[Week 14, Day 6, backdated nightmare]
Broken wings--no, arms. Matt was still human, or human again, half-sitting, as if flung onto this cold patch of dirt. Vague shadow above, vague press of something rough at his back. He tried to move, and couldn't, not even to shiver, so the shivering set into his bones instead. Couldn't talk. He could feel that one of his legs was crushed. The air hung fetid and smoky, not a breath of wind. Distant shapes, black shadows against a red horizon, lumbering.
Footsteps approached, sounding impossibly crisp. Black boots, stepping into his line of sight.
"Two colossal fuckups. You trying to set a record, Matty?"
I didn't know, Matt thought fiercely.
"Mm, you never do. You don't pay attention." Two snaps punctuated the last words. "You were so fucking surprised when Amane slipped out from under your nose. When Takada's men got around you. When something you'd seen regenerate did it again." A huff, and Matt couldn't see him rolling his eyes, but knew he was.
Why're you being this way? We're friends.
"You're useful. Occasionally. And you're damn good at following. People who don't have the balls to make things happen themselves always are." The boots paced away, click click, and back. "I know what you're thinking about. That night."
Matt had been thinking about that. Physical misery, it seemed, was no deterrent to pointless embarrassment. He tried to tell himself he had to be dreaming, that Mello wouldn't say these things. That he could wake up. He couldn't.
"Have I said anything you don't already know? This might be one. I know a quick lay when you're high as a fucking kite doesn't equal love." He knelt down and looked at Matt, face blank, eyes cold. "Makes one of us. You're not getting out of here. It's better for everyone that way."
He straightened and stalked away, and Matt thought, in spite of it all, Don't leave me here!
He didn't know how much time passed. It felt like eons.
And then she was there, cool and clean in her pretty dress, looking down at him with contempt. "I just couldn't have picked a worse boyfriend, now could I? You been lying to me since we met. Didn't even tell me your real name. How'm I supposed to trust you, knowing that?"
I never told anyone my real name, Matt protested, silently, weakly.
"It's better I learned while I can still find someone good to be my boyfriend. Sweet don't make up for being useless, Matt, and that's the truth. At least now I don't have to worry about looking out for you anymore."
J, I'm sorry!
"Sorry isn't good enough." Then she was gone, too.
Matt could feel every broken bone with perfect clarity, enough to count them if he'd wanted to. He really, really didn't want to. Still couldn't even whimper.
"You realize we were doing perfectly well without you, do you not?"
"Yeah, man, everyone's always fine without you."
Oh, shit, Matt thought. I fucked up, I know I did. You guys... I'm so, so sorry.
"We had that one, dude."
"Rather, we did, until you decided to give us an army of Mortrons to contend with."
Matt couldn't even bear to think that he was sorry again. They were right. All four of them were right. He fucked up everything he touched.
"Human teenagers handle that power more admirably than you."
"Yeah, no kidding. We know enough to learn before we try anything stupid. C'mon, we're wasting our time. He's hopeless."
Another long stretch of time, broken only by his ribs seeming to pulse with pain with each heartbeat. Then a voice coming closer, and Matt felt he'd heard it before, though it didn't have the searing familiarity of the others.
"'...believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.' Sound like anyone we know?"
There was a 'tsk'ing noise. "Oh, Mail. What did I tell you? Cannon fodder should never try to be more. Or, to put it terms you might understand, a red shirt will never make captain. I'd call officer a stretch for you."
A hand knotted into his hair and dragged him up, and Matt would have screamed if he could have. Would have passed out, if he could have. He knew by now that respite wasn't coming.
It was a slim man in a business suit, if not the maker of deals, then his close cousin. He smiled an oily smile and hefted a pistol in the hand that wasn't holding Matt up. "You had an object lesson before, which apparently failed to sink in." A sigh of mock regret. "We're just going to have to do it again. Oh-- where are my manners?" He gestured, and the sobbing scream Matt had been unable to voice burst out, echoed hideously back at him.
