Being in a Relationship with Mello.
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It's hard sometimes.
Being in a relationship with Mello, that is.
There are nights when I wake up, the spot in bed next to me empty, save for the cat who's decided to make himself comfortable on Mello's pillow. The first few times this happened, I became frantic, unaware where he had gone, afraid that he had left me. I would stay up all night waiting for him, praying that he was simply out buying chocolate or beer. When he'd finally return, I would yell at him until he pushed me out of the way so he could get to the bedroom.
By now, though, I'm used to it, I suppose.
Several times a week, it's the same.
No Mello.
No note.
No goodbye.
No warning.
Nothing but his rosary.
I always find it sitting on the kitchen table in place of Mello's bike key. Normally, he doesn't go anywhere without his rosary. I'm guessing that he feels guilty wearing something so holy while he's out doing so many sinful things.
I guess it's the only real way that I can be sure that he'll come back. That rosary used to belong to his father, who died in the Slovenian military. He would never leave permanently without it with him.
Sometimes, that's what I would do…sit at the table and count off those rosary beads while I waited. Other times, I would curl up on the couch with my big, fleece blanket and a beer and watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, or whatever other late night movie was playing on the television.
Hours pass, but I always stay awake. I may be tired, but until I hear the apartment door unlock, my mind just can't fully rest. I usually wait until dawn when the light is just coming through the curtains of the window behind the T.V. When I do hear the door, I immediately sit up and look over the back of the couch, into the kitchen, where I see him. He stands there, sort of leaning to one side, his eyes dull and unfocused, his hair's a mess..sometimes, his clothes are torn or undone, and more often than not, he's bleeding from somewhere. When Mello realizes that his rosary's not on the table, he staggers over to me and sticks out a dirty hand.
Before I hand it to him, I look him in the eyes, and he looks back. Only once have I asked where he had been, and I didn't get an answer. But I know. Standing so close to me, I can smell the events of the night. He reeks of stale alcohol, sometimes weed, sweat, sex, and nicotine. Upon getting a closer look, I see the bruises, hickeys, scratches, bitemarks…and I know. I give him a small, sad smile, and at this point, he always looks away from me. I sigh and hand him the rosary, watching him to make sure that he doesn't fall on the way to the bedroom.
I'm left to calm my thoughts, telling myself that it would be worse if I didn't know who he was fooling around with. Oh, yes, I know who it is. They've been friends forever and are relatively open about their relationship, he and Matt. When I start thinking about the two, I can't help but wonder if Psi stays up to wait like I do. Matt probably tells her when and where he's going…I wish I could say the same about Mello. Sure, it hurts sometimes, but I'd rather have him doing things with Matt than some random woman.
After I realize that I'm not going to get any sleep, I get up, feed the cat, do some chores, then I start breakfast. I take my time in cooking everything, because I know that Mellow will be asleep for awhile. When he finally comes out of the bedroom, though, he's showered, brushed his hair and teeth, and changed out of his leather and into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Around his neck is his rosary. We eat in silence; he won't even look at me. When he's finished, he stands up and leaves without a word, back out the door.
I don't worry as I clean the dishes, because I know where he's going. He's going to the church. How do I know this? His appearance, of course. He goes from looking haggard and worn out to looking like a nice, clean-cut Catholic boy. In all reality, I know he's going to the church to ask for forgiveness. It's unsettling to think that he needs to do such a thing after just one night out. I can only imagine the things he was admitting to doing…
Mello's usually not gone for too long, thankfully. Sometimes he comes home with hot coffee or beer…once, he even brought home flowers and gave them to me. He's almost always in a good mood when he gets home from the church. He'll come in, set his keys down, then find me and pull me into his arms for a hug that lasts much longer than usual. He kisses me, then gives me a little half-smile, his blue eyes full of life again. Mello would never appologize to me…he can't. He's too proud for that. But the way he hugs me when he gets home, I can tell, is his silent way of saying sorry.
People ask me all the time why I'm still with him. The simple, seemingly obvious answer is that I love him. Sure, it's cliché, but I'm just telling the truth.
'Leave, Onion…'
'He's doing nothing but holding you back…'
'Do you not see how he treats you?'
This is what I hear from people.
Sure, Mello can treat me like crap sometimes when we're around other people. They don't get to see the mello that I do, though. The Mello that gives up his chocolate money so that I can have the name-brand Captain Crunch instead of the generic kind. The Mello that stayed up with me when I had an apocalypse scare. The Mello that brought me home flowers after church.
There are days when I feel like I can't take anymore, and I just want to scream…but then he changes suddenly, and things are fine…
It's hard sometimes.
Being in a relationship with Mello, that is.
-owari-