His fingers brush the words carved into the headstone. His lip twitches but does not quiver. His eyes are as dead as the bodies buried in the ground beneath him.
"Matt," a voice behind him calls.
He turns, lifting his head, startled. He takes in the sight of the familiar blonde, then he turns away again.
"You found me," he says blankly.
"You didn't make it easy, Mello sighs, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him. "I looked everywhere."
Mello slides a hand down to the middle of his back. He is still and quiet, the only movement being the wind blowing through his dark red hair. He feels like he's swimming in the air somewhere above his stone body.
He doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to be comforted.
He doesn't want to be alone, doesn't want to cry.
The air has the taste and texture of cough syrup, and the colors around him look washed out and dull.
He is neither warm nor cold, but he pulls his baggy striped sweater tighter around him, just to have something to hold on to.
"Come on, Matt," Mello whispers. "Let's go. You don't really want to stay here any longer, do you?"
He shakes his head without making eye contact and allows the blonde to pull him up off his knees. He feels a hand slip into his and tug him away. His mind is fuzzy, and he can't focus on where they're going or if he really wants to leave. He just holds on tight and trusts Mello to get him wherever he needed to be.
A/N: Yes, it's sad, and vague, but I wanted to leave it up to your interpretation. So, review- what do you think is going on here?