{In Progress} It's those little things that kill.

[incendo_crux]

Who; Near [veiled_veracity], Viktor [meekmagnolia], Matt [technopathetic] & Mello [incendo_crux]
What; A flower and a marshmallow try their best to save the day!
Where; Downtown - the shopping district.
When; Shortly after this.
Warnings; Fbomb showers, occasional bouts of gay, death and destruction - a normal day in the city of Tano, right?

Comments

[technopathetic]

It was a funny feeling, to wake up from being knocked out and not being sure if you were really alive because it hurt so. Fucking. Much. Even with the small amount of tea that Viktor had forced down him and the aloe sap and whatever the fuck there was, the fact still remained that the remains of his scorched-to-the-bone shoulder still hurt like a motherfucking bitch. Maybe just being unconscious would have been better.

Matt was vaguely aware of the way someone was propping up, and it was with jerky movements that he sat up, pushing away Viktor roughly - "Get off, I'm fine," - and biting down a groan - aw, fuck, fuck, fuck, he was so kicking Mello in the balls for this later. The moment he sat up, he nearly flopped back down again, pain dancing down his spine in jolts, but fuck no, he wasn't going to lie back so easily - propping himself up with his good arm, he glared at Near, and what he could see of Mello. Which wasn't a lot - there was too much blood. Fuck.

"--Near," the way he said the name sounded strained, forced, it was taking him a lot of determination not to just black out again, but fuck if he let Mello die, not before he got the kick to the crotch he deserved. "--the fuck are you waiting for?" A bitter laugh, and he gave a twisted smile, feeling pus and blood and aloe sap oozing from his wounded shoulder. "Hurry up and kiss his better."

[meekmagnolia]

What? Mello was going to die? He couldn't allow something like that to happen...but did he have a plant that could stop someone from death? What could he do...?

Viktor jumped up a bit as Matt awakened, snapped out of his thoughts--he hadn't expected that and was caught off-guard. Being shoved away didn't make him feel too bad, he had never met the boy before now of course--but he shouldn't have been moving around so quickly. His wounds weren't completely healed yet after all.

"Um...sir please take it e-easy..." He mumbled, holding up his hands. He glanced down before looking over at Near and Mello nearby. What had Matt meant by 'kiss'? Did it have something to do with Near's own power? Why had he needed his own help then? Perhaps it had limits...?

"I-If Mello is...t-truly going to d-die..." Viktor's words were strained as he tried to voice his thoughts by himself, but they simply came out on their own freely.

"Please do your best to heal him Near..."

[incendo_crux]

Too fuckin' late.

The individual sentiments were nice, really. Near's decision to observe death in action, forever remaining the silent and unbiased third-party, was painfully characteristic. Matt's protest, no matter what underlying motive it carried, was as amusing as it was irritating. And the wallflower's choice words only multiplied the sheer hopelessness of the ordeal. The ragtag group that had been assembled was truly stellar company, especially when Mello was fighting tooth and nail to hold onto a few more moments of consciousness.

Mello didn't even have the time to contemplate what exactly Matt had meant by 'kiss him better', before he crumpled to the ground, a collapsed heap of melted leather, singed strands of blond, blood and burns. The impact had jarred his vision, caused everything to blur over, and when coal-black eyes refocused they locked onto the stained-silver of Matt's Zippo lighter. For a moment, nothing else existed but that container of flame.

"The lighter--" a barely audible hiss, directed at his once partner-in-crime, "--open it."

Mello tried to laugh, but choked on the sound. "C'mon, Matt, I swear to fucking Jesus Christ that I'm not going to harm you or the others." I just don't want to die like this, that's all. Not like this. "I have no regrets or ill-will."

Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. Mello cast his ink-black gaze upward, trying to meet Matt's eyes. A past friend would fulfill a last request, wouldn't they? Matt would have been a heartless bastard if he didn't it, leaving Mello with only seconds left and no other way out. Near wouldn't have allowed it, and Mello didn't place too much faith in Viktor.

"--there's no time."

One last sentence was managed before Mello fell still, not completely gone but close.

[technopathetic]

It was like watching one of those old reel-of-film movies, the way everything flickered and fuzzed over with static and the sound quality was crap and it was hard to believe that you were really seeing anything - hard to believe that this was real. Matt couldn't stop smiling, lips curved up in a twisted imitation of amusement - I always knew I'd end up killing someone one day - as he met the flicker of ink-black eyes for a short moment. Because Mello, even though you don't remember me, you still know with terrible precision that I can't help but listen to what you say.

