I don't own Death Note. Why, do you?

On November 18th, I looked into the bathroom mirror and realized that I was no longer human.

Sure, there were the burns. Those weren't so bad anymore. I barely noticed them at all as I surveyed my reflection. But my face was so hollow, my eyes so sunken. My skin stretched over my bones, impossibly taut in places, to the point where it looked as though I might split at any second. I was sober, but my eyes were bloodshot, and keeping them both closed and open caused me an aching pain.

Shaking, I ran my hands over my rib cage, slipping my fingers between the peaks of bone and pale flesh. I hadn't eaten since that night. Not really, anyways. There had been chocolate, though. There was always chocolate. I'd long ago gotten to the point where it lost all taste and sweetness. Now it just bore bitter holes in my stomach and reminded me of him.

My hair was an absolute disaster. I'd always liked to keep it long, but that wasn't to say I didn't keep it neat. Now, though, it stuck out in places, some parts shorter than others. (Singed it good. Nobody will ever want me now.) My usually immaculate blonde mane was now dull and unwashed. I looked insane. Probably was. Somehow, I couldn't really bring myself to care.

I was tired. My eyes were bruised; not to the extent that L's always seemed to be, but definitely beyond that of an average human's. (Knew you couldn't act the part, but can't you even look it?) My throat was dry, and, dully, I remembered that I hadn't had anything to drink in two days. I turned the sink faucet, and water came trickling out with a pained screeching of ungreased metal. Cupping my hands, I managed to catch a good mouthful, and drank it greedily. The water tasted like metal, and I could feel the sediment as it ran down my parched throat. (Maybe it'll kill you.)

I wandered into my kitchen, completely bare except for my chocolate stores in the cupboards. Absently I reached for my vice, waiting obediently for me on the shelf. I unwrapped it slowly, and took a small bite, which sent repulsing shudders down my spine. I continued to consume the chocolate anyways, almost reflexively, letting my mind wander as it had been so often lately.

I thought of the Shinigami. Sidoh. A nasty fellow, but I couldn't help but think that I was turning into him, if only in form. I'd never call myself a 'god of death'. (Not brave enough. Not strong enough.) Still, I might be able to pass for one if I kept on this path for a little while longer. I finished my chocolate, crumpled the wrapper and tossed it on the floor. No use keeping the place clean if nobody's coming over. (Everybody hates you, anyways.)

I plopped myself onto my leather couch, and the cushions wheezed below me as I fell. I'd never bothered to buy a bed. Never bothered to do a lot of things, really. (Never were good at farewells.) I sighed, tears welling in my eyes. I didn't let them fall. I didn't have time for that. I had to get at least a small amount of sleep. I glanced at my phone: 4:58 AM, it read. (Small amount of sleep, indeed.) When I awoke, I would go to see the kid.

"Shut the fuck up, Near!" I regretted coming here almost as soon as I walked through the door. The Sheep was using me. The Sheep was always using me.

"Mello, please watch your language." He replied coolly. I hated him. I hated him with every fiber in my being. I loved him, too, in a way, but I'd never admit that out loud. He was Near. We had history, sure. Nothing I'd like to remember, though.

"I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." I spat with a little too much emotion. The Sheep didn't even turn to look at me. He continued playing with his model trains as if I wasn't there at all.

"You mean you didn't want to see me?" He asked inquisitively, with a child-like innocence that almost made his intentions seem genuine. I hated the way he could rile me up without even trying. He knew how to push every single one of my buttons, and he abused that knowledge with pleasure.

"You know why I'm here." I said, trying to keep my tone fairly neutral.

"Yes, the photograph. Take it." He reached into the pocket of his white overshirt and withdrew the picture that had been haunting me relentlessly. I snatched it from his tiny hand, and turned on my heels.

"I trust no copies have been made?"

"None."

"Near..." I said, almost in a whisper, and headed for the door. "...I'll be waiting for you."

With that, I made my exit. Vacated the premises. Hopped on my bike and got the hell out of there. I made my way back to my apartment, unlocking the door and standing in the entryway for a moment before ducking inside the dimly lit room. I flipped a switch on the wall, and a naked light bulb flickered to life. I inhaled, and the scent of chocolate wafted through my nostrils. I was home.

I pulled the photograph out from my pants-where I keep most everything-and examined it. I looked so young. So innocent, alive and full of promise. This me, however, was just a ghost. A ghost and a reminder of everything I'd done wrong.

"Dear Mello." The back of the picture read, in familiar handwriting. I traced the words with a gloved hand.

"Bastard."

"You're taking HIM? Why!" Matt screamed at the top of his lungs. His Gameboy clattered to the ground and began to make a horrible beeping sound. "Fuck! Look what you've done!" Matt didn't get angry like this often, and certainly didn't make a habit of endangering his electronics. He was pissed.

"He asked me to! If you wanted to go with me you should have ASKED!" I yelled, angry that he would even try to pin this on me. Near had asked me to go to that stupid dance with him. I felt bad. End of story. "You don't even like dancing!"

