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It’s been a shit day all around, really.
The lead with Misa Amane has been going absolutely nowhere. Matt hasn’t noticed any unusual behaviour from her or her bodyguard-agent thing Mogi, which has made watching her incredibly dull. He almost wishes she would do something suspicious just to make tailing her a little more interesting.
Matt hasn’t seen Mello since he left for the day to trail Misa, but he’s pretty sure that Mello hasn’t had a great day, either. Asking Matt to handle things for him so he could take a day off was the biggest indicator - Mello never took days off. He saw them as a sign of weakness, a way to waste time and be unproductive.
Matt hadn’t argued, of course. But in-between taking absolutely no notes at all, it’s been on the back of his mind. If Mello’s doing alright. What he’s been doing all day - he hadn’t told him why he’d taken the day off and Matt hadn’t asked. He knew Mello would tell him later.
Matt comes home, somehow completely exhausted despite barely anything being done. Boredom is exhausting, really - Matt tries to keep himself constantly stimulated with his video games and music, but without those things his fingers are always itching. He can’t just do nothing. It’s not how he’s wired.
He had his cigarettes, at least. That had been one plus of the day.
“Home,” Matt calls into the safehouse, kicking off his boots. He pushes up his goggles to rub at his eyes.
Mello doesn’t respond. Matt doesn’t worry too much. He’s probably sleeping.
Matt opens the door to their bedroom where Mello’s laying on the bed, arm over his eyes. He’s not sleeping - he puts his arm down as soon as the door opens and tries to sit up, but gives up halfway through and winces as he lowers himself back down.
Yeah. Matt had figured that had something to do with it.
Mello didn’t like talking about it. He didn’t like talking about the fire, or how he barely made it out alive. He didn’t like talking about how the left side of his face, torso, neck and most of his arm was marred in burn marks, the skin uneven and tight. He didn’t like talking about how he no longer had vision or hearing on his left side. That had been the hardest for him to lose - Mello always had to be aware. Always on edge, always listening. To lose some of that ability was terrifying.
Matt gave him a small smile, kicking the door closed. His first instinct was always to comfort Mello. But Mello hated sympathy, said it made him feel broken. And Matt respects that - God, of course he does. He respects Mello more than anything and anybody else on the planet.
Matt flops down next to Mello on the bed, making Mello grunt. Matt stretches himself out and kicks his feet, leaning his head on his arms and looking at Mello, “How’d your day off go?”
Mello scoffs and looks away, “Shit.” he says, “Been in pain all day.”
Matt winces, “You uh… you want me to get you your lotion?”
Mello nods. Matt gets up to grab it from the side drawer. Mello looks up at the ceiling, “Anything happen today with Amane?’
Matt laughs, “Jack shit. I had to watch her go shopping for five hours and then give Mogi a fuckin’ fashion haul.” he says as he pulls out the bottle of lotion, “You owe me.”
Mello grins, all sharp teeth, “Oh, do I now?” he teases.
Matt grins, “If you’re up for it,” he says. He sits down next to Mello on the bed and tugs at the hem of his tank top, “You need my help getting this off?”
Mello tries to get it off himself, but that seems to require too much out of him, judging by the pained look on his face when he tries to get his left arm out. He nods, “Yeah.” he says quietly.
Mello’s never liked asking for help - never liked accepting that he needs help. It’s another reason why this has been so hard on him, because he does need help. He can’t do this on his own. Matt knows he’d rather deal with this himself, just like at Wammy’s when he would scrape his knee or get a bloody nose and he’d go off somewhere to deal with it himself rather than letting anyone else help him.
Matt just smiles at him anyway, “Yeah, yeah. I got you,” he says and puts the lotion down on the blanket to reach out and gently pull Mello’s arm out of the tank top, whispering apologies when he sees Mello visibly wince at the sensation. He pulls it over Mello’s head and folds it at the end of the bed.
Matt grabs the bottle again and squeezes a good amount onto one hand before rubbing it thoroughly into both of his palms and fingers. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the feeling of lotion all over his hands for more than a few seconds, but he endures it for Mello, “I’ll be fast,” he says.
Mello gives him a half-grin, “You better. Been waiting for you.”
That makes Matt pause, just for a moment, heart hammering. Brain short-circuiting like some fried piece of equipment. It’s kind of stupid, really. They’ve been together for three years and something as simple as that has him feeling like some lovestruck fool with a crush.
Maybe he does still have a crush on Mello, in a way. It feels a bit silly, to have a crush on your boyfriend, but he thinks he does. It would explain the giddy feeling he gets in his chest when Mello smiles at him or mentions waiting for him or being happy to see him.
