Disease of the Mind.
Rating: M.
Summary: Love is the disease of the mind and Matt had learnt that a long while back. Enslaved by his disease, Matt finds himself banging at a certain blonde's door, looking for a quick fix. It's not that he didn't know that this blonde wasn't the one he had fallen for. But it had something to do blondes, flat chests and his peripheral vision.
Pairings: MattxMello, MattxLinda?
Warnings: Yaoi, smut, and Othila Odal...because I count as a warning...no...really.
Author's Notes: Had an idea somewhat something like this for a while and thinking about it a few nights ago while listening to some music gave it more of a physical form in my head. This happened as a result. Enjoy :)
Inspiration: When you were Young –The Killers, Disconnected - Keane
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, Matt, Mello or Linda.
Disease of the Mind.
If love is a disease of the mind, then my disease can be compared to obsessive compulsive disorder or OCD which is basically a form of anxiety disorder. It causes one to repetitively have thoughts, feelings or just….hunches…causing them to repeat certain behaviors. It's like a tick in the back of your mind constantly telling you to go check if you locked your car or your main door, check for new emails every five seconds thinking maybe just maybe there's a new one. It plagues the mind taking over and you just end up caught in a cycle of actions that you don't understand.
TLDR; it's when you shamelessly do something over and over and you just can't stop yourself.
What I've got is a constant need to sleep with Linda. No, I'm not kidding. I can't help it. In the slightest moments of weakness I'll be at her place ripping her clothes off her body, lips moving eagerly on hers. She often says I make love like a mad man. That diagnosis wasn't very far from the truth.
Half of the time I'm barely aware….no….that's a lie…I am aware….very aware of what I'm doing and the proof of that is that I go to her every time, not the voluptuous thick lipped man-eater next door that flashes me a smile every time I pass her by in the parking lot or the hallway, not the shy coffee skinned girl at the little general store downstairs who gives me a free box of cigarettes every time I compliment her auburn hair, not the skinny scantily clad ex-cheerleader at the car wash, not any other girl, just Linda. It has something to do with her being blonde. But it isn't just that. It's also that she's rather flat chested. It's also that her hair is cut in a fringed bob-cut that falls around her jaw when it isn't busy being tied up in those ridiculous two pony tails that she insists on having like a little girl.
Most of all, it's that if I partially lid my eyes or find her in my peripheral vision, she can pass off as Mello…..lacking in charisma, lacking that beautiful silky voice, lacking elegance, lacking that attention that Mello demands but she passes so long as we're in the act. Right after or right before the act I'm painfully aware of the fact that she isn't and can never be Mello. During, I can get myself to pretend that she is.
Mello, beautiful Mello….the thorn in my side, the noose around my neck, the love of my life, the disease of my mind…Oh how I wish she was him. Oh how I wish it was his door I was banging right now.
"Open the fuck up!" I call out caring little for the neighbors.
I rub my fingers furiously over my thumbs, tap my boots against her pretty pink doormat, bite my lips hard. Don't do it, Matt. A frequently ignored voice in the back of my head warns. It doesn't matter. I can't care right now. I need her in my arms….no….I need him…I need him now. I need him like I need a smoke after being on a plane for ten hours. I need him like a fish needs water. And everything reminds me of him….everything.
The door whizzes open.
"What took you so long?" I whine.
"Sorry!" She smiles at me as I step in. "I was in the kitchen. Didn't want the food to get burnt. I was just about to eat. Want to join me?"
I grab her arm as she walks towards the kitchen. I twist her around and plant a rough kiss on her lips. Take me ….take me to him.
"Matt!" She laughs as my lips leave her. "Patience, babe! Let's eat first."
"No." I wrap my arms around her waist and yank her towards me. "Fuck food. I want you."
As she gives in, I ignore a pinch of guilt gripping at my heart. I wasn't always this way. I wasn't always so hungry. It was Mello that infected me. From the very first day the infection hit me and festered….
