This is pretty much one-shot drabble. I can't write emotion, so it was hard to get out. Rated for profanity and shounen-ai, from Mello's POV. Takes place directly before Matt's death.
It Doesn't Matter Now
It wasn't exactly cheap, getting the small, piece-of-shit television. Granted, it's useful to have in the car…a radio just doesn't relay visual information, no matter how descriptive the words are.
With Takada restrained, I know Kira's at a disadvantage. It was maybe an hour ago that I got off the phone with Near to inform him of the capture. Much as I hate helping the kid, he's saved my life twice over the past few days. I owe him. But I digress. It doesn't really matter now.
The entire city is in an uproar. I can hear the sirens from here. There's an awkward smell lingering in the air; I roll up the windows to keep it out. My nose is already stinging from the stifled air trapped in this damn truck.
Takada…something about her makes me uneasy. Maybe it's just hormones. I didn't look at her when she stripped, and I was at least decent enough to toss her the blanket before she was fully undressed. That counts for something, right?
I snap off a piece of chocolate and put it in my mouth, scowling, and turn back to the television. I'm sure I'm squinting my left eye; everything's black and white with that one. I know I should be grateful I escaped that explosion with my life, but I can't help but be irritated.
Irritated…but proud. Nice job, Matt.
I change the channel. There are too many news stations on; most of them are reporting Takada's kidnapping, but some are already sending Kira messages, begging to be his new spokesperson.
My own race makes me sick sometimes. It doesn't matter. There's nothing I can really do about it.
I'm not quite sure what exactly I'm waiting for…I'm uncomfortable, that much is certain. It's hot in the truck. My chocolate's melting in my hand…appetite lost, I put it down on the seat beside me and raise my hand to take off the stupid hat I'm wearing. A hat's no disguise. Seriously.
My hand travels up to my rosary, rolling the beads between my fingers. I'm not praying. Hell no. But I have a bad feeling…
I feel bile rise to my throat...call it telepathy between brothers, though the gods know…the real gods, not this asshole Kira…Matt and I aren't brothers…
Not by blood…
My head buzzes with thoughts…not my own.
'How many damn bodyguards does one woman need, anyway?'
Oh gods…
'Hey, come on, gimme a break! Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry around such big guns? Alright, ya got me. I'm part of this whole kidnapping incident. That means ya'll have a lot of questions to ask.'
No, Matt, NO!
'You won't shoot-'
It's like a shock just ran through me! I feel my eyes pop open as far as they can go…channel…nine!
My fingers are trembling at the television's dial. Despite the scar that clouds the sense of touch along the left side of my face…there's something tickling me there.
Please, whatever gods there are…if you can hear me now…
"This is the only thing that can be done," I murmur to no one. If anyone else was around, I'd be angry at the way my voice shakes. "If I don't do it…"
My eyes stray to the television again. There's a red car on the screen, the metallic structure punctured. Bullet holes litter the entire surface. There's a splatter of blood over the windows. I swallow hard, blinking back tears.
"As for the suspect who was gunned down earlier, we're still unable to identify him. The police are tracking the remaining suspect and are currently…"
The reporter's voice fades from my mind. All I hear is the click of a lighter, the thud of a soccer ball, an excited laugh, and clacking of buttons on a game controller.
The soft swishing noise as my hair was brushed away from my eyes and behind my ear by a loving, gentle hand…
'Matt…'
My own thoughts rise above the raging noises in my head. Even internally, my voice quakes. 'I…never thought you'd be killed…'
Near wasn't the only one who had told me constantly that my eyes reflected nothing but anger and hatred. Roger and many other people at Wammy's had told me. People on the streets murmured it behind my back.
Matt never said it. Not once.
'I'm so sorry.'
It doesn't matter now.
My hands clench over the steering wheel and I grit my teeth. Despite myself, I feel the tears flowing freely down my cheeks…the salt burns the mark that rendered my left eye next-to-useless…I can't help it. And there's no point fighting it.
I lean my forehead against the top of the wheel, clamping my eyes shut and sobbing (so shameful), my body shaking almost violently. I've never cried this hard before. Not when my parents died…not even when L…
A strand of my hair falls to touch the shell of my ear…it could be Matt's tongue…when I push it away, my hand could be Matt's…
My rosary beads clink together warningly; I see the fire of his cigarette lighter dancing in my mind.
My eyes snap open.
The world shakes violently around me, only once. My breath catches in my throat and my lungs suddenly stop working, my memories and eyes both stop flooding my consciousness…the letters of my own name flash in my mind.
Mihael Keehl…
There's a shroud of darkness falling over me…it could be Matt, covering me with a blanket and turning out the lights…
I don't know if it's Kira's fault my heart stopped beating…
I guess it doesn't matter now…
Hm...poor Mello...