Note: Last one of the transitioning chapters, even if this one is not just a transition, you'll see :)
I know someone's hating me very deeply right now, but I had to cut the chapter in two because it would have been weird as one piece. I might post the next chapter today as well anyway so you won't hate me for long ;)

Mello
"Why do you want to go there?" I asked. This was probably not a good idea, and I had imagined going back only when I'd be able to walk, so I could clean a bit. My studio was probably in a horrible state, not only the dust from months of being empty, but the dirty laundry as well... hell, I'd probably have to throw away those clothes after so long. I was not a cleaning freak but still...
Mail gave me a small wink, but didn't answer, the light smirk on his lips and the way he dutifully kept his eyes on the road to avoid looking at me telling me that he was planning something.
"Stop."

Mail looked at me this time, his smile vanishing in front of my dead serious face.
"Stop. If that's only so you can get laid, stop it right now." I couldn't believe he was desperate to the point that he'd be ready to roll in months old dirty sheets.
"Why? I mean... Of course it's not about getting laid!" Mail looked at me again before focusing back on the road, his hands briefly leaving the steering wheel to raise in protest, "Mihael it's me, Mail, hello? I'm just... I just wanted to surprise you okay? But if you're tired or not in the mood for spending time with me, with no ulterior motive from me, since I have to precise such a thing, then fine, but don't treat me like that, I might have been a little pushy lately but not to the point that I'd force you into anything, I thought you trusted me..."

Mail was hurt, and he had a right to be, I was being a dick. He parked in front of my building, staying silent as the sound of the motor died down.
"I'm sorry..." I really meant it, I had fucked up, he didn't deserve to be treated like that, and I didn't have the right to project my insecurities on him like that when he had always given me proof that he was serious about us. But fuck, I couldn't help but doubt it. The one I had thought to be my mother had treated me like a pawn, my father had deemed necessary to do something about it only recently, and I couldn't say I had had someone in my life before that had made me feel wanted, and as hard headed as I was, I was human, and deep down, now that I had had a taste of what happiness was like, I was freaking out that it could all be fake, just like the rest. Especially with the state I was in now.
I was staring at my hands, trying to find the words to explain what troubled me, but all I could do was fight the tears back. I was angry at myself for being such an asshole, and for the things that kept on bugging me and making my life miserable, because I couldn't get over them.

"No matter what I do, you're doubting me, aren't you? No matter how much I stick with you, how much I show you that I love you, that I want you, there's nothing that will work... Mihael it's not fair, we can't go on like that. Either you tell me exactly what you want from me, or..."
Mail stopped talking, and I suddenly felt like I was suffocating.
"Or what?" My question wasn't even a provocation for him to go on. I raised my head again, and looked at him, tears rolling for good now, because I was really afraid that he meant what I thought he meant, and I couldn't believe it. Maybe he was trying to find a way out and I had been too stupid to see it? Maybe the only thing that made him stick with me was that I couldn't take care of myself, and he was just waiting for me to walk to end this?
"Or I don't know! It's not like I could just walk away from you if things don't work out, because they will, believe me, I'll do what it takes but things will work out Mihael!"

He was seething. His eyes were locked with mines, and I could see his jaw clenching as he waited a reaction from me, but I was frozen. I had no idea what to say, because I didn't know how to express what I felt.
"Mihael, speak up now, what do you want from me? I'm not even a believer and I'm praying all gods right now that you're not trying to break up, because I have no idea how to live with that. I mean, I almost lost you, and now that I have you back, it's like everything is falling apart, and I don't fucking know what's wrong!"
His voice broke, and his eyes were glistening.

So I just poured it all out. As stupid as everything sounded in my head I voiced all of it.
"Look at me! For fuck's sake, look at me Mail! Half my face is just an ugly scar, the rest of me is not really better, and I've been a mere burden for months to you and your family! How can you love that? I don't even feel human, let alone a man! I can't help but wonder why you're still here, why you'd still want me, but truth is, I'm too afraid to ask because now that I can walk soon, once I'm good to be on my own, maybe you'll consider your duty over and you'll leave because I've put you through too much shit! I know you're the nicest guy on earth and that's what I'm afraid of! That you're just doing what you think is right, not because you still love me, but because that's what you do!"
I was almost yelling, and I briefly stopped because of the look he gave me. I couldn't decipher it.
"And now, if you say you still want me, I'll still doubt you, because now we know that I can walk again, so what if I hadn't been able to? What would you have done with me? What if you-"

"FUCK YOU MIHAEL!" Mail suddenly shouted, cutting me mid sentence, "FUCK YOU AND YOUR STUPID IDEAS!"
He stormed out of the car, and for an instant I thought he was going to leave me there and run away, but he came back with the wheelchair he had just picked up from the trunk, unfolded it, and opened the door on my side violently, forcing me into the chair.
"What are you doing?" I asked, but I barely saw him wipe the tears from his face as he pushed me through the building's entrance and to the elevator, as I tried to look at him behind me.
I asked again.
"SHUT UP!" he replied coldly. I think I had really fucked up.

We exited the cubicle and I was barely starting to form a decent apology in my head when he unlocked the door to my apartment and I saw... it. He pushed me inside, and everything I could have said vanished from my tongue.
Fuck. Holy fucking shit.

I began to cry again, but this time, it wasn't from sorrow or fear, or even doubt, because Mail had done his thing again. Just like that, everything was suddenly good, because only he could do that the way he did. People talk, hug or kiss, people say or do crazy things, but Mail... he just does what seems impossible.
He went from homophobic to dating a gay guy, he turned his friendship for me into this unconditional love, his lack of attraction for me became the most consuming desire, and I was completely taken aback by the sight in front of me, and at the same time not even surprised that he would go that far.

"And before you start with your bullshit again, I've been planning to do that since we were supposed to go on that first real date, before you had your accident, and nothing ever made me change my mind since then. So no, it's not a reaction to the fact I almost lost you, I loved you that much already before, and I find you just as beautiful as before, I'm not leaving you, ever, either, and I don't care that you can walk or not."

He faced me, and I had no choice but to stand up. I had to.
"Hey, be careful, don't hurt yourself." he immediately held me by the waist to give me support, and I threw my arms around his neck, staring at him, unable to say anything. I just wanted to look at him, because there was nothing left of my doubts, and being on my feet, standing now proud in front of us was the least I could do in that situation.
I felt myself again, thanks to Mail, because once again he was not giving up on me.
He was the strongest person I had ever met, he had the shoulders to put up with me, he had had from the beginning, and what I could see in him right now was the strength, the kindness, the courage, the willpower that told me I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

And so, to the question written on the big cardboard piece that was placed right in front of a vase full of sunflowers, on my kitchen table, I simply replied: "Yes. Yes, I want to marry you."
My smile was probably as huge as Mail's as he rummaged in his pocket, grabbed my right hand and slid a small titanium ring to my finger, depositing a second one in my palm for me to put on his own finger.