ship status + action

[piacularis]

For a brief period of about ten minutes, the lights all over the ship flicker and fade before returning to normal.

Several hours later, a very tense young blond man dressed entirely in black leather with an angry scar over the left side of his face can be found trying the cabin doors. He’s methodical, moves floor by floor, tests each door in turn; locked doors are discarded in the testing sequence, but any cabin left unlocked will find Mello entering and searching for something in a similarly systematic manner before moving on to the next. Maybe the next one is yours?

[hit me up in prose or brackets, or if you want a custom starter!]

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[smokingguns]

Even if Matt knew that he died, that he was destined to die, he wouldn't have changed a thing. It was his decision to get out, not Mello's and that would've been none of Mello's fault. Until Mello came back into his life, formally, he did nothing but feel empty, search for something to fill the void and be utterly miserable. It was nice putting his skills to use to do what he could, but Near wasn't who he wanted to be with and the other successor of their trio knew Matt wasn't there to help him. Not entirely.

Mello was who he wanted to be with, Mello was who he wanted to be around. If he died for Mello's cause that would be worth it for Matt personally. As long as Mello outlived him, that would be just fine.

The hand on his shoulder again, caused him to square a little more to Mello's own frame. He quieted down, 'hey' would do that to him but it wasn't because of 'hey', it was the tone of Mello's voice and the very different feel that his hand held on Matt's shoulder. He hadn't even considered that he just fell back into the routine of Mello needing him to do something before Mello even gave him an order. Matt's eyes took in every small feature change and the smile, light or brief or however long its life was, got noticed.

Matt found his mind wondering if you can kiss your homies goodnight without it being a sin. Or if it has to be goodnight at all. His body let his brain go on with whatever it wanted to think. That smile was something he wanted to feel for himself if only he could have gotten the balls to. 'Friend' had resonated in his head but friend wasn't, as it turned out, what his heart felt. It felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as he stepped forward. "Besides your friend—" Which he was. Just that he happened to be a friend who wanted to lean in closer. "—I'll do what I need to, to support you. You've never made me feel like a lackey." Matt's tongue drug just lightly along his own bottom lip. The things that Mello had made him feel like was that he was afraid and needy all at once. Now that he was older and understood why his earlier years were spent wanting to be so close to Mello, it made it all the harder when he warred with himself and instead pressed forward to settle his lips against Mello's lightly, briefly.

Whatever they were, Matt knew what he wanted and it was to be along side Mello here in the vast space, or back home in the thick of it.

[piacularis]

Mello would argue that a kiss isn't a sin. Murder, yes, but he's already committed that one, and the bell can't be unrung. The biggest sin in the Book of Mello is losing, but he's already done that one, too. And maybe this is his punishment - a purgatory where he is forced to live with the awareness of his failures for much longer than he intended.

Whatever the nature of this reality, Matt is here and he's alive, and the whisper of a kiss he gives Mello is an even sharper reminder of the fact that he is alive now where he was dead before. Mello can sense Matt's move before he makes it, and he accepts the kiss willingly. He wants this: wants the warmth and adoration of close companionship, an end to the ache of loneliness; wants to be seen and understood the way that only Matt can see and understand him. He wants what Matt is offering him - a balm to heal the wounds carved into his heart - and he wants to stop obsessing over the fact that it's his fault Matt's dead.

Only one way to make all of that happen at once.

"I know," he murmurs, and leans in to kiss Matt a little more fully, a little longer, testing the boundaries of how much is allowed.

[smokingguns]

All of those sins, if left in Matt's hands, would've been put off on someone else's shoulders. Mello wasn't capable of them if he wasn't pushed to it, and they had been pushed hard. Now they were at a standstill so far from home, far enough to make sure that none of those things mattered. Not Wammy's, not past sins, just the acceptance of the lips he had aimed for. The simple acceptance was enough to make his heart thump double and out of beat for a frame or two, sighing contently before he heard the brevity of Mello's voice. A voice that brought two words to his ears and those two words were enough for him. This was ultimately what he wanted, too, Mello's acceptance to know that even if he tried to throw a stone at a proverbial deer, Matt wouldn't have left him once he found him.

The more solid a reply was Mello's lips finding his in a lingering, questing kiss. Just like Mello had, Matt accepted him. Had accepted the touch that pushed boundaries at the union of their mouths and every boundary thus far that Mello had pushed, Matt allowed. Everything felt electric and he only wished he had a little better practice at this if only to know that he actually could convey himself through this act. The slide of his gloved hand finds the back of Mello's head and his teeth find Mello's lips with soft nibbles when he wasn't taking advantage of the situation he had been offered. Matt wouldn't ever get tired of Mello's kiss and the elevated rise and fall of his chest had him claiming smaller, but no less eager kisses that give him time between to catch his breath.

[piacularis]

For a long stretch of moments, everything falls into background static except for this cabin, Matt, and their deepening exchange of kisses and shared breaths. They fall into a rhythm of exploring touch, and for Mello, it's peaceful in a way he hasn't often been able to obtain. It feels like the most natural thing to be standing here liplocked, until a small part of Mello's traitorous brain whispers a reminder that he's dead, Matt is dead, and it's all his fault, and that fleeting sense of peaceful bliss sinks into the churning guilt settled in the pit of his stomach.

What a fucking mood killer.

Mello slowly pulls back from the last kiss and sighs. He has no right to enjoy this as much as he had been. Gently, he traces his thumb along the edge of Matt's jawline.

"I'm tired, Matt." Mello has been fighting for years, and it should all be over now, but it's not, and a wave of exhaustion hits him like a pile of bricks. Admitting this aloud is exposing a vulnerability, but Mello trusts Matt not to exploit it. "I'll stay here for a bit. OK?"

[smokingguns]

Matt knew from the way that Mello pulled back, something had changed. Either Mello's mood or something he had done. The gentle touch of a thumb on his jaw told him it wasn't something he had done. If it was his fault it wouldn't be a thumb at his jaw. Tired seemed reasonable as well and while Matt had a little more of a moment or two to catch his breath he set his forehead against Mello's to nod lightly. "Long as you want."

For the time being, he shifted so his hand was lightly resting above Mello's and leading them away from his face. He still squeezed them softly. "I'll keep watch. You get some rest."