#deadbutnotdefeated

Red. Everything was red.

Able collapsed back on her bed with a sigh, not caring enough to keep the bleeding parts of her body from dirtying the sheets. She closed her eyes, knowing full well that she was still bleeding, and that she should probably be seeking medical help about now, or at the very least administering it herself.

But she was just so tired.

And the blood…it looked kind of…pretty? In a demented way she supposed. Red was a pretty color, wasn’t it?

She lifted the knife up to her face, turning it and watching the way the metal caught the light before placing it back on her lap, carefully. She grimaced as a trickle of blood ran up her arm and disappeared into her shirt.

“—Able?”

The brunette sat up, her eyes wide as the sound of another person in her apartment met her ears. “Mello? How’d you get in here?”

“You’re door was unlocked. You told me to meet you here, remember?” his voice came from the living room.

Shit. She did remember, but having made the plans a week prior had given her a lack of foresight.

“Is everything okay? I tried calling you from one of those stupid payphones to tell you I left but you never answer—“

Mello had stopped in front of the doorway, his words trailing off as he stared at the girl in front of him. “Shit,” he hissed, and walked to the bed where she was now sitting up, the blanket thrown over her body in an attempt to hide.

“W—what?” she asked, knowing that he already knew, but decided to play dumb anyway.

“Don’t try to hide that from me, you’re bleeding through the sheets!” he said, his voice going octaves higher with each word. “I—what did you—why--“ Mello closed his eyes, and took a breath, calming himself. “You’ve lost way too much blood already. Where’s your first aid kit?” she just stared back at him before he sighed and headed into her bathroom. 

“Found it,” he muttered grabbing the box and some wet towels and heading back into the room. The first thing he did was grab the knife and toss it aside. Able winced as she heard it clatter to the ground.

“Give me your arm.” He said, his voice seeming almost unnaturally controlled as he took off the leather gloves that covered his hands. She waited a few seconds, and Mello raised an eyebrow at her, his patience running thin. Finally she held one out to him, looking away as a droplet of blood fell onto the soiled blanket. He took it in his hands gingerly, setting it down in front of him and began cleaning it off with a wet towel.

Able hissed as he brushed over a cut.

“Sorry.” He apologized, glancing up at her to make sure she was okay. “I’m going to clean it up and put some butterfly stitches on it. It looks like you need them.”

She nodded tensely, and Mello took that as his queue to talk. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why—why did you--?” he pressed down on one of the smaller cuts, hoping to make it stop bleeding.

“Sorry.” Was her reply.

Mello softened his look. “Hey, look at me.”

She lifted her head, but averted her gaze from his.

“I’m not that ugly, am I?”

A smile broke out across her face before fading, but it was something. And at least she was looking at him now.

“Let me tell you something. Oh, and, hold this here please.” He continued. “Dying kind of sucks. I would know.”

She let out a small laugh, her other arm lifting to press the cloth to her skin. Mello looked at her other arm and made a note to finish the first one off quickly. The bleeding had slowed down, but it was still concerning. “You aren’t dead, Mello. You’re right here.”

“Think what you like, but the fact remains; dying sucks.”

She shrugged, and the blond made his tone of voice completely serious again. “I know that it’s your life and not mine, but you scared the crap out of me. Don’t do that again. Please.”

“I can’t…really promise that.

 “Okay,” he sighed. “Compromise. You tell me whenever you feel like doing this again and I’ll come over here and tell you how much dying sucks. That way you won’t want to.”

Able smiled at him, although it was a weak one. “Mkay,” she muttered, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath

Mello reached up to flick her head. “Don’t fall asleep on me. I’m not done yet, plus I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to sleep right now. If you stay awake…I’ll get you a piece of cake. Whatever you want.”

She opened her eyes again obviously unhappy, but alert enough to realize the effort Mello was making.

“Okay. Thank you, Mello.” Her voice cracked at the end, but she smiled at him.

((How about both? owo))

Smoke and chocolate was an unlikely combination of scents, but to Matt, they fit together perfectly. It was, for some reason, perfectly normal for smoke to be accompanied with the faint, sweet aroma of chocolate. 

The combination stirred hazy memories that Matt couldn't completely recall; his head would start to ache if he tried too hard to remember. But he would always get a distinct impression of feelings. Good ones, mostly, like happiness. But there was also worry, nostalgia and melancholy mixed in there.