To Carry His Cross by Miharu is Haruka's Love Child
New A/N: This is my story. I used to be Miharu is Haruka's Love Child. When I originally posted this one-shot, the Literate Union tried to get it taken down for being too sexually explicit. FFnet never took it off even when it was reported like a bagillion times, so now we know that this story is a perfect example of the grey area between an M-rated fic and an MA-rated fic.
Original A/N: This is for Dlvvanzor…as inspired by a recent chat we had…
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I claim nothing…All Bible verses are taken from the New International Version and simplified slightly.
This is my first time doing present tense…
Warning: Heavy religious references, male-sex, and non-orthodox Biblical interpretation. I don't give a fuck if you're offended by that sort of thing, It's MELLO, so deal.
Song Suggestions: 'Angels Cry' by Everlife and 'Forgiven' by Los Lonely Boys
The pages are so thin as my fingers slide across them, searching, peeling the layers of my sanity away…this book has been my everything, my guiding star, my hope, my shoulder to cry on…the fragile threads of my every breathe and the warm comfort of familiarity. The cover's worn from the many hands that have run across the golden leaf…It is all I have to remind me of the world before.
It was so simple before. Before him.
My eyes flit across the room, to the object of my vicissitude, my hesitancy…I shouldn't be questioning myself. Ever.
Damn.
Matt…you will be the death of me.
Maybe…you already are.
Maybe you already…are.
Maybe…you…already are…
The moonlight is still shining faintly across the pages as I read them, not from sight, but from memory. The words have long been etched into my mind from days of desperate clinging to their solace.
Have no other gods above God. I swallow…how many times have I made L out to be my God?
Have no idols. Power is such a grueling bitch, holding me to her chain…Money, sex, position, I've had it all, I've worshiped it all…I've held the world in my hand and crushed it without remorse.
Don't misuse God's name. Ha! All the times I've marred His name just by wearing this crucifix around my neck. Instinctively, my fingers slip around the cross that hangs before my chest.
Keep holy the Sabbath Day. I've had entire churches burned to the ground on Sundays…
Honor your father and mother. It is a little known fact that I was never an orphan at Wammy's. My family practically sold me to L and Watari in exchange for a monthly stipend, which I assume my mother used on booze and my father on…other women. One of the first things I did with my rise to power was track them down and erase all evidence of the Keehl family from this world. They knew my name, and even though my appearance has changed over the years…they knew my face…
Do not murder. Guns, knives, crowbars, poison, my bare hands…I've ripped people apart by their limbs. I've set houses on fire. I blew up an entire building…I've had people drugged, shot, maimed, crushed. Torture is quite common in my former profession…you've never heard screaming until you've skinned a child alive with the parents watching…slipping the blade between their flesh and letting the blood drip drain from each sinew…no gags; you want the terror etched in their trauma filled minds. The things I have done and am damned for are many and vile.
Do not commit adultery. In the dirty squalid past, I've fucked anything that breathed, as long as it had the potential to bring me closer to my goal. To be number one…what a joke…I'll always be dead last.
Do not steal. The things I've taken…money, lives, virginities, innocence, power…when you're at the top, everything and everyone belongs to you…nothing is sacred.
Do not lie. Is there even a single bit of my horribly marred soul that isn't a lie? Everything I've lived for for years is a lie…the problem with intelligence and power when they unite is the utter intricacy of lies the mind can weave…When I look in the mirror, I don't even know what is truth and what is a mirage, a facade created in my meaningless journey…
My fingers slide against the worn spine of my Bible, resting the pages before I replace the book in my drawer. I don't want to think about the last verse…the reason why I've been sneaking into our old room every day since the first time I showed up on Roger's doorstep a week ago. I'm careful to place the Bible just where it always has been. My side of the room hasn't changed once since the day I packed my things and left…
His face is so peaceful as he sleeps, and even though he's changed, he's still the boy I left behind…
Matt will always be Matt. Matt will never be tainted. Matt can never become what I have become…
He doesn't know I'm here, or that I've been coming to see him like this. I couldn't bear him to know I'm here. Because of the circumstances and the utter shock it might bring to anyone who remembers me, I've stayed hidden in Beyond Birthday's old room during my stay here. Roger was shocked to see me, so abrupt as I turned up, but he didn't even question the scar that splits my face…
My skin looks boiled and deformed like the demon that lives within my body…
A sudden ruffle of sheets and I turn my head to face him, the moonlight washing over that peaceful expression.
