A/N: Hello all! Long time no see! It seems like it's been forever, and it kind of has. I have been working on TTB and KN, though both are at a bit of a standstill as I get deep into finals week. Christmas Break should bring plenty of updates from me.
I'd like to start off with the customary thank you's, because you guys have been extra patient with me over the course of the past few months and I love love love you all for it. So, thank you to:

First and foremost, stuffed-fox
mrsjeevas
Saigocage
M2 aka Sandaa aka pro-kira aka striped-tabby XD
Trinny Dream
Fanatic Fics
Fullmetal-tora
Demon Hiei's Girl
Living in a fantasy

Thank you to all of you for being so supportive!
Now, a little bit about this one-shot. It was written in a single sitting and is inspired by the song Then It Happened by Milosh. You can download it for free at Adultswim . com (get rid of the spaces, I dunno how linking works around here) from their Ghostly Swim album. Just go to music and it should be on the page. Seriously, it's a great song.
Originally, I had a completely different one shot started out for this song, but I began listening to it again and (now that it's all wintery here instead of summery) it came out as something colder and darker than what I had written in the first draft (the first one took place in spring, before Mello had his face burned. This one is in the days and weeks after it).
Yes, my Mello is kind of an uke in this, though I have nothing against him as a seme either. Personally, I think they like variety. However, my brain has two parts: one that is completely and utterly attatched to the writing of mrsjeevas and takes her interpretation as fact, and the other that shamelessly writes Mello as a tragic uke. Forgive me for my fickleness.
I must admit that some of the inspiration for this came from Love Hina. The idea of ephemeral and dreams and how they are different (though they use the same kanji, I think) just kind of stuck with me and, as cheesy as it can get some times (what with some of the random outbursts of spontaneous song by various characters), I really appreciated what the show was trying to say. However, I'm still a huge fan of the manga. Whoo-hoo!
Well, enough of all the babbling and rambling. Please enjoy this third installment of Intangible. And remember. Read and review! Ephemeral does not equal dreams, but reviews certainly equal love.

Note: The title should be the romaji for 'dream' in Japanese, since it's where I got the inspiration from. If anyone who has a knowledge of Japanese finds that this is incorrect, please inform me and I'll be more than happy to change it.

Disclaimer: I own neither Death Note nor the song. Please, do not sue. I mean you no harm.

Chapter 3 - Yume

Mello crinkled his nose as the wind whipped the smell of antiseptic and burn ointment off of his skin and up his nostrils. The repugnant stench mixed cruelly with the smell of autumn leaves and freezing rain, cold against his thighs and his neck as it seeped into his skin. It battled, weaker and weaker as time went on, against the burning in his face from spreading to the rest of his body. It was a temporary relief.

Ephemeral. Short-lived. Foolish.

He shifted slightly, sliding up to rest more securely against the windshield of the car, staring down at his legs sprawled out in front of him. He idly tapped the toes of his boots together together, fingers twitching in his hair to keep his eyes from sliding shut.

He was so tired. So exhausted. But he couldn't sleep.

Sleep was terrifying, sleep was dangerous. Sleep ended in a nightmare brought on by a crumbling psyche, or rolling right onto his burns, or softly moaning Matt's name into the empty air.

Sleep brought on dreams.

Dreams had once been so welcome, for only the briefest periods of time. Somewhere between the first time he ever cried in front of Matt and the day Near showed up at Wammy's, he always seemed to have pleasant dreams.

Though he couldn't remember them now. They were just dreams after all.

Fleeting. Temporary. Just like parents. Just like friends.

They never stick around.

That was exactly why he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep, not in front of Matt, never in his arms. He couldn't handle it, the look in his brown eyes, the blush rising in his cheeks, that awful ambiguous look in his eyes when he realized that Mello had been dreaming about him for some time.

Mello made an irritated noise against the roof of his mouth, hands tightening in his hair and pulling lightly. He wanted to rip the image from his mind: Matt standing in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at him, his gaze darting away the moment their eyes met, quiet counted only in heartbeats. He would open his mouth, but no words would come out. And after a few seconds, it would close as his shoulders slowly sank in an unheard sigh.

'How can you be so cruel?' Mello had thought.

Life is harsh. Reality is harsh.

Dreams are even worse.

Mello couldn't fall asleep. He wouldn't allow himself to. What could he possibly be allowed to dream of?

Of sin? Of pain? Of panic and failure and burning?

Of Matt?

He was his ticket straight to Hell. He would be the one to tip him over the edge. He was the snake in the Garden of Eden.