"You have to be able to tell me when you've had enough." A chuckle. "That's obviously my call, but I do love to hear it. And don't worry." He cocked the gun. "I have a lot more than twenty-four bullets."
[ooc: Matt's dead, so he can't answer.]
Footsteps approached, sounding impossibly crisp. Black boots, stepping into his line of sight.
"Two colossal fuckups. You trying to set a record, Matty?"
I didn't know, Matt thought fiercely.
"Mm, you never do. You don't pay attention." Two snaps punctuated the last words. "You were so fucking surprised when Amane slipped out from under your nose. When Takada's men got around you. When something you'd seen regenerate did it again." A huff, and Matt couldn't see him rolling his eyes, but knew he was.
Why're you being this way? We're friends.
"You're useful. Occasionally. And you're damn good at following. People who don't have the balls to make things happen themselves always are." The boots paced away, click click, and back. "I know what you're thinking about. That night."
Matt had been thinking about that. Physical misery, it seemed, was no deterrent to pointless embarrassment. He tried to tell himself he had to be dreaming, that Mello wouldn't say these things. That he could wake up. He couldn't.
"Have I said anything you don't already know? This might be one. I know a quick lay when you're high as a fucking kite doesn't equal love." He knelt down and looked at Matt, face blank, eyes cold. "Makes one of us. You're not getting out of here. It's better for everyone that way."
He straightened and stalked away, and Matt thought, in spite of it all, Don't leave me here!
He didn't know how much time passed. It felt like eons.
And then she was there, cool and clean in her pretty dress, looking down at him with contempt. "I just couldn't have picked a worse boyfriend, now could I? You been lying to me since we met. Didn't even tell me your real name. How'm I supposed to trust you, knowing that?"
I never told anyone my real name, Matt protested, silently, weakly.
"It's better I learned while I can still find someone good to be my boyfriend. Sweet don't make up for being useless, Matt, and that's the truth. At least now I don't have to worry about looking out for you anymore."
J, I'm sorry!
"Sorry isn't good enough." Then she was gone, too.
Matt could feel every broken bone with perfect clarity, enough to count them if he'd wanted to. He really, really didn't want to. Still couldn't even whimper.
"You realize we were doing perfectly well without you, do you not?"
"Yeah, man, everyone's always fine without you."
Oh, shit, Matt thought. I fucked up, I know I did. You guys... I'm so, so sorry.
"We had that one, dude."
"Rather, we did, until you decided to give us an army of Mortrons to contend with."
Matt couldn't even bear to think that he was sorry again. They were right. All four of them were right. He fucked up everything he touched.
"Human teenagers handle that power more admirably than you."
"Yeah, no kidding. We know enough to learn before we try anything stupid. C'mon, we're wasting our time. He's hopeless."
Another long stretch of time, broken only by his ribs seeming to pulse with pain with each heartbeat. Then a voice coming closer, and Matt felt he'd heard it before, though it didn't have the searing familiarity of the others.
"'...believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.' Sound like anyone we know?"
There was a 'tsk'ing noise. "Oh, Mail. What did I tell you? Cannon fodder should never try to be more. Or, to put it terms you might understand, a red shirt will never make captain. I'd call officer a stretch for you."
A hand knotted into his hair and dragged him up, and Matt would have screamed if he could have. Would have passed out, if he could have. He knew by now that respite wasn't coming.
It was a slim man in a business suit, if not the maker of deals, then his close cousin. He smiled an oily smile and hefted a pistol in the hand that wasn't holding Matt up. "You had an object lesson before, which apparently failed to sink in." A sigh of mock regret. "We're just going to have to do it again. Oh-- where are my manners?" He gestured, and the sobbing scream Matt had been unable to voice burst out, echoed hideously back at him.
"You have to be able to tell me when you've had enough." A chuckle. "That's obviously my call, but I do love to hear it. And don't worry." He cocked the gun. "I have a lot more than twenty-four bullets."
[ooc: Matt's dead, so he can't answer.]