Happy Ending (MattxMello)

9. The Last Letter

Matt
He's been gone for what seems like forever. I'm starting to miss him again which means that I'll have to play that game one more time. How many drinks will it take me to go numb again? Oh, how he'd hate what I've become. The ashes from the cigarette dangling in the corner of my mouth are falling onto my filthy black and white striped shirt. Hell, I hate what I've become. A wave of nausea comes over me but I'm too comfortable on the couch to get up, so I fight it back with another sip of whatever alcoholic drink is sitting on the coffee table. The girl from last night stumbles out of the bedroom, pulling her clothes on and walking to the door at the same time. "It's open." I say, not looking at her. "Thanks, bye uh..." She's clearly forgotten my name, if I even told her my name. I can't remember. "Matt." I say, not bothering to ask for hers. "Right, bye Matt." I nod in response and the door closes. Alone once again.

I remember mine and Mello's first time. It was slow and awkward but we got the hang of it eventually. It was about two weeks after we moved in here and we were both virgins at the time. I'd been so afraid of hurting him that I'd practically refused to touch him when he told me he wanted it. It was by far the best night of my life despite the initial troubles and Mello had said the same. I wonder if he meant that. All of the people I've been with since then, and I'm ashamed to say that I don't remember how many it's been, have never given me the feeling Mello gave me. I assumed it felt good because it was supposed to but I know now that it felt good because it was with the right person. I don't know why I keep doing it anyway but, every second or third night I'll go down to the bar on the corner and pick up whoever will come home with me. It usually doesn't take long. I hate myself for it, every single time hating myself a little more. I want Mello back.

I put out what's left of the cigarette that was in my mouth previously, only to light another. I cough rather roughly. I'm concerned for a second, horrible thoughts running through my head. I give in to a smile suddenly, maybe it's lung cancer and I'm dying, wouldn't that be a sweet deal? Another wave of nausea racks my body, this one much worse than the last. I run to the sink and puke up the contents of my stomach and more, leaving me gagging over the cold kitchen counter. Once I'm finished, I pour the contents of whatever is in the bottle on the counter into a plastic cup. I head back to my spot on the couch downing the liquid as I walk. It burns my already raw throat causing me to wince in pain. I trip and fall face first into the trash covered ground. I can't find the energy to pull myself up, so I lie there, face down on the ground. I find myself imagining Mello coming home right now... What a sad sight I must be. He'd probably kick my ass. I'd deserve it too, I'm a sorry excuse for a human being. The tears start pooling in my eyes and dropping onto the floor. I stopped sending him letters about two months ago, finally realizing that he didn't care about me. He would've replied by now if he did, right? Since then, countless random strangers have been through these doors and countless days have been spent just like this one. I drag myself off of the ground and roughly wipe my tears away. I think it's time I wrote my last letter.