II
Fire.
An inferno that seemed to be issuing from Hell itself. Intolerably bright. Unbearable, skin-sizzling heat rushed in from all sides.
"Shit…"
Mello had no idea how the operation had turned this way. All he could see was the scalding blaze in every direction, the flames shredding easily through the rooms, consuming everything in sight. Everything was absolutely covered in the flickering, dancing conflagration.
His head hurt like hell, and his left arm was down. Pinned under some intensely heavy object. Through his blurry eyes, Mello could just make out something that looked like a concrete block. He desperately hoped his vision was failing him. Whatever it was, it was also apparently the only thing in the room, apart from him, that wasn't completely coated in blazing flame.
Mello tried again to move his arm, but it just wasn't gonna happen. The thing was just too damn heavy, and plus it was definitely probable that most of the bones in his arm had been shattered. He groaned and pulled another burning hot gust of air through his teeth. It was a wonder he hadn't died yet from smoke inhalation; maybe that "stop, drop, and roll" theory was actually legit.
After that, he was pretty sure he blacked out for a while. When Mello opened his eyes again, the flames seemed lower. Like they were burning downward, running out of things to fuel them. Well, that was just fucking great. That meant the floor was next. And since he was pretty much almost melted to the floor already, that meant he was next. And no way was he looking forward to being charbroiled like a regular freaking briquette.
Matt. He wanted Matt.
No, Mello thought. It's better that he's not here. Better that I die alone. I'm always dragging him down. He'll be so much better of f without me.
Agony that had nothing to do with the heat of the flames ripped through Mello. It was suddenly a million times harder to breathe. Matt. A hundred different images of his gamer best friend flashed into his mind. Matt lounging on the couch with that stupid GameBoy. The ever-present cigarettes that Mello threw down the garbage disposal whenever he got the chance. Curling into the beat-up leather armchair late at night and watching Matt sleep, right where he'd passed out, mid-game, on the couch. He always looked so peaceful, so goddamned perfect… angelic, almost.
You dropped one, God, was what he'd always thought when he looked at Matt. But why the hell did you give him to me?
He knew, beyond any doubt, exactly how much he didn't deserve Matt. It was like pairing the angel Gabriel with the fallen Lucifer. Mello knew what a pain in the ass he was. Yet Matt just always sat there and took it, just stared calmly and acted indifferently to all the shit Mello threw at him. Never a single complaint, never a refusal to do something. Always, it was whatever Mello asked. Hell, if he'd asked Matt to jump from the top of the Empire State Building, he knew Matt would've done it without even blinking.
He'd do anything for you. And you treated him like absolute shit.
Mello coughed on a piece of inhaled ash and gritted his teeth together in an effort not to sob. The tears streaming from his eyes were no longer just from the roiling heat waves. He was regretting calling Matt. He hoped, for two reasons, that by the time Matt got here, the fire would be out. The first reason was that he knew Matt would head straight into the building, no matter how bad it looked from the outside, if he thought Mello needed him. He also knew, and this was the second reason, that when the flames finally died, he'd be dead too.
Matt.
His eyes drifted closed. All sound seemed to vanish.
"Mello? No. No!"
Someone was coughing like hell. Mello couldn't force his eyes open.
"Shit. No. Please, Mello, no. Please. Goddamn it!"
The immense pressure was suddenly gone from his left arm.
"Oh, God." The voice was swearing again, and Mello could vaguely feel himself being lifted from the ground. He wanted to speak, to warn whoever it was that the floor was going to collapse any second, but he couldn't make his mouth move.
Then, out of nowhere, the heat was gone. Cold air flooded around his scorched skin, making him feel like he'd been taken from a giant cauldron of lava and dropped into one filled with ice water. If he could've screamed from the shock and pain, the inside of his throat would've been as raw and bloody red as the rest of him. As it was, the outside of his throat didn't seem to be doing so great.
Whoever had hold of him was certainly well versed in the fine art of cussing. His injured ears were picking up quite the offensive vocabulary.
Then there was a loud shriek of protesting automobile machinery, and Mello heard no more.
* * * *
Pain.
He was back in the excruciating fire again, only this time it was inside him, everywhere, running through each of his veins and scalding his entire body.
But he was finally able to open his eyes.
Mello was in a dark room somewhere, lying painfully on what he supposed would be a comfortable bed, had the whole left side of his body not been covered in extremely visible third-degree burns. He tried to move his left arm. It was covered in bloody red burns and purple bruise-like shadows near his elbow and halfway down his arm, where the chunk of ceiling plaster had landed when it pinned him down. His muscles screamed in agonized protest.
Mello winced. But that just made the pain shoot through his face as well. Damn. I'm gonna be so fucked up after this.
He turned his head, clenching his teeth against the stabbing pain in his neck muscles. When he caught sight of the ragged old leather armchair pulled up beside his bed, his heart almost wrenched in half.
Scrunched up in a little ball with his arms wrapped around his knees, snuggled against the back of the chair, was Matt. Protective, unworthy, loving feelings washed through Mello.
He looked exactly the same as the last time Mello had seen him. The same close-fitting black skinny jeans clinging to his skinny legs. The familiar tight black and white striped shirt stretched taut across the planes of his chest, snug enough that Mello could see the faint outlines of the younger boy's abs. He glanced upwards, his eyes landing on Matt's face. The redhead's pale complexion and slight features. Mello felt his gaze being drawn by Matt's lips, remembering what they looked like when pulled up in a sexy half-smirk, wondering what they'd feel like pressed against his own…
He gulped, accepting the harsh surge of pain in his throat as punishment for admiring his best friend's body.
