulder Mello was sobbing on.