A/N: Okay, so this is the MattxMello rewrite. It's short, but I think I like this better than how it was originally.
Enjoy!

It'd been five weeks, five long weeks. Mello's wounds healed quickly and never got infected thanks to Matt's tedious attention. Every moment, Matt would tend to his lover, providing him with anything he needed. Yet, Mello barely spoke and sunk into a pool of self-pity, refusing to even look in a mirror. When Matt tried to cheer him up, Mello would simply scoff. It tore Matt apart, but there was nothing he could do. He would never quit on Mello, especially when his lover truly needed him. Besides, when Mello reverted back to his condescending, callous, rude self again, it would be worth it.

One morning, Matt found Mello perched in front of his vanity, gazing at his reflection. Hope ignited in Matt's chest. The bandages that had been concealing Mello's face lay limply on the floor. The burn wrapped around his left eye faded dramatically since five weeks ago. But a hint of disgust glistened in Mello's eyes.

"Hey," he smiled softly, walking over to Mello. He pressed his lips on the top of Mello's hair; the strands tickled his nose. "You look good."

Mello scoffed, shooing Matt off of him. "Yeah, well I feel like shit."

Matt set down the bowl of fresh water he had brought and picked up the clean rag. He began to pat Mello's burn; water dribbled down Mello's face an neck. Mello shoved the rag from his face and buried his hands in his fingers. He had yet to leave his room. The thought of stepping out in public, becoming a spectacle for everyone to gawk at sickened him. Matt tenderly avoided mentioning the burn and looking at it, except when he cleaned it. His avoidance only made Mello feel worse.

The first time he'd looked in the mirror, he found his fist through the wall. His knuckles bled profusely as Matt wrapped them, telling him not to be upset and that it would be fine. Mello checked his reflection only once a day, and kept the mirror covered for the rest of the time. He wanted to get used to his disgusting appearance, but even after five weeks, he couldn't accept it.

"Don't push my hand away," Matt demanded as he began to clean the wound again. Mello pulled off his shirt and placed it neatly on the vanity. The burn ran down his body, it's fingers grazed the tip of his pants. "If you wanna make it better, you gotta let me clean it."

"It's not gonna get better," Mello suddenly snapped, standing up. He yanked up his shirt and hung it across his torso so it covered the scars. "Just leave me alone."

Matt sighed, wiping his forehead. Mello's original self-pittying behavior had just recently morphed into fury. Watching him throw his fist through his wall when he first saw his face terrified Matt. Mello was passionate, but he never spiraled out of control. It was the burn; it made him crazy. Matt could see the anger constantly blazing in his eyes. Mello blamed everything; Ross, the boy, himself, alcohol, God. He let his emotions run wild, neglecting Matt's wishes and pleas.

"You aint' gonna kick me out, are you?" Matt forced a chuckle, unsure of how to react. The old Mello, although impulsive, was extremely easy to read. Matt always knew what he wanted, and could provide it for him. But now...

"C'mon," he pulled at Mello's arm playfully. "Let's go to bed. Forget 'bout that thing for one day. Besides, I think it kinda suits you. All mysterious and dangerous and what-not."

"Shut up," Mello yanked his arm away. He rarely let Matt touch him anymore.

"Well, if you don't wanna go to bed, let's go outside or somethin'. Get some fresh air. It'll be good for you instead of bein' cooped up in this room."

"No thanks," Mello snarled.

Matt sighed, placing the wet rag on the vanity. He picked up the dirty bandages around his feet and began to scrub them in the bowl. "You should stop hidin' in here. People are gonna see you eventually."

"Stop hiding?" Mello was suddenly screaming. "Stop hiding? You hypocrite, you can't say that kinda shit. Tellin' me to stop hidin' when that's what you've been doin' your whole life."

He pulled Matt's goggles from his eyes, stretching the elastic that stuck them to Matt's head. Matt's eyes, one brown, one blue, averted their gaze. Ever since he was a kid, the goggles had been plastered on his face to avoid questions or stares. Truth was he liked his eyes, but he couldn't stand the attention they called. So, he hid them. "You're right."

"No one besides me knows 'bout your deformity. Why the Hell should people know 'bout mine?"

"You're right. But I just think you outta try a different perspective. The scars make you all intimidatin'. You can use 'em to your advantage. They give off that, 'I can survive anything', look," Matt laughed, trying to direct the conversation away from his eyes.

"It's a disgusting abomination," Mello let go of the goggled, which snapped right back into Matt's face. He yelped and yanked the goggles from his face, tossing them aside. With shaking fingers, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, took out a match and lit it. Suddenly, Mello's eyes widened as Matt pressed the flame up to his cigarette.

"What?" Matt glared at him, unamused from the pain stung around his eyes.

"Where did that boy get those matches?"

"I dunno." The horrid realization struck Matt; the boy had gotten them from him. It was the only thing that made sense. He stole them from his pocket when Matt wasn't looking. But when? The boy rarely touched Matt, except when he'd helped him up. And even then, he couldn't have reached into his pocket. Was the bastard that stealth?

Mello growled suddenly. "Get outta my room."

"Mello, calm down, I-"

"Don't tell me to calm down," his voice was barely a whisper. "I don't do too good with traitors."

Matt gaped at him. "Mello, listen to yourself."

"Fine, fucker, if you won't leave, I will. You want me to get out of this room so damn much, so I'm fuckin' gone. But I don't need you; I don't want you. In fact, I want you to stay the fuck away from me. I'll go kill that bastard who did this to me myself without your goddamn mouth runnin' in my ear," he pointed at his face and immediately pivoted on his heel. Matt grabbed his arm.

"Mello, don-" Mello yanked his arm from Matt's grip and struck him across the cheek. The cigarette flung from his lips. He stood in horror, gazing at his lover. No, he was no longer his lover. Mello fled from the room as Matt picked up his cigarette with trembling fingertips. Tears streamed down his cheeks.