They hadn’t talked about defining what they were - there wasn’t time for it, between planning and acting on those plans, and Mello didn’t think there was a definition for what he and Matt were to each other. And it didn’t seem terribly important at the time, because Mello didn’t intend to live past a certain point where that discussion could be opened. Now, though ... well, it might not even matter. Mello isn’t entirely certain that Matt isn’t still joking with him, pretending to misunderstand what he’s trying to say. Mello’s expression pinches in frustration.

“No, not - that’s not - not what I meant.” He shifts sideways in the chair to face Matt, one leg folded underneath the other. “I don’t mean here as in this specific physical location - I mean you shouldn’t be dead.”

He frowns deeply, gaze dropped to the folded-up sunglasses twisting anxiously between his gloved fingers. “Matt, you need to believe me - I didn’t think you’d be killed. That wasn’t part of the plan.”