It was so cold out. He'd left his jacket back at the apartment. He sniffled and shivered once. It was refreshing against the left half of his face, but everywhere else it sent tremors straight to his very bones. He knew he should go home, he wanted to. Wanted to go home to Matt, who would hold him and put ointment on his face and make him dinner and smile like an idiot as he made lame jokes about Al Capone and Harvey Dent.

And he'd wear his goggles so Mello wouldn't have to see the broken look in his eyes.

The clouds were drifting by, dingy grey and depressing as Mello got back into the car. The weather report said it would be sunny for the rest of the week.

Here today, gone tomorrow.

And yet, Matt would still be there when he got home, if only because he had no vehicle to drive to the airport.

Maybe Matt wouldn't be gone in the morning.

These things were supposed to build, right? They didn't just happen all of a sudden.

He sneered coldly as he pulled away from the side of the road and made a U-turn back towards the apartment.

Experience had taught him that anything could simply disappear at any time.

He was an orphan after all. It wasn't as if he had seen his parents' abandonment coming.

Matt would leave him. Matt could barely make eye contact with him anymore. Yes, Mello could see it coming this time.

So of course, the only logical thing to do, he concluded as he ambled towards the door to his apartment, head bowed and shoulders tense, was to beat Matt to the punch.

"I don't need you," Mello murmured to himself. "I never needed you before."

He was just a bit of help in rough times. Transient assistance.

A bad influence.

Mello nearly chuckled at the thought. Nearly.

He opened the door and strode in without hesitation, until his bravado faltered unexpectedly just across the threshold.

Matt's things were sprawled across the floor, ashtrays filled with cigarette butts on nearly every surface, his scent permeating the air as if he had lived here his whole life. And then he came rushing out of the bedroom, pale as a ghost and looking as if he had just been crying.

"Mello!" he sighed breathlessly, cellphone clutched in a shaking hand. He seemed to notice the death grip he had on the device a moment later and slipped it back into his pocket. "I've been worried sick about you. What happened to your bandages? You shouldn't take them off like that, you'll get an infection." He blathered on, nervous and flustered, stepping towards him with open arms and a weak smile.

He was scared. Terrified. Like a deer in the headlights.

The moment the glimmer of life is recognizable in it's eyes, the damn thing is already dead.

The distance between them grew smaller and smaller until Mello had no choice but to press forward or turn and run.

"Jesus Christ, Mello," he heard Matt breathe, the smell of tobacco washing over him, only barely rustling in his hair. "You're really too impulsive sometimes."

It was warm, his breath. Not hot, not scalding.

Just warm.

And the animal inside of him snapped, desperate to take, take, take. But not just that. He wanted to keep. Keep it all for himself. No one else.

This was his. His alone.

He claimed it and he had no idea what the hell it was.

He sprang forward, faster than Matt could have ever anticipated from his stance. Admittedly, there had been no warning. No preparation.

It had simply...happened.

Mello's hands were around the younger teen's neck and he was shoving him against the wall, heart thundering in his chest and snarls erupting from his throat.

"I'll kill you," Mello whispered as Matt choked loudly and took a wheezing breath of hysteria. His eyes were huge behind his goggles, frightened and hurt and very, very alive. "I'll kill you, Mail."

Matt kicked and fought as much as he could, the balls of his feet the only thing touching the floor, hands grappling at the blond's fingers, trying to loosen the pressure they placed against his windpipe.

Mello felt something stumble in it's breakneck course through his brain as Matt's lips rounded, making a stuttering noise as he tried to speak.

"Why, you ask?" he said darkly. "You want to know why?"

But Matt was thrashing now, and he didn't even care about questions anymore.

And then, he could breathe again. Mello had let him go and he had fallen to the floor in a gasping heap. Color flooded back into his face with a little more red than normal as anger began to set in. "Mello!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "What the fuck-?!"

"Because I love you."

The redhead froze, his mind slowly trying to process what he had just heard.

And then the older boy had fallen to his knees, sniffling loudly with tears running down his cheeks and his legs and arms bent awkwardly as he tried to hide himself from Matt and the rest of the world.

"I could f-f-fucking kill-l you," he stuttered, voice breaking with restrained sobs, shielding his face with his forearms. "Bec-cause I love you so much, I could kill you. So...so don't go, Mail! Please!"

Matt frowned, reaching out to gently grasp his friend's wrist, but he found his hand slapped away.

"Don't look at me!" Mello shrieked, clumsily shuffling backwards.

The hand fell limply to the floor. "Mihael..."

