This Matt-Mello one-shot has been in the back of my head for ages. I started to write it once, then deleted it after a while when I got frustrated with it. But now here it is, completed and ready for you lovely readers to (hopefully) enjoy ^_^
Warning: this isn't like my BBxKira stories. There is blood, but not in the sense you might be thinking. If anything this story has more mush than anything, just 'cause I love being dramatically sappy with these two. So be prepared!
Note: before people get all rawr on me and say that there's no way Matt could survive the things in this tale…well, I'd like to point out that there are real life instances where people have done the remarkable: survive a knife to the skull, multiple gunshot wounds *cough-thankyouMells-cough*….so this is entirely plausible! And besides, it's fucking fanfiction baby! XD People have characters survive MUCH worse than this, so I think I'm allowed to bend natural law a bit LMAO
Reference to the gunshot wound thing: .com/gallery/d33t0ax
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. Duh . There'd be more BBxKira if I did, and Matty would've had more than 69 seconds of screen time…not that those 69 seconds weren't amazing!
Mello knew something was wrong the minute the front door slammed open, releasing a blast of frigid air into their apartment and shrouding the figure in the doorway with a whirlwind of red tinged snow. Familiar stripes were all that were visible in the shadows, and a wink of orange tinted lenses, but for once the form of his best friend and lover didn't set him at ease. There was something….off about the redhead. Call it a sixth sense, but he was always right when it came to these kinds of things, especially dealing with Matt. The teen had been on his radar for years, and that bond had only grown stronger since their being reunited. "…..Matt…?" Mello held still in his chair, shoving the worry out of his tone and replacing it with cold anger. "You're an hour late."
"…sorry," finally came the coughed response, and alarm bells instantly went off in the blonde's head. Mello recognized that sound; he'd heard it often enough in the mafia. "I-got held up," Matt coughed again, his gloved fingers coming into light as his hand slid across the wall. Blue eyes shot wide when they pinpointed flecks of brilliant red decorating the leather of Matt's glove, then carefully narrowed into tiny slits.
"Doing what..?" Mello practically snarled, instantly regretting it when the redhead slumped in the doorway. The hand that he now realized was supporting his friend slid away, leaving a dark handprint behind on the peeling wallpaper. "Matt….?" Rising from his chair, every muscle screaming at him to run forward and cradle his friend, Mello gripped the arms and steeled himself. "What happened?"
Matt tilted his head up, his goggles catching the light. But they were murky, and even in the dark Mello could see a smear of something clouding the right lens. "Told ya," he muttered, "got held up." He stumbled forward, catching himself quickly enough to where the move appeared nothing more than a simple step. Mello knew otherwise, and his temper immediately flared. Even a blind deaf retard would be able to tell that Matt was hiding something, no matter how pathetic his attempts were at doing so. "S-sorry I'm late…"
'Like I care about that,' Mello was tempted to scream. Anxiously he wetted his lips before releasing the chair and stepping forward, a flare of anxiety curling in his chest. "Matt, don't fucking lie to me," he grit out. "What….happened?"
Bitter silence passed between them for a moment, until it was broken by a racking cough from Matt and his feet shuffling across the dingy carpet. "I-ran into some trouble," he admitted, and Mello finally caught a glimpse of the front of Matt's chest as he came a bit more into the light. His vest and right sleeve were coated in red, trickles of the liquid falling like ribbons all down the side of his right pant's leg and splattering the motor-cross boots Mello had bought him for his birthday. "Coming back…I stopped to buy cigarettes a-and your chocolate. I forgot to get it right away." Matt flinched and gripped his side, blood quickly coating his fingers.
"And? Matt, what the fuck happened to you?" Mello yelled. Green eyes turned on him, dirty boots silencing their trek forward.
"I….I got jumped," he whispered, quickly looking away. A flood of horror washed over the blonde, his knuckles bleaching white as he clenched his fists. "They wanted my wallet," Matt shook his head, the action nearly throwing him off balance. Mello knew, already he knew, that Matt hadn't gone down without a fight. As passive as he looked, the redhead was a fighter at heart, and he wouldn't settle for someone trying to push him around. Had been that way since he was a kid. It was what had brought them together. "You know me." Matt managed a weak smile, confirming his assumptions. "Always stubborn."
Too stubborn. Mello tried to analyze his lover's condition, but all he could see was blood. Blood on Matt's clothes, in his hair. Hell, streaks of it were even running down his cheeks. "Jesus Christ Matt," Mello murmured, his every fiber screaming at him to haul the redhead to his side and care for him. "You fucking idiot…"
Green eyes flickered weakly behind round lenses, and Matt wearily took another step into the room. It was his tiny cry of pain that had the snarl of rage tearing from Mello's lips, at which Matt jumped back and promptly tripped on a patch of peeling carpet. The crash was deafened by the floor, but the answering screech of agony seemed to echo off the walls and drill into Mello's ears. God, how many times had he heard a sound like that? But nothing seemed to compare to the screams now pouring from the teen's lips. They were ice in his blood, and each one was met by faint tears that welled up in Matt's eyes and rolled down his filthy face. "Matt!" Mello's feet took a life of their own, and before he knew it he was kneeling down and cradling Matt's broken frame, gloved fingers scoping out the damage. "Matty….." he bit down tears of his own and stared into the beautiful face of his lover, which at the moment was frozen in a mask of pain. "Dammit Matty, talk to me! Where're you hurt?"
Matt slowly opened his eyes, relief and stubbornness twin flashes in the emerald depths. "Mells, I'm fine. Quit worrying," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "It's just a-just a scratch." He tried to push himself up, but almost immediately fell backwards with a hiss of pain.
"Scratch my fucking ass." Mello pushed him back down, holding him with a hand while the other shoved up the bottom of his shirt. "You're hurt." The striped fabric pooled above Matt's bellybutton, and Mello felt a growl rumble in his throat as a pale torso was revealed. Studding the pale flesh were thin slashes and cuts, each shallow looking but still trickling blood. Worse, a deep wound penetrated the normally pristine skin of his side, raw and red near the edges.
