Where did your conflicts go?
[It’s impossible to ignore the fact that only a moment ago, his chest was tighter than he could stand, and afterward, Mello is pretty sure he felt the faint sensation of flames licking at his skin before everything went dark. It’s not clear though, because by then, the ability to feel anything physical at all was fading, as if the blood had stopped pumping through his veins, cutting off all possible circulation, and with it, sensation.
His eyes are still closed when he brings a trembling hand up to feel at his face, his hair, his shoulder. Fingertips search out the areas in slow succession, looking for something to hint that the damage is worse than before. A groggy blink. Nothing. Surroundings are a blur; a white sort of brightness muted through half-lidded eyes, and even if his throat weren’t painfully dry, Mello isn’t sure he would make a sound. Nothing to say, after all.
It’s all over, isn’t it? Because he knows this isn’t a hospital, even if it might be bright enough to resemble one. He hasn’t yet made out the doors in the hall, nor the fact that he’s sprawled against a wall to the far-right. It’s bright because this is where it all ends, and maybe he’ll be dragged somewhere else, soon. It’s not warm enough to be heaven, he thinks, and far too empty to be anywhere but an initial waiting room, maybe.
He needs to open his eyes further, take in his surroundings, but the pain in the nerves behind them makes him close them as quickly as he tries to force them open. It hurts. Everything does, now that he’s focusing on it. Like he was dropped out of a plane and hit the ground a thousand feet below. Nothing feels broken, just impacted.
Maybe he’ll just stay like this for a little while; sore hands rubbing over sorer eyes, and wait to see what happens next. No Matt, no L, no nothing. They’re somewhere else, he knows. He just hopes there isn’t a giant book containing all of his deeds during the course of his life. That would just be uncomfortable.
One leg curls up to his chest, the other still stretched out straight in front of him. The tips of his fingers lower from unopened eyes, find the plush carpeting, and if he’s going to be judged, Mello is determined to at least stand up for it.]