I was a ten year old child, newly discarded by my old orphanage and newly picked to live at an orphanage called Wammy's House. And for some reason everyone at Wammy's thought it'd be funny to pick on the new kid. Every day was torture and I wanted to be alone more than anything else. So I decided that at dinner time I'd sneak away and go somewhere where I could be alone.
The roof of Wammy's main block seemed like the best option at the time and so I made my way there, glancing back every now and then to make sure none of my bullies had followed me upstairs. When I pushed the door to the roof open I realized I wasn't the only one that wanted to be alone and that I wasn't the only one who had thought of this exact spot.
We stared at each other dumbfounded for a while, me and the beautiful blonde sitting on the floor before me. He had a rather large box with him and a plaid picnic blanket spread neatly under him. I knew who he was. No one needed to tell me. It was Mello.
He was the boy who grabbed all the attention in class, when the class wasn't busy picking on me of course. He'd show up at class early, sit at his desk furiously writing something even before the lesson started. During lessons he'd take notes at an insane speed, would wordlessly, and expressionlessly, slap anyone who approached him for anything at all and, if the teacher noticed he'd get the tidying up duty at the library, a task that he bothered him in the least. He had never picked on me. He had never even looked at me up until this point.
Now, however, his watery blue eyes were on me, one brow cocked, the other creased, staring through curious eyes at me, the intruder.
The wind blew his hair over his face. Frowning, he brushed it back.
"What're you doing here?" He demanded.
"I….just…umm" I shuffled and mumbled and stuttered like no one I have ever met for what seemed like ages before I realized I wasn't actually saying words but just making sounds like a goat.
"Speak up damnit! Don't waste my time!" He stood up and yelled, hands curled into fists, the wind still dancing with his hair.
"uh-I'm Matt."
"New kid." He said, folding his arms and tapping his bare feet on the plaid picnic blanket under them. "I know who you are."
"You do?"
"Answer my question before I lose it with you!" He yelled again.
"I just didn't want to be around people." I mumbled.
"Well," His eyebrows raised in a sort of delicate pride, chin raised slightly. Cold blue eyes looked at me indifferently. "This is my spot. And you can't have it so find another rooftop for yourself."
"But this is the tallest building at Wammy's." I tried reasoning with him. "No one can see this spot from any other rooftops or windows. It's the perfect spot."
"I know…." He rolled his eyes. "That's why I'm here…That's why it's mine."
"Surely it's big enough for the both of us." I whined.
He let out a little chuckle and rubbed his temple. "Do I look stupid? I know it's big enough for the two of us. I'm not blind. But y'see, twit," He smiled a menacing smile at me. "It starts with one. You come up here, then someone else will and then someone else and then someone else. Before I know it what's mine is everyone's. So get the hell off my rooftop. NOW!"
I frowned. I wasn't in the mood for any more time with this cold hearted blonde. I kicked at the floor and decided I might as well go downstairs and get bullied. But even the thought made my eyes well up, my chest heave. I curled my fists and turned to leave.
"Hey hey!" The blonde called out. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I turned around, shot him a disgusted glare but I believe the effect of that was softened by the tears flowing down my cheeks. I turned my back on him.
He grabbed my wrist.
"Hey! What's the matter with you?" He pushed. "It's just a bloody rooftop! You don't have to cry like a baby about it."
My chest ached, tears flowed faster. I just really wanted to be dead, really wanted the ground to swallow me so I wouldn't have to deal with people anymore.
"Le'go" I muttered pushing him away but his grip on my wrist only tightened.
Soon it was too much and my ten year old self was crying wondering why the world didn't leave him alone. Was it not enough that my parents threw me in a dust bin as a baby? Was it not enough that everyone at my old orphanage hated me for not having actual dead parents? Was it my fault they chose to dump me instead of dying? Was it not enough that when I finally found my parents I found that they had replaced me with two other kids and gave me a we-just-weren't-ready-for-you-we're-sorry-you-can't-live-with-us speech? Was it not enough load on a ten year old's shoulders? What more did the world want to put me through? Did I not deserve just one little escape?
