Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
Soooo I haven't uploaded anything in a while because I've been in a writing funk. I'm trying to get out, but its not really working. I've been listening to the song Samson by Regina Spektor way too much for my own good. This is a product of that.
My arms wrapped around his slender waist as I rested my head in his lap. "Matt?" He questioned me, unsure of what I was thinking. I snuggled my face in closer into his thigh, breathing in the scent of leather. "You alright?" I made a sound that might sound like I was.
In truth, I felt like I was about to break down. The only thing that was keeping me from sobbing like no tomorrow from the feeling of having my heart break inside my chest was the soft feel of leather under my cheek. If he spoke anymore I would probably lose it though, I wouldn't be able to stand what I did, or his acceptance of it. "Matt..."His voice was soft, gentle, and it broke me. "It's fine. You've done nothing wrong." I could feel the tears on my face before I could stop them, and buried my face into the sheets rather than his leg. I couldn't forgive myself for what I had done, even if he would. I was ashamed. I was hurting myself, and him in the process and I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't forgive myself for hurting Mello. Ever.
His hand ran softly though my hair, and began to trace small circles in my back. "Matt, its fine. It's just some hair, it's no big deal." I would have looked up at him to say how big a deal it was, but I couldn't face him. Not after what I had done. Not the way I had made him look. I hadn't seen him since I had done it, I refused to allow myself to look at him. What if he no longer looked the same as I was used to? I had always seen him with long hair, since the day we meet. I wouldn't. Even if I couldn't see from how swollen my eyes were already becoming, and even if my nose was running.
I could feel him as he lied down beside me, still gentle as ever. His lips connected with my neck, and he began to kiss me. I couldn't feel his blonde hair brush against my neck, and it made me cry harder. I was broken. And I had done it to myself.
I barely even know why I had done it. I want to say that I was high. I have been using more than usual, but I wasn't. I was sober. The only thing in my system was nicotine; I hadn't even had a cup of coffee for caffeine to me pumping through my system. I had seen the dull scissors on the counter besides the wonder bread I had picked up earlier.
I would never want Mello's fire to die; it's one of the things I love about him. I love his strength, his vulnerability, his courage, his everything. But I wanted him home, safe. I wanted him to stay near me, always and forever. I wanted him to give up Kira, because it would only end up killing both of us. I just wanted to take away some of his strength so he would be safe. And somehow the idea of Samson got into my head when I saw those scissors.
I didn't do it right away. Mello wasn't even home, and I didn't attack him when I first saw him. But the thought plagued me. Why couldn't I stop Mello from destroying himself? Us? Would everything be fine if I just took away his powers? Somehow I began to think that his hair, blonde, perfect and long was the only thing between his death and living until we were old and wrinkled. He would lose some of aura, I began to think. His hair was what he hid behind, now that he had his scar. If I just cut it...everything would be fine. He would stay at home. Safe.
It took me three days since I saw the scissors on the table before I picked them up and took them to Mello's hair as he took a nap on the couch.
I was almost in a trance until I looked at all the hair that was no longer attached to his head. I dropped the scissors and ran to the first area I could lock myself into; the bedroom. I quickly huddled into a ball, crying softly with the image of his hair stuck in my mind. It wouldn't go away. I know before he was even awake that it would hurt him. His hair was something he held dear, almost like a blanket to hide behind. He didn't want the world to see his faults and true self. I had exposed it. I hadn't even seen what he looked like yet, and I know that I would never be the same. In trying to protect him from the world, I had only hurt him myself.
I guess I had fallen asleep, because when I awoke, he was beside in the bed. I didn't look up, I couldn't, but I felt the warmth of his body beside me. I'm sorry. I thought. I couldn't find the ability to speak. He didn't get the message as he leaned over me, calling me name. The part that hurt was it wasn't in an angry was, but in a confused and hurt manor. Even though I had known I would hurt him, hearing his voice was too much. I started to cry again, ignoring his reaction.