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He knew it would happen again.
Jarred awake by his own screams, Mello practically jumps into a sitting position. At first, he struggles to comprehend his whereabouts, hands shuffling around his person then advancing to the mattress below.
Eyes dart frantically around the darkened space before Mello flicks on a lamp at his bedside. Only when he gazes upon the familiar does his heart settle. He’s in his own bedroom at the LA apartment he shares with Matt. Without checking the time, Mello determines it’s either late at night or early morning. And, aside from his gasps, the space is mostly quiet, save for the usual choir of crickets and the hum of the AC.
And then, everything becomes painfully clear. It was another night terror… his mind supplies.
No matter how many times they occurred, Mello knew he would never get used to them. His swiftly dissipating fear turns into anger mingled with absolute frustration. Mello bites his lip as tears begin to form.
I feel like I’m going insane!
His chest heaves. Sweat collects on his face. He can still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making his hands tingle unpleasantly. Those shaky fingers come to tangle in his hair and pull hard.
It’s down-right laughable how pathetic I am…
In the public eye, Mello knows he’s seen as a confident individual; intelligent, witty and in full control of both body and mind. Yet, during the night, he is largely the opposite; uncertain, vulnerable, and uncontrollably emotional. More than anything, he abhors these weaknesses.
The bedroom door opens, disrupting Mello’s thoughts. Matt cautiously enters, gingerly crossing the room and sits next to the huddled blonde. Then, without a word, he lifts Mello into his arms, cradling him, petting his hair.
Mello doesn’t bother to resist; after all, this is the second phase of his night terrors, where Matt comforts him. Hell, even if he wanted to protest, there is little, if any, fight left in him. For a moment, he sits motionless in Matt’s lap, so very tired of the god awful routine. Not only did he have to suffer through these sleepless nights, but Matt did too. He hated subjecting his boyfriend to such a wild schedule.
It would be hard to reason Matt being resentful in any capacity; if anything, Matt seemed overjoyed to console Mello during their 3am shuffle.
Even now, he tucks some of Mello’s hair behind his ears, and strokes his unscarred cheek. “It’s okay, Mells, “Matt whispers, “I’m here. Everything’ll be alright.”
Those words swiftly destroy any strength left in Mello. He swallows repeatedly, futility attempting to dislodge a newly formed lump in his throat. Now defenseless, he starts to sob, completely at the mercy of his emotions. Intermingled with his cries are incoherent vocalizations muffled by Matt's shoulder.
Mello likely knew the reason for the episodes, seeing that his scars were still rather fresh. Though the events at his base were troubling, it didn’t compare to his first day at Wammy’s. First, he remembers lingering in the doorway of the main building, wary of the adults who chattered just feet away. He wasn’t supposed to be there; but then again, where was he meant to be?
He recalls being incredibly resentful, especially during the first tour of his “new home”; as if another orphanage could be a home, Mello recalls al of this with a sneer; nothing would ever feel like home again. And then, the terrors started, every night for weeks. They were disrupting, draining, and had the other children resenting him. Yet one day, without warning, they stopped altogether. Looking back, it’s easy to reason why they started in the first place: stress; that explained the now as well.
Ever since the episodes stopped, Mello quashed both his memories and traumas, tucking everything into the deepest recesses of his mind. He reasoned that ignoring such memories would somehow keep him from experiencing any future terrors.
Reminiscing wasn’t something he did; those types of things were for the weak, he’d tell himself, and Mello was far from that. Hell, even physically he could withstand the seemingly insurmountable, like when he fled his crumbling base with both his life and vital organs still intact.
Yet, following the explosion, Mello was left with more than just scars along his flesh. The mental wounds of yesteryear reemerged along with the night terrors.
What was so particularly troubling about the base explosion, Mello questions. When the concrete, rebar and the like fell around him, he felt helpless, just as he did so many years ago when he became an orphan. Losing his family, in a way, felt the same as fleeing the crumbling structure; he needed to be saved, reassured, to be told he didn’t have to worry, that by tomorrow everything would be okay.
Mello hates that these terrors bring forth such strong emotions, ones he can no longer contain. He doesn’t want Matt, or anyone, to witness the ugliest parts of himself laid bare. Yet he allows his mask to be lifted during these dark hours. It’s okay, right? Because it’s Matt.
And it’s fine, Mello reasons, because Matt is rather good at comforting him. He always holds Mello so tenderly, playing with his hair, whispering reassurances, continually repeating that everything will be fine.
Mello knows those soft words aren’t true; that, by the next night, he’ll be terrified again. It’s happened ever since the explosion, and it will keep happening without fail. It doesn’t matter if Mello tries to will his condition into nothingness; no matter what, it reoccurs, almost every night. But he wants to believe Matt, needs to believe that Matt can make everything better just by holding him close.
Maybe, just for a moment, Mello can lie to himself, and believe those pretty words. For a short time, he ignores everything around him, paying mind only to the arms that hold him protectively, carefully and lovingly. He lets go, unloading his frustrations into his cries, until there is nothing left to utter. And, for a moment or two, the room is peaceful and quiet.
But then, Mello is brought out of serenity as neighboring tenants start to quarrel. Their thunderous banter cuts through the night, disrupting not only Mello and Matt, but also a dog who bellows in protest.
And then Mello becomes painfully aware of the state of their accommodations: the jarring hum of the window AC, the peeling paint on one wall, missing chunks of plaster on another.
Like Wammy’s, their shitty apartment could never be called home; it’s just a cheap place for them to lay low and safe from Kira’s prying eyes. But maybe it’s not the place that is home, but instead, it’s the person who’s always there. Matt is his home, the person who followed him everywhere, and who’s loyal to a fault.
For a moment, he lays heavily against Matt, reveling in the touch, the touch of someone he trusts implicitly. And for a while, just a little while, Mello is okay.