A/N: Hola. Chapter 7. Here we have a rediculously long flashback. This is the day Mello comes home after being gone for almost a year. I just thought it was kind of important. If the italics are annoying, tell me and I'll change it. The normal text is thought. That's all for now. On with the chapter.

Thank you to AlisterRainbow and Hair-Noodles for reviewing!

Disclaimer: Death Note is not mine. It just has lots of loose ends for me to play with.

Matt sat up slowly, trying to fight down the rising nausea. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. God, the light. Wait. I don't remember turning on a light. He gave an involuntary shudder and lay back down, figuring he had turned it on just before he collapsed and simply didn't remember. That had to be it. After all, he had been alone for nearly a year now.

There was a loud scraping noise behind him and the redhead jerked upright, instantly wishing he hadn't. Doing his best to push aside the pain pounding behind his eyes and the feeling that he was going to vomit, he forced his eyes open again and looked around. He could hardly make out anything because it was so bright and his eyes were so sensitive right now. Finally he had turned almost all the way around and still hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary.

And then he felt his heart stop as his gaze came to rest on the black clad blonde sitting by the door. Mello. Suddenly Matt couldn't breathe. He felt disoriented, dizzy with fear and shame. Mello wasn't there. He couldn't be. Mello had abandoned him a year ago. Abandoned him just like he had known he would, just like they all did in the end. He could not be there. Then the figure got up, moving toward him, and Matt felt its weight on the edge of the bed. No! There was no way. And then Matt realized just how bad he must look. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils dilated, he wasn't wearing a shirt and there was dried blood in streaks down his left arm and bloodstains on the blanket he'd been lying on, and to make it even worse he felt like he was going to collapse again. He couldn't let Mello see him like this, but what could he do now?

A gloved hand caught his shoulder in a deceptively gentle grasp as his red-stained green eyes met the hard gaze of the cold blue pair watching him. "Well this certainly wasn't what I expected."

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. His mind screamed at him that the other boy was too close. In fact Mello was so close that Matt could smell that distinct scent of leather, gun powder, and chocolate. He shivered again as chills washed over him. Mentally he cursed the drugs for their effect on him and cursed himself for taking them in the first place. He gave a weak cough and tried again to speak. "Mello –"

"Shut up and lie down," the blonde commanded, forcing him down. Not that that took much with the condition he was in, but it still made Matt nervous. He closed his eyes against the glaring light and listened to the sound of heavy boots against the floor as Mello made his way to the bathroom. Another wave of panic crashed down on Matt as the medicine cabinet creaked open. "Damn it, Matt. Do you not at least have gauze?" Suddenly the sound of Mello's rummaging stopped, there was a pause followed by a quiet clinking noise, then another pause and Matt knew he was as good as dead. The tone of quiet rage in Mello's voice only confirmed that his fear was well placed. "Matt, what the hell is this?"

There were more heavy footsteps and Matt opened his eyes, wincing when he saw the blonde standing in the doorway, two small glass vials in one hand and a syringe and a bloodstained razorblade in the other. He closed his eyes and cringed away as Mello dropped the lot of it unceremoniously onto the small table next to the bed, not caring when one of the vials rolled off onto the floor, and crouched next to him where he lay.

"Matt, look at me," he said. His voice was colder than Matt remembered and it sent a shot of fear down his spine. Still, he didn't open his eyes. "Now, Matt."

Matt ignored him, turning his head to bury his face in the pillow. It was difficult to breathe like that, but he didn't care. At least, he didn't care until he felt Mello grab his left wrist. Panicked, he jerked his arm back, opening his eyes and hissing in pain. He sat up quickly, black spots blossoming in his vision, and cradled his hurt arm against his bare chest.

"You did that to yourself, didn't you?" Mello said quietly. When the redhead just stared at him, Mello reached for his wrist a second time, only to have his hand slapped away.

By this time, though, Matt was aware enough for the situation to sink in. Something in him snapped and anger sparked in his eyes, venom dripping from his words as he spoke. "Shut up. If you cared you wouldn't have left in the first place. You've been gone for nearly a year. You abandoned me. What makes you think you have the right to just come back whenever you want?"

Mello's gaze hardened. "Is that how you justify doing this to yourself?"

"What I do with my life is none of your concern," Matt seethed.

"So you just expect me to sit here and let you kill yourself?" Mello hissed, his voice still deceptively calm. "And if this is because of me, then it is my concern."

The injured gamer gave a hollow laugh before meeting his gaze and there was something dead and vicious about the redhead's eyes that nearly made Mello back up. "You're so arrogant!" he spat. "You honestly believe that this is all about you, don't you? You think this is because of you and only you."

"Matt –" Mello said, his tone meant as a warning.

