DN: MxM -Request- : Mutation

      Amidst the empty cigarette cartons and discarded chocolate wrappers which littered the shadowy room, a pair of black boots strode, pausing only to kick the door closed.  Cerulean eyes adjusting to the dim illumination, Mello’s thin fingers clenched into a tight fist around his cell phone, remnants of the fleeting conversation reverberating in his head.  A dull ache raged through his body, a pain consisting of guilt, fear, and countless other emotions he dare not acknowledge.

Shoving away every feeling, he pitched the phone at the nearest wall.  It crashed instead, rather loudly, into the computer and the soda cans which besieged the desk.  Mello took a few steps toward the bed, but stopped, catching movement.  The young man soon realized it was only his own vague reflection in the small mirror above the dresser, the only one in the apartment he had not yet shattered.  It was cracked, true, but Matt had stuck it back up on the wall anyway.

Matt was gone, out buying what could be their last allocation of their addictions.  Mello wondered briefly how long Matt had been gone, how long it would be before he would come back.  But he also wondered if it would be better if he didn’t return at all.

Staring at the scarred image of his own face was just as sickening as the dread boiling inside him.  

Consumed with sudden rage, Mello snatched the handgun from its hiding place in his pants and abruptly aimed it at the glowering teen in the mirror.  Jagged golden locks framed the slender face, the trace of the fire visibly scored the entire left side, rough, discolored.  Mello’s finger hesitated, poised on the trigger.

Matt had already helped him so much, saved him, supported him, followed him from one suicidal mission to the next like the love-struck dog he was.  Could he truly ask him for this?  He had to.  They had to.  He knew they had to or everything he had strived for would collapse.  The only hope he could possess then was that they might survive such a ludicrous task.

Mello lowered his gun, let it fall heavily onto the pillows at the head of the bed.  The young man dropped to his knees, slowly, almost struggling.  Then ritually, without thinking, he carefully removed the rosary from around his neck, instinctively, nervously draping it around his fingers, the beads tightening around clasped hands. He closed his eyes, fearful and apprehensive as he contemplated their fate.

The front door swung open, and Matt marched in with a box of candy bars and three packs of cigarettes.  They would be prepared for the long night ahead.

“Mel?”  the red-head wondered, glancing around the abandoned living room.  He dropped the items casually on the couch and continued into the apartment, asking again, “Mello?”

There were too many things to worry about, too many things to care for, and so Mello allowed himself to possess only limited concerns.  Stop Kira.  Outwit Near.  And Matt…

He quietly opened the bedroom door and was struck with concern and confusion, seeing his friend kneeling, praying on the floor.  Unaware of his companion’s recent conversation with Lidner, Matt questioned softly, “What happened?”

But not before hearing Mello’s nearly inaudible whisper, “Let him forgive me…”