He felt his eyes narrowing into slits, red threatening to tinge his vision. 'Someone cut him,' Mello scanned the thin body. 'Probably with a switchblade.' And they had to have shot him face to face, but from a distance. 'Wounded him so he couldn't get away…?'
"Mello…." Matt grappled for him, bloodstained fingers touching his arm. "C'mon man, it's not that-"
Mello shot him a cold look, and the redhead flinched, shutting his mouth. "Matt. Shut the hell up. You were fucking shot. You have dozens of knife wounds all across your damn chest." His gaze lifted higher, zooming in on the particularly bloody spot on Matt's right shoulder. Ignoring the cries of shock from Matt, Mello ripped his lover's striped shirt from collar to waist, jerking the right sleeve down. "…oh God…." Mello held back bile, his gloved fingers tightly gripping the bloodstained fabric. A massive bruise had turned the whole of Matt's shoulder dark purple-blue, only marred by a garnet stab wound that he could tell was deep. 'Too deep; it'll need stitches,' Mello brushed a finger over it, his heart clenching at the near whimper Matt let out. "Fucking hell….." he looked at his lover, not ready for the pain glazing those beautiful forest eyes. Even through orange tint the sheer agony in them was all too visible.
"Yeah…guess it's kinda bad huh?" Matt managed a weak grin, wrapping a hand around Mello's and squeezing gently. "Don't look at me like that Mells…."
"How do you want me to look at you," the blonde snapped, ripping his hand away. "Fuck Matt, look at you! You're a wreck!"
The redhead dropped his gaze, teeth gnawing heatedly at bloodstained lips. Mello's stomach immediately lurched with guilt. 'Dammit Matty….you and your stupid fucking…' cutting himself off, Mello sighed and rubbed his temples. "Geez man, c'mon…" he slid an arm under the redhead's legs, the other carefully cradling his back.
"Mello, what the hell," Matt grumbled, gripping his hand tighter. "I can walk….."
Shooting him another look, Mello ignored him and scooped Matt up in his arms, the thin body too light for comfort. Blood soaked through the front of his vest, but he saw with relief that the wounds scattered across his lover's body weren't bleeding as profusely, though trickles of red still curled in wavy lines down Matt's chest and arm. "Fucking dumbass," Mello muttered through clenched teeth, carrying a practically limp Matt into their apartment's tiny kitchenette. 'Thank God we got a suite…'
Matt grabbed at him again when Mello swept everything off the table and laid him on it, tears fogging up the insides of his goggles. "Mello-"
"Shush Matty," Mello snapped, his hands trembling slightly as he swept them across the mangled frame on the table. Guilt kept smashing down upon him with each touch of his gloved fingers on the soft skin, and he felt the green eyes watching him underneath bloodstained bangs and lowered his head. "Matt…fuck Matt, why didn't you just give those fuckers your wallet?" He slammed a fist against the table, taking a shaky breath. "I'm going to find those sons of bitches and rip them apart."
"Mello…you can't do that." Giving him a tiny grin, Matt rolled his head on the table, leaving a smear of faint red on the wood. "We're undercover, remember?"
"Fuck if I care," came the snarl. "Those assholes are gonna pay Matty." Mello looked at him, his free hand almost tenderly brushing back copper bangs. God….so much blood…..even after nearly blowing himself up there hadn't been this much blood. Matt was coated in it, and the sight of those eyes glazed over in pain…it was enough to send him roaring into the streets, hunting down each and every one of the fucking bastards who dared touch what belonged to him. But now wasn't the time. Mello took a breath, eying the many cuts and injuries. "Oi….the bullet." His fingers gently grazed Matt's side, carefully applying pressure. "Where is it?"
"I-I got it out," came the tiny reply, and with a grin that normally would've seemed triumphant, Matt pulled a tiny mangle of silver colored metal from his pocket. "It wasn't that deep to begin with. Hurt like a bitch though."
His fingers immediately curled around the shard when Matt passed it to him, tears stinging his blue eyes. "How the hell-did you get this thing out," he snarled lowly. His stomach immediately began to clench as two gloved fingers made a pinching gesture against the cloth covered wound, bile once again hitting his closed lips. "Matt, you idiot! The bullet was probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding too much. What would you have done if you hadn't gotten home in time, huh? HUH?" He tossed the broken bullet aside, barely hearing it clink on the floor. Fuck…nono, he had to calm down! Forcing air into his lungs, Mello let out a shaky breath. He had to be calm, if anything just to soothe the worried look on his lover's face. He couldn't have Matt fretting…not now, not when he was like this.
"He-hey, Mells, lighten up-" Matt struggled to sit up on the table, paying no heed to the dark look his lover gave him and burrowing a hand into his pocket again. This time a bullet wasn't in his hand when he pulled it out, but instead a thin, silver wrapped square laid in his palm. Mello could make out tiny blue print on the wrapping, and he frowned as Matt shakily held it out to him with a grin, green eyes going half lidded. "Remember? I went out to pick up some more chocolate for you, a-and some cigarettes." He blushed with shame, scratching his head. Mello couldn't help but notice the dried flecks of red-brown that hit the table. "I kinda smoked a pack on the way back….y'know, before"
"Matt?" Mello took the square from him, nearly crushing the tiny chocolate in his hand. "Shut up. Just, please….shut up." He nearly kicked the chair back in his haste to stand up, growling curses under his breath.
"Mello-man, I-" gloved hands reached for him, and almost by reflex Mello smacked them away, angry flushes of red appearing on his cheeks.
"Goddammit Matt, I told you to shut up!"
He knew it was wrong, yelling at Matt. The redhead, his lover, was but a victim in all of this. Matt had been attacked….and it was all his fault. Mello swore as the guilt came crashing down on him, making him stumble forward about of the kitchen. Matt's cries followed him, but he blocked them out and closed his eyes, a choked sob falling from his lips.