"I'm hideous!" the blond continued on, voice high pitched and cracking. "I'm so filthy and disgusting and ugly!" He curled in on himself, throwing his arms over his head, tears falling hot and fast from his eyes. "I'll kill you if you leave," he whimpered. "I shouldn't want you, I can't want you, I'm not allowed to-"

He seized up in terror as Matt suddenly draped himself over him, cradling his head and murmuring against his hair. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, Mihael." Mello's real name slipped so elegantly from the redhead's lips, proof that he truly meant was he was promising. "I won't let you leave me again." A hand threaded into the yellow strands, drifting down until it was near his left ear. "This..." He stroked a thumb along the undamaged skin near the expansive burn, where he knew it didn't hurt to touch. "This will never happen to you again."

Heaving a strangled sob, Mello slowly sat up, clutching the front of Matt's shirt. He even allowed Matt to carry him to the couch, burying his face against the redhead's shoulder, alternating between snarled expletives and murmured words of love.

He was in pain, excruciating pain. The burn ointment needed to be applied, the bandages needed to be put on, the bruised heart needed to heal.

And when Matt came back with the first two in hand, Mello pulled him down for an ungainly kiss. Their teeth knocked together at first, neither of them sure what the other was doing. Then it was all softness and chastely, breaking with a muted breath and flushed cheeks.

Before Matt could even apply the first layer of ointment, Mello had already drifted off, his lips still tingling and heart still fluttering.

And he dreamt of Matt.

Signed, sealed, and straight to Hell.

The snake was beautiful.

But it was really worth it, when he took the time to think about it.

Matt would be there when he opened his eyes again, offering him soup and chocolate, brushing back his hair, looking at him from across the room.

And as autumn passed into winter, Mello ultimately committed himself to Hell and all that came with it.

It was on his birthday that they had bought up enough booze to drink themselves into a stupor. But they didn't even need to go that far.

They were laying on the bed before either had even comprehended it, Mello's lithe frame covered by Matt's body. Locked in a slow and heated kiss, hands gripping weakly at one another, moving languidly, as if the hands of time had suddenly decelerated.

Mello had always been guarded. The fact that he loved Matt and Matt loved him back hadn't changed that. The only times he muttered those three little words were when Matt's lip latched onto the curve in his neck and suckled lightly at the edge of his scar.

He never intended to utter them. They just came pouring out, spirit swelling with pride and adoration.

It was the little gasps that gave the blond away as Matt shifted above, him pulling away for a moment to rise up on his elbows. Mello could see the red in his cheeks as the city lights poured in through the small window across the room.

Mello felt short of breath. His friend's body was hot and heavy atop him, but soft and inviting, drawing him in. The look in Matt's eyes was more intoxicating than the booze, goggles hanging loosely around the gamer's neck.

He never wanted to leave this place. He suddenly wanted to stay here, beneath Matt and enveloped in warmth for the rest of his life.

"D-don't get any ideas," he stuttered, voice quiet as if any loud noises would fracture the air of tenderness surrounding them. "This has nothing to do with any of that true love shit."

"I know," Matt replied before closing the space between them and capturing the blond's mouth in a passionate kiss. "But I still do love you," he muttered hurriedly, lips pressed tightly back against the blond's before he even had a chance to reply.

It was the first time they made love, every movement gentle and kind and tender. And Mello was the first one to find his defenses demolished, crying out Matt's name as he neared his end, clutching at him and breathily professing his love into the other's ear.

Matt's walls had fallen long before that, but the only sign was the way he held Mello in his arms, as if he were made of glass, capable of shattering at any moment. The way he whispered to him for long minutes afterwards as the lay, sweaty and sated amidst the sheets. "It's alright, Mello. I'm here, I love you." As if he were a child, as if he were a frightened little boy.

"Mail..." the blond groaned almost inaudibly, arms sliding down his lover's back to pull him in closer, sighing with a delicate joy, as if it had all been a happy accident.

The first and last times they ever made love went along the same way. The times in between were always different, new tricks, new positions, new challenges to up the ante. And Matt had to admit that Mello was probably better at being in the dominant position that he was, with a mind as clever and quick and devious as it was, able to switch tactics without a moment's notice, never letting on where he might be heading next.

But the last time they made love, it was Mello who needed the consoling.

"Don't go," he had vaguely pleaded in the midst of it all. "Please, don't go."

And there was nothing that could be done. Matt's promises suddenly fell on deaf ears and, on the inside, Mello finally shattered.

He rushed towards death, away from Matt, wondering if all of it was simply a dream, hoping he might awaken beside the lovely redhead again when he opened his eyes once more.

Because no one had told him that life was more fleeting than love.