Said blond was resting against the pole of a street light a fair distance away from him, snapping piece after piece off of the candy bar in his right, gloved hand, leaving his left hand free in case he fell into a situation where the firearm tucked in his jacket would be needed. Dark shades hid his icy blue eyes and part of the scarred flesh that covered the left side of his face.
I shouldn’t be out here. Continuously, he scolded himself for leaving his apartment, especially when he was wanted by nearly every legal agency in the area. But he needed to get out and be somewhere other than the stuffy room that he barely kept clean anymore. Depressed, lonely, unmotivated. That’s what he’d become after he’d “died”.
Feeling as if he were being watched, he moved his free hand to the inside of his jacket before slightly turning his head in the direction he felt it was coming from. Mello squinted his eyes at the figure staring in his direction before having to remove his shades to see the other male clearly. The fact that his left eye was partially blinded now didn’t exactly help in distinguishing the stranger’s features, either.
As far as the rebel was concerned, it was just a geeky teenager that he shouldn’t be wasting his time wondering about. He couldn’t exactly help it, though. Yes, the blond was stared at whenever he was out in public, but, this time, it felt different.
Most people look away when they are caugh staring.
Well screw most people, Matt was intrigued. Shades out, now the redhared could see the other side of the man's face. Something inside him twiched, he felt nauseous. That blonde, with such a gorgeous face, had a huge scar covering his features.
Matt couldn't really tell why he felt so sick at that sight. It shouldn't be a big deal, but, he felt like someone had kicked him right in the stomach. He felt a mixture of sadness with a burning anger, as if someone had hurt someone he cherished.
But he didn't know that man, he shouldn't be sad about him, right? Scars are thing swe carry around, everyone have them. Some people more than others, but still. It's not a big deal.
'no big deal'. With that thought alone, the redhaired got up. He didn't think exacly on what he'd say to the man, as he approached him. He simply threw his cigarette away, not bothering to step on it, and walked towards him.
'who are you' 'do I know you?', questions popped on his head, he couldn't choose one. So when he reached the leather-covered man, he only managed s much. "How" he said, voice low, eyes sharp on the other "Your scar- how?".
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