His fault….it was all his fault!
He was the one who'd told Matt to go out and buy him more chocolate. HIM! Hell, he'd all but screamed at him to do it! All because his fucking temper got away from him….like always. Mello's eyes prickled with tears, each one burning like fire before staining his face. "Matt….Matty….." he collapsed onto the couch, gnawing at his knuckles. It was because of him that his best friend was hurt. He may not have pulled the trigger, or brandished the knife like those soon to be dead bastards had, but it was because of him that Matt had been out there. If not for his bitching, Matt would have been home with him. Safe, unharmed. "Fuck….what was I thinking," he whispered.
Matt was hurt. He was bleeding on their kitchen table, and Mello had put him there. He'd…Mello slammed a fist against his forehead, dispelling the thoughts. 'Shit! Here I am feeling sorry for myself, and Matt's-'
Fuck, what if he was dying? The gunshot wound alone could be life threatening, but all those slashes…..and he hadn't even seen what might've been below the belt…..Mello gagged, grabbing the couch arm. Dammit, he left Matt all alone on the kitchen table, bleeding, broken, and suffering major injuries! "Shit!" He bounded off the couch and went straight towards the kitchen, but halted halfway and rebounded to their tiny bathroom. They had practically a whole medical arsenal in there, most of the stuff left over from after his scene at the warehouse…. 'when Matt cared for me.' Mello shoved open the door, unable to resist a small smile. Matt had been in tears when he'd come screeching into the warehouse parking lot in that death trap of a car, eyes streaming and clothes hastily thrown on. He'd looked like an angel to Mello; a red haired, emerald eyed angel. "Matty, I'm gonna take care of you," he swore, throwing open their medical cabinet and hastily pulling off everything on the shelves. "Bandages, alcohol, gauze," the list went on and on, the last thing he grabbed a tiny black case that he knew contained the sterilized needles and thread Matt had picked up on their last trek to the hospital. They'd come in handy more than once, and Mello was damn thankful that Matt had forced him to learn how to stitch a wound closed.
Rushing back out of the bathroom with his arms literally loaded down, Mello's boots thunked against the floors of their apartment as he rushed back to the kitchen. "Matt!" The supplies were dumped onto a counter unceremoniously, though it was only after he had them scattered about that he actually noticed.
….the redhead was gone.
"Wha-what the fuck?" Mello frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Matt?"
No response.
'Fuck…..fuckfuckfuck…..'
Mello bounded around the table, but no sign of the gamer. He was gone. "Shit!" And there was the guilt again, only this time he was a bit more willing to let it worm its way into his heart. What the hell had he been thinking? Seriously, had his IQ dropped so low? Not only had he left an injured man lying on his kitchen table, but it'd been his lover. Matt. Mail. Of course he wouldn't just lay there while he was running around like a chicken with its fucking head cut off! God damn it, at this rate he should just admit defeat to Near, he was such a complete dumbass! "Matt! Where the hell are you?"
"…..Mello?"
Oh thank God; that tiny whisper from the next room was sweeter than any of that crappy techno Matt blared over their stereo (which Mello secretly loved). Mello slowly turned around, not sure whether to scream with frustration or grab his lover and pull him into a big hug. There was Matt, still holding the dish cloth against his side, leaning on the doorway that led from the kitchen into the living room while wearing that goofy smile Mello couldn't help but love. But the fact that Mello was looking at its owner standing up was somewhat of a problem…after all
"WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU LAYING DOWN?"
Even over the sounds of his own screams Mello could hear Matt's chuckled response. "You ran off," he muttered, shrugging off the doorway. Mello was on him in an instance, dragging the redhead into his arms and all but carrying him into the living room. "Couldn't lay on that table much longer anyway….hurt my back." Matt blushed, turning slightly in Mello's arms. Damn, why hadn't he noticed it before? Matt's back was covered in scrapes and bruises, and a few wayward slashes extended past his ribs to cut into the taut flesh near his spine. Laying on that had surely been painful….but Matt hadn't said a word.
"Shit Matt, you should've told me!"
Matt held up his hands at a measly attempt at assuaging him. "Mells, don't worry about it. It's ok, you couldn't have…"
Mello was sorely tempted to throw him on the couch and pin him there, but sadly that didn't seem too plausible at the moment. Instead he gave the teen a soft push, making him sit on the worn leather. "Matt…..don't start." Mello ran a hand across his head, pressing their foreheads together for a moment and gently tilting Matt's head back. Blood stained his temple and cheeks, but even through the crusting liquid he could see there was no major damage. A tiny scrape there, a small cut here, but that seemed to be the worst. But the wound on his side….it was a problem. He had to get it closed at all cost, or else Matt could bleed to death. Already the cloth pressed against it was stained dull red, and more blood, though thankfully not much, kept coming. "I've gotta get your wounds tended to," he murmured, a gentleness taking possession of his voice. "Especially your side. Any ideas?" Matt knew more about Medicare than him, for obvious reasons of course.
Matt slumped against the couch, tiredly looking at his side and then at Mello. "You can't sew that closed man. I-I'm not sure…" he yawned, trying to keep his eyes open. "S'not like we can go waltzing into a hospital…."
"I'll do what I have to. Fuck our cover."
Faking a smile, Matt shook his head. "Bullshit. Worked too hard for this Mells….can't give it all up now."
Frowning, the blonde raked his bangs aside roughly, feeling the healed area of his scar rasp the leather. "Yeah, but-" his entire mind went on auto pilot, and pale eyes slanted into cool little slits. Heat, usually applied with metal, was often used in extreme circumstances to close a wound. A centuries old method, and highly effective. Mello cringed, fully cupping the mangled half of his face. He knew Matt was watching him, confirmed when a soft squeeze of his wrist was followed by a pained smile.
