Mello, being your best friend is so difficult. I know you better than you know yourself, just because you never admit the truth. We used to go out and play football with the other kids and we were the best but then you stopped because you needed to work. So I started playing games for something to do, because anything is better than the alternative. You almost never stop working… and when you do…

It's always fucking Near.

'I have to be the best. I have to beat him.' Get a grip Mello. There is a fine line between rivalry and obsession, I'll allow you that if you accept the fact that you crossed it years ago.

"All you ever do is play on your stupid games." You complain. You have a nerve.

"What do you want me to do?" I reply but you ignore the bitterness in my tone.

"Anything! Anything is better than sitting around and watching you play your games. You're no fun anymore." You yell. I do nothing but slam the buttons of my DS harder. You abandoned me first Mello. How can you complain that I'm no fun?

Still, being the third in line for succeeding L means you are the fourth most intelligent person in the world. I know better than to put the truth in front of your eyes – although I have been wondering for a long time what I hope to salvage from our friendship.

Then you bite your chocolate bar furiously and I remember. We've been best friends since we came here and even though we spend most of the time hating each other… that's the point. Because we understand. So I put my games away like an idiot and I listen because I know you want to talk.

"My games take my mind off things." I reply but you don't ask what things. You don't ask why I want to take my mind off things. Because you don't care. You aren't interested in me in the slightest. I didn't need to be a genius to guess the next thing that would come out of your mouth.

"How did he beat me? Again?! I spent hours and hours writing that essay and he still comes first. Did you even see him writing it?"

"No, I didn't." I sigh. If you didn't notice him writing it then I would bet money that no one else in Wammy's House noticed either. I don't care about Near. You don't wait for me to say anything else or even act interested. You barely stop for breath.

"All he does is play with his stupid toys. How can a little brat like him be so clever? He acts like a four year old! I never even see him doing any work." You shout, starting to pace the room with your chocolate bar pressed agitatedly against your lips. Sometimes I wonder if you'd notice if I disappeared or if you'd just rant to yourself. I reach for my console again and turn the volume down so you can still hear your own voice. As I suspected, you aren't paying attention. "He doesn't even have any emotion at all. His voice never changes. His essays must be the most boring things to read but he always wins. I don't think he even thinks about anything. He definitely doesn't feel anything. How can I lose to a fucking… ROBOT!"

"Why don't you ask him?" I mutter. I could have said it louder of course because when you get to the stage where you start to pace I know that you're lost. You're up in your head, wrapped around Near. Well, fuck you Mello.

"What does L even see in him? He clearly doesn't understand anything about people so how is he meant to understand people's motives when he feels nothing? How could he understand?! He thinks he's so bloody amazing just because he always beats me in tests but it wouldn't work in the real world!"

And so I let you rant and I take it. Like I do every night. And every night the reason for me being your friend becomes a little bit more confusing. Sometimes I just forget the reason all together. You stayed for almost an hour before going back to the library.

I know you. You will stay up for hours, typing the next essay that isn't due for three weeks. You'll feel alone and you'll feel like a failure and you'll think that no one else is awake.

But you're wrong Mello, you're so wrong. I'm always awake. I'm awake seeking my only source of comfort and mourning the loss of my best friend. I don't even see the screen. All the time you're writing your essay you're wrapped around Near. All the time I'm playing my games I'm wrapped around you. Because I miss you, even though you disappeared years ago. Because you still speak to me and share a room with me this is dragged out even though you aren't Mello anymore. The difference between you and me is that I at least admit it. I know I'm not Matt anymore. Not your Matt anyway. Another difference – the worst difference – is that you don't care.

Type away, Mello. Type your essay and feel sick because Near has won again and no matter how hard you try you always come second to Near. I'll play games and feel sick too. When you come back to our room at three in the morning, trying not to wake me, you're wasting your effort. I know you feel the silence between us when the lights are out. It's inescapable. It feels like death.

How far are you going to take this Mello? What will you do if L chooses Near? I think I have a good idea. You wouldn't accept the fact simply because you will never get over your obsession. You couldn't stay behind while Near leaves – you'd find a way to stay in the game. I know you. If that happened then you wouldn't even think twice about abandoning me for good.

Being with Near is more important to you than being with me.

Sometimes, I wonder if you value his life above my life too…