Matt came in through the door with a sagging plastic bag in his right hand and the usual smoking cigarette dangling from his lips. Their dingy little one-room apartment was a strange place to call home, with its cavernous cracks in the walls, decrepit, mismatched furniture and moldy curtains that resembled Swiss cheese. They shared it with the occasional kitchen roach or bathtub spider that Matt would then have Mello come and squash for him, usually with an irritated scolding that sounded much like, "Dammit Matt, it's just a spider. Grow a pair."

Mello, he noticed, hadn't moved far from the couch all day. He was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa and staring at the floor, no doubt still recovering from the previous day. Wearing only a tight pair of black pants and a black tank shirt that left his midriff exposed, it was the most unceremonious he'd seen Mello in a long time.

Matt threw his keys on the kitchen countertop and extinguished his cigarette in the makeshift ashtray made out of a rusty, old coffee can. If nerves were audible, then his would be sounding off like firecrackers. The surreal memory of last night was fresher in his mind than he would've liked. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still taste Mello, hear the pained cries echoing in the small bathroom and still see the shattered glass on the floor. Bag still in hand, he walked over to Mello and stood in front of him.

"Hey." Mello leaned his head back on the couch and said nothing. "You ok?"

Mello rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, Matt, if you ask me one more time I'm gonna punch you in the face."

Grinning, Matt let the bag fall to the floor before sitting down across from his friend. "All right, all right. No need to get so butt hurt."

Matt couldn't help but smile at his horrible pun, but Mello gave him the longest, most unimpressed look. "Dumbass," he muttered.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Mello went back to staring at some far-off galaxy painted on the floor and Matt fiddled with the handles of the bag, already starting to crave another cigarette.

"Mel, I'm sorry." Mello barely shifted his eyes under those golden bangs. "I didn't mean for last night to happen the way it did."

"I did."

Matt held his friend's gaze for what seemed like forever. Those striking sapphires spelled out so much more than Mello would ever say. So much struggle and pain and scarring that no one would ever see. Unless, maybe, they wore an eccentric pair of orange goggles.

Matt turned himself around and laid down so his head was resting in Mello's lap. He could feel his bony hips, his slender, strong stomach as soft and white as pearls. He breathed in Mello's scent; a mix of leather and motorcycle fuel and a hint of cocoa that you could smell in an opened wrapper.

He looked up at Mello, frowning at the beautiful sorrow that darkened his face.

"What is it?"

Mello shook his head and closed his eyes, lips drawn tight against whatever confessions he held. Matt reached out for one of Mello's limp hands and took it, intertwining their fingers together. To Matt's surprise, Mello not only let him, but gently squeezed his hand in return.

"You know what your problem is?" Matt asked softly, still weaving his fingers between Mello's. The older boy stayed quiet. "Angels aren't meant to thrive on earth."

He felt Mello's breath catch and then noticed the slow crushing of his hand as Mello tightened his grip until his knuckles were white.

Dammit, Matt. How do you know? How can you see that I won't be here much longer? How do you know I don't want to be here?

"But the bigger problem, " Matt said, a small grin on his face as he reached inside the grocery bag with his other hand, "is that you haven't had one of these in a while."

He held up a perfectly wrapped chocolate bar to Mello's nose. When Mello was convinced he could breathe again without drowning Matt in a flood of tears, he took the candy bar with a ghostly smile on his lips. But as soon as he took it from Matt, the redhead pulled another one out of the bag.

"Or two." Another one. "Or three." Another one. "Or four, five, six thousand."

Before Mello knew what was happening, Matt was emptying the bag of twenty or so chocolate bars above their heads. Opening his eyes after the somewhat painful rain shower of chocolate, Mello gave Matt, who looked quite pleased with himself, a lighthearted scowl.

No sooner had Mello taken his first bite, then Matt smiled and said,

"So…you gonna be ok?"

"Matt! Ugh, you fucking—!"

Mello swung back his free arm and threw a punch before Matt could escape, nailing him in the side of the head.

"Ow! Ok, I got it! Mello! Cut it out! Ow!"

Matt threw himself as far away as he could, dragging a few chocolate bars in his wake as he slid along the floor. On all fours, he ripped off the goggles that were hanging haphazardly around his face and looked back at his friend. Mello bit into one of the chocolate bars and tried to hide his face behind a curtain of blonde hair, but not before Matt caught a glimpse of the answer he was looking for.

A beautiful, burned smile.

The End.