A/N: Damn, I'm venting a lot. Well, this is another venting ficcy, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own DN, its characters or any labels mentioned within. I also don't own or claim rights to .45 by Shinedown.
Suggested Listening: .45 by Shinedown
Mello drew his knees up to his chest. Everything hurt. He hadn't meant to get the computer infected with viruses, really, but he didn't know how to see if sites were secure. He'd been punished by his father and sent to his room. He'd be better next time, he swore.
...
The next day at school, he'd bumped into a kid. Not just a kid; a geek with deep red hair and goggles. Really, goggles? Who the fuck wore goggles when they weren't swimming? But when his back had made contact, he'd cried out in pain and flinched away. When he rounded on the kid to deliver a swift kick to his ass, he froze at the sight of the bug eyed goggled boy watching him intently. No... Watching his shoulder.
Mello looked down and found that his shirt had been knocked from his shoulder in the process of the scuffle. A deep, angry red welt was showing on his pale flesh. Red was staring at the spot, seemingly deep in thought.
Before Mello knew what was happening, Red had grabbed his shirt and lifted it. He could see the angry welts and bruises from his father's belt that lined the delicate skin and he was tracing them with a fingertip, just barely. Then the goggled eyes had lifted to meet his.
"Who did this?" a soft, melodic voice asked. Mello's eyes were huge, the size of dinner plates, and he smacked Red's hands away before pulling the fabric down. He grabbed his bag and made to leave the bathroom when his hand was grabbed. He looked back to find Red scribbling something furiously onto a piece of paper. Said paper was shoved in his hand and Red was gone, disappearing out of the door. Mello looked down at the slightly crumpled paper.
My name is Matt. If you're being beaten at home, you need to tell someone. It'll only get worse if you don't.
A number was hastily scribbled below the words. Mello read the message over several times before concluding that Red had been beaten. But he wasn't. That kind of thing didn't happen. So with a snort, he shoved the paper in his bag with every intent of throwing it away when he got home. He forgot the note and it sank down below books and papers, remaining in the bottom of the messenger bag.
Send away for a priceless gift
One not subtle
One not on the list
Send away for a perfect world
One not simply
So absurd
In these times of doing what you're told
Keep these feelings
No one knows
Mello ran to his room and locked the door. His drunken father slammed against the door and screamed himself hoarse, demanding the blonde leave the room. Everything had gone downhill when his father lost his job. The alcohol, the yelling, the staying out, the beatings...
Mello shook his head and crawled over to his messenger bag, grabbing it and dumping the contents and rooting for his homework. In his search, he found a worn piece of paper, riddled with creases and the occasional tear. He picked it up out of morbid curiosity.
My name is Matt. If you're being beaten at home, you need to tell someone. It'll only get worse if you don't.
Mello looked up at the ceiling. The redhead surely wouldn't remember him, the number could have changed, surely it wouldn't work... Even so, Mello's hand crept to his phone and he dialed the faded numbers, belittling himself for stupidity. On the third ring he was ready to hang up when a soft, melodic voice answered him.
"Hello?" It was him, there was no doubt. That voice was the same.
"Uh... Matt?" A sound of affirmation was made on the other end, letting Mello know that the redhead was the one on the other end. "I'm Mello. We met about a year ago, in the bathroom. You gave me a piece of paper with your number on it."
There was silence for a few seconds. "Wait... Are you the blonde with all the bruises?"
"... Yes."
Whatever happened to the young man's heart?
Swallowed by pain
As he slowly fell apart!
"What's going on?" The voice was instantly concerned, urgent sounding. Mello fought back tears and told about his father losing his job, cheating, drinking... but not the beatings.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be calling you out of nowhere and telling you this..."
"Nah, it's cool. Hey, do you wanna get out for a while?"
"Hn?"
"You know, get out. I could come get you and we could go somewhere. If that's alright with you."
"... That would be great." Mello babbled his address and waited by the window for the red muscle car that Matt had specified. When the ride appeared, Mello opened his window and scaled the wall as he had done so many times before and jumped into the passenger seat, leaving behind his personal hell, if only for a while.
And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45
Another eight months. It had been so long since his father had lost his job. His mother was doing her best to keep them afloat and he got a job to help her. The beatings stopped. His father hadn't come around enough to beat them. He was cheating, lying, probably stealing and getting drunk. But he came around once a month, if that. And that was to get more booze and money. Over the past eight months, a good relationship had developed with Matt and by the time the blonde plucked up the courage to tell (his boyfriend) about the beatings, they'd stopped.
But Matt was ever watchful and very protective. He was accepted and loved by Mello's mother, who had found herself a boyfriend. Someone by the name of Beyond that, while a little crazy, treated her and Mello right.
She was pregnant. Mello was happy for her, Beyond was hanging around more than ever and his father was seen little, if at all. He liked it this way.
When she came home and announced that she knew the gender of the child, she didn't know her husband was home. While she told Mello that he was having a baby brother and fondly rubbing her protruding stomach, her husband was listening with a knife in his hand.
