AN: Hey there guys. This is Stripes, and I've written something small for you guys. Hopefully we won't lose alerts for this, but I wrote this to get it off my chest, and bam. Here it is. It's a little fic-let from Matt's point of view, and it just reflects a few things that have been building up. Hopefully it doesn't suck...

This is for my beloved Leather. I know I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I love you, even though I don't say it enough. I do with all my heart.
Also, I wrote this while trying to overcome the writer's block I've had with the return story for Leather (because she wrote Strangers for me, and I am returning the favor).

Hope this will tide you guys over until we get the next chapter of Vending Chocolate up. It should be very, very soon.

Thanks.

Stripes

As you know, we claim no ownership of Death Note or the characters in anyway, but it's a lovely dream.

Rated for language (though it could be much worse, lawlz).

.:Not Enough:.

I'm not stupid.

You would think something like that wouldn't get overlooked when you were in Wammy's, but I think Mello never really understood exactly the extent of how not stupid I was. And am.

L.

It was always about L. Being the next to succeed him, to meet him, to have him acknowledge that you existed. Mello fucking lived for L. Sure, I was his best friend, but if he ever had to choose between the two of us…well, let's just say it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who he'd pick.

But we loved L. We all loved L. And really, how could we not? He was L, and he actually cared about us. Well, some more than others.

L. M. N.

The fabulous threesome.

Three of the most brilliant minds the world has ever seen.

And then there's me.

While Mello and Near were in their constant battle to be the next L, I would try to wrap myself up in other things (computers, video games, anything electronic), trying to achieve some little feat for myself. Maybe it was because it hurt too much knowing that no one would ever fight that hard for me.

Not even Mello.

Again, I'm going to repeat that I am not stupid. I was third, after all, but that doesn't mean shit in the grand scheme of things. I wasn't first. I couldn't be first. I didn't want to be first.

I would never be L.

And I was fine with that.

Honestly, I'd rather have Mello as a friend than an enemy because, again, I am not stupid.

He was my best friend. I'd do anything for the bastard, and he knew that. I can try to pretend that he would never take advantage of that, and I like to think that he didn't, but we'd both be kidding ourselves if we denied that he never pulled the best friend card.

But a best friend is no replacement for L. The ultimate goal.

Mello was as devoted to L as I was whipped by my best friend. In my own, childish way, I realized exactly how much I cared for Mello. I also realized exactly how much Mello cared for L.

And I knew it before he had any idea himself.

It was a crush, sure. I think on some level we all had a sort of crush on L. But with Mello, I knew better.

Fuck, I knew so much better.

I would stay up with him as he worked, foregoing sleep and food, just so he could best Near, even by a little. It was all for L.

How can I blame him? It was what we were being trained to do, it was only natural.

Just like it was only natural to feel bile rise in my throat whenever Mello would spew schoolgirl-like observations of the man.

Mello loved L.

Mello fucking wanted L.

Mello was everything I had and I allowed myself to watch him slowly slip away whenever our detective was mentioned or came back to the orphanage.

He didn't need me.

L didn't need me either.

I was…just another M. I think the only reason he tolerated me seeing him when I was with Mello was because that damn idiot blond would psyche himself out before going to see L, beg me to come along, only to forget I fucking existed the moment we entered L's study. I only mattered because Mello made me matter.

The second M. Easily forgotten. But not stupid.

While Mello couldn't see how deeply he loved, how much he fucking craved L, I could. I may not be the most sociable person, but I can read people. And I read Mello as easily as a Dr. Seuss book.

And maybe that hurt more than anything.

Maybe it hurt that I knew I wanted Mello. That I wanted him to want me just as much as I wanted him. And I couldn't have that. I could never fucking have an ounce of want or need from him because of L.

It was always about L.

And who was I to stop that?

I wanted him happy. That's what mattered to me.

And after L died, Mello was gone. I couldn't make him stay.

I wasn't enough.

I was never enough.

Even after I tracked him down..

Even after I joined him…

Even after I pulled him from the skeleton of that damn building and fixed him up…

…After we kissed…

After he gave himself to me in our shitty apartment, on that shitty bed…

…on that shitty couch…

After he had me stretched out under him…

…had me screaming his name…

After he spoke those three words that would seal the deal…

After I told him I was his…

Even now, as he's laying next to me, sleeping and beautifully scarred…

After months and years of loyalty...

I know I'm not enough.

I'm not L.

I can never give him what L could have.

I'll never be L.

But…

I can try to make him happy.

Because, Christ, somewhere down the line, I realized I love him.

And that's all I can do.

Fin

AN: So...yes! Please leave a review (self-pimpage). I know it wasn't the greatest thing I've ever written, but I needed to get out of my block and get this out of my system. Thanks guys!

Cheers!
Stripes