They sit mere inches away from each other in the dark. Matt swears to a god he doesn’t believe in that he’s got these crazy-magic eyes that can see in x-ray vision, and when he looks at Mello, all he sees is stars.

“I can’t do it with you looking at me,” Mello murmurs.

“Why not?” Matt flashes a grin, all teeth and cheek. “Worried I’ll give you a boner with my pretty face?”

“Matt, I swear to God if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

(And Matt always likes it when Mello swears to God, swears at God; it makes him feel like maybe he’ll toss those red beads out the window one day and stop beating himself up for kissing boys in the dark on summer nights like these, where your clothes stick to your skin and you stick your skin to your best friend’s.)

“Okay,” Matt laughs out, tilting his head up. “I’m looking up at the ceiling instead.”

Mello is silent. Mello’s silence makes Matt nervous. It leaves too much space. “And honestly, Mel,” Matt says quietly, “I’d rather be looking at you than these water stains.”

Mello lets out a sigh that sounds a lot like someone dying. Matt laughs because it makes the words easier to say, makes them sound less heavy than they feel in his chest. “Hey, there are also all these dead bugs stuck in the light. Like at least three dozen of them. What idiots. Why fly right into the light if they’re only gonna die, know what I mean?”

Even as he says this, Mello is leaning in to kiss him, and Matt surges forward into that light, dives right into it, ready to die.