"No," Matt hissed, doing his best to throw off the effects of the drugs. His head was pounding and his entire body protested as he shifted to sit back on his heels as though he was preparing for a fight. "Shut up. You don't know the first thing about what happened while you were gone –" he emphasized the word harshly "so don't think I'm about to let you come back and start telling me how to live."

"That's the thing, Matt," Mello nearly whispered. He had dropped his voice until Matt almost couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears. "You're not living. You're dying. Have you looked at yourself lately?"

"Does it matter?" Matt asked coldly. Mello could tell he was serious.

"Yes, Mail, it does."

Matt winced. "I told you never to call me that."

Mello didn't seem to notice. He indicated Matt's arm again. "Now. You're going to sit there quietly and let me clean that."

"No –"

Mello was on him in a heartbeat, slamming him back so hard stars burst before his aching eyes. The nausea he had woken with came back and he tried to turn over but Mello pinned his shoulders to keep him from moving. Matt struggled weakly, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good. Mello had always been a bit stronger than him and right now he was still dazed from the drugs, blood loss, and starvation.

"Yes," Mello growled. "You are. Or I am going to get rid of all of that" he pointed to the table where the razor, the syringe, and one glass vial lay "and you will not leave my sight until you're clean. Understood?"

Matt nodded, trying not to whimper. Mello was putting nearly his full weight on him and it hurt. The blonde nodded curtly and got up, pushing Matt's shoulders in the process. This time he did whimper, but if Mello heard it he didn't react to it. He just tromped back to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the elusive gauze, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a damp washcloth.

"Sit still," Mello ordered. Matt sat up and stared at him, as though he wasn't entirely sure about any of this. He flinched as Mello dabbed at the cuts. There were five of them, though one couldn't tell that through the bloody mess. They were still bleeding sluggishly even though Matt estimated he'd been out for three or four hours. He'd gone too deep this time.

After what seemed like an eternity Mello was finally finished cleaning the dried blood from his arm. Matt couldn't tell if it had somehow stained the skin or if the red tint was just from Mello scrubbing. The blonde's eyes widened as he studied the cuts he had uncovered along with a multitude of older wounds. Quietly he ran his fingers, ungloved at this point, over the fresh cuts, wiping away a bit of blood in the process. They were deep. Really deep. Just looking at how deep the cuts were and how much blood was on the washcloth and the bed, not to mention the random drips of it in a trail from the bathroom to here, he was surprised Matt had woken up on his own. Especially after he figured in the drugs, which he assumed had something to do with all of it.

"Matt," he said gently. Matt knew just from that that there was something wrong; Mello was seldom that gentle. Still, he listened as the blonde asked a simple question. "Why?"

"Ah," Matt winced. He just had to go and ask that. The gamer didn't answer, choosing instead to look down at the ancient, ugly brown carpet.

Mello wasn't about to let him not answer, though. "Matt?"

The redhead in question shook his head and muttered, "It helped."

"With what?" Was that hesitation in Mello's speech? Anxiety in his voice? Matt was incredulous.

"With… you know." He sighed and took a moment to study the blonde's expression. "It just hurt, that's all."

"What did?" Mello asked as though he really didn't want to hear the answer.

Matt looked him straight in the eyes and Mello would have rather been shot than hear the next few words. "Being abandoned again."

"Matt, I didn't… how… how could I… I would never…"

"But you did," Matt whispered, taking his arm back and curling into a tight ball. He rested his chin on his knees and stared at the cracking paint on the wall across from him.

If Mello thought, really thought about it, he had seen him like this before. They had been young then, much younger. It seemed like forever ago, really. Back when he had first arrived at Wammy. He hadn't really known Matt at first, hadn't wanted to, but Matt just wouldn't go away. Eventually Mello took an interest in him in spite of his better judgement. He remembered seeing him just like this once. Mello had been looking for him and had gone into his room without knocking. He had seen Matt sitting on the window sill, balled up like that, tears staining his cheeks. Of course he had wiped them away and blinked his eyes clear, forcing himself to smile the moment he realized the blonde was in the room. But the image had burned itself into his memory and he had never quite gotten rid of it. It had struck him as odd that Matt, who had always seemed so cheerful when they were together, could be so broken.

Slowly Mello moved closer, placing a hand on Matt's shoulder and rubbing little circles with his thumb on the exposed skin. He waited until the redhead looked at him to speak. "Matt… I promise I will never leave you again."

Matt watched him for a moment as though considering whether to accept it or not. Then, after a moment of silence that seemed to stretch into an eternity, he smiled. It wasn't much, just a slight upward twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it was confirmation enough for Mello. He wrapped his arms around the broken boy and leaned his head on his shoulder and they sat in silence for awhile, content just to forget about everything.