Author's Note: Hey ^.^ Wrote this over a year ago, and it just got buried under everything else. Hope you enjoy – it's Matt talking about Mello, about bravery and yeah, getting towards the end of their time. Italics is all flashback… And I don't own the lyrics; they're Rufus Wainright's.
Warnings: Hinted MXM but could definitely be taken as platonic, brotherly type love if you wanted. Few swears, 'cause Matt's a bad boy. Spoiler XD
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, nothing mine, please don't sue and please don't whine.
Dedication: Umm. Rufus Wainright?
Shall we?
Do you remember all the nights, Mello, when you lay awake in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling until the early hours, then to rise, silently drawn to the pianos of the orphanage, hidden within the hundreds of bookcases you scanned by day?
I do.
'Fingers move, pale skin slowly dancing over black and white keys. I stand and watch from the doorway, watching the light of one in the morning make your face light up and darken all at once. Deep, dark shadow over your eyes from your fringe, you look like some abandoned angel, playing for a God who simply doesn't want to listen anymore. The tune changes - quieter now, something I recognise.
"I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord. But you don't really care for music, do you…"
Your voice is amazing Mell, and I think the pain and loneliness making you force the words to soften makes it sound all the more perfect.
"It's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah… Hallelujah…"
Hands clasped, eyes shut, you've done this thousands of times. But this is the first time you've trembled over your Hail Mary's, stumbled on Hallelujahs. Paused during the Lord's Prayer. Light suddenly reflects off silver on your cheeks, and I still just watch, helplessness keeping my gaze on your beautiful, beautiful face.
"I'm going to die." You blurt, opening your eyes, hands now firmly locked together in a death grip. You're terrified and so am I, 'cause you're the brightest thing in my life, the one thing I love that I can't smoke and doesn't have buttons. The star I'd willingly aim for, land on simply to be close to you for another second before bursting into self-righteous flame.
And you saying you're not scared just makes it worse, because you've never cried in front of me, not when you dislocated your knee playing football, fell from about fifteen different giant trees in the hundreds near Wammy's. Not when B died, and I know you were close to him. Respected him, even when he went crazy and declared his hatred for the man you admired the most in the world. You didn't even cry when you went and fucking blew yourself up. How you stood it, I'll never know. You said it hurt like Hell, and Jesus, I guess only you would know how that feels.
You're silently asking me for help, begging me to tell you that there will be another way to beat Near. Mello, I wish so much that there was, I hate this, all of it. It's so futile - we're so futile, so very pointless. But you weren't - not to me, not to anyone who met you. You're a firebomb, ripping apart my life and lighting it up in a grand finale we've always been destined for.
I fall to my knees from the edge of the bed, wrap my arms around you hard and try not to cry as well, because you've got it harder so I've got absolutely no right to cry when you've only ever shed a few tears in front of me in the decade I've known you. Minutes later, you relax your arms finally, and hug me quickly, strong and slim and you.
It's a hug of apology for breaking down, of comfort, and, heartbreakingly, acceptance, and I know there'll be no more tears, and no more fear. You're the bravest person in the world Mello, and I'm just gonna follow your example, and hope like Hell there's a Heaven, because knowing that this… This, right now, could be all the time I have with you…
No.
Thank you for being brave, Mell. Don't leave me behind when you get into Heaven.
I've always loved reviews.
Help me out?
Lemon
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