“Sorry isn’t going to change shit,” comes his answer, spoken in a low voice that belies his fury.
Mello hasn’t seen Matt in years, and yet, he can’t bring himself to look at him. His temper, well known around that sorry excuse for a House, has never been easy for him to deal with, even though he has had ample opportunity to learn the ins and outs of it. He can maintain a level head when everything is going his way, but right now and for the past few weeks, he has been fueled by nothing except a white-hot anger. All the progress he had made toward his goal—gone, lost to that bomb his hand had been forced to detonate. Matt couldn’t possibly understand what they were up against now. He couldn’t possibly understand that any mistake they made going forward could be the end to what Mello had staked his life to achieve. He just wanted to see me… what a damn fool.
Matt’s lips linger near his cheek—asking for forgiveness, asking for something else that Mello used to give him in what felt like a different lifetime than this one. Still, he doesn’t relax, nor does he pull away. Matt’s grip on his wrist would be easy enough to break, but he doesn’t break it. His lungs draw in the scent of cigarette smoke with each breath he takes, and damn, he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss him too after all this time. He was glad that he had come; he needed Matt’s help, but fuck, couldn’t he have been smarter about tracking him down?
Mello glares at a crack in the wall to his left, his back resting against a wall behind him. “If you are not going to use your head, then I don’t want you here, Matt. You’re sorry? Prove it. I can’t afford to fuck up anymore than I already have. And now because of you, Near probably has tabs on me.” He sighs and finally fixes Matt with the full force of his gaze—exhaustion and stress and every one of his emotions apparent in his eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, right?”
The lack of forgiveness doesn’t come as a surprise. He may have begged for it, but Matt has never actually expected Mello would just hand it to him freely; he may have made a foolish, desperate gamble to get here, but he’s not stupid. Matt has had time to come to terms with Mello’s cold, harsh anger. It doesn’t make it any less painful——it feels like a heavy stone, dropped inside Matt’s stomach. Only the weight doesn’t settle there: it drops right through him, leaving him bludgeoned and bleeding.
It’s nothing Matt can’t handle. He swallows back the hurt clawing its way up his throat. He’s here, Mello’s here, Mello’s not pushing him away. He made it. He can do this.
“I know,” he says, pushing the heel of his palm against his goggles—fuck, he’s not gonna cry. He’s not. “I know what I did was stupid, but it’s not like I had a lot of options. I didn’t have shit to work with. If I couldn’t find you, I at least wanted to leave a trail you could trace back to me if you needed me. Or something.” Matt’s voice trails off, barely audible towards the end. Fuck; it had been given for Matt to do what he did but saying it out loud now makes him feel like the idiot Mello says he is.
At least he’s finally looking at him.
Matt pushes away from Mello’s space, rubbing at his face. Fucking hell, he’s pathetic. But it doesn’t matter. Prove it, Mello said. He can do that. He will do that. Matt lifts his face from his hands, facing Mello’s glare head on. What Matt sees in there makes something inside him crack a little. It’s already too late for both of us, he thinks, unsure of just what that means yet.
“I know I fucked up. I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for looking for you. You’re gonna catch Kira, Mello, and I’m going to help.”
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