Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or Phantom of the Opera. …Dear God, what am I going to reference next? The Sound of Music?
A/N: I'm currently basking in the praise of reviewers. I'm glad I'm writing a good Matt. Despite my original misgivings about this chapter, I like the way it turned out. Just enough messed-up psychosis to be interesting, I think.
Chapter 5: Balance of Power
I had thought that dealing with Mello would be easier after I'd gotten some sleep.
Sometimes the things I thought revealed the true depths of my naïve stupidity.
"You want to what?"
"I need to give you a cold bath. Cold water's good for burns, and I need to change your bandages anyway, so it makes sense." Not that any amount of common sense would convince Mello to do something he'd decided he didn't want to do.
The glare I got in return for my explanation might've blinded me if not for my goggles. "Hell no."
I sighed. "Mello, I get that you hate this. I don't like it any more than you do. It'll be easier to just get it over with."
Mello, however, wasn't in the mood to listen to reason. "No. Fuck you."
Sleep wasn't a magical cure-all after all. Why did he have to make things so difficult? Probably a combination of pride and some weird sort of self-preservation instinct. However, that didn't change the fact that I still had to do it. "I'm sorry, Mello," I said, then just leaned down and picked him up before he could give me a yea-nay or maybe.
It took him all of two and a half seconds to register exactly what I was doing and start fighting me. Of course, all he could really do at his angle was dig his fingernails into my shoulder, which didn't hurt that much and certainly didn't keep me from carrying him into the bathroom.
Then he grabbed the strap of my goggles.
That was one step too far. He could claw me, beat me, bite me, whatever. I probably deserved it. But going for my eyes was low, and he knew that. "Mello."
"Put…me…down," he snarled, not letting go.
"If you do that, Mello, I will drop you."
There was a tense moment when neither of us moved. I could practically hear him trying to decide if I would actually follow through on that threat. He apparently didn't call my bluff, because he let go, all the fight going out of him.
"Thank you." I sat him on the edge of the tub and turned the water on, then started unwrapping the bandages, doing my best to be careful. Mello seemed even more tense than he'd been to begin with, which bothered me. I didn't know if he was scared or embarrassed or just in pain – he wasn't giving me anything to work with.
"You've changed."
I paused and glanced up at him. "How so?"
He was watching me with a strange expression I couldn't quite place, especially since half his face wasn't working too well. "You just have. I'm not sure I like it."
I wasn't quite sure what I could say to that. "You've changed too." I didn't say that I didn't really like the changes any more than he liked mine.
"That's different." His tone of voice told me in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to talk about it.
I pulled the last of the bandages off. I'd have to deal with his psyche later – I didn't have the medical skills to deal with that and the burn at the same time, and if I didn't deal with the burn, it would more than likely kill him, while his psyche…well, that would probably kill him too, but it was the lesser of two evils at the moment.
Mello remained stoically silent as I helped him get undressed, but he finally reacted when I put him in the cold water. "Fuck, Matt, are you trying to freeze me to death?!" He tried to sit up, but failed. "Get me the fuck out of here!"
"Just stay still, it's not that cold," I said, turning around to grab some washcloths from under the sink. "Is it helping with the burn at all?"
"…Yes," he admitted. "I don't feel like I'm on fire."
"That's good." I scooted back over to the side of the tub. "I, um, have to clean your burn. It might hurt a bit." I felt like a doctor telling somebody, "Now this won't hurt a bit."
Mello nodded and wrapped his fingers around the rim of the tub, his knuckles going white as I started cleaning the burns. I wasn't looking, but I was guessing that his teeth were clenched so tight his jaw hurt. How he could not start screaming, I didn't know, since it must've been excruciating, but he didn't make a sound. I couldn't decide whether I should admire that or think he was a complete and utter dumbass.
"Alright, it's done." The ill-concealed pain on his face made me feel terrible, but I'd done what I had to do to help him, even though it hurt. But I still felt like shit. It didn't help that he looked like he was swimming in blood, which made me feel vaguely sick as well as shitty. I pulled the plug on the tub and turned around to dump the bloodstained towels in the sink so I didn't have to look. When I turned back, the tub was almost empty and Mello was trying – and again failing – to get up.
"Hey, easy," I said, helping him sit up. "Don't hurt yourself."
He glared at me, but that didn't cover the look he had on his face. He looked upset, more so than he had before. This was a more sad upset than a frustrated one. "It's not like it matters, being a little more hurt won't change the fact that I'm fucking hideous."
I blinked. "What? Where did that come from?"
"Where the hell do you think it came from? It's not bad enough that I can't even get up by myself, I have to look like the fucking Phantom of the Opera!" He seemed to be on the very edge of his control.
I grabbed the roll of bandages off the floor with my free hand. "You don't look like the Phantom of the Opera, Mello. You look good."
He stared at me. "Good? How can you ignore this fucking enormous bloody ugly burn on my shoulder? How can you say that looks good?"
"Mello…" I hoped I wouldn't say anything I would regret later, when Mello was healthy enough to either shoot me or beat me to a pulp. "You're badass. Being burned doesn't do anything but increase your badass factor." I stopped myself before I said anything about him looking less girly – I definitely didn't need a bruise on my face. "Can you hold up your arm? I need to rebandage you."
He hesitated, then lifted his arm, wincing a bit. I started bandaging him, which was easier when he wasn't unconscious. He was, amazingly, quiet through the whole thing, not even moving as I wrapped bandages around his face. I didn't know whether that was a good sign or a bad one. It was nice that he was being cooperative, but Mello was never cooperative, at least, not that I could remember, and I couldn't imagine that changing in fifty years, much less five. I felt a little better, though, when he got out of the tub and dressed again at least partially under his own power.
"Fuck," he grumbled, leaning against me, since he'd used up most of his energy getting dressed. "I hate this…"
"You'll be better before you know it." He snorted, telling me in no uncertain terms that he thought that was a load of complete bullshit. "Seriously, you will be. You look a lot better than you did initially, you just have to get some more rest."
"I've gotten nothing but rest for four fucking days, how much more do I need?" he asked, aggravated. "I should at least be able to walk by now!"
"Mello, you got half crushed by a building, most people wouldn't have come out of that alive. Count your blessings."
He grumbled, but didn't really have anything to say to that. He did, however, protest when I picked him up. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm carrying you back to bed, what does it look like?" I didn't say that I wasn't about to have him fall over and kill himself trying to walk on his own, since I didn't think I needed to damage his already-fragile confidence.
For a moment I thought he was going to respond, but he didn't. He just held onto my shoulder as I carried him back into the bedroom. "Get some rest," I advised him, setting him on the bed and pulling the covers up over him. "You'll feel a bit better tomorrow."
He didn't comment on that. He just closed his eyes.
I didn't say that my words had only been a guess.
…Damn, and to think, I was only brushing the surface of things I wasn't saying.