You shall not covet. That smile, it melts me…the peace, the innocence…it's utterly breathtaking. I look at Matt, the boy who once my friend, who is now a man and a mere stranger, and my heart breaks. I can't help myself this time, my feet move and suddenly I'm above him, shrouding the milky skin from the invading moonlight…
I lean in over him, and brush a stray strand of auburn into the ruffled tresses of his hair.
They say everything happens by divine appointment—that God lets all things come to pass by some greater plan. Each person's life is mapped out in a web of cause and effect. Our lives alone are insignificant, but together, each of us is like an impulse surging in waves of influence. In our finite understanding, we can never know how our actions will help shape the world around us, but everything has a reason and everyone has a purpose.
My ripple might be a bit more fucked than most…crashing and destructive in its wave…
His eyes open slightly, and in the grogginess of his half sleep I can see a gleam in their emerald surface.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!
Fuck! His fist connects with my jaw and I have to grasp out at the air as I tumble backwards…of course he hits me. Who the fuck wouldn't lash out at a random shadow leaning over your supposedly empty bedroom?
"Damn it!" I let go, before I can help myself…but it's too late, he saw me, he touched me…and he's not going to mistake me for a dream. I scramble up but I'm caught by those eyes, boring holes into me.
"Mello?"
He's sitting up now, mouth agape…staring at me. I can't turn away…I can't turn away…those are the eyes that make you wear your soul on your sleeve. I can't hide from him… I couldn't do it when we were children, and I sure as hell can't do it now.
"M...Matt." my voice cracks…his name is so foreign on my tongue from the years we've spent apart.
I know God loves me, and he will always love me, no matter how ugly I taint my soul. He's never left me. I'm the one who turned my back on him. God will always be waiting for me when I stop running from myself and surrender myself to him.
Slowly, slowly, he lowers himself to the ground, to meet me at eye level. His movements are deliberate but cautious. He wants to make sure it's not a hallucination that I'm here in our room with him…he touches his fingers to my cheek.
"It's not an illusion…I'm here."
He brushes away a tear that I didn't even realize had run down my cheek.
"Mello." He repeats, over and over as he lifts my chin, looks into my eyes…takes in the scar, the leather, the smell of blood and power…oh God, why did he wake up?
And suddenly, his arms slip around me and I'm being held in a tight embrace. Idiot…why do you always just accept me however I am? When Matt's fingers trace circles across my cheek I can't help but press closer to his warmth. His touch is so soft and the familiarity is comforting. The tears are flowing freely now.
He says things…but I don't hear a word. I respond, but I don't know what words I'm saying, because I'm trying to keep it together, trying to hold myself in some semblance of the man I've become.
It's impossible in Matt's arms.
They say the angels watch us from up in heaven, and they don't understand why we disobey God…but every time we sin, they cry for us. There must be hundreds of angels assigned to me, weeping for all the darkness that seeps from my heart. He'll forgive me…I know He will…
Matt's eyes are the kind that probe you, search you, strip you naked and know every secret of your heart…I can't help but confess everything. He simply holds me and we cry together and I tell him all of it. The murders, the kidnappings, the sex, the drugs, the lies, the lives I've ruined, everything I've done in my race to beat Near…
It all seems so meaningless now.
I wouldn't even be here in this room if it wasn't for that woman, Halle Lidner. Near was right to pick her for his team—she hadn't even flinched at the sight of me, blown up and bloody in her bathtub the night I escaped the explosion. I had to make several promises, and I even gave Near some information but she helped me. She got me drugs and a few well-placed favors later I was on a private plane en route to Winchester…
I'm ugly, I'm wretched and I don't deserve his pity, but he clings to me like I'm some sort of fucked up angel come to save him. Matt…never changes…he'll always be my idiot.
I stiffen when I feel lips brush my nose. No. No no no no no no no…NO! He can't! Not after everything!
But he does.
Of course he does.
How could I be so stupid? To never notice before…
Damn.
There's hesitancy in his eyes but my silence is ominous, so he presses himself against me again. And again…and again.
His lips touch my nose, my eyes, brushing tears away from my cheeks, my chin, down…lower, right below my ear. Shit.
I can't. I can't. My best friend…the one I left behind…the one part of my life that isn't dripping in sin. Matt I can't taint you…
I also can't pull away.
Fuck!
When our mouths move together, I know I've lost. I can't turn back…I can feel it in his touch, the pain, the worry, the passion…and the…the…
The forgiveness.
Did you love me when I left you Matt? Did I leave you broken and hurting with no one to turn to?
I can feel it all. And it breaks me.