"Hey hey…" The blonde prodigy's voice softened. His grip on my wrist eased. He patted my head. "What's wrong? Are you broken?"
It might seem strange but I think Mello diagnosed me best. "Broken" that's just the word to describe it. Not in a sad pitiable painful kind of way. But a dysfunctional kind of broken, like a plastic disposable spoon that is no longer usable that you wouldn't pity or cry about, but just throw away without a thought.
I cried uncontrollably in front of the stranger, unsure why I was doing so.
"Alright! Alright!" He cried, messing my hair. "Jeez! I'll share the bloody rooftop! Would you quit now?"
My back ached a little lesser when I heard him say that. My wailing dropped to sobs and I found myself wiping my tears and glancing nervously at Mello.
"Come now." He said. "Help me set up my telescope. If you're going to stay up here I might as well make use of you. I've got to watch the stars tonight and I want this fixed up so get over here. And I swear if you tell anyone about this place I'll eat your guts….raw!…..AND I'll boil your eyeballs…you dig, twerp? Idiot going about crying like that…" He went on like that for an hour, I think, but I hurriedly and, admittedly, happily helped him set up his telescope.
Linda bites at my ear. I run a hand up her back, under her shirt. No bra. Good. I shut my eyes as she trails kisses down my neck, tugging softly at my shirt. I pull the hair ties out of her hair and look down at the blonde head snuggling in the groove of my neck. Mello….my Mello.
If only it was really him. She sits up straight and takes off her shirt. I kiss her lips again…anything to keep dreaming…anything to ignore the fact that she wasn't Mello.
I had shared my first kiss with Mello when I was thirteen. He was already used to having me come up to the rooftop every night and we had grown close as friends, though I couldn't deny I was falling for him. Maybe it was the starry skies he'd watch every night, smiling up at them. Maybe it was the way the moonlight shone on his skin. Maybe it was the way he spoke about the things he loved and those he hated. The passion was visible either way. And little by little I was falling in love with the way he thought, with the way he spoke, the way he'd tug at my shirt when he found something interesting in the sky, the way he'd make me lie down next to him, the way he'd lean his head on my shoulder and stare at the night sky before we both crept back to our separate rooms to sleep. Somewhere along the way I began wanting his love.
And I think he always knew.
"…..Don't think I don't know the way you look at me." He said, looking down at his cards. "I'm not stupid y'know."
We had decided to play cards on the rooftop that night and the conversation had been mostly about the chemistry between Wammy's children. I had told him that I was sure a lot of people had crushes on him.
"One of them is you." He said. "Don't think I don't know the way you look at me. I'm not stupid y'know."
"Me?!" I retorted making the disbelief in my voice as believable as I could, but the heat in my face betrayed me. "I don't like you like that Mellz."
"Sure." He shrugged, eyebrows raised in nonchalance. He put down a card. "And you haven't been watching me play football from up here for the past month either."
I stared at him wide-eyed. He knows!
"I come up here in the day sometimes, Mell." I laughed. I put a card down over his. "But it isn't to watch you play."
"Right." He placed another card down and won the game. "It's just a coincidence that for a month every time I go to play football, you decide to come up here. If you lean out like that someone is bound to notice you and that's the end of our perfect spot strategy."
"Maybe we just have that kind of a time table." I rearranged the deck and shuffled the cards. "Has that ever crossed your mind?"
"It has." He said, propping himself back on his hands. "But you having a timetable is highly unlikely, isn't it?"
"No it isn't." I laughed handing him his set of cards.
He looked down at his cards. I watched him, barely looking at my own. There was an air of confidence and indifference about him that always attracted me to him. I wanted to be one with him, know him the way no one else did. I think I do know him better than most do but I couldn't help but want more.
"Y'kno, Matt?" He carefully placed his set of cards face down. His voice grew soft. "If you say you want to kiss me, I'll let you."
His eyes met mine. My lips parted. I want to…I want to…
He crawled towards me, his face inches from my own.
"You can kiss me if you like." He said, lidding his eyes, carefully edging his lips towards mine.
