Matt glanced up at me when I was about to leave, the cigarette between his lips trapped between a frown.

"You're going to see him again?" He tilted his head, the elegant wings on his back ruffling in confusion. "You really need to learn your place. We're dead, Mihael. It's time to stop visiting the human world."

But I don't care, all I can think of his the innocent boy below. His shoulders already curl forwards, supporting the weight of the world alone. "Don't care, never will. Cya in a few hours." The door was slammed before he had a chance to protest, and I marched on.

What an odd sight I must make, the dark leather of my clothes contrasting the soft white wings on my back. The burn along my skin, traveling from my face to my hip, the skin marred and rough to the touch. Yet just opposite of that is the most lovely skin you will ever see, clear and pale and white. As an angel should look, I suppose. But neither Matt nor I are truly meant to be here.

We are the 'special cases.' The ones that died for a cause noble enough to go to heaven, but actions evil enough to go to hell. Our actions were so drastic that we were denied from purgatory, now we wear the wings of the angels. Only because it was unjust for us to go to hell. So why spend time in a place we don't belong?

I reach the familiar gap in the clouds, my wingtips extending just a bit. I crouch, staring down. Going through the holes is dangerous, I know. They could close up, or move. I could become stranded in the human world, and never return. But my risk taking has gotten no better in death. I am as reckless as ever, and I love it.

My wings extend, the sun reflecting off the brilliant feathers. Turning around, I just fall backwards. The transition from heaven to earth is not a fun thing. The air becomes cold as though I walked into a freezer, and my stomach twists in freefall. I am limp as a ragdoll, for if I pull out of my dive too early I will have miles to fly down. If I pull out too late, I'll crash into something. Though I feel no physical pain, it is not very pleasant to smash into the side of a building like some farsighted pigeon.

Clouds whiz by and my body is frozen as though I were standing naked in a blizzard. This uncomfortable temperature is just a way to discourage us from leaving the sky, to keep us locked in the heavens. My leather does nothing to insulate from the chill, though I have long since grown used to it.

My wings tilt just a bit, pulling me from the steep dive and gliding across the winds. It doesn't take much to change course, just a little bit of a tilt to your wings and a twist in your feathers. I am still descending head first, not even smiling. This sensation is no fun alone. I imagine Matt will still be upstairs, playing games and smoking to his heart's content. He doesn't have to worry about petty things like lung cancer any longer, so he takes every chance he can to smoke.

I flap my wings, forcing the winds around me to slow a bit so I can land. As I fold them nearly against my back, a passerby wanders straight through me. It's not hard to forget that I can't interact with anything. No matter. I must find him. Though my mind has been preoccupied, my soul has taken me straight to the doors of the SPK building. Or what used to be the SPK, anyways.

The tall figure of Halle Lidner exits the building, the last to go as she has been every night. I stride through the doors (Quite literally through them) and simply fly up through the multiple floors it takes to get to his. My feet land on lego's when I enter, and I wince without thinking. I am almost disappointed at the lack of pain, before the small sound of the tap pulls me from my pity trance.

And then there he is, leaving the kitchen with a glass of water clutched in his long fingers. Near always made everything around him look so much bigger, his tiny figure emphasising the size of the things around it. I so often used to use this to my advantage, standing next to him to seem taller…

He avoids every lego block, shuffling along without a purpose. He takes a shaky breath, followed by a long drink of water. His dark eyes move to the calendar, and I notice a date circled in red.

January 26th, 2014.

Has it really been a year? An entire year? It seems so short, though a long period was spend drowning in inky blackness. Waiting to be judged for my sins. No wonder Matt was so quiet today, so withdrawn in his games. It has been a year since I killed us both, too scared to die alone so I dragged him with me.

"Mello…" His voice is so quiet. It almost frightens me, though I truly have nothing to fear anymore. "I'm sorry…" I peer closer, noticing the small finger puppet curled in his fingers. My finger puppet. The detail is amazing, the scars along my face reflected perfectly in the tiny doll. Though, the expression is wrong. I am not victorious, I am not able to wear that smirk any longer. I could never tell him, however. We've completely abandoned Near, and to take away his one comfort would be only cruel.

I've lost myself in thoughts again, damn. He's moved away, shuffling into the little bedroom tucked in the corner. I follow him, imagining what he would look like with regal wings of his own. Probably beautiful, they would match his hair and his clothing. He is the picture of an angel, whereas I am the picture of the devil.

Crouching down on his bed, he retrieves the tiny doll of himself. It walks across the bed, and the one of me sits next to it. Near stands them together, side by side like proud soldiers. "We did it, Mello. We defeated Kira, one year ago. I'm sorry it had to be you…" He flicks the one of me down, so his doll sits alone. "But it was the right choice."

I put my arms gently around him, not gripping too hard for my fingers will slide through him if I do. I can barely feel the shirt over his thin frame, but I can hear his heartbeat sounding in his chest. I can feel the weak beat beat beat of life within him, and a rare tear slides down my cheek.

Near shivers, as though he can feel the cold aura of my body against his. I have heard stories, rare glimpses of information… But no. There's no way the universe could be that kind to us. The world is cruel, and only aims to hurt us. It would never allow one last meeting, never allow me to say a final word. The world is too cruel.

He picks up the figurine of me, rolling it between his fingers. "There's so much I wanted to say… So much I never got the chance to tell you." He whispers, tears sliding down his pale cheeks. "I'm sorry. So sorry, Mello." I place my fingers over his, and notice his little smile. "You would laugh if you could see me. You used to hate it when people cried." He laughs, actual laughter, before curling protectively around the puppet.

"I never hated it. I was just angry that I couldn't cry without being seen as weak." I murmur, getting no response.

"I was always so jealous of you and Matt. You looked like you were having so much fun… I wanted to join you." Near was mumbling again, tears spilling on to his wrinkled pajamas. "I wanted to be happy like you."

My grip tightens, and my fingers fly through him. I hiss in frustration, leaning back against the headboard to watch him. No matter how hard I try, how much I struggle to reach him… I'll never get there. I'll never be number 1, I'll never be able to comfort the first.

"We were a team in the end. I'm sorry I couldn't realize it sooner, Nate." His real name tumbles from my lips before I can stop it. It sounds so weird, but so right.

"Mihael…" The name startles me. Could he have heard me..? No, he's looking at the clock now. "There's one minute until it's been a year. Exactly. I always liked numbers, do you remember…?" He stares up, and the clock strikes 9:32. A strange feeling of strength floods through me, and I reach over to touch his shoulder, just to see if I can.

Before I can reach him, his head whips around.

And I know he can see me, illuminated by the moon and wingtips quivering, betraying my emotions. Dark eyes meet icy blue.

"Mello…?"