The first time Mello had seen himself in a mirror after the explosion, he'd been horrified. A scar like this could only bring shame, an unsightly blotch on his before nearly markless body, a reminder of the biggest fucking screwup of his entire life.
He was angry at how he'd been so blind and oblivious. Blowing up the place seemed like a good idea at the time. Heh. Huge mistake. This seemingly harmless idea had cost him too much time, too much pain, too many bad memories, so much loss.
Sometimes he just wanted to punch a wall, or better yet, punch himself for being such a complete and total fucking idiot. But, he never did.
As he stormed and thrashed about Matt's apartment, a revelation came to Mello. It was because this scar had wasted so much time and ripped through his own mental stability that he would wear it with pride. It was because the wound had taken it's time to heal, kicking and screaming like a bitch all the way, he wouldn't hide it.
The rough, hard skin had replaced his milky, baby-soft skin, a sign that Mello hadn't taken the easy way, a symbol that he knew more of the world, a manifestation of his own growth as a person. He had to admit, in a sick, twisted way, he kind of liked it.