"I like anything if it's with you!" He countered, and then promptly turned bright red, bending over and picking up his Gameboy in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "You ruined my game."

"Matt..."

"Just forget it. Whatever. Have fun." He walked away, muttering something about the Elite Four and being too busy to go anywhere with me, anyway. I watched him go. Every step broke my heart even more than the last. I watched him turn the corner, and disappear.

"Shit..." I mumbled, crumpling into a sort of half-squat, half-kneel on the floor. I heard footsteps behind me, but didn't acknowledge them. A pair of thin, ghostly arms wrapped around my neck, and I felt a small kiss on the back of my head.

"Mel...are you and that boy Matt fighting again? How sad. How could someone ever be angry with you? My dear Mello..." He whispered the last bit into my ear, making me shiver.

"Bastard."

I threw my keys onto the kitchen counter and sat down on the couch, photograph still in hand. My mind went over everything that had happened that morning, and this time I couldn't stop the tears from falling. (Oversensitive.) I had seen Near today. I had spoken to him. Hell, I'd aimed my gun at him. What did he expect, though? What did I expect? A friendly 'hello' before he tore right through me? I'd never be that lucky.

Near didn't hate me like I hated him. At first glance, my animosity came off as mere rivalry, but in reality it ran much deeper than that. Near loved me, loved me more than he loved anyone or anything else. And maybe it hadn't always been so one -sided, but over time I grew to realize what a truly despicable person he was. Near was smart. We all were, in different ways. L was smart because of his logic, Matt was smart because he was quick, Near was smart because he could get into your head. I was smart because I was stupid.

Near's kind of smart was scary, but I didn't see it that way at first. At first, I was just fascinated. I let him use me until it was no longer my choice. I let him in, and that's where I screwed up. I never intended to hurt anyone, but I wound up hurting everyone. Namely Matt.

Matt. It's almost, but not quite, gotten to the point where I can say his name without my vision blurring and my voice quivering. What hurts the most about this is that I can still remember the way his name used to come out of my mouth. It would dance across my lips, slip in between my laughs. His name used to sound like a prayer, but now sounded like a cry of despair. Near knew this, and had just been waiting for a chance to strike at my heart. Which he'd accomplished, today. Of course.

He'd told me to call Matt, said I'd always liked him more anyways.("Shut the fuck up, Near!") I knew I should contact Matt. I'd known that since the day I'd left, but I never did. Could never stomach the idea that he probably had moved on. That he probably hadn't thought about me in a long while, while I was constantly reliving every moment I'd had with him, good and bad, because I was simply that desperate for him. (Pathetic.)

I was wearing thin, however. I knew it was only a matter of time before I broke down and called him, crying, and begging him to come back to me. (Like he was the one who left.) I didn't have his number. I didn't care. I'd find him. Just...

...not today. I wasn't strong enough today. (When am I ever?) I wouldn't be able to handle rejection in my current state. Not from Matt. I pulled out a lighter and incinerated the photograph, watching the flames caress my old self into nothingness. I was not that Mello anymore. He probably wasn't that Matt, either. The Matt I loved probably didn't even exist. This was all for the best.

All for the best.

Maybe I'll call tomorrow.

"Mello...you're really leaving." Matt spoke from his position on the windowsill, his voice surprisingly calm considering the news he'd just received. That was Matt, for you. You never could predict what he'd do. Sure, it could get annoying, but that's why I...

"I have to leave. I can't stay here a minute longer. I already feel like I'm going to puke. Can't you feel it? This place is suffocating." I said, bags in hand. I could see Matt was in pain, and I knew why. We'd never really talked about our feelings. Not in any great detail. I knew that Matt loved me, whatever that meant. I didn't know how I felt back. I'd like to be able to say I harbored the same feelings, but I really didn't know what love was. I'd never been able to understand it. I'd told him that once, but it only made him upset. Near, on the other hand, reassured me that it was totally normal to feel that way. He told me that I didn't have to know.

I guess Near made me feel safe.

"I don't want you to go." Matt said in a low voice.

"I know."

"Just..." He started, hopping down from his spot, leaving behind his Gameboy. This was serious. Matt never left his valuables unattended.

"...Call me as soon as you're set up." He finished as he closed the distance between us, throwing his arms around me and holding me close. We'd never touched before. Not like this. He felt so warm...

"I will." I replied, whispering into his ear.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

I awoke with a start, my back drenched with sweat and my heart racing. You'd think that by now I'd be used to it, this feeling in my stomach that I get whenever I dream of him that feels like my insides are about to implode.

I'd never get used to it.

I checked my phone. 2:24 AM. I'd been out for quite a while, but I still felt tired. I always felt tired these days. I sighed, and turned onto my back, staring up at the speckled ceiling.

"I promise..."

First thing I've written in a long, long while. R&R, please! I need the encouragement!