"That could work," he winced hesitantly. "You'll have to sterilize the shit out of whatever you use, but…."
"It would close the wound," Mello finished.
All the color drained from Matt's face. "Yeah."
Oh God…..have mercy on his soul. Mello knew what he had to do. "I'm going to try it," he whispered, clutching his lover's hand tightly, if only to offer himself comfort. He waited for Matt to nod again, steeled his nerves, and with a growl of determination went strolling back into the kitchen. His heels clicked on the battered floor, but he ignored it, leather squeaking in protest at the loss of pale fingers to clothe. Tossing his gloves onto the bloodstained table, Mello snatched up the bottle of alcohol and ripped the cap off, dousing his hands in the strong smelling liquid. As soon as he was sterilized, he wrapped a clean dish towel around one of them and sifted through the utensils littering their counter, finally choosing a solid metal spoon with a plastic handle. Wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. Mello grimaced, setting it on the stove and cranking the fire to life. Golden flames came up to lick at the metal, and, after adjusting them to a gentle crackle, he picked up the alcohol and carried it, along with another clean dish towel, back into the living room.
"…what's that," Matt mumbled, his face pressed into the leather cushion beside his head.
Mello doused the cloth in the astringent, setting the bottle on their battered coffee table. "I've gotta clean your wounds Matty. Can you sit up?"
"Y-yeah." Gnawing his lip, Matt carefully lifted himself into a sitting position, casting a wary look at the soaked swatch of fabric. Mello saw the look and perched himself on the couch behind him, letting the redhead's body rest against his torso as he hugged him gently.
"You ok?"
Matt seemed to melt into his arms, one hand coming up to gently grip the pale fingers on his chest. "Oh yeah….fucking peachy."
Mello leaned his head down, blonde silk mingling with matted red, and rolled his eyes at the smirk tossed his way. "Smartass." Squeezing the cloth, he leaned over his lover and draped it directly above a sore looking red cut, giving Matt an anxious look before pressing it close. Almost immediately Matt stiffened in his arms, giving a sharp hiss of pain. "Sorry…just tolerate it," Mello forced the words past his lips, trying not to cringe each time he brushed the cloth across the red wounds. Matt gripped the couch and dug his nails in, his face twitching with pain. "Matt…?" The cloth descended further down his chest, cleansing more of the tiny cuts. "You doing ok?" Which both males knew translated to 'are you going to pass out or something anytime soon?'
"F-fine. Doesn't hurt too bad…" Matt nuzzled close to him, the move making Mello's hand drift closer to the wound and dish towel still pressed against his side. God, just looking at it made the blonde want to cringe. But with his smaller cuts cared for, Mello knew it was time to focus on the gunshot wound. And then Matt's shoulder.
"Alright man, I need you to press this to your shoulder, ok?" Mello handed him the alcohol and rag. Matt took them slowly, looking at his blood coated skin with a shiver. "Do it. I need to go get everything else." He was up and out of the room before he could see the results, but the loud groan told him all he needed to know. Shaking his head, Mello threw his hair up in a messy ponytail and went to work.
'First things first.' A large bowl made its way into the sink, and Mello hastily turned the knobs on, letting cool water fill up the bottom. They'd need that to soak rags in. Speaking of….Mello threw open a drawer, growling angrily. Empty. Fuck. Didn't they keep any more rags around this place? The next one met the same fate, but then he sighed in relief as the third drawer gave up its cache of clean, though rather worn, dish cloths. Into the water they went, and Mello pulled the whole bowl out of the sink, turning off the water. Now on to the metal.
"Mells? …you ok? Need my help or-"
"Keep your scrawny ass put," he shouted, eyes unwillingly turning to look at the now red hot spoon resting on the stove. Sighing, he grabbed it by the handle. Seeing it, feeling the heat from the metal, Mello was disgusted by what he was planning to do. He couldn't fret about it though; it was necessary. Matt had made too damn good a point about them being undercover. That being true, he couldn't cart the redhead off to the hospital like he was so tempted to do, or else risk someone discovering their identities. That right there would be a death sentence.
The lesser of two evils was his only option, since calling in a private doctor would likely lead to the same problems. Mello bit his lip. Grabbing the bowl and several rolls of bandage and gauze, and the spoon, he went back into the living room. Matt had remained on the couch, his normally peaches-n-cream complexion alabaster white. A dull pink stripe colored the cloth flattened against his shoulder, in contrast to the now revealed flesh of his side. The wound there was angry looking, but Matt had cleaned it though, for the skin surrounding it was blood free. Red, raw, but clean.
"Hurt like a bitch," Matt grumbled, casting his side a scathing look. Glancing at the utensil in Mello's hand, he ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes. "But I think this is gonna hurt more."
Mello didn't deny it. Setting the bowl on the table, he scooted the whole thing closer until it was a foot from the couch and took a seat, carefully pointing the spoon away from Matt. "….." silence and stares passed between them for several moments, until Mello reached out, touching his palm to an unmarred section of ivory skin. It was warm beneath him, and he clenched his nails slightly, cringing.
God help them both.
"…you sure about this Matty?"
Matt tried to smile, damn did he try, but it morphed into a grimace that had Mello's skin crawling. Reaching a hand out, the redhead instead tugged at the leather belt hugging his hips. "Mells, get this off." When Mello looked at him questioningly, Matt sighed and weakly lifted his hips, pulling it out of his jeans.
"The fuck Matt?" Mello watched him twist the belt around his hands, realization hitting him when the leather was pressed to pale lips.
"Gotta shut myself up somehow," Matt tried to kid. "Y'know I'm a screamer."
At this rate, the fuck was going to become a permanent addition to his rather extensive list of phrases. "Just put it in….and get your fucking mind out of the gutter," Mello scowled, pressing the leather tightly over Matt's lips. His brow wrinkled in confusion, and Mello sighed deeply. "Dumbass. Bite it."