No answer spoken, but still, he reached out for the lighter, taking it in shaking fingers - fuck, his arm was starting to go numb again - and flicked it open with an effort, staring at the tiny system of flint and metal for a moment before looking back at Mello, where he lay crumpled on the ground, a pretty package of narrow limbs with a black-leather wash. Mello, Mello, what the fuck is wrong with you? But maybe that's why I even followed you in the first place.

The first time he flicked at the wheel of the lighter, his finger slipped, and he nearly dropped the lighter - cover up the mistakes with a joke, like always, and he shook his head. "Roast me if you want," he laughed, voice edged with ash and stained with blood, his throat dry with the taste of smoke and dust. A second try failed, and he bit his lip. "I always like a well-done steak."

A third try, and a tiny flame flickered up, red-gold-hues with the tiny spot of blue in the center - Matt held it towards Mello with a sick smile on his lips and voice cracking with the dull throb of pain in his arm - not much time before he blacked out again, he really shouldn't have been moving around before being healed - but who the fuck cared? And he ignored the twinge of self-loathing at the back of his neck - there was always time for regret later, but for now --

"Satisfied?"

Spoken with a laugh. He'd always loved playing with fire.

[incendo_crux]

It was a split-second reaction, as soon as Mello heard the third click of the lighter (third time's the charm), and the following crackle of flame, he smiled, crooked and broken, knowing that he'd found salvation at last. With an arch of narrow fingers, he bent the fire to his will, drawing it closer, feeding it with the leather of his coat, setting the leather bomber jacket alight without a second thought.

The only way out was to burn.

"Not nearly enough--"

The last of the sentence was drowned out by the hissing spitfire of flame, the size of the fire growing, swallowing Mello's body whole in unceremonious cremation.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

[veiled_varacity]

There was no time for him to stop the reaction, nor would there have been a point to. Mello had been correct in his statement - There truly wasn't any time left. Near even doubted that if there was time to spare that he'd be able to do anything, Mello had lost too much blood.

The fire that consumed Mello's body glowed a brilliant orange and Near couldn't help but step away from it's intensity, shielding his eyes and nose with a white sleeve.

It was too much to watch so he turned away, leaving Mello's body to turn to ash and soot.

There was nothing he could have done.

Dark, hollow eyes fixed on the other, still alive boy.

There were other, more important issues to deal with rather than watching the bonfire Mello had created with his own body.

[meekmagnolia]

Viktor's eyes had threatened to pop from his head as he shakily got to his feet, stepping away from the burning mess that was now Mello's body. He felt a dull pain in his chest and quickly averted his eyes, closing them tightly as if he could will the entire situation away.

Thoughts failed him, he wasn't able to even think of the words he felt he so desperately wanted to say. Stop it, stop, don't let him die. He hadn't noticed the lone tear rolling down his cheek before feeling another follow closely behind it.

He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but there could have never been a better situation for it. Witnessing his first, and hopefully last, death. He cried silently, making no noise except for the occasional sniffle.

He didn't understand any of this--none of it. Why would he want to die? He wished he could have asked before this entire thing had happened. He slowly lifted his wrist to brush away the fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, he still had a job to do...

He wasn't going to let two people die infront of him today.

[technopathetic]

Tears meant nothing, really, and neither did words - Matt watched the funeral pyre burn with hollow eyes and no expression, the light of the fire burning into his eyes. Not that he really cared. Was it bad that some part of him had been expecting this? Mello had always been one to go down in flames - a single gunshot would never do, it always had to be the whole fucking parade of dynamite and flames before he was satisfied.

Mello, you never really changed.

Near, cold as ever. The new guy? Crying. Funny how he was stuck between the two polar opposites. Am I supposed to fit the mold and start ripping my heart out? Not worth the effort, you know, more like I should leave the stage. You two make a fine pair together. It was without any words, without looking back, that he rose to his feet, forcing dead limbs to move and ignoring the way stabs of pain were assaulting his arms. No time for that. (Murderers aren't allowed near the funerals of their victims.)

One shaky step forward, another - it was easy, to be honest, just a matter of focusing on the movement of muscles and bone, all too simple as long as you could ignore the backdrop of roiling fire. Pain? What pain. The bitter imitation of the smile never left his lips, not yet. Laughter was always the best escape route.

[veiled_varacity]

Empty eyes tore themselves from the crying boy (what a waste of body fluids) at the sudden shifting and movement from Matt's direction, the battered figure lifting itself off the ground, lurching away, stumbling with every step.

