giftsofglory | Time of Transition

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place of politics

Time of Transition

He made no move to return Mello to his room when morning came. In fact, a good week later there was still no move being made to that extent, and on that morning, when Mello woke it was to the now usual configuration of Sephiroth being wound around him, pinning his hands. This time, however, the act was accompanied by the silver haired man actually being asleep still.

Not to say they hadn't been spending all their time together, but Mello hadn't had the chance to see him asleep until then, him holding out for the blond to sleep and then rising before he could.

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The feline was there, giving a soft, confused mew up at him and sitting down just in front of him.

Mello stood there, staring down for a moment without seeing anything, then sank slowly to his knees.

"Go away," he muttered to the cat.

Instead, the cat moved over to lean its whole body against his legs, giving another mew, then purring.

Mello was not in the mood for paying attention to the cat, nor for listening to it be happy. Didn't Mail know his other owner would never be back? Didn't he know Nakago was dead?

Suddenly, with no coherent thought in his head, Mello shoved the cat off of him, brutally.

The feline rolled, then seemed to shake itself before advancing right back to Mello and settling himself where he'd been before being shoved, not purring and tail flicking.

Mello stood suddenly, shoving the cat away again and getting up to grab his gun.

"I'm going to kill him," he muttered under his breath. "I'm going to kill that fucker. I'm going to kill him." There would be no trial. He didn't care if he had to break into the fucking prison facility. He was going to kill the fucker who murdered the man he loved.

There was a soft, almost smug mrew, and then the feline ran off, deeper into the house as Mello was left to his homicidal intentions.

It was a good thing his sense of time and distance was already warped. He didn't notice that the scene shifted almost immediately, his mind instinctively filling in the time with mundane things like driving.

He'd been allowed in because of his job. But he didn't stop with killing only the man who'd been responsible for the office shooting. There were others in the cell, and once Mello began shooting, he kept at it, silent and cold as he vented his grief and anger and betrayal.

These were other people who had taken away loved ones. They were already on death row. Might as well speed up the fucking process.

Too bad the guards got in his way. They shouldn't have. He didn't stop, barely blinking as he shot them too, not even caring where the bullets landed.

--And then, again like a dream, and he was sure he was going crazy but didn't care, he was in his bedroom again, on the floor and sobbing hysterically. He didn't even know if he really had done all that. The world twisted with his whims and fixations and he didn't know what was real.

Finally, he decided that was enough, and he deliberately made noise as he moved through the house, opening and closing the front door, then the bedroom door, which he lingered in, dressed back how he'd looked when he'd first met Mello face to face, hair braided, clothes carefully a casual business style. He was barefoot though, giving the implication of being courteous enough to not drag dirt through the house on his shoes. "Mello."

He didn't even look up to see who it was. He didn't care. Mello lay where he was, crying loudly and breathlessly, shaking uncontrollably.

"I came to check on you when I heard something happened to your Nakago." It was a murmur and he padded over, kneeling to touch his hair.

"Get out," Mello snarled through his sobs, curling up away from the touch.

"No. I let you have all the freedom you wanted and now you're a sobbing mess on the floor." He reached out and hauled the man into his lap. one arm securing around him as the other pet his hair.

Something about the man was familiar, and Mello knew him and didn't at the same time, not entirely coherent.

He didn't want to be touched, though.

As soon as Sephiroth pulled him into his lap, he was struggling and screaming obscenities, clawing at him viciously. He wanted to be left alone with his misery.

"Shhh." He shifted his hold so he was just holding onto him, letting the man work out his fury and waiting him out. "I'm not going away. Shhhh. Grieve, attack, fine, but I'm not going away."

He kept up fighting for a long time, still crying, still cursing, trying his best to outright murder Sephiroth, hands around his throat and squeezing hard.

He forced the hands down away from his throat, but otherwise did nothing to retaliate, just making soothing noises as he persisted in the proximity.

"Go away," Mello insisted loudly, breathlessly. "Get out! I don't want you! I want Nakago! Bring him back!"

"If I could bring back the dead, don't you think I would have done that for the one -I- lost?" His voice stayed the same, gentle tone. "Just you and me now Mello."

"No!" he continued to protest, screaming hysterically. "Get out get out get out!" He was doing everything he could to shove Sephiroth away, still only half-knowing who he was but not caring in the least. "Get out!"

"No. Now go to sleep, we're going back home." He pressed against the nerves on his neck, making sure to use the focus of knocking Mello out in the mindscape before making sure he was firmly unconscious in reality so he could move off and get Mello settled in his lap in the livingroom, even going so far as to dig out a pair of pants for the blond and dressing him before he let off the mental pressure so he could come back around in his real house, with the real him.

Now to see how the little trip had affected the man.

"No, no, no," Mello sobbed, struggling weakly, but he was exhausted and broken and it didn't take long before he was limp in Sephiroth's arms.

He didn't come around immediately even when he was given the chance, burying himself into the darkness of unconsciousness because reality brought pain. He couldn't stay there forever though, and finally he stirred, opening his eyes-- now blank and tired and lacking the fire from before.

Staring at Sephiroth as if he didn't see him, Mello simply lay there, breathing faintly.

He stroked his cheek, tilting his face up and peering into his eyes, voice soft. "Mello. My detective, do you remember me?"

"No." He did. It was just a protest, not a denial. "I want Nakago. Go away."

"You're not going to get Nakago, and I'm not going to go away." He shook his head, kissed his forehead. "But it's fine. I can be patient. I've been patient this long after all."

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