Note: This is the sequel to Impurities, a one shot I wrote some time ago. Reading Impurities is necessary to understand Black Swan (check my profile and look in my stories list!)
Beauty, willpower, energy, protection. That's what Matt saw in Mello. And it was worth being third. Worth curbing his mind to fail just enough not to gain a rank. Worth accepting Mello's flaws. Did he have flaws, after all? To Matt, Mello was perfect. Perfect in cruelty, perfect in lies, perfect in everything, bad or good.
Perfectly aware that they would die during Takada's abduction. But Matt had accepted. Because dying for Mello was the perfect death.
Matt had no interest in ranking, no interest in being L, no interest in catching Kira, no interest in Near. He had always felt like floating in a world that wasn't his, from the day his parents died. That's why when he met Mello, floating in Mello's world just came like finally fitting in a world, not his, but it didn't matter. It felt right. Because Mello gave him a place, where there hadn't been room previously. No matter what Mello put him through, Matt stood in place, never slipping out of the bubble the blond had forged around him. Around them. Matt was the constance in Mello's turbulences. The tree that grows strong and supportive and resist elements, the one where children, become adults too fast, run to, hiding in their branches securely; carve names to leave a trace of feelings they have, secretive.
Mello was a whole. Someone you have to take fully or reject, no in betweens. But his encounter with Matt planted a seed, deep, among egoism, ambition, short temper, inferiority complex. For the first time, Mello let go. He sat under the tree, stopping just long enough to save his soul. He didn't carve a name, for names were long forgotten, he carved his feelings directly in the wood of a growing bond. Secure in the branches that brushed his hair, feather-like touches of the only tree that could face all elements, even fire. Even Mello's fire.
Beauty, willpower, energy, protection. Mello was solar, and every morning, Matt would wake up, blinking at the sunshine. And the day L died, he didn't let the rain drown the sunshine, when the bubble cracked. He spread his branches, embracing the sun and invigorating the star with the sap of feelings that were not secretive anymore, because the sun is necessary to life, just like wood can keep fire burning.
But unlike the real sun, Mello's not fading irremediably, because he's constantly fed, and never falters in intensity.
Matt lit a cigarette, ready to reach the window, but he falls back on the couch as Mello pulls him backward. Still, he can't bring himself to exhale his smoke on the blond. The scent of smoke never bothers him, he's a chain smoker after all. But even if Mello dislike him smoking around him, that had never been the reason why he withdraw from his partner as soon as he lit his fag. He just wouldn't want Mello's chocolate scent to be overpowered by smoke. Matt cannot come close enough to Mello to smell it, because it's not how they are, and Mello would push him away scowling at the awkward proximity, so he makes sure Mello never gets smoke on him, so when Matt is sat next to Mello, like tonight, working on his laptop, he can still catch Mello's scent, this unique perfume of gunpowder, shampoo and chocolate, without which the air Matt breathes wouldn't be as necessary.
Mello has often lied to him, but it was never to hurt him, but to hide his shame. Mello was perfect to Matt, and still, Mello would fear to break his image toward the only one he cared to be perfect for. He knew he wasn't, but his ego liked to hear it anyway. He wished he was, so he would match with his friend.
He had also often let Matt down, but Matt didn't care, because Mello would always catch him before he fell to the ground. Mello was as much of the guy that pushes you off the border than the safety net.
Beauty, willpower, energy, protection. Matt often thought of Mello as a swan. Those amazing black swans, so rare that they have long been a myth, because the only known swans were white. Those black swans you have to see to believe they exist, just like Mello. You can't imagine real beauty until you see Mello. You can't figure out what fighting for something is, until you see Mello in action. And Matt can't even think of what it would be if the myth hadn't become reality.
Matt listened to Mello, his explanations, his doubts, his hopes, his... love. No abduction, no plan anymore, just Mello and him, and love. And tears, in Mello's eyes. It can't rain on the sun, so the tree stopped the drops, and shared, at last, the feelings carved in him. Because every living, once full and mature, gives back a thousand times what made him grow. Seeds of love are the hardest to grow, that's why, once they germinate, they spread all around, showering the world. Matt's world resumes to Mello's bubble, and so much love would've been like a global warming, endangering an entire ecosystem, if Mello wasn't fire himself. Fire fed fire.
Mello brought even more to Matt's belief that he's a black swan. When the unthinkable happened, when Mello gave everything up just for him, Matt couldn't help but think of Nassim Nicholas Taleb's theory. When something that should never have happened happens, when it leads to major consequences.
Mello has always had a great impact on Matt's life. Mello always brought Matt what he needed, in the less expected ways possible. If it couldn't happen, Mello would make it happen, not that it was conscious, but it always gave Matt fuel to live, when he thought he would never get what he dreamt of. Just like if Mello was meant to be his gasoline. A gas station in fire, punctuating Matt's tricky road.
Matt almost cried too, when his lips met Mello's, because smelling chocolate while he was around Mello was something, but tasting this sweetness in the mouth that had just told him aloud what was carved in him for so long, finally giving room for the branches to bloom, willing winter away, melting the ice in Mello's steel colored orbs and tainting his cheeks in a cherry blossom pink, made him feel like the sun was finally high in the sky, and that there would never be an eclipse in heaven anymore.