Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

Author's Note: Parts of this story are going to be very AU, although most of the basic plot will remain the same. I feel that I am making the characters very different from how they are portrayed in the original series. Matt will periodically refer to Mello as Mihael when feeling particularly sentimental or concerned. Also the ages are as follows:

Matt: 19, 5"8', birthday in October

Mello: 18, 5"6', birthday in December

Near: 17, 5"1', birthday in March

Constructive criticism is preferred over a general "good job" and flames will be used to heat my house since its winter and I get cold easy.

"Speech"

Thought

It was snowing, and it was freezing.

Perfect.

Mello tilted his face up to the flat gray sky and closed his eyes. Snowflakes landed and melted, spotting his closed eyes with cold. There was already more than a foot of snow on the ground, and the tiny park was deserted. The teen let out the breath he'd been holding – a puff of fog ripped away by the wind – and allowed himself to topple backwards. The snow creaked as he flung out his arms. He really shouldn't be out here – he was still sick after all, and he might even die – but really, that was the point.

Freezing…is just like going to sleep, he decided. Just…sleeping. Slipping away unnoticed…His vision started to go black.

The last thing he heard, before he lost consciousness, was the gentle crunch of snow underfoot.

When he woke, he was warm.

He slowly turned his head. Matt sat next to the bed. Mello smiled weakly at him. "Still alive, huh?"

Matt was silent for a moment. "…yeah." Silence echoed between them for another moment. "Why do you do it, Mello? What is so bad that you keep trying to end it all?" He didn't even sound angry, only resigned. Mello guiltily thought that the four attempts he'd made on his life this year alone probably had something to do with that.

"Ah, but that's just it, isn't it? Ending. I want it to end." Mello turned to face the older teen more fully. He wanted to explain. "Did you know that when you're dying, nothing hurts? Even drowning, there's just an ache here," he touched his heart, "and here." The hand moved to touch his temple. "Nothing hurts, dying. Only living hurts."

Matt brushed blond locks out of the other's eyes. "But what makes living hurt so much, Mihael? What makes you want to leave me alone again?"

Mello shifted to stare at the ceiling. Matt waited quietly for an answer. "All I ever wanted was his approval," Mello waited finally. The redhead beside him didn't have to ask who 'he' was. There had only ever been one person Mello talked about like that. "Hell, I would have taken his hatred," Mello continued, "at least it would have been acknowledgement. He didn't even look at me when I told him that…" He trailed off, lost in thought. All his regret came back to that white-haired, silent figure. "I've given up, Matt. It's not worth it anymore. It just hurts too God-damned much."

Matt blinked at the raw grief and agony in the blonde's voice. He knew that the younger teen wouldn't cry; the redhead often doubted Mello even remembered how to release the emotion. Sometimes I hate Wammy's for what it's done to us, Matt thought bitterly as he reached out to smooth the golden hair spilling over the pillow. "Okay," he murmured as Mello slipped off to sleep. Matt stood and gently pressed a kiss on the sleeping boy's forehead. "I wish you wouldn't though," he whispered before slipping out.

The phone rang as the redhead closed the door. Sighing, he crossed the hall and answered it. "Hello?"

An unfamiliar voice replied. "Hello? Is Mello there?"

A cold pit seemed to have replaced his stomach. Mello would have given an alias to anyone except one of his former 'associates.' "I'm sorry, but there's no one here by that name. You must have the wrong number." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.

Trembling, Matt slid down the wall, staring at the door into Mello's room. Oh, my little Mihael, who's looking for you, and for God's sake, why?