"Matt."

His voice was clear and stern, the sound sharp like the crackles from the burning mass Mello's body had become.

"Please refrain from moving any further. You are in no condition to move anywhere."

Oh why did everyone have to be so reckless?

[technopathetic]

Matt was obedient enough, it seemed, and jerked to a stop at Near's comment, looking over with a bitter half-smile on his face. "Sure I am. I have higher pain tolerance than you know." A bit of a stretch from the truth - he really fucking needed some rest before he fell over, the pain was really fucking fabulous, and he couldn't feel half his limbs - but not here. Not where Mello's body lay, not where these other two were, not here - he needed to get away from these suffocating factors.

Arm raised stiffly to gesture at the ground, and a dog-shaped golem rose from the pavement, padding over to retrieve the bag of bandages and alcohol he'd bought just before Mello had come flouncing along. Matt laughed, giving Near a smile that was almost mocking. "See? Medical supplies."

[veiled_varacity]

What was with people and trying to act tough? Matt was practically falling apart at the seams and he was still acting like it was nothing. One should at least accept the limits of their own body.

How idiotic.

"Do not be foolish." Although the sight of medical supplies and bandages were something good they were useless if Matt tried to apply them on his own.

hastily walking over to the strange rocky dog Near snatched the bag, coveting it to his chest as he glared at Matt.

"Please refrain yourself from walking. You are in no condition to move."

[meekmagnolia]

Viktor glanced weakly ahead as the two snapped at each other, his tears dried now. His slightly red cheeks were the only indication that he had shown such an emotion now, but his tone was normal as he spoke.

"U-Um...the alcohol...don't use that...on the burns." He said quietly, moving to stand a little ways behind Near.

"Y-You should wear loose clothes... a-and not tie the bandages too tight..." He glanced down, nervous about talking so much. He still wasn't that used to it by now.

[[part 2 - sorry]]

[meekmagnolia]

"W-We need to keep... the harsher burns cool... and care for them properly... It might get infected..."

[technopathetic]

Funny how hard it was to do anything but watch as Near snatched away his supplies, ignoring the raspy whine the golem gave, it was growing increasingly difficult to process thoughts. The pain had mostly faded to a blissful numbness save for a dull throb that resounded in his shoulder and chest, a steady drumbeat that hurt with every breath. Shit, there wasn't much time before he blacked out again, he had to get away, away from here, where the funeral pyre still crackled with flames and the judge watched with cold eyes beneath a fringe of white bangs.

He was only vaguely aware of how the golem padded over to him, nuzzling his hand ruefully - he gave it an absent pat to the head - and he laughed. This situation, really, it was just too funny for words. "And what if I don't?" A regular state of hilarity, and he coughed, tasting ash and smoke. Viktor's words hardly registered as he continued to speak, voice spilling out in a haphazard jumble of syllables - he hardly knew what he was saying any more. "S'not like you can do anything for this -- in front of a cremation sight anyway, Near -- "

A hollow laugh, and he sank to his knees, vision blurring as hypovolemic shock began taking over - he was only barely aware of the way he was draped over the golem. It nosed the crook of his neck, and he laughed. "-- I can't stay here. I need to get away. Can't stay next to him. Not here."

[veiled_varacity]

"I know you cannot stay here."

Near was wracking his brain for a solution but it was hard to think with his senses dulled from the smoke and stench of burning flesh. His stomach felt the need to turn but he didn't allow it, focusing all his attention on Matt.

If they could just get him to one of the nearby buildings - one of the ones that wasn't falling down...

"Viktor."

He snapped, not bothering to turn and face him, "Please help Matt support himself. We need to get him out of here as quickly as possible. Act as a crutch for him to lean on."

Near would have offered himself as a crutch but he was much too short. At least Victor was closer to Matt's height.

[meekmagnolia]

"Ah..." Viktor's reply was weak, his eyes wide as he fiddled with his hands, glancing down at Near infront of him.

Did he want to transport Matt someplace more safe? It would be wise, yes, and they needed to properly treat the rest of Matt's wounds before they grew worse.

He gave a meek nod, "...Yes." He carefully made his way towards the battered man beside Near, carefully reaching a hand out before hesitating. He didn't want his hand simply swatted away... but this was something that had to be done. Matt would understand that wouldn't he?

"Please lean on me for now...so we can properly help you." He said meekly, hand hovering behind Matt's back, careful not to touch him just yet.