DN -- Let Me Enlighten You
Title: Let Me Enlighten You
Collection: Fifteen
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 228
Prompt: Let me enlighten you/This is the way I pray
Warnings: brief language; psychological disorders
Summary: Matt thinks so, anyway.
Author's Note: Emo!Matt needs hugs.
3. LET ME ENLIGHTEN YOU/THIS IS THE WAY I PRAY
Whatever criticisms are muttered behind his back, Roger is cut out for this.
Matt thinks so, anyway, because Roger doesn’t think it’s just that he’s upset, and Roger takes him to the doctor, who prescribes him Valium for the panic attacks.
It’s harder to get that shit out in the world, though, on his own, paying out of his pocket, and when he does acquire a little plastic bottle full of hope, he tends to sell its contents in ones and twos. This is L.A. He needs that fucking air conditioning.
He read online that nicotine can act as a trigger, but he finds that the opposite is true: he finds that it slows him down and sets him straight and clears his head. He finds that it pulls him together and pushes him forward.
Whatever the case, Matt knows what this is. He knows what this means. He knows about the psychological consequences of abandonment.
He always figured Mello would someday destroy him from the inside out.
But that’s that, and this is this, and he’s alive so far. That’s more than he can say, with any certainty, of Mello, who has disappeared.
Every time Matt flicks the lighter, every time the blue-orange flame jumps skyward, he thinks of it as a hidden vigil.
As a prayer.
Collection: Fifteen
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Matt/Mello
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 228
Prompt: Let me enlighten you/This is the way I pray
Warnings: brief language; psychological disorders
Summary: Matt thinks so, anyway.
Author's Note: Emo!Matt needs hugs.
3. LET ME ENLIGHTEN YOU/THIS IS THE WAY I PRAY
Whatever criticisms are muttered behind his back, Roger is cut out for this.
Matt thinks so, anyway, because Roger doesn’t think it’s just that he’s upset, and Roger takes him to the doctor, who prescribes him Valium for the panic attacks.
It’s harder to get that shit out in the world, though, on his own, paying out of his pocket, and when he does acquire a little plastic bottle full of hope, he tends to sell its contents in ones and twos. This is L.A. He needs that fucking air conditioning.
He read online that nicotine can act as a trigger, but he finds that the opposite is true: he finds that it slows him down and sets him straight and clears his head. He finds that it pulls him together and pushes him forward.
Whatever the case, Matt knows what this is. He knows what this means. He knows about the psychological consequences of abandonment.
He always figured Mello would someday destroy him from the inside out.
But that’s that, and this is this, and he’s alive so far. That’s more than he can say, with any certainty, of Mello, who has disappeared.
Every time Matt flicks the lighter, every time the blue-orange flame jumps skyward, he thinks of it as a hidden vigil.
As a prayer.