giftsofglory | Time of Transition

In the days since Mello had been burned, he'd been very careful to work on healing him, often leaving himself very tired for the remainder of the evening afterwards, and he didn't doubt that today would be quite the same in that respect. Thankfully, in another day or two this wouldn't be required.

Mello looked up when Sephiroth came closer; he'd been laying on his good side, propped up on some pillows and resting.

He was perpetually resting. He was getting so sick of it-- and it had only really been a day since he'd even been fully aware. Before that was an incoherent mess, and he preferred feeling the ache in his body to barely being able to remember his days. He'd slept a lot, in a pleasant daze, but an unnatural one, and Mello didn't like that. Pain was better if it came with awareness.

Of course, the pain was less. But still.

He brushed his fingers over Mello's side once, then started to undo the bandaging. "Still tired?"

He didn't even flinch away from the touch anymore. At least, for this part, he knew what was coming and he wasn't about to fight getting healed as soon as possible.

He lay still, wincing slightly as the bandages were unwrapped and when they brushed against whatever parts were still tender on his damaged skin.

"Not so much today." But still a little tired. Recovering was apparently hard work, judging by how quickly he got worn out. Then again, part of that was probably boredom.

"Good. It's bad enough I've been exhausted, no need to have you maintain the state as well." He rested his palm lightly over one of the worse spots and focused.

Mello watched him work silently, shivering a little at the tingle of warmth that meant it was working.

Sephiroth was spending so much energy fixing his broken toy. Mello scoffed softly.

"I wish I was better at this." It was a quiet murmur. "I doubt you'll find the end scars as pretty as I do."

"Pretty?" His voice was dry and bitter. "You melted off half my fucking face. And that's on top of everything else you've done to me. You're a fucking bastard and I still fucking hate you."

"Yes, pretty." There was total resolve in his voice. "But I would still remove them if I had that much skill."

"Well, try harder," Mello hissed, tensing beneath his gentle hands.

"If I was capable, you would be -healed- already. I am not a healer. All the healers -died-."

"There were more of you? And here I thought you were the lone mutant." He hadn't really. He just hadn't asked because he hadn't cared at the moment and it hadn't come up.

"There was a full group project. I killed most of the severely unstable ones, my lover came with me, and the two healing dispositioned killed themselves because they were too gentle to handle things after they were free of observation."

"Sucks." Mello spat the word dispassionately, even if the more kindly-dispositioned ones hadn't deserved it. They were probably better off dead, in this world.

"Your lover was a freak too." He hadn't realized that, actually.

He growled lowly, a feral glint in his eyes. "My lover was the most perfect creature that ever walked this earth." His voice was low and clear. "And I will accept no other view."

"You stopped accepting my views long before I mentioned him," Mello pointed out sourly. He knew logically he shouldn't push this point again, but it was so tempting. If only because it actually elicited a reaction, because he knew that, unlike anything else he'd tried, this topic actually affected Sephiroth.

"You do not get to speak about him." His voice was hushed. "Do not make me undo all I've fixed these last days, because my fire comes so much more easily than healing."

"Oh, I see." Mello's voice was also quiet, deeply hateful.

"I don't get to talk about him, but I do get to be his makeshift replacement."

He actually quieted a moment. "You do have some similar qualities, but you could never replace him or be him,and I wouldn't want you to."

"But I'm still here because of some shoddy, desperate attempt on your part to fill the void." His voice was flat. Obviously, there was no sympathy; all chance of that had faded long ago.

"You're here because you captivated me, yes, and I am tired of being lonely." There was no remorse in his voice. "But I already told you that."

"With methods like this, you'll always be alone," Mello told him softly. He wasn't scoffing or arguing. He was completely serious this time.

"Then it will have to be good enough." He finally pulled his hands back from the healing, petting the undamaged skin before turning to collect the bandages.

"We both suffer. No one's happy. Why can't you understand that?"

Mello sighed, watching him.

"How long until it's healed?" It did hurt a little less; maybe it was wishful thinking though.

"Another day or two." It was said quietly. "If you would just... give, we would both be happy, I know we would be." He leaned down, kissed his forehead.

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