In honor of the deaths of Matt and Mello, I wrote this short little piece about their last moments on this earth. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Death Note is not, and will never be, mine.
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I step out of the car, cocky as ever. I know that they won't shoot me. They wouldn't dare. I know all about this operation. They'll want to take me in a question me.
I tell them just that.
What I don't expect to hear is the click of a gun ready to be fired. As I hear that click, that split second sound, my heart jumps in to my thought. I feel a sinking stone in the pit of my stomach, and I know that I calculated wrong.
I'll die here today.
What about Mello? I can't help but wonder. What about my best friend, the only reason I'm going to die in the first place? His impulsive decision brought me to this. But I don't blame him. How could I? It's not like I'm free from blame.
No, I only care that he's okay. If he's alive, then I can die knowing that I didn't die for nothing.
My thought take all of a nanosecond and then it's over. A sharp crack that is obliterates my ear and the sounds of the other guns that follow. My body in on the ground, now littered with bullet holes in every location imaginable.
Is dying worth it? No. But dying for Mello? Of course.
He's still alive. I know it. I can feel it somewhere in my subconscious that he's still out there, back on Earth, back accompanying Takada, heart still beating, completely unaware that I lay here now, slipping over the edge that is life and death.
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I suddenly yell something indistinguishable over the roar of the fire consuming the abandoned church. He's gone. I know it. Somewhere in this world, Matt had slipped away from me.
I suddenly halt my futile attempts at escape from this death chamber. If Matt's not there, then what's to go back to?
My mind answers the questions for me. Absolutely nothing. Without Matt, there is nothing.
And I got him killed. This was my idea, my stupid, irrational, impulsive idea! I got Matt killed!
No. I could never go back to that world outside this fiery coffin.
I turn around and see the flames roaring toward the gas tank in the truck. Not long now. Reaching inside my pocket, I withdraw a half-melted piece of chocolate that Matt gave me right before we left for this suicide mission. I unwrap it, and as the fire finally reaches the gasoline tanks, I take a bite.
The last thing I know of this world is the sweet taste of chocolate and the memory of my best friend.
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R.I.P.
Mihael Keehl and Mail Jeevas
Mello and Matt
January 26, 2010