The Mello Code

Mello completed his report very quickly. It practically wrote itself. Then he sat, staring, at the screen. He tried to piece together the building blocks of his code thus far, but saw only a scattered mess. He could not clearly see his way forward. He was not used to feeling this confused. It frightened him. He rose from his seat, turned and knelt down at the Marian Shrine. Two saints had been swopped over. He quickly transposed them. Mello prayed, but his mind was too cluttered. He could not find peace. He could not form the prayers to send. He didn't even know for what he wanted to ask guidance. He crossed himself and his muttering sounded feverish even to his own ears. "Oce naš, koji jesi na nebesima, sveti se ime tvoje, dodji kraljevstvo tvoje, budi volja tvoja kako na nebu tako i na zemlji." He wasn't even concentrating on the words. He didn't know what he was doing here. "Kruh naš svagdanji daj nam danas. I otpusti nam duge naše kako i mi otpuštamo dužnicima našim. I ne uvedi nas u napast, nego izbavi nas od zla. Amen."



He raced out of the room and into the study opposite. "Matt! I'm having a panic attack!"



"No, you're not." Matt replied languidly and turned from his computer. His gaze took in his husband and he slowly nodded. "Ok, maybe you are." The redhead rose from his seat and guided Mello to the settee. "Hold on, I have emergency chocolate just down here." He bent and scooped up a bar of Mello's favourite brand from some stash beneath the table. "Try breathing."



Mello leaned forward, his arms listlessly falling in the space between his knees. He exhaled and tried to regulate the air in his lungs. The proximity of Matt was helping him, even if the redhead was just standing there holding out chocolate. He reached out and snatched it from him, though he didn't unwrap it. Matt seemed to get the hint and sat down beside him, an arm draping itself around Mello's shoulders. "Hal's right. I do use people. I don't deserve friends. I just take what I need for that moment and move on."



"Yeah, but you've singularly failed to get rid of me, which also proves that you're talking crap."



"I should have told Hal. I should have come right out and said to her that I have killed people. I've done a lot more terrible things than that. I've left people alive who would have rather been dead." Mello could see their faces in his mind's eye. He could name them. There were a lot more who he didn't know. Faceless people in the way, whose lives had been extinguished on his orders. "She's going to help me and I don't deserve it."



"Mihael." Matt's voice was low and soothing. "Stop doing this to yourself. There's nothing you to do to change the past. So learn from it, move on and create a brilliant future."



"I'm fucking damned. I'm so damned."



Matt didn't look convinced. "You've told me before that God is love and God will forgive you as long as you repent. You've repented about million times in the time that we've been back together, so you're bound to have done it another trillion before that." He lit a cigarette. "You're no more the monster you're envisaging than you're the angel Hal's got in her head. Try and spot the balance in the middle. That's you right there."



"But I've used everyone. I used Wammy. I took his shelter and education and just threw it away."



"By becoming precisely what Mr Wammy wanted you to become."



"I used the Mafia. I took their resources and their network and..."



"They took your intelligence and made lots of money increasing their resources and network."



"I used Yakuza. In Japan, I just..."



"Got rid of Kira for them."



Mello wanted to slap him for calmly sitting there, with his rose-tinted view of the world, rationalising away all their sins as having some good. "I've used you!"



"Yeah, but I get off on it, so that is especially good."



"Matty!" Mello glared. "Will you stop treating me like I'm a hormonal, neurotic, fucking...?" He couldn't finish. His words spluttered into an anguished roar and he held his head in his hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"



Matt sighed. "I will when you stop acting like one."



Mello took several deep breaths and unwrapped the chocolate. He attacked it viciously and, beside him, Matt appeared satisfied with that. Mello could feel himself calming, but all that was being left in its wake was depression. The only way he could beat Near was to lie and cheat, manipulating people to help him. That wasn't winning. It was just another form of losing. It wasn't ethical. How could he be a hero, when he ended up as flawed as those he was trying to bring to justice? Kira had called it. In the Yellow Box. Kira had told him that there was no difference between them. It was times like this that Mello wondered if it was even worth trying. He could just retire and become a teacher at Wammy's House. He stared at the games consoles in front of him and wondered how much Matt would flip out, if Mello just kicked them to bits. Near wouldn't deign to teach there. Mello wasn't even going to bother asking him. Right now, Mello couldn't believe that Hal had asked him to. It was undignified! Lawliet had never been asked to teach. "Bitch."