I looked at them, at first, wondering if this was a test and if he'd slap me if I do kiss him. But before I knew it my lips were on his. I hadn't even been aware of them moving towards his. He drew a sharp startled breath and his lips left mine.
"See?" He whispered. I watched as his tongue slipped over his lower lip. His pupils dilated. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No." I mumbled. "Not bad."
Our lips met again….and again….and many times since.
Linda pulls my shirt over my head. I grab her waist and drag her to the couch. Any place will do. So long as I can have this. I hurriedly unbutton her pants.
"Patience, baby." She laughs but there was no time.
I yank her pants off and then my own.
"Come here, you stud." She says and I plant another kiss on her lips. Don't talk. I urge her in my mind. Don't say anything.
I let my hand slip between her legs and urge her thighs apart. I feel around looking for just the spot to drive her insane, as insane as I feel, as eager as I feel. She lets out a little moan and her legs split further apart. I trail kisses on her neck and trace a finger over her opening.
"Do it, Matt." She whispers and I push a couple of fingers inside of her.
I feel her hands wrap around my manhood.
I shut my eyes and try to picture the first time Mello had ever done that.
"I want you, Matt." He said, the stars shining in his eyes. His fringe curtained more towards one side as he lay on the plaid picnic blanket under the naked sky, fidgeting with the chocolate bar I had just handed him.
It was his fourteenth birthday and he had been hinting that he wanted something from me. I had decided we'd spend the whole night under the stars. This time we brought our pillows and blankets with us. And I had bought him a bunch of expensive Belgian chocolates that I was sure he'd like.
He had, and yet, lying on the plaid picnic blanket, he said that's not what he wanted.
"What did you want?" I asked, sitting next to him.
"I want you, Matt."
I laughed. "You already have me."
"No." He frowned. "You don't get it." A red-ish color found its way to his cheeks. He rolled over to his side. "Forget it."
"No! Tell me!" I tickled his belly causing him to burst out laughing until his knee hit painfully against my cheek. "What do you want?"
"I told you." He rolled over onto his belly. "I want you." He buried his face in his pillow. "All of you."
It was only then that I understood what he meant. I felt my heart pace faster as I kissed his nape.
I brushed his hair off his ear. "Take it then." I whispered.
He turned around staring at me through uncertain eyes.
"You can do anything you want."
He sat up. "Anything?"
"Anything."
"So it's okay if I do this?" He walked two fingers up my thighs and looked at me for a reaction. "How about this?" He unbuttoned my pants.
I took his face in my hands and planted a long kiss on his lips. "Anything, Mello."
I lay him back down as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I trailed kisses down his neck enjoying his sharply drawn breath.
"I want you, Matt." He whispered in my ear. "I need you."
He dragged my shirt off my back and over my head and I smiled down at him. The blush on his cheeks felt out of place on him and yet only increased his beauty tenfold. The shyness in his eyes when he sat up and pulled his own shirt off was the same, strangely out of place and yet infectiously beautiful.
"Don't laugh at me or I'll kill you." He said.
"Why would I laugh?" I asked kissing his forehead.
"The guys in the locker room said I was scrawny." He frowned.
"You're petite." I smiled. And he was. His beauty can only be defined as sharp and petite because despite being small, Mello was anything but scrawny. "And you're beautiful." I kissed his neck.
"Cheh! Kiss ass." He lightly slapped my cheek.
I held him in my arms and we basically sat there for a while. I think both of us were wondering how to go about it. It was a first for both of us and despite having no clue that this was what Mello wanted for his birthday, I had wanted it for a while myself.
His hands ran down my chest, feeling their way around and he stopped momentarily on my nipples only to continue downwards towards the zip still holding my pants on. Unzipping them, he pushed a hand in. I held him still. His hands wrapped around my shaft and he hesitantly began moving over it, lightly first and, as it got harder, with a stronger grip.
My breathing was ragged. The heat on my back made me shiver against the night wind.
I let go off his waist and looked down at the sight of his hands on my manhood, pumping eagerly.
