Love you like an Arsonist
He's fire and leather bound in a mortal body, ever explosive and temperamental. She's an innocent and scared little girl - only by circumstance has she been made strong. You're the watcher, the one who in the end set out to narrate this - if only to yourself, in your thoughts; the most twisted love story on earth.
Even before it begins, you know it's doomed to fail. So do they; or at least, he does. He might be the most impulsive and clinically insane person you've ever met, but he's a genius too. And though you'd like to say that she hadn't known, you start doubting the truth of those words at the moment of her departure, when you look into those doe eyes (which you had expected would be filled to the brim with tears) and see an expression you've only ever seen on his face before.
It's one of his calmer expressions, one of the few non-mad expressions he has and the reason you'd agreed to follow him in this fruitless endeavor in the first place (because yes, you do know you're going to die, no matter what you say to him). The expression is mostly in the eyes, really, and perhaps a bit in the tilt of the head. Grim, brittle determination, bitter certainty and a dash of arrogance (and you're sure this arrogance wasn't something she had had until she met him).
And you and he watches through the monitor as the police helicopter picks her up, and she twists her head around to watch the world - watch him - disappear in minutes. You cast a glance at him afterwards, which goes unnoticed (and that in itself is rare and quite telling, because he didn't get as far as he had without being observant) and sees that expression mirrored on his features, though tinged, perhaps, with a bit more bitterness than hers had been.
You say nothing.
And when the day comes for him to go out in a blaze of glory and heat, you know what request he'll make of you before he opens his mouth. And you think that maybe he shouldn't have spent his teenage years trying to get in with the mafia, but living a normal teenage life, because then maybe his request - and the only roundabout admittance of his love - would not have been coated in blood and gunpowder. You accept it, and all the unspoken words that hang in the air between you, and then you both set out.
Speeding down the highway in a red Ferrari (which ironically - or perhaps not - he bought you once upon a time) with an army of cops on your taillights, you think that though this might not have been the way you had expected to go out, it's not so bad. And for the sake of what little sanity you have left - which will surely expire within minutes, anyhow - you ignore the shaking of your hands and the sudden bleary obstruction of your sight.
You're only buying him a few hours at most, because though the police in this area are practically useless, they'll realize you're just a decoy after you're gone.
You're not angry that he's wasting your life for a few hours of – very twisted - normalcy, though. Because this is the end of all days for him as well, and you always knew you were meant to expire right before he did. But you do wish you could have had his voice - even if only by phone - with you, because you don't think you've ever felt so alone.
And as if by magic, your cell starts to vibrate. You snap it open as you turn the street corner like a speeding bullet and you hear his voice. It's as raspy as it always is, tinged with the insanity he had later become known for. It's wild like thunderstorms and full moon howling, and you smile.
He rants at you, complaining about nothing in everything in one sentence, and then yells at you for not listening to him. Your smile widens, turns into a grin. That he chose to take the time to do this, from her house, is something quite fantastic to you. You're needed by him, still.
Your grin breaks and you laugh - with relief and unpursued feelings - and crash the Ferrari straight through a shop window.
And you too, go out in a blaze of glory and heat.
A/N: I've wanted to write a one-shot deathfic for a while, and I've always wanted to write my version of Matt's death - and if it was a bit confusing, well, it was supposed to be. Writing without mentioning any names was a bit harder than I expected, but I really liked doing it. Oh, and this one-shot was inspired by a Death Note fic I read a long time ago, but unfortunately, I can't remember the name or where to find it.
Tell me what you think?