Matt's teeth popped over the leather and bit down obediently, an act that normally would've struck the blonde as being so damn sexy….but not now. "Keep doing that." Mello jerked the rag away from Matt's shoulder, ignoring the deep, raw wound staring him in the face, and swabbed it gently across the bullet wound once more. Now he was just stalling… Mello looked at his pallid lover, driven speechless at the sheer amount of emotion staring back at him. Jesus Christ. Fucking trust. Trust blazed in those eyes he fucking adored, made them turn a searing green that pierced his very soul.
….what had he done to deserve such an amazing lover? Why did Matt trust him so wholeheartedly? "….dammit." Smacking his free hand against the table, Mello looked at the gleaming silver in his hands, the still hot metal that was lusting to touch Matt's broken, utterly beautiful flesh. He had to do this. Certainly God hated him, making him put the love of his life through so much agony. "Divine retribution's a fucking cunt," he snarled, bowing his head. Matt looked at him, and Mello had a funny feeling he knew exactly what had been running through his head. Then again, it was Matt. "You ready for this?"
No verbal answer. Pale flesh instead caressed his clenched hand, calloused fingertips touching his knuckles. Mello blinked, throwing a hard frown at his lover. Matt's hands were a rare sight to see, since usually they were clad in worn leather. But there they were, entwined with his own. Mello bit his lip, clasped that hand tightly in his own. "Matt…."
"Mells…just do it," Matt kept his eyes on him, lips quirking into a faint smile before he secured the belt between his teeth once more. Mello gripped his hand tighter, bringing it to his scarred face for a small, barely there graze of his mouth.
He lowered the spoon.
….quietly, sounds of flesh being charred materialized. At first Matt didn't respond. He seemed passive, his expression one of calm confusion. And then the pain hit.
Next came the screams.
Matt's shrill cry quickly filled the room, the sound of flesh sizzling ringing in their ears and nearly overpowering the redhead. Tears running down his face, Matt sank his teeth into the belt and muffled the screams, unable to control his body as it thrashed about on the couch. Mello, jaw dropped in horror, jumped into action. "Stop!" His hand slammed down onto the center of Matt's chest, pinning him in place, and he all but straddled him on the couch. "Dammit, Matty, you've gotta stop," he whispered, his voice barely better than Matt's at that point. "Fucking quit moving!"
"Nnn….!" His whole body trembling with pain, Matt gasped and moaned, head thrashing back and forth. He seemed to understand though, for his body went boneless on the couch, but the tears he wasn't able to stop, nor the muffled cries that the thin belt couldn't completely mask. Fuck….Mello couldn't look at him. He just-he couldn't do it. The sounds of sobs and burning flesh tainted his ears, so he chose the easier choice. He turned his attention to the pale chest he was beyond familiar with, and the steam shadowed spoon currently filling the curve of the bullet hole that stabbed Matt's side. He had no clue how long it would take to close over; hell, he was fucking in the dark when it came to this shit.
After several more seconds Matt's screams died down beneath the belt, replaced with gasping sobs that sent tremors down Mello's spine. "M-Mello…." Matt spat the belt out and burrowed his face into a cushion, a green eye peeking out from beneath ruby fringe and spilling fresh tears down his cheek. "Fuck man…..h-how did you stand it?"
"I don't know Matty…." Mello whispered. The hand holding the spoon trembled, and he glared at it with sheer disgust, ripping the utensil away from Matt's side. A whimper, an actual fucking whimper, followed, Matt reaching for the seared square of flesh on his side. "No!" Mello grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "You can't touch it."
"Fuck…" jerking it away, Matt reached for the bowl of water at Mello's side, pain blurring his features. "You-need to put lukewarm water on it,"
"Don't you touch it." Slapping his hand away, the blonde threw the spoon across the room, feeling immense satisfaction when it clanged loudly against the wall. "I'm working on it." As he snatched a soaking rag from the bowl, Mello couldn't resist shooting a quick look at the raw, violently colored patch of skin on Matt's side. It was…..an all too familiar sight. "God…..Matt, I-I'm-" he bit his lip, and the redhead cringed.
"I know." Hissing when the wetted rag, which had thankfully warmed a bit, touched his fevered skin, Matt closed his eyes and dug his nails into the couch. Mello winced; he knew damn well that it was beyond painful. The water and cloth would soothe it, but he'd be dragging out a few of his contacts to acquire some major pain killers if Matt was gonna make it through the next few weeks. If he…no. Mello halted those thoughts dead in their tracks. He'd make it. He had to.
Tucking another now tepid rag around the perimeter of scarred mass, Mello raked a hand through the sticky strands of Matt's hair. He'd need a shower after all this was over. "….any better?"
A dry laugh was his only response, but that ended in Matt seizing and trying to grab at his ribs.
"No!" Mello's mind flared with panic, and he pinned slender hands to the couch. "Matty, don't. You'll make it worse." Touching the wound, however closed over it was, would only aggravate it.
Matt shuddered. "I-kinda doubt that Mells…." yet he made no protest when his limbs were gripped tighter.
"Fuck Matty…I know it hurts," Mello sighed, catching the hint of pain creasing Matt's lips. Carefully detangling their fingers, which had unconsciously folded together, he leaned forward on the couch. "But I need you to be tough, ok? You can't be a puppy right now." Smirking at the sharp narrowing of emerald, he bonked Matt's forehead lightly and picked up one of the remaining rags from the table. "Be a…a…I dunno, a wolf or something."
That earned a scowl. "Fuck off. Asshole."
"And you love it," he retorted with a grin, his first real one of the night. Amazing. Even when his lover was in a potential life or death situation, Matt was always able to make him smile. Mello shook his head, picking up a tube of cream; it wasn't ideal, but hopefully Neosporin would at least keep the smaller slashes clean and protect them from infection. He was just thankful they didn't require stitches. Speaking of, "How's your shoulder?"