"Mihael?" Matt patted Mello's back. "Can you rant out loud please? So I know where to dive in and intercept the bits that you've got particularly out of proportion."



"I'm not ranting!"



Matt nodded and smacked his lips. "I'm willing to bet my PS3 that you are ranting inside your head."



Mello hated him for being right and for not cuddling him properly. "When you're upset, I move Hell and all to make you feel better again. When I'm upset, you're like a block of wood, just fucking sitting there like a lump."



"You've got to give me more to go on, angel. Give me a list and I'll make it all better for you."



Mello sighed. "I'm having to fucking prostitute my mind, while Near's just there all cushy..."



"Selling his mind for money."



"See!" Mello growled, sitting back and trapping Matt's arm behind him. "This is why I don't tell you anything! You just make comments!"



Matt smirked. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh at you."



Mello could feel the rage rumbling and rising inside him. He was going to lash out and he had to either do it or flee that room, because someone was going to get hurt. He gripped the chocolate bar in his hand so tightly that it snapped in two. He started to stand. He had to get out. He was going to kill Matt. He was going to have to punch something or kick something or throw something or... Matt kissed him. The redhead moved at the same time as Mello did and pushed him back against the settee. His mouth closed in and kissed Mello hard. Mello thumped his back and still Matt crushed him into the cushions. A denim thigh slid between Mello's legs, moving against his groin. Matt's own sex was grinding against Mello's thigh. Mello tried to turn his head away, but Matt held it with one hand pressed against it. He turned it the other way. "Matt! You fucking incomparable bastard, motherfucking cunt!"



"Ssssh." Matt soothed, leaning to kiss him again.



Mello's hand slammed against his husband's shoulder. He injected all his fury inside into hissing, "Let me go." He knew how he must look. He could feel his own eyes narrowed into slits and his teeth were bared. "If you know what's good for you." Matt backed away. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He neither looked smug or afraid. He looked distant, closing down. "Good. You've gone defensive." Mello was immobile for a long moment before bringing the remains of the chocolate back to his mouth. Matt stepped back over his games consoles and lit a cigarette. They stared at each other, but it was Matt who looked away first. Mello smirked, though he felt no mirth. He knew how disturbing his smile could be, when accompanied with the look he was giving his husband now. "You should be defensive." Matt was silent. His eyes shielded beneath his goggles, but not his hair. Mello had cut it too short for that. "So you want sex? I come to talk to you and you want sex." He placed the chocolate, with calculated precision, down on the arm of the settee. "Fine. Let's have sex."



Matt shuddered before he caught himself and tensed into perfect stillness. His gaze slid sidewards towards the door and he gave himself away with the gesture. He leapt suddenly over the consoles, but Mello was upon him, wrestling him around until Matt collided with the edge of the open door. There was a resounding thud and Matt shrieked, but Mello had no sympathy for him. He held him close, though Matt struggled, one hand grasping for purchase on the collar. "Ok! Mello! Ok! But calm it down, you're..."



Mello smacked him hard across the face. Matt's goggles cracked right across the left lense; it splintered a shard nearly into his eye. Mello yanked them off and threw them into the study behind him. "Fucking scary, isn't it, Matt?" He snarled. "When you've pushed me this far." Matt's fist came back and Mello dodged to the side. The redhead connected with hipbone rather than stomach, which hurt them both. Mello dragged him off-balance and finally caught the collar. Matt kicked out, but Mello was faster. He kneed the redhead in the stomach and twisted his arm behind his back. "For the record, I lied. That first time? You asked me if I would have stopped? No Matty, I wouldn't have stopped, because I was as riled then as I am now. Don't even try saying 'Watari' because you're going to find out that I won't stop now either."



"Zdravo Marijo, milosti puna." Matt gasped, spitting out blood.



