Mello wasn't quite sure what to make of Matt's sudden fondness for displays of affection as well as lust, but he wasn't complaining. He'd missed him a hell of a lot, too, and he still had nightmares about his death, ones in which he was there, trying to protect him, but all the bullets just passed through Mello and hit Matt anyway. He shuddered and tried not to think about it. Matt had died, but he was right here, and his hand was warm and solid in Mello's own. That was more real than the past, however many nightmares he had.

Once they were in the alley, he pushed Matt against the wall and kissed him, rough and desperate, a kiss born of the emotional storm within, so much it didn't seem one person could contain it all. Lust mixed with caring blended with happiness to see him shaded with guilt, all swirling inside with more Mello couldn't even name and didn't try. He didn't want to talk about it and doubted he could really put it into words anyway. Mello had always been better at expressing himself through actions.