second.

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butoshiのコメント： YOU ♡♡♡♡

. . . .

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guess who is cute 8 ^ )

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butoshi:

    his grip around their wrist only tightens, and his free hand balls up, fist SLAMMING right into the SIDE their attention seems to be focused on.

                                      ‘ why should i listen to you, huh?! ’ 

    he’s selfish. he’s BEING selfish; inconsiderate, RECKLESS. it’s so rare for him to lose his patience when it came to mello — but he’s nearly shaking from anger. this isn’t the way he wants things between them, and it’s never been the way he wanted it. it shouldn’t be this way. for them to be here with each other, yet be so disconnected. he wants to be involved, he wants to be there for mello; in any way possible. ( even if it always meant death. ) but how can he when constantly shoved away? when constantly told off? – while he knows what situation his partner is in, while he UNDERSTANDS. he just can’t get a grip on WHY it has to affect their relationship so badly; it doesn’t make sense to him. work is just an excuse. if there is another reason rejection is only ever the option, he wants to know.

   after a moment, he removes his hand from the wall, fist finally unclenching, and body moving closer to theirs whilst fingers now taking hold of their jaw. he TURNS the blond towards him; so that their gazes meet once more. ( and stay as such. )          

                               ‘ stop avoiding everything already!!                                                       what the HELL am i doing wrong!? ’

if the situation is already out of his reach, he'd prefer above anything else to remain in control of himself. he needs to, or else he would've crumbled before even strangers so many times in the past where he'd face similar situations over and over again before and after he had been taken.

even so; shoulders jumping and leaning away from their fist is only a natural reflex. the minimum he can do is avoid anything else to show, remain almost impassive. eyes merely narrowing as all he'd do is stare in silent at what was now before him, not dignifying them with an answer.

maybe that was the worst thing to do, yet he was only human -- there was a limit to the things his brain could process and control if he wanted to look like he wasn't affected at all. an answer to their tantrum was the last thing in the list his mind had to worry about, all the way below having his facial expressions and reactions under control to keeping memories of unwanted experiences in the past, where they belonged. above all, he had to keep his own emotions and thoughts hidden, since showing the slightest of anything could unleash

then again, he was only human. closeness was making him feel on the edge as it is, adding rough contact didn't really help. there's a brief attempt to escape, one of his hands immediately grabbing their arm. it feels as if black is creeping onto his sight, blurring what's in front of him and muffling the words directed at him -------- no, don't let that take over. don't look desperate.

´ i said .  .  get ----- the fuck off me. ´

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butoshi:

       ‘ so, that’s it? ’ was that all he had to really say? did he have to be in control of everything? the conversation that barely even started… – just ends ? because he choose to walk away? is that really how their relationship works now? it’s sad, pathetic. his fists clench, as well as his jaw. countless of times, he’s let it slide; for the sake of him, for how he feels; for how he lives. mello shutting him out, bottling his own emotions up and never speaking about anything        he’s strong, there’s no doubting that for even a second. but he’s also human. and sometimes, they both could use a helping hand.

                               ( that’s why he’s had enough of it. 

                     maybe, he’s the one truly at fault for letting it go on.

                                          for never saying anything. )

   immediately, matt goes after him. he won’t let him just LEAVE. not this time, not ever AGAIN. as soon as he’s in reach, his fingers grab a hold of their wrist, tightly    with no intention of letting go any time soon. and, easily ; he backs them up against the nearest wall. lips parting to break the silence.

                ‘ and you expect me to believe that ?!                                                 you don’t get to just walk away, mello. ’

        his response is cut off by the tight grip around his wrist, anger he was ready to express cut off as well by having his own body handled with the other's strength, eyes widening as soon as his back hits the wall. this is familiar; trapped, unable to move his captor out of the way due to his lack of strength, thus held confined between their body and a solid surface ( the floor, the wall, there's no difference ). yet, even if skin crawls and it becomes hard to breathe properly, he remains motionless as he very well knew any attempt to escape would be for naught. perhaps it was better to allow this, to let the other throw his anger out on him -- he knows what he's doing wrong. then again he wasn't going to feel any comfortable of the position he was forced in. if anything, he preferred to avoid losing any more control on himself and the situation.

         lids lower to hover irises. his gaze only meet matt's briefly before dropping, orbs fixing onto whatever object laid to his right. words roll off his tongue with a distant tone dripping from them, ´ .  .  .  get off me. ´

[annitor-blog]

Cries myself to sleep bye

: ) )) ) )) )  lmao

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butoshi:

     rejection is something he’d always get from mello. from back then and even now. he can take a joke, of course. he understands him well enough to know when he’s serious, and when he’s not. so when it’s things like these      his genuine affection always being pushed aside and IGNORED. he would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. ‘ you don’t seem fine, ’ he knew he wasn’t.