"Fuck you!" Mello screamed in his ear. He frog-marched the redhead along the landing, though his husband's feet dragged. Suddenly Matt's knees buckled and he became a dead weight in Mello's grasp. Feet braced against the carpet, body square on the floor. Mello stumbled and nearly fell over him. His fingers were twisted painfully under the collar and he snatched them out. "Fucking twat!"



Matt bolted, aiming for the stairs, but he had never had Mello's speed. The blond pounced, both arms around Matt's waist, tackling the redhead into the landing bannister. "Mello." Matt panted. "Mihael, come on. Mihael. Don't go past the point of no return. Mihael." Mello grabbed a handful of hair and tried to bash Matt's head into the balustrade, but there wasn't enough room. Matt took a deep breath and shrieked out, "Watari!"



It echoed off the tiles beneath. They both stood there, breathless and immobile. Matt didn't struggle to escape anymore. Mello still held him with an iron grip over the edge. For an instant, it occurred to Mello that all he had to do was bend and push, then Matt would land broken several feet below. The thought terrified him, yet the bloodlust was still upon him. He had asked Matt not to say that. Not to bring it to the point where it was a test. He could let him go now and everything could be passed off as bullshit. He would always stop when Matt asked him to. Or he could carry on and teach the redhead not to fuck with him, when he was upset. They stood and the tension could be cut with a knife.



Matt spat again, blood sailing in a glob of saliva through the air to splat on the hallway floor. Mello raised his eyes and realised why his subconscious had probably brought them out here. There were saints looking down at him from the stained glass. This was the same reason that he had chosen this location for violent sex after Matt's abduction. The saints bespoke restraint. Mello shook with the passion inside. His lips ached with the pressure with which he was pursing them together. The saints looked serenely on. Matt didn't say a word.



It had gone past the time when Mello could act. It felt like defeat. The flash of fury had dissipated, but he was still angry. He knew that he wasn't going to force Matt. He knew that he couldn't walk away. They felt trapped on some peninsula from which there was no return without losing face. He couldn't lose. He couldn't win. Mello exhaled angrily and released his grip. He even took a step backwards, but Matt didn't move. He just stayed exactly where Mello had held him, half bent over the bannister, dribbling blood. Matt didn't even look back and he still never said a word. Mello licked his lips and watched him, his own fingers balled so hard into fists that his fingernails dug into his palms, even through the leather gloves. He waited and Matt didn't budge an inch.



"Ok." Mello moved back in, his hands reaching around Matt's waist and unfastening his belt. The redhead let him. He unbuttoned the flies and pulled jeans and boxers down together. They pooled at Matt's knees, but still he stayed, eyes downcast. "You could have run away." Mello accused him bitterly. "By staying you give your consent."



"I know." Matt replied, softly.



Mello quickly freed himself. He placed a hand on Matt's back, pushing him further over the bannister. One hand grasped the collar from the back, the other held his shirt. Mello thrust into him, fast and furious, taking out all the panic and hurt in harsh, brutal sex. Halfway through, Mello started crying, but still he saw it through. It felt like all his battles had coalesced into this moment, this act, and that its climax would somehow make it all alright again. It was a shock when Matt came first; it was almost as surprising when he followed suit. Mello couldn't tell who'd won or lost, or what had been gained. He just knew that whatever had welled up inside was gone now and he just felt empty in its wake.



He stepped back and did his trousers back up, fumbling pathetically with the laces. He heard Matt pulling up his own clothing, securing them back around himself. Mello stared at the carpet, inordinarily stunned when arms suddenly enfolded him and held him in a cuddle. "Mihael?"



"You should have let me go." Mello rasped, guilt rushing in to fill the vacuum in feeling. "I broke your goggles."



"You're still not the monster of your own mind."



"One day I'm going to kill you, Mail. Don't you see that?" He held Matt close and could feel his heart pounding against him. "I'm going to kill you or get you killed." Matt gave a half-shrug. Mello's voice started to crack, "Don't you see that?"



"Heh." Matt breathed and stepped away. There was blood trickling from three different places on his head. From his eyebrow, his forehead and from a point near to his ear, so it stained down his neck. "I've told you before. There is nothing you can deal out, Keehl, that I can't take." Yet he walked away, towards his study and didn't look back.