I pulled his face to mine and kissed him again. I leaned into him, pushing him back against the plaid picnic blanket under us. I pulled off his pants. His breath grew intense. I could almost hear his heartbeat…or was it mine? I can't be sure. But it was there. Sure as the moon above our heads. Heartbeats like drums, pacing our every move.
Soon I was too high to care about how nervous I was. I was with Mello….nothing could go wrong. I explored every inch of his body, tasted the sweet sweat on his skin, his little moans quickly becoming my favorite song.
He wrapped his legs around my waist, whispered "love me" in my ear and I obliged.
I took it slow at first, slowly pushing my way into him so I wouldn't hurt him too much, but he gasped in pain anyway. Tears brimmed in his eyes. His nails clawed at his pillow, but his legs urged me further into him until I was all in, one with him, connected to him, body, mind and soul.
I pumped faster then, and he urged me on, despite the pain that I could tell he was in. I took his shaft in my hand, pumped at it, wanting him to feel the ecstasy I did. We gasped together for a while, careful not to be too loud. We moaned and thrust and whimpered and begged and moved hard against each other until we reached our limits. And then I simply slammed against him, limp as I've never been, dead to the world, dead to anything but him. He held my head to his chest and lay with me for what seemed like hours, lightly stroking my sweat stained forehead and I had never before felt so complete.
I looked up at him. He was smiling at the moon again, sweat shining in the moonlight and I swear I've never seen Mello look as content as he did that night, never seen a more perfect sight, or one that even came close to being as perfect.
I pound against Linda. Her back is turned towards me. I prefer it this way. I pound hard. She moans. I let my hand wander into her blonde hair. I let my mind wander. I don't want to see her there.
Mello was never the same again. I think this was the beginning of his disease; Paranoia. Sure he'd meet me every night. Sure we shared many such perfect moments again. But Mello was scared. I couldn't understand what he was scared of back then. Now things become clearer to me. He was afraid of losing me, too afraid, afraid to the point of paranoia. He was sick. Not in a pitiful painful kind of way but sick in the head. He couldn't stand losing and every game won was a game waiting to be lost. And I was just that, a trophy on his shelf, waiting to be lost.
"Are you listening, Matt?" He barked.
"Hmm…"
"Would you put that thing down?" He yelled.
"Gimme a minute" I said tapping at the buttons of the handheld video game I was invested in.
"I didn't buy it so that you'd ignore me." He said. His arm around my shoulder left. "Would you listen to me for a second?"
"I said give me a goddamn minute, Mello." I snapped, barely looking at him. "Would you quit being such a pain?"
Thinking about it now, I can't understand why I took it all for granted. What changed? What was wrong with me? Did I get cocky at some point? Did I forget that his love was a breakable gift? Did I forget that I was supposed to care for it? He used to tell me that all emotions are like plants. "If you care for them and nurture them, they grow and spread all over your mind. If you ignore them, they'll whiter and die." And who knew emotions better than Mello?
He was the same person. Exactly as beautiful as when I had first met him. He just breathed down my neck all the time and I couldn't see that as love. But I could never dream of leaving him. Crazy, manic or not I loved him.
I finished the game and put it down.
"Go on now." I said to him.
He sat in front of me, crisscrossed legs, on the plaid picnic blanket. He stared for a while. He looked down at the handheld and then back at me. There was regret on his face, a little bit of pain even.
"Nothing." He said. "Go on with your game. I'm going to go back to sleep." He got up to leave.
I grabbed his wrist. "Hey, c'mon Mello…I said give me a minute."
"Yeah." He smiled a pained smile at me. "You said that an hour ago as well, Matt. In fact, you said that yesterday as well." He shook his head. "It's okay. It's not a problem. We're fine. I just want to go to bed."
I got up and stretched. He was already half way towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" I called out.
"Yeah."
He left.
The next night he repeated the same thing. He asked me a million and one times to "put that thing down". And when I finally did I noticed how much more pain I could see in his eyes this time. Guilt filled me. I hugged him.