Blinking, Matt forced a weary glance at the bruised and bloodied flesh. The whole gesture tugged at Mello's limbs, weighed them down with fatigue. "Umm….wow. Kinda forgot that was there." Matt slumped slightly, frowning hazily. "Damn…"
Mello stared at him, then blinked and unscrewed the tube. He couldn't believe this. It just wasn't fair. "You forgot you had a giant gash in your shoulder?" A smear of white coating his finger, he brushed it gently over a cut slashed into his lover's torso. "How the fuck did you manage that?"
Wincing when the cool cream made contact with a cut, the gamer took the rag Mello offered him, dabbing it carefully against his shoulder and hissing under his breath. "Well, having a giant ass patch of burned flesh on my side kinda helped. Y'know…numbed me to everything else."
That he understood. Mello smeared more cream over the cuts immediately available. But soon enough the flesh of Matt's front was covered leaving only his…
….no. Nonono, this was too cruel. Mello shook, squeezing the tube. "…..Matty?" He wanted to hold his rosary, beg penance, anything but this. "I need you to roll over."
Bloody nails twitched, marring the worn leather of their couch. "….fucking serious?" Matt opened his eyes, as half lidded and glazed as they were, and locked their gazes. "Mells….no. Fuck no."
"Matt, you have to. I need to get to the ones on your back." Mello tried not to plead, but damn was that look fucking pitiful. "C'mon Matty….
"No! I-I can't! Just-let me sit up, or something," Matt pleaded right back. "I can't take that man….don't make me…."
Fuck. He was such a softie. "Ok, ok. Calm down," Mello muttered, patting the couch. "Sit up." As long as Matt was calm, he could handle this. He could…do what he had to. The hardest part was over anyway. His eyes were drawn to the burn staining Matt's side. Miniature, a round circle of crispy flesh, it should heal rather nicely. Mello knew the scars ran deeper than the eyes could see though; it wasn't only the physical that would haunt his lover, no. Things were never that simple. "Lean forward." He tugged Matt's arm, and the redheaded gamer did as told, his slight body barely a whisper on Mello's frame. Mello frowned but held him close, caring for the slashes that extended down pale ribs. If one had cut too deep…..
"Ahh-owww," hissing suddenly, Matt shook in his arms. Mello jumped, whispering a quick apology. Fucking sensitive. He was going to rip those bastards a new one.
"Done." Patting them down with a clean cloth, he gently laid the gamer back. There was a moment of shifting and agonizing looks before Matt settled, panting softly.
"Nnn…not quite." Taking the cloth, he patted it against his shoulder. Blue eyes followed his hand, bile swimming in the back of Mello's throat. He didn't want to look at it. Gunshot wounds he was used to. This…this was different. Matt's shoulder looked fucking mangled, its bruised exterior and gaping wound something out of a horror story. "It's…gotta be sewn up," Matt let out a long yawn, one that had Mello filled with dread.
"No sleeping." He warned. Matt's hand made a vaguely reminiscent ok gesture. "Matty…I'm serious. You can't sleep. I need you awake right now." Mello reached for the sewing kit, staring at the hooked needles and slowly plucking one out. It glinted, taunting him. "Hey. Give me your lighter."
Matt opened his eyes, which had been lazily shifting from half lidded to shut, and fumbled with his pocket. "Fucking hate this…" he grumbled, handing it over. Polished steel, engraved with the Pacman symbol. A late birthday present back from the Wammy days. Mello flipped it over his fingers, clicking it open and watching the flame burst to life.
Hello memories, and a warm fuck you.
He stuck the needle tip into the flames. "Where's the thread?"
A piece of said thread was held out to him, fingers twitching nervously. Mello took it, throwing his lover a wan look. He looked like shit, and was still bleeding. "Matty, need you to hold this." Handing him the needle, the tip glowing red, and the thread, he took off into the kitchen. Fluids. Matt needed fluids asap. Glasses rattled dangerously as he threw the cabinet open, grabbing one of the few not chipped ones and filling it up in the sink. Wasn't much, but it would have to do.
"Here," he went back into the living room and snapped up the threaded needle from Matt, who gaped in surprise. "Drink it," and the glass was shoved in his face, cool water spilling over the top. Matt hastily swallowed a mouthful, his eyes never leaving the needle in Mello's hand.
"…you remember what to do…right?"
Mello rolled his eyes. "It's not rocket science." And yet why did he feel so nervous? "Just keep still." Plucking the bottle of alcohol off the table, he trickled a bit of the clear liquid over the wound. Matt groaned, forcing his gaze to the ceiling.
"J-just give me-oww! Shit!"
No warning. The needle easily pierced alabaster skin, blood staining the cord that began its journey of threading his flesh closed. "Sorry. I thought it'd be easier, getting it over with." Mello pulled it taut, the tiny knot Matt had made at the end of the thread meeting the edge of the wound and finishing the first stitch. "I'm gonna keep going," he warned, barely giving the notice before starting the rest of the stitches. Matt cringed with each one, but Mello saw him biting down the grimaces and forcing himself to relax. His puppy was a strong one. It gave him slight comfort, and the stitches went by much quicker; before he knew it, he was cutting the remaining thread and knotting the ends, trimming it close to Matt's skin. "There." Smiling weakly at the gamer, he threw the needle and scissors onto the table.
Yawning again, Matt's eyes fluttered. "Ya done…?"
"Yeah." Mello rubbed his temple, feeling warmth against his fingers. No surprise, the redhead had a mild fever. Aspirin would take care of that though. That and plenty of fluids. "Keep drinking. You're gonna need it."
"Ughh." Another swallow of the water. Matt glowered at it, then at him. "Wish it was liquor. I'd kill for a shot of vodka."
Chuckling, Mello kissed his forehead. "You and me both Matty." He leaned back, and a quiet look was focused on the man sprawled out on their couch. He needed a shower desperately, but it was too early to disrupt his battered frame like that. Plus, his wounds still needed to be bandaged up. Already reaching for the bandages, Mello brushed his thumb across Matt's lips. Bruised, swollen, yet still so appealing.