Send a message to the unborn child
Keep your eyes open for a while
In a box high up on the shelf
Left for you, no one else
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life
Wrapped in guilt
Sealed up tight
In a single lunge, one stab, and the blonde haired woman was gone. Dead on the floor and drowning in a pool of her own blood. Her and the baby.
B rushed in and went hand to hand with Mello's father, killing him as Mello later discovered. Any sanity he had had been tethered to the woman he loved who was now dead. And so he took his own life.
Whatever happened to the young man's heart?
Swallowed by pain...
As he slowly fell apart!
Mello crashed through the door of Matt's house, covered in his mother's blood and crying. A choked and sobbed explanation came, though it took hours to procure, and Mello was unofficially moved in to Matt's house. The Jeevas family offered to take custody of him and was granted by the courts.
And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45
Mello continued to go to school. He and Matt shared a bed and nightmares were warded off. As months went by, outward signs of despair disappeared and Mello turned back into the strong, hard headed boy he was. Matt turned into his faithful sidekick and seemed to be content with that. Only Matt knew that Mello cried at night, thrashing with nightmares and pain.
The rosary from his mother's jewelry box was given to him. He wore it around his neck everywhere, fiddling with the crucifix absentmindedly and whispering prayers for strength.
"I thought Catholics were against fags!" Mello didn't know who it was that spoke, but he did know that he was alone behind the school. He also knew that he was outnumbered. Kicks and punches were thrown and Mello held his own for a while. That was, he fought back valiantly until a textbook connected with the side of his head. While his vision swam and he stumbled against the wall, trying to get his balance, he was dimly aware of the blood trickling down from his temple.
He was painfully aware, however, of the hands that took his arms and held them behind his back. He struggled, but nausea made everything blur and the fists connecting with his stomach again and again weren't helping. Thrown about slurs of being a faggot, a sinner, a pussy met his ears. Mello simply bowed his head and tried not to cry.
Everyone's pointing their fingers...
Always condemning me
Nobody knows what I believe
I believe...
There were intense flashes of red and stripes. Insults were screamed, accompanied with the sickening sounds of bone crunching and screams of pain or agony. A strong set of arms wound around him and he was carried somewhere. A soft, musical voice (that had been screaming insults and slurs that would put the devil to shame) cooed in his ear, promising that everything would be okay. The blonde allowed everything to go black.
And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45
Swimming through the ashes of another life (Another life)
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a .45
Mello sat on the ground with his back against the side of the bed. His head fell back limply, eyes swimming with tears while memories floated around his head, taunting him. Then he looked down at his hands.
Rather, he focused on the .45 in his hands.
How easy it would be. All the mechanisms in the gun would be set off by seven pounds of square force. Something so simple, but that could take so many lives. It would only hurt for a fraction of a second. And the bullet would move so fast, he wouldn't even feel it. It could be over. All the pain could be gone...
And why shouldn't he? What did he have to live for?
[And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45
Swimming through the ashes of another life (Another life)
There is no real reason to accept the way things have changed]
Staring down the barrel of a .45
The door creaked open and a sharp intake of breath was heard. Mello let his head fall back again and transferred his eyes to the redhead in the doorway. The redhead who was wide eyed, staring between the gun and his boyfriend.
"Mello..." he breathed, taking a tentative step forward. "What are you doing?" Tears welled up in Mello's eyes and he pulled the hammer back, hands shaking.
"Why not Matty?" he sobbed as tears began to form tracks down his pale face. "Why not? Please... give me a reason..." Matt took another step forward and dropped to his knees, just in arm's reach of his blonde love. He reached out slowly, stroking the barrel of the gun before pulling it from the blonde's grasp. He emptied the barrel, and then took the clip out.
Leaning forward and pressing his lips to Mello's, he brushed the tears away with his thumb and smoothed his hair back.
"Don't ever think about it, Mels. I couldn't live without you. I need you here with me, and I couldn't take it if you left me.
.45...
(Staring down the barrel of a .45)
"But why not Matty?" The blonde was hysterical at this point, shaking and sobbing. He fell forward into his boyfriend's arms, clutching his shirt and nuzzling his face into the crook of Matt's neck. The redhead stroked his hair, rocking him back and forth.
"Because I love you Mihael. I couldn't live without you and I know your mother wouldn't have wanted this. Please... don't leave me..." He buried his face in the blonde hair, drawing a deep breath. Mello straightened slightly and caught Matt's lips in a blistering kiss. His straightened his leg and kicked the gun away, scattering the ammunition.
"I won't Matty," he breathed against the redhead's skin, pressing his forehead to Matt's. "I'm so sorry... I won't do it again. Please stay here with me." Matt lifted the blonde up into the air, laying him gently across the bed and curling up behind him. His arms wound around the leather clad blonde and he nuzzled the back of his neck. "I love you Matty."
"I love you too Mello. Always."