"What is it?"
"It's not really a big deal." He said, leaning against my shoulder. "I just heard that Linda has a crush on you."
"So?"
"So, nothing." He mumbled, fidgeting with my shirt. "I just…I was wondering…Do you like her?"
"Mello, I like you." I laughed.
"You're sure, right?" He looked up at me. I wondered why someone with so much confidence was being such a baby. Tears glistened in his eyes, so out of place. He was paranoid but beautiful nonetheless.
"Yeah I'm sure."
"You know I'd do anything for you, right?"
"Mell, I know it." I grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little. "Snap out of it. I love you and only you. I have no feelings whatsoever for Linda so please don't be like this anymore."
"Matt, I mean it." He took my face in his hands. "I'll kill you if you leave me."
I stared down at him wondering if he had really lost it. Clearly he was wondering the same. He clutched at my shirt, maddened by the emotions he harbored in his head. He pulled me into a desperate kiss. I wonder if he meant what he said. Being Mello the threat of being killed by his hands was thrown around a lot at random. But in that moment he looked honest, eerily sincere, like my bones would be crushed to powder if he was to leave me. Not that I wanted to. I never did. Still, his madness was beginning to show.
Only a month after that I was heading back to the rooftop to see him. Things had been awful between us. We fought every day because he couldn't stand "that thing" and because I forgot all about meeting up with him or seeing him when I was busy with "that thing". And yet he waited for me every night.
I ran into Linda on the way.
"Matt, I was looking for you." She said, smiling shyly at me and I thought of the night with Mello when we had become one. "Aren't you going to ask why?"
I laughed. "Why?"
"I wanted to give you something." She said, stepping closer to me. Sweat stained my brow. "I was thinking maybe you'd want to come over to my room." She whispered, her painted lips an inch from my Mello-stained ones. "I could give it to you in my room."
No one needed to tell me what she was offering me. Mello had dried up all the creative ways of inviting me to bed before anyone could even dream of asking that of me. Her lips met mine just before I could refuse her offer.
A sharp clang made my head spin away from hers. I caught a glance of Mello's feet as he turned the bend.
"Mello?" I called out, stepping away from Linda.
"Matt," Linda grabbed my wrist. "Are you coming over?"
"Let go." I ran after my paranoid blonde. "Mello!"
I ran upstairs to the rooftop to find Mello's telescope toppled, the front lens shattered to little bits, glistening in the moonlight on the floor. The plaid picnic blanket was missing.
I ran back downstairs to his room. I banged at his door. "MELLO!"
The door whizzed open and the person staring back at me was barely the person I had fallen for. His hair was messy like he had been pulling at it, his cheeks stained with rivers of tears. He had bitten hard at his lips. Crimson dots marred their usual flawless beauty. His eyes were wide and loveless, nose wrinkled in hatred and disgust.
"Don't make a fucking scene, Matt." His voice was partially a growl, partially a whisper.
"Let me explain."
"Get out of my life, Matt." He hissed. "I hate you. You hear me? I despise you."
"Mell, you don't get it." I took his face in my hands, feeling him shiver under my touch.
His forehead creased. Tears poured uncontrollably from his eyes. "I told you I'd kill you if you left me, didn't I?" His hands grabbed at my hair. His nails scraped down my face, fingers curled around my throat.
But they never pressed, never squeezed…..not even a little.
His jaw clenched. A shiver ran down his spine. A shaky sound, a mix between a growl and a whimper, poured from his lips.
His hands fell to his side.
"I love you." He said. "I hate you."
"Mello, please." I tried to reason. "You don't understand."
"What do I not understand?" He croaked. "That you'd rather spend all your time with a fucking handheld machine than with me? That you'd rather be seen in a hallway with Linda then ever be seen holding hands with me? What do I not understand?"
That love can drive you mad. That was the first thought that went through my head then. And it was only then that I realized we were much too young to play with such fire.
