A.N. I'm all wound up from not RPing lately, so I wrote this... It's from Mello's point of view, after the meeting with Roger where he learns of L's Death. It's not seriously written, just something I jotted down to help me siphon off some of my creative juices. It's a little over DRAMATIC!Mello... but oh well! My brain wants fluff. XD Let me know what you think?

Oh! And if this gets enough positive feedback, I'll go ahead and continue it. :3

I stormed into my room, events of the day swirling in my head: Near calmly accepting L's death, L's failure to chose one of us, Roger asking us to work together...

"Mello!" a cheerful voice broke the cold silence.

I turned to look, even though I didn't need to see to know who was at my door. There stood my best friend: Matt. Number three in Wammy's House. For a moment I stared at him. He wore his usual attire: tinted goggles on top of his reddish brown hair, a long-sleeved striped shirt, with a tan vest pulled over it to keep out the cold. Matt hated the cold... I turned away again. I didn't have time for him right now. I had to focus on preparations for leaving. I had already arranged for a car to come by sunset. Now, I had to pick and choose what to pack. "What is it, Matt?" I snapped, pulling a suitcase out of my closet and opening it on the floor.

Matt was quick to pick up on the irregularity of the situation, and his cheerful expression quickly became one of innocent confusion, "Mello, what's going on?"

I gave Matt a warning glare, but Matt either didn't catch it, or chose to ignore it. Probably the latter, that stripy twerp...

"Are you okay?" Matt reached forward and gently placed his hand on my shoulder. The failing sunlight cast an orange glow over his soft-skinned face, and his deep reddish eyebrows were drawn together in concern. "What's wrong?"

I glared at him. 'The same as always,' I could say. I could go on again about how, here at Wammy's House, I was second best. Second. Second. Second. Never first. Near was first. Near beat me. At everything. EVERYTHING. "..." I gazed down into Matt's hazel eyes. Was he expecting this answer? How many times had I told him? I saw myself reflected on the shining corneas. Second-best Mello. Second at everything. Everything... except... I reached forward and took hold of Matt's ridiculously striped shirt. "He can't have you. You're mine! You're the one thing I have that he doesn't!"

Matt's eyes widened in shock and surprise. For once, I didn't care how idiotic I sounded, or how my voice strained against the burning sensation that filled my throat. "You're what I win at! Because you're mine. Mine, not Near's. Mine...!" I buried my face into Matt's shirt. "Matt!" I couldn't fight back the sobs any longer. "Oh, Matt, please! Please! Come with me!"

"Shh," Matt's gloved hand caressed my back. "Mello, is that what's bothering you? You should know that I'd follow you anywhere. I'll always be with you. Wherever you are." His voice, so calm, so perfect. Normally, it always held a hint of mirth. It made it easy to forget that he always knew just what to say, even in times like this.

"M-M-Matt!" I held on to the black-and-white stripes as if they were the only thing holding me to life itself.

"Calm down, Mello. It's alright. Breathe," he ran his fingers through my blonde hair, and I exhaled slowly, feeling my muscles slowly beginning to relax. Suddenly, without any further warning, the remaining tension in my body disappeared all at once, and I collapsed into his arms, my fingers barely sweeping against his shirt.

"That's right, Mello, shhh... It's okay. I'm here," he cradled me close to him, guiding us back to sit down on my bed. I opened my eyes blearily, feeling half-dried tears stick in my eyelashes. It was all right now. I felt profoundly relaxed. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft sound of his voice; it was caressing me as much as his hands. He was saying something about the West Coast... at this point I wasn't really listening to the words, merely the hum and vibration I could feel from his chest...

The next thing I knew I was jerking upright. I had fallen asleep. I panicked. "Matt?!" my own voice sounded foreign to me. So sharp, so different from the voice that had lulled me to sleep.

"Mello?" Matt had been behind the desk, but he was beside me again in an instant. "Here, I made some hot chocolate for you." He handed me a steaming cup.

I smiled, knowing that the manic gleam only brought on by plotting or chocolate had been lit in my eyes. I blew the steam away from the rim, then took a sip. Matt knew how to make perfect hot chocolate. It had taken some training, but he now knew the exact ratio of chocolate to milk, and the perfect temperature for a perfect cup of hot chocolate. "Thank you."

Matt smiled foolishly, as he always did when receiving praise. It was endearing.

"We have to start packing," I said in a businesslike tone. That moment of weakness in front of him would have to be erased by some extra strictness. He couldn't be allowed to forget who was in charge here!

"Of course," Matt replied. "When will we be leaving?" No questions about where we were going, or why. That was Matt for you. He trusted I would tell him what he needed to know in due time.

"Tonight. Before Roger can stop us. Pack light and be ready in an hour," I said curtly. "Can you do it?"

Matt nodded obediently, "I'll be back shortly." He stood and left the room with a few quick steps.

I gazed at the empty doorway for a few moments, then set down my hot chocolate and turned to my closet to rummage through my belongings. I sighed deeply, getting a tighter hold of myself and fixating my mind on what needed to be done. What to take and what not to take... I picked up a small photo album in my hands and flipped it open. The first picture was a group photo of my first class here at Wammy's House. I scowled as my eyes fell on the pale boy to my right in the photo. I bet Near would have no problem deducing just what was necessary to take and what was not, but I had emotional attachments to many things I had stored in here. Not everyone could work like a machine. I paused momentarily, wondering if L had ever been hindered by an emotional attachment. ... Maybe that was what caused his downfall. ... No! That's ridiculous. L wouldn't fall prey to such a simple error. And neither would I! I tossed the album into the fireplace and turned back to my closet. Ah, my secret stash of chocolate. That would have to come...