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The door clicked open before Mello even reached for the handle. He had been gone for a week, seven days of deadlines, contacts, and impossible logistics, but he was back now. And something about the apartment felt… off.
Mello dropped his bag by the door, running his fingers through his hair, tense. “Matt?” No answer. Just the soft, harsh rasp of smoke curling through the air. Mello’s stomach sank. He walked into the living room, and there he was. Matt, slouched on the couch, hair sticking up at impossible angles, black goggles perched crookedly on his forehead, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The ashtray on the table was overflowing, the smell thick, acrid. Empty cans, snack wrappers, and a half-drunk bottle of soda littered the floor. “Are you kidding me?” Mello’s voice was low, sharp, shaking with frustration.
Matt barely stirred, eyes half-lidded, staring at the ceiling. “Hmm? Oh… hey. You’re home.” His voice was lazy, indifferent. Mello’s chest tightened. He closed the door behind him, but didn’t move to sit. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been gone? Do you know what I was expecting when I came back?” Matt shrugged. “I dunno… you coming home?” “Coming home!” Mello took a step closer, hands shaking slightly. “I was expecting… I don’t know… a human being, Matt! Not… this.” He gestured to the mess, the smoke, the discarded empties. “You’re… you’re killing yourself slowly, and I can’t-” His voice cracked. Matt finally turned, blinking at him, defenselessly, confused. “I’m fine.” “No! You’re not!” Mello snapped, voice rising. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? I called. I texted. I left messages. And every time, I got… nothing! And then I come home to this…” He gestured again, more violently this time, “to this hell you’re living in!” Matt flinched at the anger, as if the volume alone could hurt.
He tried to speak but only managed a weak, “I… I’m fine, Mel. Really.” “You’re not!” Mello’s hands were gripping the edge of the coffee table now. “You’re smoking yourself into an early grave. You’re not eating. You’re… you’re just existing in this… this mess. And I-” He stopped himself. The lump in his throat was suffocating. “I can’t… I can’t just watch, Matt. I… I don’t-” Matt’s eyes softened, and he finally got up, holding out the cigarette like a shield. “I don’t know how to… stop.” Mello’s shoulders slumped, exhausted. He crossed the room in two strides, snatched the cigarette from Matt’s fingers, and crushed it in the ashtray. Smoke spiraled into the air, stinging their eyes. “Stop? Stop? You’re going to make me stop breathing, Matt!” Matt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, defeated. “I… I just… I don’t know. I don’t care sometimes.” Mello’s hands gripped Matt’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You’re insane. You think I could ever… ever be okay if something happened to you? You’re mine, Matt. You’re mine, and I don’t care if you don’t feel like it. You’re not allowed to destroy yourself.” Matt froze. His lips quivered as he tried to find words. “I… I didn’t think… you’d care.” Mello’s anger softened slightly, turning into something hotter, more desperate.
“Care? Do you think I could exist without caring? Without worrying every second you’re not here? I can’t. I won’t.” Matt finally let his guard down. He leaned into Mello, barely holding himself together. “I just… I felt alone. And tired. And… nothing mattered.” Mello’s heart cracked. He pulled Matt into a rough hug, pressing their foreheads together. “Nothing matters more than you. Not the missions, not the games, not anything. Just… you, okay? I need you alive. That’s it.”
Matt nodded weakly, voice muffled against Mello’s chest. “I’ll try…” “No. No try. You will. You’re not allowed not to try.” Mello’s voice was firm, trembling with emotion. He cupped Matt’s face, searching his eyes. “We’ll fix this. Together. You hear me?” A long silence stretched between them. The smell of smoke lingered, thick and cloying, but it didn’t matter. Mello pulled Matt to the couch and sat him down, kneeling in front of him, grabbing his hands. “We start over. You stop smoking. You eat. You rest. And I’ll… I’ll be here every second, making sure you don’t turn into this mess again.” Matt sniffled, eyes glossy. “And… you won’t leave?” “Never,” Mello whispered. “Never, ever again. Not while I’m alive.”
The fight in Mello drained, leaving only exhaustion and relief. He pressed a soft kiss to Matt’s temple. “Now… let’s clean this up. I’ll get groceries, you’ll… shower, maybe? Can you do that?” Matt managed a small laugh, weak but real. “Yeah… I think I can.” By the time the apartment was semi-clean, the air lighter, the ashtray empty, Matt was sitting cross-legged on the couch wrapped in one of Mello’s hoodies, hair damp and tousled, looking like a different person entirely. Mello crouched in front of him, carefully tying Matt’s laces for the first time in days, fingers brushing over knobby ankles and rough hands. “See? Already better.”
Matt smiled faintly. “You make it sound like magic.” “It is magic,” Mello said softly, leaning in to kiss the top of Matt’s head. “It’s my magic. I fix broken things. You’re mine. I’m not letting you stay broken.” Matt leaned into him, finally allowing himself to relax. “I… I missed you.” “I know,” Mello whispered. “And I missed you too. So don’t scare me like that again, alright? Promise me.” “I promise,” Matt said, curling into his chest. Hours passed in quiet comfort.
Mello cooked dinner, slowly, carefully, and Matt helped with small things, smiling softly when Mello hummed under his breath. They ate together, not talking much, but every movement, every glance, every brush of fingers was a stitch sewing the holes that had opened in their hearts over the past week. Later, they curled up on the couch, Mello’s arm draped over Matt’s shoulders, Matt resting his head against Mello’s chest. The apartment smelled faintly of cooked vegetables and coffee, but most importantly, it smelled like home. “Mel,” Matt murmured after a long silence. “Hm?” “I… I like it when you’re mad at me. Sort of.” Mello laughed softly, a short, relieved burst. “Sort of?” “Yeah. It means you care. And… I like that.” Mello pressed a long, careful kiss to the top of Matt’s head. “Then don’t make me mad again. Just… love me enough to survive.” Matt smiled, eyes fluttering closed. “I… will.”
Mello held him closer, heart still hammering with relief and residual anger, but also… peace. They would get through this. Together. And for the first time that week, Mello let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. The night stretched on, quiet, warm, and soft. Mello hummed a little tune, Matt snoring lightly against his chest, and the apartment—once suffocating with smoke and mess was finally, fully theirs again.