A/N: Well, it seems I have a problem. I can't concentrate on my chapter stories so I write oneshots. Uh-oh. Well, until I get HUGE GIGANTIC MUSE for a biiiig story, I'll probably be haunting my page with oneshots for a while. D8 I'm sorry. But if you have fantastical plot ideas, please do PM me! (In case you haven't noticed, this is a oneshot just to let off some old muse and to give a shout out to let you all know I'm still alive.)

ANYWAY. This is a story from Near's perspective about Mello. Because he's too aloof in my opinion and he needs to be more emotional about his ONLY FRIEND dying. So yeah. This story was very heavily powered by Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World. Definitely a very sad song. I love it. Also on my muse list is I Hate This Song by Secondhand Serenade. I think that song is SERIOUSLY MelloNear. Listen to it and think about the lyrics (all of them, not just the chorus bitches) and you'll see. It's CRAZY.

Oh lord. I have realized something. I write really sad things. And they're better than my other stuff. D8 This makes me sad.

Enjoy!

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Being alone never bothered me. I have been alone, in many senses of the word, for my whole life. I have been temporarily alone: being in a room alone, playing with toys. I have been permanently alone: the absence of my parents should explain that. I have been emotionally alone: both the relative dearth of feelings and the lack of anyone truly caring about me have brought this to the list. But as long as I have been literally alone, I have never felt alone.

Before this incident, I accepted that I was alone. It did not vex me. It was not important to me that not a soul on Earth cared about me as a person. It mattered not that I was, to the world, not a person but an entity. I caught criminals, and the people of this world were grateful for that. This did not change that I had no friends, no one who cared about me. I never worked for friendship, and I never got it.

Honestly, I didn't realize I was cold and apathetic until I got the news. Mello was dead, Gevanni told me. One would think I would brush this piece of information aside like it was garbage. At first, I did just that. But the realization set in, and I don't remember much. I think I cried. I cried for Mello, of course. But mostly, I cried because I finally understood that I was a terrible person. I had repressed feelings my entire life, and it only got me one thing in the end: misery. I never thought I'd miss Mello. Ever since we were children, he made it quite clear that he despised me. I never disliked him. If anything, I admired him. He could balance his intellect and his feelings, while I ignored the latter in order to win.

I don't understand why he felt the way he did. He supposedly hated me. Was this a result of the jealousy he felt because he was always second and I always first? He repeatedly told me he didn't care about me in the slightest, but isn't jealousy one of the most intense forms of caring about others? Or was he not a victim of envy? He may very well have hated me for other reasons.

It was better when he was alive. Even if the only words he'd ever spoken to me were laced with the venom of a thousand cobras, even if the only way he ever looked at me was in disgust, life was brighter when I knew he was safe. I'm not supposed to care. I shouldn't. I didn't before, but I realize now that I actually did. There is a visible difference in the world now. Things don't hold the same color that they did before. Did I care for him this whole time, but I was just too cold to realize? Or am I learning the lesson "you don't know what you have until it's gone"? Am I being punished for only caring about myself, or is this just what happens?

I didn't emerge from my room for days. I don't remember anything except the ugly blur of leaking tears. I couldn't still my crying. Maybe those three days were a chance for every single tear I never cried to make their appearance. The first thing I did upon reentering the outside world was arrange for a burial. He deserved a proper funeral, even if I would be the only attendee. Matt was dead as well. There was nobody else left. I never found out exactly what the two of them shared, but I had a rather good guess.

Matt and Mello were to be buried in the woods of Wammy's orphanage. Matt once told me of a clearing that was very special to Mello, and I remembered where it was. My team and I set up two gravestones, both with text:

Mihael Keehl

December 13, 1989 – January 26, 2010

Mail Jeevas

February 1, 1990 – January 26, 2010

Soon after I buried the two people closest to what I could say were my friends, Kira was apprehended. After all that was taken care of, I visited their grave monthly. I try not to think about what might have been. I moved into L's quarters in Wammy's House recently. Even in death, Mello is all I have. I need to be close to him. I visit them weekly, rain or shine. I never bring anything for their graves except once, on Mello's birthday. I brought him a flower, but it died. Two years have passed since they were buried, and I still cry myself to sleep. Sometimes, the children come to me during meals to give me toys or cards. I wonder if they really care. They probably do.

Today is December 19th. The snowfall last night left more than a foot of snow. Winter is my favorite season now, because it's already black and white; my misery can't take away any color or vivacity from the world. I try to find reasons to stay alive. Even the crime and evil I fight daily isn't enough for me to keep going. This eternal pain I live with affects my capability, and now I take days to solve the simplest of cases. The heart I spent years building walls around was a victim of disease. My walls were still intact, but I was dying on the inside. I was trapped within a world of anguish, unable to escape.

Then, my body caught up with my heart. I didn't eat or sleep for weeks, not seeing the point. My body was in constant agony, but I didn't know how to deal with it. So when I was sent to the hospital and fed through IV tubes, I felt like the world wanted me to live despite the wrenching torture my heart sustained. I begged them to kill me, but they just smiled and told me that I'd be okay.

I'd never be okay.

Once I escaped from the hospital, I wandered. I walked aimlessly around Winchester for hours. My sense of time was gone, and all I wanted was to make the pain in my chest go away. I think that whoever was enjoying the show of my hurt got bored, because when I walked into the street and a car slammed into me, nobody stopped me. No nurses to increase my doses, no Roger to call the ambulance, no Gevanni to tell me to get my rest. It was just me. And I could feel the pain end. It was gone, and then the world went black. Because there's no heaven for someone who has never loved. I smiled when I left. I was free.

Finally free.

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O.O pretty dark for me. I'm pretty proud of this one. I could have done more, but whatever. Oneshot for everybody. This is so intense. Jeez.

Review, please! And PLEASE vote on my poll. Seriously.