He's never been just your friend. Deny it all you want. But you know it's true.
God, what was wrong with him? He'd put Matt through hell too many times to count. He was endangering his life every second he kept breathing. And now Mello was considering the fact that he might be in love with him.
It was definitely true that he'd never even looked twice at a girl since he'd met Matt. And that the thought of having the other boy in his arms, of hearing Matt whisper his name, of feeling Matt's arms wrapped around him, sent shivers of fiery hot passion swimming through Mello's body. Yet thoughts of the same actions with any of the most beautiful women on the planet engendered jack squat in the passion arena.
Aw, bloody fucking hell. I love him.
He shuddered, trying to shove the dangerous images from his brain. He glanced back longingly at the boy in the armchair.
I love you, Matt.
As if he'd heard Mello's thought, Matt's eyes instantly flicked open. He jerked himself to a sitting position in the chair, combing shaky fingers hurriedly through his messy pin-straight hair.
"You're awake," Matt whispered. At the very sound of his voice, Mello thought his heart was going to burst. He couldn't talk past his tightening throat. He just stared into Matt's soulful green eyes, not even caring that he couldn't breathe properly.
"How are you feeling? Any better? Need anything? I've got chocolate…" Matt jumped out of the armchair, blood painting his cheekbones in a bright red blush. "You want chocolate?" He scrambled over to the table by the door. It was stacked high with chocolate bars.
I don't want the chocolate, Matt. I just want you.
Matt came back slowly, offering the chocolate in front of him with shaking hands. Mello didn't know what else to do; though he knew he couldn't eat it, he took the candy anyway.
A loaded silence filled the space between them, tension strong enough to stick a bear to the ceiling.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Matt finally asked in a small voice. He had curled himself back up in the armchair and was staring at Mello almost worshipfully.
"I…" He didn't know what Matt wanted him to say. "You weren't supposed to save me."
Matt's eyes widened. "Excuse me?!"
"You were supposed to let me fucking die in there, Matt!" Mello's anger flared instantly. "Why the hell did you bring me back here? Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to live?"
"Maybe I figured you'd want to live when you called me to come and get you!" Matt yelled right back.
"I did no such thing!" Mello argued. "I never told you to come get me!"
"Oh, so you were just calling to tell me the location of your death so I could send flowers?" Matt shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you? I fucking saved your ass from being charred to death, and you can't even say a simple goddamned 'thank you'?!"
"You weren't fucking supposed to save me!"
"THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU CALL ME?!" Matt jumped out of his chair and stood, rigid and seething, looking like he was two seconds away from punching Mello into a bloody, burned pulp.
"Because I knew I was dying. And the only person I wanted to see was you."
Mello swallowed hard, amazed at himself for displaying such a confession. Matt looked just as shocked as he felt; his fists slowly uncurled, his stiff posture wilting.
"I… what?" Matt suddenly looked defeated and weak.
"I didn't want you to save me," Mello whispered. "I wanted to die there, thinking of you. I fucked up your life so much, Matt. I knew you'd be so much better off with me dead."
"Mello." Matt looked dazed, like someone had bashed him upside the head with a sledgehammer.
"And then you went and fucking saved me," Mello continued, as if Matt hadn't spoken. "And now I'm just gonna be around screwing up the rest of your life. And it's gonna kill me, every single second of it, because I need to protect you. Not put you in endless danger. But that's what I'll be doing."
"Why would you want to protect me? It's not like you care about me." Matt was back in the chair, clutching at his sides, hugging himself and looking sorrowfully at his feet.
"Are you insane? Of course I care, Matt. I l—"
Mello broke off before the dreaded l-word could escape, almost biting off his tongue in the process. What the hell are you thinking?! his brain screamed. You can't tell him that. He'll just laugh at you. There's no way he could ever love you.
"You what?" Matt leaned forward intently. "What were you going to say?"
"I— nothing. Nothing, Matt."
"You're lying to me," Matt whispered. "You've always sucked at lying to me. I know what you were about to say."
Mello glared out balefully, unable to look the other boy in the eye. He felt his heartbeat pick up speed when Matt crept across the blanket beside him. Finally, he forced himself to look back at Matt.
"I love you, Mihael," Matt murmured. "I'm not scared to admit it."
"I'm not scared either," Mello snapped. But it was a reflex response. The remaining ninety-nine percent of his brain was flooding with doubt, relief, and overwhelming happiness that threatened to drown him.
"Really now?" Matt was drawing closer, smirking softly. He stopped when his face was only an inch from Mello's. "For someone who's not scared, you're sure as hell breathing pretty heavily."
"Shut the hell up," Mello growled, and kissed him.
Even though Matt was obviously taking extreme care not to put any pressure on the scarred left side of Mello's body, the kiss still hurt like hell. It felt like every cell in his body was on fire again, blazing hotter than the sun. Every touch was like a white-hot poker digging through his sensitive flesh, but the pure, burning desire sweeping through him canceled it all out. Nothing mattered. Nothing but Matt.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were gasping for breath. Matt was staring into Mello's eyes as if he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.
"I love you, Matt."