Author's Note= So I wrote this a while ago, it's been on dA. And I've only just realized that I'd never posted it here…. So I'm going to check if there is anything else I've not posted…. But, yeah, enjoy. ^^

Mello's POV

I walk softly. My footsteps make barely a sound. I don't speak when I enter the room. And no one speaks to me. There's something about me. That's what they say.

There's something about the way I walk, or the way I hold my head. Something about me. Something that defines me. But what?

Is it my clothes? Or my hair? My eyes? My habits?

No one can tell.

Neither can I.

I continue through the base. Silently as always. If I keep walking; maybe I can feel him again. Maybe it'll be like he's here again. Instead of gone.

Maybe if I keep walking he'll appear. Maybe if I keep walking no one will destroy this illusion. Maybe if I keep walking, no one will destroy me.

Maybe he's thinking of me. Maybe he's already forgotten me. Maybe he's already dead. And maybe he's really here.

Maybe if I keep on believing, then he'll be here. Maybe then, if only for a second we'll be abel to re-write out last words to each other. They were a simple "'Kay, See ya' later." from me, and silence from him.

Maybe he hadn't heard me. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't thought words were good enough. And maybe he thought that words were too good.

Maybe if I can remember every word he had said to me as a child then he'd speak more to me. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he didn't need words. And maybe he needed them more than either of us had known.

Maybe.

But there's always been something about him. Maybe it was the way he walked. Or the way he held his head. Something that made him Matt. But what was it?

His clothes? His hair? His eyes? His habits?

Only I could tell.

It was the way his clothes were subtle yet there. The way his hair was such an unusual color. The way his eyes sparkled when he was happy. The way his need for video games was almost stronger than my need for chocolate.

Maybe.

And maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm right. Maybe I know everything. And maybe I haven't a clue.

But I keep walking; in the vain hope that he will come to me.

Maybe if I keep walking he'll notice me. Maybe if I keep walking he'll decide that I'm not worth his time. Maybe he has already decided. Maybe he doesn't know that there's a decision.

Maybe he'd choose quickly. Maybe he'd take his time. Maybe he was still predictable. Maybe he was still unpredictable.

Maybe I'm trying too hard. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Maybe it's like I don't try at all. Maybe it's like all I do is try.

Maybe.

But I keep walking. Now people are trying to talk to me. But I won't let them shatter the illusion.

Maybe I can see the twelve-year-old boy so clearly. Maybe I can't see him at all. Maybe he's distorted. And maybe he's perfect.

Maybe Matt was perfect. Maybe Matt was unsalvagable. Maybe Matt was flawed. And Maybe Matt was as close to perfect as you could get.

Maybe Matt was happy. Maybe Matt was sad. Maybe Matt didn't care. And maybe Matt was overwhelmed.

Maybe Matt was mine. Maybe Matt was someone else's. Maybe I was Matt's. And maybe Matt was unownable.

By now people stop trying to break my trance and just watch silently as I go towards the roof.

But beyond all doubt, there's one thing I know.

Matt's gone.