                                             ‘ what. am i a bother to you now? ’

           silence reigns over the atmosphere now, lips sealed as eyelids lowered, almost showing grief upon such a question. his actions showed the opposite of the feelings he rarely -- never -- took the time to show. a simple no wouldn't be enough, silence would mean a yes and he refused to explain the reason behind his behaviour - the reason he'd reject matt's affection so coldly, even if every step he took away from him meant a needle piercing through his heart.

              he exhales.

               a brow raises as he looks over his shoulder,  ´ i would've kicked your ass out if you were. ´ with that, he walks forward. ´  --------i have things to do.  ´

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butoshi:

     right       distant as always. he hums in response rather than giving an actual answer. that question, it’s almost similar to the one he asks himself half the time. ( what are you doing wrong. ) and so far, he can’t seem to find it, the answer. 

                                                         ‘ . . .just checkin’ on you. ’

      again, he attempts to make physical contact; repeating earlier actions with wrapping arms around them, and trying to bring him closer. ‘ it was too quiet in here    ’

           he acted tough, as if he didn't need any of that. he was afraid he could break under a mere caress, hence he wouldn't allow himself to indulge in any of that. his partner's attempt were rejected; taking a few steps foward ( escaping out of their reach ) making distance between him and them.

        ´ i'm fine. is that enough? ´ coldness clung to his words, not turning around to face him even once. ´ that's because i need quiet to work. ´

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butoshi:

       quietly, he creeps behind mello; slender arms SLOWLY wrapping around their neck.     truthfully, even though they were only a ROOM apart, he missed the presence of the other.

                                                               ‘ guess who. ’

sudden actions provoke a twitch from lips, a mere crack in the facade he wore to mask any discomofort that washed over him upon reliving scarring events. but he chose to never let those memories fade by staying surrounded and working with the same type of people who had taken him.

he takes one of the other's arms off him, putting himself out of their grasp before it'd become too tight. ´ what're you doing. ´

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latches onto him lmao

               returning affection rarely shown towards him was difficult, if anything, it was something he didn’t wish - it wans’t necessary. thus whenever his partner ( for each other were the only source they had for support ) would push him against their own frame. he wouldn’t reject it norwould he dodge it but a silent acceptance of contanct would be his response before deciding it was time to distant himself again, using the work his focus was usually directed to when this happened as an excuse. this, certainly, would be to not have moments of weakness - for he didn’t trust his will and were he to melt down the barriers he had painstakingly built in the warmth of the other’s arms and weak he’d become.

               yet itis all thrown apart for one can only isolate their emotions so much. for one can only endure for themselves so much until someone else, someone beloved to them, is involved in the same risk. SELF-SACRIFICE FOR A GREATER GOOD. A GREATER CAUSE.

               for he was worn to be shaped as a tool, to live and to die as one. for he was never worth of the crown he had so foolishly aimed for. for he, who had seen the raw and the cruel - lived the despair and the carnage, was fated to live as nothing else but a simple soldier that would die in the battlefield and return to the dust he was made from. ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST ; o’ lord, why hast thou forsaken us? left us to the claws of the rejected creatures of eden and the fallen seraphims. preys, we are, to the woivd that consumes every fallen soul - every fallen hero.

               hence he clings, with every force ofhis being, to the one that willingly joined this path of self-destruction he had damned himself into and became his support, his pillar — lord knos he’d fall appart without him.

               fingers clutch into the cloth hanging at their back, forehead falling onto their shoulder. their scent overwhelms him, nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of cigarettes that he had fought to get used to since they were back together. ha ! such a shitty habit his partner had acquired while he was gone. it almost madehim laugh, that he wasn’t there to correct him — if he hadn’t left. his arms now wrap around him, pulling himself closer as a storm of thoughts from the past flood his mind, thunders of predictions of how could it end not for himself but for matt clouding organized trains of thoughts.

               if only he had been left to his own devices. if only matt hadn’t stuck with him. if only he hadn’t been so selfish as to not let go.

              BLESSED THEM ; who enjoy the privileges of heaven like GODS while we are thrown at the flames of hell. we, condemned to damnation from the day we came to this corrupted earth.

               if only he could rip out the words stuck in his throat.

i'm sorry. i'm selfish. i need you. i love you . . . don't die. not for someone like me. i'm not worth it. i love you.

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OOOO KEEHL EM MELLO

                did he just ----- ?                did he fuckin' --?

          the amount of second hand embarassment is off the charts.

