Forty Seconds (MattxMello -- Death Note)

14 // sixteen

When he finally found him, Mail Jeevas proceeded to cry. These were not single tears, either. No, the redhead sat on what used to be the building's roof -- but was now a collection of large stones -- with his head between his knees, and sobbed. Sobbed like the day he did when his parents were killed. Sobbed like he did the night he and Mello first had sex. Sobbed like he did when the emptiness consumed him and he felt so non-existent even his hands seemed transparent.

He also shook.

This was partly from the outrageous sobbing, but also from the fear. Matt hadn't been this scared since Mello made him watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre at midnight last Halloween.

He stared down at the blonde boy, motionless in the ash beside him. His bright eyes were shut. A good third of his face, and almost all of his left shoulder, had been nearly blown off. Instead of skin there was only a fiery red burn that looked so painful, Matt had to look away.

He leaned his ear in close to the boy's pale lips, trying not to shudder when they accidentally touched. He was breathing. Matt nearly broke out into another round of sobs, but thought that might be more-or-less inappropriate at that time.

"Oh Christ, Mihael, please breathe!"

It was slow but steady. Godamn it, Mels -- why do you have to be such a hardass? he though to himself.

The explosion had destroyed Matt's car parked too close to the building (the poor Cadillac was a rusted pile of copper) so he had to take Mello's motorcycle. Since he was still unconscious, Matt ended up tying his hands around Matt's waist with Mello's rosary beads. Truly metaphorical.

"Hold on, Mels."

Matt drove to an abandoned building of flats owned by an inactive company. Matt would sometimes go there for peace and quiet, since it was so close to the Mafia safe-house. He attempted hoisting him over his shoulder, but found him to be heavier than Matt thought. If he was conscious, and the situation wasn't so morbid, Matt might've cracked a joke about Mello eating one too many chocolate bars. He would receive an elbow in the shoulder for that one.

He finally managed to drag the blonde boy inside by his wrists, grunting with effort as he hoisted him up onto the couch. He spent the next nine and a half hours crouched beside the boy, biting his thumb nervously, counting heartbeats.

He held the blonde boy down when he finally did wake, and flipped the fuck out. Mumbling something about a notebook and something else about a Shinigami. Typical. He spent the next couple hours bandaging wounds with gauze and feeding him cherry-flavored cough syrup to take the edge off. He fell asleep again at about six am, and Matt paced the room to keep himself awake.

He ended up making a nine o'clock quick-stop for Vodka, a shit ton of chocolate and cigarettes, and two XXL Duncan Doughnuts coffees on the way back. Overrated in Matt's opinion. But Mello only drank the good stuff. they spoiled him in the mafia. Fucking princess.

When he came back he was awake again, eyes frantic and twitching fingers grasping at the air. As Matt shoved two painkillers down his throat with a shot of caffeine afterwards, he make a panicked suggestion:

"You need a fucking hospital!"

Mello responded as expected. Matt really did see directly through him.

"Don't...be a fucking idiot...Matt," he inhaled a sharp breath of pain after attempting to move a limb "we might as well hand ourselves over to the SPK." He rolled over on his back, rosary clutched in both hands, and squeezed his eyes shut as Matt continued to have a slight mental breath down.

Fuck.

///

Days three to six consisted mainly of pouring rubbing alcohol over wounds, feeding Mello chocolate, hacking police servers (highly illegal, highly amusing) and making Mello drink/consume things he did not want to: chicken noodle soup, Benadryl, Apple Juice for his sore throat and kid's cold medicine when they were out of painkillers. Mello was reluctant to consume anything with a pink bear on the package. Instead, he sipped Vodka throughout the entire day, causing him to always, without exception, get sick. It happened so frequently, that Matt had just put a bucket beside the couch instead of attempting to escort him to the bathroom.

Over this time, Matt felt a large range of emotions. He went from sobbing out of fear of losing his lover, to wanting to wring the kid's fucking neck. Mello never quite did say exactly what he felt. More-so the opposite, really. But it was hard to feel the gratitude when he was getting his fucking ear yelled off all the time.

Damn.

///

Days thirteen to sixteen showed signs of physical improvement. Which was fortunate. On the other hand, though, Matt could sense Mello's psych deteriorating.

"I'm scared," he'd whispered to Matt one night. No elaboration was needed; Matt knew exactly what he meant.

///

Days seventeen to twenty-two came, and Mello was on his feet again. Not that he used this newly reclaimed ability very often, though.

"Matt?"

"Nh?"

"Can you...get me the...bottle of...Vodka?"

"It's in the kitchen."

"Ugh, that's too far. Can you get it?"

"Can't you get off your fat ass and get it yourself for once?"

Mello turned his stiff neck and shot that intimidating glare at the redhead. Sixteen years of seeing that glare, and he still flinched every time.

"Me and my, what?"

"You and your lovely fucking personality!"

Pause. He got up and slide down the wall to sit beside Matt, who didn't even try to avoid eye-contact (it was unavoidable.)

"I'm gonna die, Matt."

The words hurt Matt's heart like it'd been stabbed repetitively with a fork. It was the tone of voice more-so than the word's themselves -- while they said surrender, the tone said defeat.

"I'm gonna die exactly the way L did."

Matt had never seen a scene so sad in his entire goddamned life. He felt obligated to protest -- to assure the blonde boy everything would be okay. But Mello was no idiot, and he was certainly not in the mood to be patronized.

"What's the point of it? Even if Kira doesn't get me, there will always be another Kira. Before Kira, it was BB. Before him, another. This game never ends."

Fuck it. Matt bit his lip, crossed his fingers and took a chance.

"We could just, go. Just you and me. Fuck Kira. Let Near get his ass killed for the cause. Don't let us waste our lives on that. We could leave Japan and go someplace far away from the whole thing. Start a new life. Together."

There was prolonged silence. The portable heater hummed.

And then there was laughter. Mello's laughter. Choking, pain-stricken laughter.

"Matt. We...We were raised to catch Kira. Fuck, we were basically born to catch Kira. A normal, happy life...that's not for us. It wasn't...God's plan."

Eye contact broken. Matt squeezes his neck muscles to release some of the tension. God's plan. Nice one, Mello.