#; partner

[goldenxswordxwielder-blog]

gxnnerx said: [text]: Yeah I’d do that. [text]: Of course. [text]: I can even pack my things right now. //gonnasaybeforetwinbreak-up

|| To: Masaki ||

[Text]: Sounds good

[Text]: I know a good place- it’s near Michael and Luc’s

[Text]: What time will you be here tonight?

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[goldenxswordxwielder-blog]

[text]: Dad's threatening to ship other Dad in a box somewhere. [text]: Mind if I stay the night again? @gxnnerx

Selene sighed seeing the message from her boyfriend, really not the slightest bit surprised anymore. 

|| To: Masaki ( gxnnerx ) || 

[Text]: I’m not even surprised anymore..

[Text]: You’re always welcome.

[Text]: Just a quick question, say if I got my own place, would you move in with me?

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[jxxvas]

How can you not hate Mello for beating you up like you're a punchbag??

     ”…”

     He’d been posed the question before, albeit in different situations——why do you let Mello push you around? You wouldn’t be in trouble if it weren’t for him, or What reason do you have to work for Mello? You could catch Kira on your own, you know. Matt always had the same answer. “… I don’t know.”

     Because there was no way to describe the agreement that he and Mello shared. On the outside, it was toxic, violent, unpredictable, and volatile, filled with shouting matches and injuries both physical and not, but the inside was a different story. There was no way to explain the kind of bond that’s formed by sharing a bed night after night when they had nightmares or didn’t want to sleep alone as kids, or even now. There was no way to describe the way that, no matter what, there would always be someone to come home to, someone who had your back. There was no way to make someone outside understand the comfort that the two of them shared, because there’s something that forms when you grow up with someone, when you spend every possible minute together for years and years and years and know that, even when you fight, it won’t change how you feel. It won’t change what’s grown between you.

     He and Mello had fought so many times, increasing in violence as they grew older, and for many that would be a red flag, a sign to get out, but for Matt, and probably for Mello too, the abuse and the acrimony meant one thing—that they were still together, and still alive. 

     Matt had lost his partner once, when Mello had up and left Wammy’s without a word, and the fear of never once hearing that voice calling him an asshole ever again, and to this day he remembered it. It jabbed at him every time he thought of leaving, and materialized itself in his dreams. There were times when he thought that he’d never return, and times when he drove so far that it really seemed possible, but in the end, when the anger subsided and his chest began to ache from smoke, he knew that he wouldn’t, because in the end, if he doesn’t have Mello, what does he have? 

     Without the blond shouting order at him, Matt would stagnate. He’d sit and play games until his body rotted, void of feeling or thought or purpose. He’d kill himself with neglect, because without Mello to hold him and pour feelings into his chest, what did he have? 

     Because with pain and suffering came pleasure and love, like a flower growing through a crack in the pavement. Because without Mello he was a hollow shell, just waiting to be filled.

     "... Just lucky, I guess."