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Just stopped by to say you're the senpai

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    taking a moment to finally look up from what he’s been indulged in    games. his gaze does nothing but falls upon the blond who was only a few away, console is sat down into his own lap, elbow is placed atop the couch’s arm rest and his cheek is placed into his palm. they’ve been in silence for a while now. though, to matt, it was complete comfortable silence     words, or, carrying out ’ conversations ’ didn’t matter to him. just being in the same room as mello, being near him was all that made him feel relaxed, comforted. so he unconsciously smiles to himself, ah. such a brave and strong soul       his heart is always poured into work which wasn’t always the best health wise but, nonetheless, matt supports him and he’s proud of the effort and sacrifices mello makes, for everything.

    so he gets up       game is now put aside and a couple of steps are took forward; “ mello. ” easily, silence is broken. and time wasn’t given for a reaction from the blond, no. instead the thick stack of papers were grabbed from their hands and just like the gameboy, it is sat down on the side of them. knee is lifted between their thighs and he leans forward        slender arms are wrapped tightly around them, as if he were to say he’s afraid. afraid of losing sight of him again. which is why over the seconds his grip does not loosen, it only tightens. lips finally parting to speak again;

                                                     “ hey. ”

the gaze laid upon him is brushed off as nothing to mind for the moment — or mayhaps his mind was too latched to work that it wouldn’t even notice. either way, no attention was given to the eyes glued on his visage until his name would leave their lips and yet only a hum would be addressed to them, features still facing what laid in front of him.

he>not as he could continue doing so, though, as it was taken from his hands and little time did he have to protest before words were shoved back down his throat upon closeness followed by having body tightly held against theirs. no time would it take him to react in a negative manner and push them off to the floor, but it was a hard task when their arms would only become tighter and tighter around him, causing it a little hard to breathe - though that may be to blame on not feeling comfortable in such a situation and the lack of such things in his life ( he didn’t need them, he didn’t need things like that ) rather than the tight grip he was captured in.

a brow roses at the greeting - unusual as it was, it would only pile on either worry or confusion that crept into his mind. arms stay at his own sides, one lifting just to stop movement when palm hovers inches from their shoulder. there’s something wrong. it wouldn’t take too much to notice, since the behaviour itself was already out of place. 

' ——did i miss something ? '

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               weak.

he can put the blame on matt all he wants, but that's the only reason for hands to reach the last drawer of his bedside table and take the container laying at the bottom of it. weak. ah, how completely stupid of him to think he could go longer than last time without taking any.

but the deariness that crawled up to his neck to suffocate him and make it so very hard to breathe was unbearable -- unacceptable, for there were subjects of more importance than his own weak state of emotions.

and down his throat goes 150 miligrams of anafranil.

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licks his face

            thoughts had been placed somewhere else, the gear of his brain being kicked into different ways of motions as eyes scanned through the papers laying in front of him. the side of gloved rows of knuckles is pressed against lips briefly to make way for teeth to mutilate the chocolate bar once again, a piece of it hanging from his mouth - following motions were interrupted by movement in his peripheral vision.

            it was to be ignored, overlooked as not any unusual routine from his partner, hence leading focus to lay once again in sheets before him and eating the sweet between lips. yet it is for naught, as chain of thoughts is interrupted by their abrupt motions, the warm feeling of a tongue gliding across his skin making the hairs on the back of his neck shot up, as well as memories long buried in the back of his mind.

            he flinches, eyes widening and mouth now agape, leaving the piece of sweetness and the bar on his hand fall to his lap and then to the floor as his first reaction was to tilt his body backwards, teeth clenching whilst elbow went right to their throat — all accompanied by the lingering image that wouldn’t leave his eyes and the feeling that’d cling into his bones. shallow breathing is controlled hardly a bit too late to hide it from the other ( as if his panicked reaction didn’t give too much away, anyway ), features promtply adopting a menacing look rather than one a prey would have.

            ’ what the FUCK do you think you’re doin’ ?! ’ voice is more aggressive than expected, clearly ignoring whatever painful response came from them due to the hit he had no trouble to land. he swallows dryly, still making distance between his body and theirs in an attempt to regain a sense of tranquility ( SAFETY ) by having his personal space back. nonetheless, heart still was beating rapidly, loudly, against his chest in the rush of apprehension and trepidation that refused to leave, even when he settled thoughts to a different matter and shunted memories back to the depths where they belonged.

            thumb and forefigner pinch the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. ’ leave. i’m working. ’ words come harsher than he had meant to, but little care goes to that.

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vixissx:

        “ i had to think it over for a while. . .because, it isn’t easy to do. but ya know, i think you could handle it. we have to go pick it up, though. ” 

              '  .  .  . i could handle it? ' there's actually a lot of things he could question about this already. ' what did you do, matt  .  . '

[vixissx-deactivated20150615]

     “ i know it’s late, but your christmas gift is decided. ”

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                ' what took you so long, huh. ' not like he cares, his birthday present was enough to go years without holiday presents.

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vixissx:

       “ it has come to my attention, mello!. ”

            '  .  .  .  '                    he's listening.