(AN: Oh noes, what is this you have stumbled upon? Oh, you poor creature, your worst fears are correct. It's… A NEW FANFICTION!! Bwahaha! Let the torture begin! IT'S FUCKING MATT X MELLO TIME!!1! Yes, but anyways… ((ahem)) This is the prologue for my new story that I'll be working on alongside my Gaara x Sasuke fanfic… I hope you enjoy this one… I get the funny feeling that this will be much more popular than my other fanfictions…)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. Lucky bastards…
Pseudo Chapter One: This Is Actually a Prologue
This wasn't how things were supposed to end.
The TV showed his car first. Hundreds of bullet holes penetrated the metal, smashed the glass, popped the tires. Just looking at the car was bad enough. He'd loved that car the minute he'd laid eyes on it, parked outside of our apartment. If he'd been watching this with me, he would have been mortified.
I saw the car on the TV, shot through with bullets, and I could see in my mind what must have happened to the driver. I didn't want them to show the body. I silently pleaded that they wouldn't show his body. If they didn't show it, I could fool myself that he had escaped.
The white lines on the road blurred into solid stripes as the truck gained speed.
Of course, my please went unheard; a second later, his body was shown on the screen. His vest was soaked through with his precious crimson blood; a still-burning cigarette left a circle of black ash on the fabric. I thought I could see the traces of his careless smirk on his face, but maybe that was just because I'd seen it on him so many times before. His hands were empty; he hadn't even picked up a gun to defend himself. That fool. That fool.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to ram my gun into my mouth and blow away the images poisoning my mind.
Unidentified assailant. They talked about him as if he was no one, as if no one knew him or cared about him. He was just unidentified assailant. I knew that he had an identity. I knew that he was somebody. Yet I had to watch him pass on just like another meaningless existence ending on this earth.
I knew him. Mail Jeevas. Nineteen years old, third in our class, ultimate video game nerd. Red hair that he'd dyed a shade darker when he was twelve. Goggles that I'd finally bought for him when he'd broken his glasses for the eleventh time. The tattoo on his back, right between his shoulder blades, that had told me that through the years, he'd never stopped caring.
My Matt.
From the trunk, I caught a faint scratching noise, like a pen on paper. My breath caught; my hand that wasn't occupied with the wheel tightened around the gun at my thigh. Takada was writing my name down on a concealed piece of notebook. I'd already made a plan in case of this. It was simple; aim the gun at her hands, pull the trigger twice, boom! No more writing. I'd park the car in the nearest warehouse I found, and make my escape. Near could see what happened next, and make all the clever deductions that I'd already figured out. Then, while everyone was caught up in the chaos, I'd backtrack and meet back up with… with…
The scribbling continued. My grip loosened; the gun fell slowly from my fingers. I didn't care anymore. I would always be second to Near. I would always be on the run. My one true hero, my idol, had been ruined forever in my mind. And now, the one thing my life truly went on for was snatched away, and no amount of thinking or scheming or anything could ever bring him back from the dead. I could only go to him.
If there was a pain in the world worse than this, worse than this feeling of my heart being ripped out of my chest and my very soul being rent to pieces, I didn't want to stick around to endure it.
The sounds of writing ceased. I leaned back in my seat and counted down the seconds with a kind of relief. Fuck Near. Fuck Kira. Fuck Japan, Wammy House, fuck the whole world. Let them deal with this mess. I was ready to let go. This shithole we like to call life wasn't worth living if the last bright spot on the horizon had flickered and died.
I'm coming, Matt, I'm coming.
My heart faltered, and I smiled.
(AN: Well? What do you think? Too angsty? Or is it okay so far? Please review, if you feel like it… If you aren't too busy barfing…)