I don't know what this is, what the fuck this is other than raw pain and hurt searching for comfort, but my body responds of its own accord. His lips move lower, tongue sliding against the nub of my nipple. I don't remember losing my vest, but the rougher I kiss him back, the more I can feel my frustration leaving. I let my fingers run across his shirt and I pull it off him. His pale skin is illuminated by the wash of moon beams streaming from the window. I don't know why I haven't stopped this.
I've never thought of Matt this way and maybe it's wrong that I let my teeth graze his ear and my fingers undo the buckle on his belt but I can't stop, not when he's touching me so desperately, so feverishly…making me feel wanted again.
He drags me up off the floor and we make our way to his bed, still shedding the garments that hide our vulnerability from each other. Would it be fair to tell him that I've never loved him this way?
I'm being shoved against the mattress, my hair splaying across his pillows. They smell like his cigarettes and his shampoo and something else that I can't quite identify. I lean my head back as he leans over me, raking my nails down his back…I'm far from being a virgin, but somehow, I'm scared of having sex with Matt…I'm scared of what it must mean to him, if he loves me like I can see in his eyes. His tongue moves to my dick and I'm clutching at the sheets, too overcome with lust to keep my hips down as he blows me.
I'm a selfish fucker and it feels too good to back down…not that I ever back down. Everything is gone…nothing exists except for Matt and Matt touching me and my frantic clinging to his back as he rubs me as far as I can open, making space for him to slip inside. Even though I anticipate the touch, it still hurts like a mother-fucker when he enters, sliding into me with one quick motion and I gasp out. The pain is blinding.
The pain is…cleansing.
It's not like anything I've ever felt before. The sweat drips from his forehead as he grunts. I think I'm saying something…I'm making plenty of noise, moaning out, clutching the headboard, the sheets, his hair…It isn't rough but it isn't gentle…it's too much, not enough, and my every nerve is on fire, screaming in ecstasy.
So…this is what it's like when someone makes love to you…sex doesn't even compare.
I'm not the kind of person who should be loved…and I've never cared for someone the way I see the emotions overflowing from that emerald gaze…but I could get used to this...for Matt I could…
I know I'm black inside…my soul is one great sin. There are layers of filth and grime and pain and I don't deserve anything less than to drown in the lake of burning sulfur…
They say when you go to heaven, God gives you a new body, makes you clean, and fresh, and new again. I don't deserve that…though, if we're truly honest with ourselves, which of us does? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
Matt and I have never been the kind for words, and when he says those three, it's like a knife stabbing my chest.
"I love you." He whispers.
Why? Fucking why must he be as wonderful and caring and innocent as he is? I'm distracted by the overwhelming tightness of my abdomen, and he rides out orgasm with me. My brain explodes from the sheer feeling of it all. It's pure adrenaline and…something else…coursing through my veins.
"Oh my God! Matt! My God, Matt! Matt!" I'm dizzy, and only aware of Matt filling me. My semen must be spraying everywhere but neither of us care. He's gasping and clutching me and we're holding onto each other because really, we're all the other has…
My legs are still slung over his shoulders as he lowers himself onto me, pulling out with the blood and the seed and sweat staining the sheets. I scoot a little and he lies next to me, tangling our legs and intertwining our fingers…our faces are so close, that even our breaths mingle. Intimacy aside, we've never been this connected in our lives. There's a lump in my throat and I can't bring myself to say anything. So I snuggle into him and relish the beating heart that's pulsing for me.
Pulsing for me? Breathing for me? Damn…
Matt…where does this take us now?
I don't know what tomorrow brings. I can't pretend anymore that I have all the answers, that I'm not afraid of Kira, that I have a chance at beating Near and avenging L, that…that I can't do it all alone. We're not the kind for words, but I can read his touch so well. With his arm around my waist, I feel safe and he's protecting me, holding in my sanity. No matter what happens, I'm not alone anymore.
I'm so fragile now, that I don't think I could bear to be away from him again.
I don't know how this will work, or even if I'm in love with him, but I'm already trailing kisses across his torso, my silent way of thanking him for never turning me away. It sounds strange but, I already want to feel him again. As I look at Matt, I feel the forgiveness washing over me.
I'm fucked, I know…
Someday, God will forgive me. But until then…
Maybe…maybe Matt can show me how to forgive myself.
xxbeyondxbirthdayx once told me how Matt and Mello are worth crying over, with the intensity of their love…maybe I captured it, maybe I didn't, but this is as close as I've ever gotten thus far in my writing about them. And…it made me cry.
Thanks for reading.
Review?