Matt brings himself back to reality and gently puts his hands on Mello’s arm. He feels Mello tense up under him - just slightly, that arm is still pretty weak - but Matt can feel it anyway. Matt furrows his brows as he begins gently applying the lotion to the scars along his arm and torso.
Matt’s more accustomed to Mello’s scars than Mello himself is, at this point. Some days, Mello likes to pretend as if they don’t exist at all. As if things are still like they were just a few months ago. As if he’s not in any pain at all, because why would he be in pain if he lives in a world where he’s not covered in scars?
Mello told him once that he felt ugly with the scars and that was probably the closest to crying Matt had ever come to.
It had been about a month into Mello’s recovery. The first time he had looked into a mirror for more than just a split second. Matt had walked past the bathroom door and Mello had been gripping the edge of the sink. Staring.
Mello had looked devastated, eyes darting all over himself. At what he looked like now.
When he saw Matt, his demeanor changed. He no longer seemed horrified or upset. He seemed a lot more relaxed about it all, as if he had already accepted that what’s done was done and that the scars were there to stay. But Matt knew Mello better than that. He could see the pain, the tension just underlying in his voice when he spoke.
“Jesus,” he had said with a shallow laugh, using his good hand to run through his hair that had just begun to grow longer and shaggier. It had since gotten longer, though Mello maintained it better these days, “I’m an ugly son of a bitch.”
Matt had frowned and stepped into the washroom. He used a hand to tilt Mello’s face away from the mirror. He could see the shine in his eyes, then, from tears he wouldn’t let fall.
Matt had leaned in and pressed his lips to Mello’s scarred cheek, lightly enough not to hurt the still sensitive scar tissue, “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever met,” he had said.
Mello had shed a few silent tears at that which Matt hadn’t acknowledged it for the sake of his pride, but he had kissed just under his eyes later that night.
It doesn’t take long to finish lathering Mello’s scars. Matt has every inch of Mello’s body memorized at this point, both scarred and unscarred. It makes the process go by relatively quickly, which Mello is always thankful for.
“There,” Matt says, closing the cap on the lotion and tucking it into the drawer on their nightstand, “that help at all?”
Mello rolls his shoulder experimentally. He still winces, but it doesn’t seem to be as bad as before, “Yeah. Thanks, doctor.” he says sarcastically.
Matt smiles and leans down to kiss Mello’s forehead, “I think I’d make a good doctor,” he says.
Mello laughs, the sound louder than anything else he’s made all day, “Like hell you would.” he says, “You’d get distracted halfway through and start playing on your PSP.”
Matt pouts, “Well, maybe everybody should be as interesting as you, then.” he says slyly, letting himself lay down next to Mello. He hooks a gentle leg over Mello’s waist and wraps his arms around his shoulders.
Mello scoffs, “You’re such a sap,” he grumbles, “besides, if everyone was as interesting as me, you’d never want me.”
Matt puts his head down, right up against Mello’s non-scarred shoulder so he can look up at him with those sad puppy dog eyes. Mello claims to hate them, but they always make him fold at the end of the day, “Of course I would,” Matt says, “I always want you.”
Mello pauses at that. He smirks and lifts a single hand to run through Matt’s hair, ruffling his hair like some sort of overgrown dog. Matt grins through it, “Might as well get you a fuckin’ collar with my name on it at this point.” Mello says.
It’s a joke - it’s definitely a joke - but the mere suggestion of that fills Matt’s head with thoughts that he doesn’t know what to do with and has no interest in exploring today, so he laughs it off, hoping Mello doesn’t notice, “Oh, fuck off.”
Luckily, Mello doesn’t seem to notice the effect that suggestion had on him. Or maybe he’s choosing to ignore it for the sake of Matt’s pride, but Matt doubts that. If there’s one thing Mello loves more than anything it’s teasing him.
Speaking of teasing, Mello drags his non-calloused hand down from Matt’s hair, down his sweater and to the back of his jeans where he puts his hand in the back pocket. He smiles that toothy grin up at him.
“So.”
Matt can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across his face as he lifts his head off Mello’s shoulder, “So?”
Mello leans up to kiss Matt’s cheek, “You’re a very good doctor,” he says, “I’m feeling a lot better.”
“Oh?” Matt says, unable to keep the excitement from seeping out of his voice, “I must be magic.”
“Maybe.” Mello says and looks him up and down, “You wanna show me just how much you missed me today?”
Matt outright grins at that. Stupid question, “For you, Mels?” he asks, “Always.” he says, leaning down to pull Mello into a bruising kiss.