"Mells, I-mph!"
He covered that lovely mouth with his own, tasting blood and tears on his tongue, and the distant flavor of cigarette smoke. Matt stared at him, hesitantly threading fingers into Mello's hair and tilting his head back, letting a smooth tongue tangle with his own. So tempting, the feel of their lips clashing. It was a sweet kiss though, lacking their usual aggression, replaced instead with a tender care that warmed his chest and filled him with hope. Matt would live. No matter the strings he had to pull, Mello was going to make sure that his lover survived this ordeal. The worst was over, sure, but the recovery…..
"Matty," Mello pulled away, staring into hazed emerald eyes. Exhaustion and the remnants of pain swirled turbulently amongst the dark green, broken by faint glimmers of affection, and Mello hesitantly touched his thumb to the curve of Matt's right eye socket, tracing it. Matt leaned into the touch, his lips still trembling a bit from their kiss. "Matt…." smiling faintly, Mello pulled the redhead to him. He was warm, soft yet firm, his bony frame like putty in his arms. Mello gripped him tighter, taking care not to hurt him.
This flesh belonged to him, in every sense of the word. Those bastards had dared to touch what was his, and a thousand excruciating tortures to use as revenge were already dancing through Mello's head. Matt doubted that he'd find them; ha! He'd hunt them down and rip them to shreds. Those bastards were lucky they hadn't…hadn't tou-….Mello froze, his lips pausing midway in a kiss to Matt's neck.
"…Mells?" Matt's arms squirmed in their position against his chest, ashen lips curling into a frown. "What's wrong?"
Mello ignored the sheer irony of that statement and pushed Matt back, forcing their stares to clash. So beautiful….so broken. Oh god, why hadn't he even thought about the possibilities? All of those bruises could certainly have come from a mere fight, but he'd seen one too many victims of rape and assault in his lifetime. Damn it all, he should have asked Matt first thing! "Mail." Mello gripped pale forearms tighter, his whole body chilled to the bone. "Did they touch you?"
Matt went frigged at the sound of his real name shock writing its way across his pallid features. Mello knew it was uncomfortable for him, hearing his birth name, but it was the only way to truly stress the situation. "…they…hit me, if that what you mean," Matt grimaced. "Mells, what's this about?"
"They didn't do anything else?" Mello was already scoping out his lover's body with a fresh gaze, each and every bruise enduring the full brunt of his glare. "I need to know. Did they r-" his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed heavily. Just thinking about it made his gag reflex act up. "Mail…..did they rape you?"
"Wha-what?" Matt shook his head, and a wave of nausea instantly disfigured his features. "The fuck Mello?"
Mello shushed him. "Matt." Tenderly, he cupped a pale cheek and brushed his thumb across Matt's lower lip. "If they did, it-it's ok. I'll help you through it. We can enroll you in therapy, all that shit."
He'd kick their asses. Maybe rape them with a rusty pipe. Those bastards would be begging for hell and its sanctuary when he was through with them.
"N-no! They-they didn't. Just attacked me." Matt's sickened look only grew, and he pressed his lips together, rolling slightly onto his uninjured side. "Fuck-Mells…." he closed his eyes, nearly hyperventilating. "How could you ask-ask me…y'know…"
Mello frowned, smoothing a hand across Matt's brow. He was still burning up. That damn fever just refused to break. "Ok, ok…. Just…had to make sure." He dipped his hand into the bowl of water resting beside him, trickling a few drops of the tepid liquid onto the redhead's flesh. Matt murmured under his breath, letting his eyes slip shut again. "Hey, no sleeping. Matty, c'mon. You know you can't. Not yet. You might have a concussion." Ignoring the protesting whines, Mello rolled him back over, avoiding his bandaged wounds. "Stay awake Matt." He injected just enough of a bite into his words, and with a grumble the gamer's lashes fluttered up.
"Fucking hard ass. You make a sucky nurse."
"Keep it up. See if you get any cigarettes these next few weeks." Mello smirked at the faint look of horror tossed his way. Grocery shopping would be his responsibility, since the redhead would be all but chained to the bed until he was fully healed. Maybe a little bit longer. Mello liked to be thorough. "Now c'mon. You need to get bandaged up." Scooping up the bandages, Mello dumped them in Matt's lap before picking up the redhead himself, the boy's light frame butter soft in his arms. Matt immediately started to squirm, making claims that he could walk. Frankly, Mello ignored him. Not like the redhead really had much of a choice anyway. He was dead on his feet, theoretically speaking. Had it not been for the persistent nagging, Matt would be long gone into dream land.
"Hnn…Mello?" Matt rolled his head on Mello's arm, staring at him in pure exhaustion. God above, he felt sorry for him. "Dude…I know you're all, y'know, concerned and shit, but please man." He fisted Mello's vest. "Please, can I sleep? Wake me up in an hour, if you want, but pppleeasseee….."
Fuck, but he was a softie. Kicking their bedroom door open, he silently laid the redhead on the soft mattress, glancing at their alarm clock; it was past two am. Matt had come home roughly an hour before. Surely that was enough of a wait? "..Mells….?"
"Let me bandage your wounds." At Matt's groan of frustration, Mello patted him on the head. "Then you can sleep."
"…fuck, tell me you're serious. This isn't some sick prank, right?" Matt lifted his wounded torso, sighing as the bandages began winding around him. Mello made sure to be gentle, but quick.
"Yeah Matty. Soon as I'm done, you can sleep to your heart's content, ok?" Fastening the ends of the soft material, the blonde focused on Matt's shoulder. The wound there was a little bit tricky, considering the way it was positioned, but finally he managed to cover it and pin the two strips of bandage he'd used together. Matt flinched as the pressure was applied, much to Mello's loathing. Damn, but it couldn't be helped. "Ok…" he scanned Matt's body. The gunshot wound and miniature cuts had been covered, including the wayward slashes that ruined Matty's back. Even his shoulder was good to go. Smiling, he answered the silent question green eyes were all but screaming at him. "Sleep."
