Matt wonders when the world shifted around him just enough to fit Mello beside him. Or simply, how the blonde had managed to tare his world wide open to make himself fit. But when they come together it was worth whatever they broke to get that way.
As Mello hovered above him Matt thought of black birds with eyes that beaded blood and angels so bright to look at they lit every corner inside of him. Up close he would of thought the jet black wholes hanging in narrowed eyes, under beds of thick lashes would become a solid colour. A dark blue or a light brown. But they were black and Mello pushed his face towards Matt's until the tips of their noses brushed as if flaunting that long lost darkness.
Mello was a lost boy, a lost boy pulling him down one touch at a time. Fingers that had danced with the triggers of a gun, bunched the dyed locks of neighborhood whores and dug into countless bars of chocolate were now kneading Matt's stomach, nails catching in the dip of his belly button. Where Matt lay beneath soft tinted muscles and skin as pale as milk Mello sat above him in cased in a leather vest hanging open down the middle, sharp out lines and silent fury as if his body were a walking outcry to a world that left him burning.
Matt lifted fingers that trembled with a heart destined to stop on a note of death and traced the butterfly winged scar that webbed across Mello's face. In that moment he wondered if his best friend knew as well as he did that neither of them would be saved by the other. So why did they do this, seek it more than one last breath or a sin free redemption?
Mello peeled Matt's cargo pants down with sharp nails and the heels of his palms, eye's still crashing into his. He felt the cold air twist between Mello's fingers that spread on the juts of his hips and Matt threw his head back, body rippling on the wave, rocking on a bridge that would burn to the soul beneath them. And then Mello was moving, holding his hand across Matt's heart as if he could reach in and take it, find a safe place to put it until God's no longer wished to strike then down.
Matt cradled Mello inside of him, stretched like a yawn and made for every motion the blonde forced against him. Matt remembered sifting his fingers between hair that whispered at his touch, no longer able to see any more before he realized his eyes were shut. And that breaking sensation was not as sharp as he thought it would be, not even pain really just a weight that rooted where him and Mello joined. He could feel sweat slipping beneath the cross of their bodies, legs holding like bows on a present and hands tightening on bones waiting for the bruise of each other.
Everything tightened in them, throats, tears and a cord binding them together until they were arching into one another. Matt felt the silk tips of hair tickle his face and the hot breath on his neck rise the friction on a grunt.
They panted and peeled away from each other before the moisture could dry them together but if they were to get stuck like that they could just forget about Kira...if only for a while. Matt waited for the bed to creak, for the cold to rush back and the dream to rise and cover over the missing piece that wanted to stay lost.
But then skin was flush against his lips, a mouth burning inside and swallowing Matt's around his prayer. Mello's kiss was as soft yet as strong as the crucifix that hung from his neck, now embedded in Matt's chest. And though Matt knew it was their first and last chance at a rapture he couldn't think of a better way to be told he was going to die.