He slammed the door in my face and that was quite frankly the last time I spoke to Mello. He spent a month ignoring me. I watched him every afternoon. I'd watch him play football with other boys in the field. I'd notice it when he'd notice me. I'd notice the way he'd try not to notice me. I'd watch him avoid, physically every place that held any memory of me.
And it was hurtful because he was trying to move on and I wanted him not to. I wanted him back here.
I couldn't concentrate on gaming anymore without thinking how much Mello hated that thing. I never looked at a console without thinking of him ever since.
It'll be okay. I told myself one afternoon as I watched him glance at the rooftop from down in the field. So long as he keeps a distance, shows the fact that memories of me hurt him, I know that he hasn't gotten over it, which means I have time. It's when he becomes indifferent that I know I've lost.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
I woke up the next day to find Mello nowhere. When I asked around they told me that he was gone….just like that….I saw my life shatter before my eyes and I understood what he felt when he saw Linda and me in the hallway.
I felt it as well then, the crushing wave of realization that we were both people, prone to imperfections, not consoles or trophies that we could own and decorate in our shelves. And I couldn't understand why we thought we were smart enough or mature enough to play with fire.
This was the point when my insanity started showing. I'd wake up every morning before everyone else and go to Mello's room, stare at the bed, the little scribbles on his desk, the place where he had absentmindedly written my name only to scratch it probably because he thought it was cheesy to make little hearts around your boyfriend's name.
I'd spend the rest of my day with my consoles and my consoles alone, showing up for classes when I was sure I didn't understand something in the notes Linda brought for me. I'd spend my afternoons on the rooftop staring down at the boys playing football wondering how they could go on without him.
At night I'd wake up in a cold sweat and run to the rooftop. Something would tell me Mello was there. He was. He had to be. I could feel it in the way my heart raced and ached. I knew I'd push the door open and there he'd be lying on a plaid picnic blanket smiling up at the moon that he wanted in his palm. He'd smile at me, tell me he loves me and we could wake up from this nightmare.
But every time I pushed the door open I'd find the broken telescope, lying there, rejected and abandoned.
I left Wammy's with Linda the following year. Why Linda, you ask? It has something to do with the fact that she is blonde. But it isn't just that. It's also that she's rather flat chested. It's also that her hair is cut in a fringed bob-cut that falls around her jaw when it isn't busy being tied up in those ridiculous two pony tails that she insists on having like a little girl.
But it isn't just that. It's that I'd rather punish myself with the thought of Mello than ever forget what he felt like. The second I feel like I'm forgetting him, I need to be back there with Linda so I can imagine just how he'd hurt when he finds out what I'm doing. I do it so I can picture him messing his hair, staining his cheeks, biting his lips, raking his nails on my face, trying to get himself to kill me. I do it just so I can pretend that he'd still care, still love me in his own mad way so I could love him back….in my own mad way.
I want to pretend he hasn't gotten over it, pretend I still have time…but the truth is, I haven't seen the paranoid blonde in five years….haven't heard of him or from him.
I lie, exhausted, next to a smiling Linda. I stare at the ceiling not wanting to see that she isn't really Mello. She kisses my cheek.
"You fuck like a mad man, Matt." She says.
"I am a mad man." I tell her.
She laughs it off. Silence ensues and lingers for a while.
"Linda, I won't be coming back." I tell her.
"Well, it was only a matter of time." She says.
I look down at her.
"Just because you ranked better than me at wammy's don't think I'm not smart enough to tell when a man doesn't love me." She places another kiss on my cheek. "So long then. It was fun."
She leaves the bed and puts on her clothes. It was my cue to make my leave…..for good this time.
It isn't that I want to let go off of Mello but I wonder how long I can keep this up. I wonder if this is good for her. I can find any other way to keep punishing myself. After all, everything reminds me of him.
But it isn't just that. It's something else too. I feel my heart race and pace and ache like it hadn't for ages. I feel the need to be somewhere…..like I was in the wrong place. I need to get to my flat. I think. Why? I can't be sure but I feel the need to be there….like I'd find him there, waiting for me. He'll smile at me, tell me he loves me and I'll wake from this nightmare.