Matt didn't even bother maneuvering himself under the sheets. Resting his head on a pillow, he brushed a kiss across Mello's knuckles. "Thanks man," he whispered. Mello nodded, brushing Matt's cheek in return. Smiling at the gesture, Matt closed his eyes and was out within minutes. Panic was gnawing at the blonde mafia boss mere seconds later, but his lover breathed steadily, and for the moment his features were wiped free of pain. Mello thanked God silently, hugging his rosary.
Silence permeated the room, the stench of blood and burnt flesh heavy on his skin. Mello grimaced, enduring it. Not like he hadn't before. "Matt….." his held still held tightly onto those slender fingers, ones that could pound controller keys with as much finesse as he did a keyboard. Those same digits had been inside Mello more than once, and he smiled at the memories, pressing Matt's hand to the bed. Standing and giving a good stretch, Mello went into the bathroom. It was still in chaos from his early rampage. Ah well. He didn't feel like cleaning it.
Hmm….a shower sounded nice. Mello eyed the shiny knobs and faucet longingly, then shook his head. No. He'd wait until Matt woke up. They could take one together. "Hnn." Instead he grabbed one of their few clean towels and soaked one half in the sink, lukewarm water staining the material ebony instead of mute grey. Carrying it into the bedroom, he folded it over and rested it against Matt's fevered skin. That should help. Not like he could do much more anyway.
He dropped onto the bed, kicking off his boots. Might as well get comfy, yeah? As soon as his leathers were shucked off, leaving him naked save for boxers, Mello leaned over Matt and stared. Pale skin, though a flush from the fever gave the illusion of perfect health. Sodden red hair, due to the blood and towel. And under those quivering lids, a pair of eyes colored the shade of Midori. Mello smiled to himself. Matt was beautiful. And he had…
Blonde locks covered Mello's face, his head bowing. He wanted to tell himself that it wasn't his fault…
Matt had gone out on HIS orders. He'd been the one who'd wanted chocolate. Him. Those guys had been stupid enough to attack Matt, but in the end, Matt never would have run into them if not for him. Many would say he made repentance by bandaging his lover up, and the doses of meds he'd be receiving would help a shit ton, but it wasn't enough. He should've been there….hell, he never should've lost his temper and forced the teen to go out and
"Mello…..stop thinking" came the sleepy murmur, and Mello jumped, flushing guiltily.
"Wha-Matty? You're supposed to be asleep!"
Matt smiled, his eyes remaining closed. "Your guilt is fucking suffocating. I can practically feel it in the room." He yawned, and it was beyond fucking adorable. Especially when a solitary eye fluttered open, peeking at him. "It's not your fault Mells….no one but theirs. They attacked me," Matt patted Mello's thigh, his fingers lazily fisting the material of printed boxers. "So for fuck's sake, quit feeling sorry for yourself and get your ass down here. I wanna cuddle."
Mello gaped, fucking gaped. "….you're a confusing mother fucker, you know that?"
Jesus Christ, Matt should hate him. He should be wanting to bash the blonde's skull in for getting him landed in this situation, not want to cuddle! But…but he couldn't resist that smile. It was infectious, just like everything else about the nerdy teen. "Mello, come on," Matt started to whine playfully, the dregs of sleep whirling in his voice. He wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "I wanna sleep, and you're keeping me up." He pushed his lower lip out, tugging at Mello's boxers again. "Please Mihael?"
…damn. The name always got to him. Sighing, Mello laid down on the bed beside him, curling his arm around the redhead to hold him close. Matt snuggled up to him instantly, digging fingers lazily into blonde locks and murmuring contented noises under his breath. Mello watched him drift off once again, half considering detangling himself once the redhead was officially zoned out. His mind said fuck that though, and instead he reached for his pants, fishing the sleek cell phone out. Punching in a number by memory, he waited until the soft click came from the other end, his lips forming a deadly smirk.
He wasn't pushing his guilt aside. Not that easily. Matt could protest all he wanted, but Mello knew he would likely blame himself always for the damage his lover had undergone this evening. Rape was luckily out of the picture, but the fact remained.
"Rod. I need a favor."
Matt had been hurt. His Matt. That just wasn't fucking allowed, ever. Those mother fucking cunts would pay, and he knew exactly how to find out where they were. "Camera footage. Gas station on seventh street. Get it." He hissed in annoyance, making his demands more urgent. "Don't ask fucking questions! I need painkillers too. The heavy shit, got it?" He didn't wait for confirmation; chucking the phone onto the floor, Mello chuckled and wrapped Matt gently in his arms.
Payback was a bitch, and vengeance would taste oh so sweet. He'd give those assholes a few bloody wounds of their own. And maybe, just for lolls, he'd use that rusty pipe idea. Surely God would understand. Even if he didn't…Mello looked down at Matt, his features peaceful. Splattered with the remnants of gore, bandaged to hell and back, his skin frosty pale. Oh yes. He'd channel his guilt and rage, take it out on those soon to be dead bastards. Because of them, Matt stumbling into their apartment, bloodstained and wounded, was an image that was seared into his damn brain. He would never forget. What was seen could not be unseen. What was heard….Mello shuddered, Matt's screams still fresh in his ears. Those cries of pain would haunt him for eternity.
So, he'd make fucking sure that those bastards suffered the same. Except they, unlike Matty, wouldn't make it out alive. Revenge was best dealt out by a hateful blonde with icy blue eyes, and his polished 45. Colt.
Mello kissed Matt's cheek, chuckling maliciously. Nobody messed with his lover.
FYI: this took me forever to write, so reviews and comments are really fucking appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed! (and I got lazy at the end, if you can't tell. Gomenasai!)
~Shizuka aka Azeran