A promise is a delicate thing. It cannot be touched, held, weighed, it can't be drawn or thrown. It can be made, but not built, it can be
broken, but not killed. Unless voices are recorded there can be no proof that it ever existed except in memories. A promise is useless,
worthless, and meaningless, a promise is simply that, a promise.
The blonde knew this, he had always known it, even before he came to be an orphan. Words like "I'm here for you." "I'll take care of
you." and "I love you." were just lies one said as easily as they breathed. They never planned on keeping their word, and he knew it
too. Every orphan learned early that promises were empty.
So when he woke on a beat-up mattress, with gauze wrapped around the left side of his face and his chest, he assumed he was either
hallucinating or dead, and the boy in the striped shirt he saw sitting on the edge of the bed from his right eye was a figment of his hopeful
imagination or some sort of mocking devil (for he certainly was not fit for any after-life but hell). Though certain it was not the real boy,
Mello couldn't help but, out of some hidden optimism that lay deep within his soul or desperation that things had hit their lowest, to call
out Matt's name. When it turned towards him and he saw the familiar face, a bit aged by the years spent apart, he knew it wasn't a
devil. And when it smiled and said his name, when it came over to him and gently ran its fingers through his hair, Mello was sure that it
was not an apparition but the real Mail. Mello's imagination wouldn't create something that told him "I missed you." That was almost like
a promise, and supposed to be just as empty.
The months past and Mello got better, healed through Matt's careful attentions and surprising skill (there were some advantages after all
to the obsessive game-playing and Internet surfing that Mello had mocked him for in their Wammy years). During that time Mello
avoiding asking Matt why he saved him and Matt refrained from making the promises that annoyed Mello except for gentle kisses and
low whispers when he thought the blonde was too near sleep to bother yelling at him. They passed the time by playing computer games
and ordering pizza and hacking bank accounts for money like any teenage boys would do, and on the side Mello was reformulating his
plans to defeat Kira even before the gauze was removed from his face a week after he and Matt were reunited.
"I'm hideous."
"You're beautiful."
"You're lying."
"I never lie."
"Yes you do."
"Never to you."
And before the debate could go on any further Matt had leaned and kissed Mello quickly on the lips, bringing echoes of the past and
promises they had made and one had known was lies and one had known was truths. The question was unasked still and lay around the
house, and the answer to was in the walls and rooms but Mello never asked because he didn't want a lie and Matt never answered
because he assumed that Mihael knew.
More time passed and plans were laid. Matt turned spy for Mello and Mello ordered him and pretended that the younger followed him
simply out of habit or lack of care, while Mail provided him with chocolate and housing and a thousand little things and never told him
why so the blonde wouldn't yell or smirk or mock him for his stupidity. And still at in the dark after he stole one goodnight kiss he
would think of the promises made back in their childhood and the promises he made to himself when Mello left because he believed in
promises and would not let them go.
"Because I love you."
The answer came when the question was asked, and the question had to be asked now because there may never be a chance to ask
again and Mello hated loose ends. It was unavoidable because only Matt would be stupid enough to say something like that and mean
it, and only Matt would go on a suicide mission for someone with just a grin and an "Ok." and Mello needed to hear his reasoning so he
could mock it.
"That's stupid."
"It's what I promised."
"Do you regret that promise?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"Never to you."
And Mihael said the same to Mail because they were dead men anyways so what did it matter and there was sweat and moaning and
embracing and kissing and desperation and clinging to each other long after it all was done because the chance may never come again to say
promises that one thought were lies and one knew were truths.
"I love you."
"You're going to die."
"No I won't."
"You're lying."
"Never to you."
And that's when Mello knew he would never see Matt again because Matt believed in promises and love and would only lie about the
former for the sake of the latter.
