Perfect Moment

Prologue.

The whole thing sucks, half of his face and neck are just charred, and it's unclear whether the eye is intact, behind the strands of tangled blond hair there's only a mash of blood and disfigured skin. Dreadful stink - Oxidized iron, burnt meat, and smoke... And what idiot said that blood doesn't have a smell? His head pounded, there was darkness before his eyes. Hands automatically dragged the lifeless body to the car. Somehow retaining Mello by one hand and awkwardly leaning him on his shoulder, Matt jerked open the back door. His sweater began to soak up the blood immediately, even through the cloth, his shoulder was burning unnaturally, nonliving heat, a man just could not be so red-hot... Matt took Mello by the arms and bent over, putting him on the seat. Maybe it's good that he's unconscious, or he could die of shock.
Suddenly, Mello strongly and abruptly jerked as if he wanted to burst out. At first, Matt thought he had hurt him by accident, but he seized his collar in a mortal grip, pulling it towards him, and stared at him with expanded and wild, but just extremely clear eyes. The second eye was intact, all the white of his eye swollen by blood. He is not delirious.
- Don't let me die, Matt, not now! Do you hear, don't let me die at any cost! Near...
And he flopped on the seat and passed out again.
- Mello!
His pulse was weak... He couldn't be taken to the hospital with his records, only to a safe place and immediately! And then... And then he will figure out how to save him...

...The ceiling emerged from the blackness again. Sharply and clearly, it hurt his eyes despite the poor lighting. It appeared from time to time, then some silhouette flashed against it. And again the reality either fell away into the distance or dissolved in a turbid viscous dark, trapping him in a silent black swamp... Images... Tangled, bunched together, intertwining slides... Near - a white spot, sometimes looming right before his eyes and slipping away into the fire... Fire rushing into the eyes... A spasm throughout the body, trembling breath, the cheek is ulcerated and burned... No, only a ceiling. And once more a silhouette floated from a corner and mumbled something with a familiar voice.
Finally, he began to realize whose silhouette that was. Now it had a vague face, uncombed dark, red hair, and stripes on clothes.
- Matt?..
- Don't get up.
- Matt, I'm alive?..
- Alive, alive, don't move, or else...
Mello didn't hear him, and, merely by instinct, swung towards the voice. The face, neck, and back, first slightly, as if from a distance, began burning, then just scalded as boiling water with all-around searing pain and it began to flow throughout the body seeming to echo and start throbbing in his head. Exactly this is the "or else" and Mello immediately leaned back on the bed before his eyes started to swim and sparkle white dots. It sent a thrill of nausea to his throat.
- You'll sleep here, I moved to the sofa. If you need something or feel bad - do not get up alone, call me, I did not lock the door, okay? Do not get up. You got burn shock.
Matt took his hand and compressed it with a tourniquet. Looking askance, Mello discerned the needle flashed in the light.
- What is this?
- Painkillers. It'll pass off and you'll quickly fall asleep.
Mello almost didn't feel any needle piercing the skin, reaching the vein.
- For how long have you been injecting on me?
- Two days. Otherwise, you would have died in pain.
- And now I die of an overdose...
- I know how much you need. I will not kill you, don't worry.
- Can you quickly get me back on my feet?
- I'm doing my best. But if you're going to jump out of bed twitchy, you'll not heal faster because of this. Lie still. Of course, I'm not a magician, but I think you'll get up after a week.
Mello obediently froze, though now he really wanted to jump - so uncomfortable and unbearable it was lying on his back. He would prefer to simply cut off his legs: they were tangled in the blanket and moving, which was stressful and irritating. After he took off the tourniquet and had carefully pasted medical plaster on the wound left by the needle, Matt sat on the window sill, wearily leaning against the wall. Lighting a cigarette, he aimlessly stares somewhere down. It seems like he almost didn't sleep, he's pale... Or is it because of the overcast lighting?
He ceased wanting to barf, the pain slowly began to leave him; to somehow escape from the terrible sensations, Mello began to look at the only thing in the room which was a little interesting - Matt's figure. His head suddenly flashed the thought - he's such an... adult. Not healthy, not strong - just an adult. Slightly turning his head to one side, Mello took a look at his profile, slightly blurred under the hazy light leaking from out of the window. He scrutinized every feature of the other's appearance with his healthy eye as if it's been so long since they've seen each other. He became so well-knit, manly, and, at the same time, still quite thin... dressed as a teenager, you could not tell that he is nineteen. He smokes wistfully, the eyes are not visible behind the glasses, and the corners of his lips are tinged downwards... Is he upset? Externally Matt is absolutely calm, he speaks quietly, without pity or notes of impending doom, he does not wail, doesn't panic, movements are accurate, he drops nothing, he is not easily provoked, everything's precise, everything is clear-cut... Adult and balanced.
The cigarette no longer seems absurd, it even suits him...
And his disheveled hair suited him too.
It's strange seeing him like this now. For most of his life, Mello remembered him as small, sometimes annoying, and always dressed in a striped sweater, which was two sizes too big for him...
- Is it gonna leave a scar? - Speaking of appearance, Mello thought of himself. As much as he had tried to, asking indifferent didn't work out. His tone was more than gloomy.
He nodded, exhaling smoke.
- Yes.
- Big?
- Fairly large. You managed to keep your eye but it is better not to strain it. I don't know how strong your eyesight is going to be... - Matt falls silent for a moment and shakes his head wearily as if Mello managed to bore him to death and tire him out in a few minutes. - Look, I'll tie you up now. What do you want?
- Water.
- Hold on. Lie down!
Getting up from the sill, he almost immediately was next to him, gently lifting Mello's head and holding a glass of water. It was a bit strange to feel care, unusual. Irritating. Like a kind of old man.
- I can't get used to it... - he angrily hissed through his teeth after drinking a glass of water in one gulp. He wants to drink like a diabetic, it feels like everything has dried up inside.
Matt picks up his glass, still unusually gently laying Mello on a pillow.
- How are your burns, it hurts like fucking hell, I bet?
- I don't know... I think I'm only one big piece of grilled meat. I can't tell - hurt, not hurt, burns or pricks... Everything's just crappy.
- It will pass. The medicine should kick soon.
Matt sat on the window sill again and Mello began to wait when was it that it "should kick". He did not see how Matt became like that. He did not see him while he was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen... It feels like he went to sleep, when he was fourteen, and woke up - he is already nineteen. And Mello could not get along with him. For some reason, now it has become clear - they do not get along since the last meeting. Absolutely.
- What is Near doing? - Mello breaks the silence again, feeling his eyes closing themselves and his body going numb, ceasing to feel the slightest folds of sheets and blankets.
- I do not know, I have other things on my mind.
- Find out...
- Okay.