Note: Hey! It's xBBx! It's totally my fault that this chapter is late, but it's finally up!

Mello
His. I was his. Everything was wrong in that statement, from the fact Matt wasn't someone to blatantly claim something as his, besides his games, to the fact I had made it clear since my arrival at Wammy's that no one would ever had a bit of control on me.
From the reality that was our silence, preventing each other from coming too close, from breaking into each other's personal bubble, to the deep knowledge that he had done exactly what I had planned to do to him. Just like that. A punch and a word, and I was his.

And despite that, things had never seemed so right...
All was clicking into place in my mind. I've never been alone. From the beginning, God had never let me down, and if I didn't already believe that, the day I arrived here, the rain had stopped because of Matt, I would carve this truth in me right now with a knife in my arm.
From the beginning, Matt was there for me, only for me. I could even persuade myself that he was created for me.
I should have known. I should have noticed, everytime we were both in our room, silently going about our own business, never speaking, not even glancing at each other for hours, and it had always felt the same as when I was in my room in my parents' house, with the comforting presence of my mother somewhere in another room.
I should have understood the way he cared, the way I cared... the way his touch melted me like my mother's used to, the rare times we had a physical contact, and the fact I had never ever wanted to hurt him.

When I arrived here, I was sure I had made a mistake, and that God was punishing me. Now I realised... the only mistakes I made happened once I was here, I've gone the wrong way all the time, and still, God graced me with that simple word tonight. 'Mine'.

Frozen in place, I was unable to follow Matt. Realising he felt the same just glued my feet to the ground, and as I tried to call him, I felt like I had swallowed my tongue, I was unable to even move my lips, I just watched his back as he left the ballroom. All I registered in my peripheral vision was Linda grinning and applauding.
She knew. She had known from the moment I almost killed her when she had asked Matt out. Girls have intuition, I had to give her credit for that. And, even if I would never admit it out loud, I had admiration for her. She's been in love with Matt, but she gave up on him once she knew about us. Then she also knew what he felt for me, obviously. Because she wouldn't have done that for me, but for him, yeah, she would have.
She had known all along. She wasn't as dense as I thought she was, after all...

Once he had disappeared, Linda approached. She simply whispered in my ear: "What are you waiting for, run after him!"
I looked at her in disbelief, then back at the door, then began to run.
Heading outside, the only thought I had was to check for him in the bush he usually went to for a smoke. But he wasn't there. I didn't care, I knew we would find each other at a moment or another, we had found each other. I was happy, I was relieved, I was... his. And as the rain poured on me, drenching me, I stirred my rosary out of my vest and pulled it off my neck.

And there, with the chain and cross messed up in my hand, drops of rain gathering in my palm, I felt like being washed away from the pain, the sorrow, the silence...

I closed my hand on the rosary, bringing my fist to my chest, and I prayed...

Allmächtiger Gott, du bist der Geber aller guten Geschenke.

Wir danken dir für das Geschenk deines Heiligen Wortes.
Möge es eine Lampe für unsere Füsse sein und ein Licht auf unserem Weg.
Wir danken dir für alles, was du uns gegeben hast.
Lass uns unser Besitztum, unsere Fähigkeiten und unsere Leben dazu nützen, dich zu preisen.
Nimm uns und brauche uns, um alle deine Menschen zu lieben und ihnen zu dienen, im Namen deines Sohnes, Jesus Christus, unserem Herr.

I've stayed in deep thoughts after my prayer, thinking of my parents, of Matt, of everything that seemed possible now, I finally had something to live for. Someone that wanted me...

Matt
He stood in the rain, getting soaked to the bone, his hand in a loose fist at his chest. He was saying a prayer in German again, as I had heard him say a million times on a million different nights.

He didn't see me right away, and it might have been the first time that I ever saw him with his guard down in the five years he had been in my life. He was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I stood there, only a few feet away from him, and marveled that he had yet to detect me. Normally, 'observant' was a terrible understatement when it came to Mello. He missed nothing. Usually.

But this time, his shoulders were relaxed, his eyes were closed, and he had a perfectly serene expression on his face. It was something I would never have imagined was possible, because I had grown up with the extreme opposite side of him.

I stood there until he finished the prayer, then watched him for a minute more, unwilling to break his perfect... well, his perfect something. None of the languages that I knew had a word adequate to describe him.

I didn't want to snap him back to reality, but he was soaking wet and I didn't want him to get sick. Finally, I called his name.

He opened his eyes, and there was no hostility or any impression that he was startled. It was like he had known that I'd come find him. Well, I had, hadn't I? I had a feeling we'd always find each other.

...That was interesting. I had never really thought beyond 'get Mello,' and even then, it had only been in my fantasies. It was the first time that I had ever considered forever. Always. Maybe he was the only one I'd ever want, the one I'd always come back to. The one I'd always take back.

I approached him slowly with the umbrella, putting it over his head. I was wet now, but it was more important that he stay healthy than me. I could deal with being incapacitated for a few days. Mello would probably burst if he had to sit still for three consecutive days. I wanted to know what it was that he always held when he prayed, the thing that he always hurriedly tucked under his shirt when I walked in on him. I took his fist in my one free hand and- shuddering at the contact of our fingers- unfolded his palm from around it. He didn't resist.

A small, beautiful rosary.