If It MakesYou Less Sad.. A Matt and Mello story
Chapter one.
The boy lifted his head from the floor where he had been laying. Eyes foggy, muscles sore, and throat dry, the young nineteen year old boy sat up and looked around. Red hair dropped in front of his eyes. The room he sat in was small and cold. Tiles filled the walls. It was the bathroom he shared with an angel.
His thighs stung. The boy named Mail looked down to see burgundy staining the boxers he had been wearing. His hands went almost unnoticed as they too were coated with dried blood. He thought about the meaning of this. The razor resting near the tub had a layer covering the sharp edges. The tool had a menacing look to it.
Mail moved his feet across the cold tiles. He knew what he did. He knew why. He also knew that a certain angelic blonde would be home rather soon despite his lacking of a time check. Mihael couldn't find out. There would be hell to pay, and Mail was poor.
"Would he really kick my ass?" Mail thought about the consequences of Mihael finding out about his deadly addiction. It was his fault anyway. If the beautiful bastard wasn't away so damn often, maybe the boy's body wouldn't be covered in heart-wrenching scars. Scars that dated back six years.
The skinny red head scrambled to his feet and gazed in the mirror. His face was thin, his arms were muscular but not disgusting, just enough to comfort a certain blonde when he was angry. He could see his ribs sticking out of his pale luminescent skin, but not so much as to where people thought he was anorexic. Not that he went outside anyway. The boys emerald eyes looked upon the figure in the mirror. His tattered mind wondered why a man such as Mihael would ever want to touch someone of his stature. He didn't want that to change.
Opening the cupboard under the sink, Mail wrapped his bloody hand around a clean medicinal wrap. He dabbed his wounds clean with water, then coiled the cotton around his aching thighs. He grabbed his pants laying behind the door and the bloody razor and walked out of the bathroom. It hurts to walk. Mail thought. He should be use to the pain. Although with every new and reopened scar, it's as if the pain never registered with his mind in the first place. Like he never felt pain as bad as this.
The bright microwave clock on the kitchen counter read two-thirty seven in the morning. Mihael would be home soon. The boy looked through cabinets to find a few chocolate bars and a pen and paper. He set the paper on the table and began to write.
"Dear Mihael,
I know you'll need this. Sleep tight.
I love you.
Mail."
With that, he took the bars in his hand along with the note and headed for their bedroom. The tired, battered boy set the chocolate down on the blonde's side of the bed and arranged so that he would see the note before the chocolate. Mail hoped that he slept with him tonight, not on the couch. He was lonely.
The boy's eyes were growing heavy and he knew sleep would come soon. He moved the covers he had been sitting on and crawled beneath them. His head laid on the pillow and soon succumbed to deprived sleep. In his last conscious moments, Mail heard the door creek open. The angel was home. The boy fell asleep with a smile growing on his lips.
This boy standing in the doorway, also nineteen years old, was worn and broken. He could barely stand up. His blonde hair was in his face and sticking to his cheeks by sweat. The boy named Mihael stepped forward and fell on the couch. He rolled onto his back and sat up to take off his boots. His aching feet had been cooped up for over seventeen hours without rest.
He needed two things as of that moment. Those two things in particular were residing in the room not fifteen feet away from him. He needed his redhead and his chocolate. There was no way he was sleeping on the couch. I fucking hate that fucking place. Mihael thought. His feelings towards the mafia were influenced by the danger he put his innocent Mail in. As well as the time he sent away from him. He hated it so much. He hated it more then Near.
"Fucking Kira. Die already.." He raged out loud, being careful to not wake the sleeping body in the other room.
The boy walked to the bathroom and gazed into the mirror. His sore eyes looked upon a blood covered pale face. He dabbed it clean with a warm towel. What the hell am I getting into? I have to beat Near.. But i cant do this much longer. Thoughts loomed inside his aching brain all day. He never escaped the thunder cloud of inferiority that hung menacingly over his head twenty-four seven. Near wont win. I'll die before that happens.
"Fucking mafia.." He hissed, continuing his thought out loud.
Does defeating Near really mean that i have to use the mafia? No.. Mihael's thoughts were never to be acted upon but they always lingered. He wanted so badly to leave that hell hole. But he couldn't. They'd kill him.
The sore boy threw the wet, bloody tissues into the toilet and flushed. He didn't bother looking on the side of the bath tub where Mail had forgotten to clean up some blood. The other boy would be very grateful of this in the morning.
Mihael wobbled out of the bathroom dragging his cold toes against the hard wood.
I hope Mail is asleep, he needs it.. I need it. He directed his body towards the semi-open door that lead to their room.
The boy swiftly slipped through the gap without moving the door. His eyes immediately found a sleeping boy sleeping soundly under their black covers. The lump of warmth rose and fell evenly with the sounds of in and exhales. The boy smiled. He then peeled off his leather pants and pulled on some flannel pants. He lost the vest and gently dove into bed next to Mail. His head was stopped from touching the pillow by a note and something hard.
He unfolded the paper that read Mihael and read it.
The boy looked at Mail and back at the note. He then directed his attention to the bars of chocolate residing in his pillow. Without hesitation, he ripped one bar open and devoured it in seconds. This had calmed him down by many levels. Though the rest he would save for morning.
Tossing the wrapper behind his back, the tired boy laid down. He laced his cold hand around the boy's waist next to him and pulled him closer. Mihael's chest was against Mail's warm back. This made him shiver and snuggle closer. He rested his head in the crook of the sleeping boy's neck and kissed his jaw.
"I love you too Mail." Mihael cooed into his willing ear. Apparently the warm breath was a surprise to young Mail because goosebumps arose upon his skin soon after the words were spoken. The blonde boy smiled and rested against him. He closed his eyes and placed his other hand on the pillow above Mail's head. He exhaled softly.
I want this everyday.. Fucking mafi- His thought was interrupted by a moving Mail against him. Mihael grinned and forgot his thought. He kissed the boy's neck once more then fell into a deserved sleep.
The boys slept, until a wretched nightmare yanked Mail from his blissful sleep..
AN: This is going somewhere I promise. ^^ I just had to open with something related to the plot then ease into the heartwarming stuff. And I know I know, I hate the idea of Matt mutilating himself as much as the next person, but it is vital to the story. So stay with me :]
And didn't I say I had a new story in the works? I did. And this is it. :p Soo...
How fast I update depends on how many reviews I get. So reviewww! Reviews make Matt think better of himself :]
Cash