Mello was standing next to a friend from the mafia. He brought good news: everything was in place. Now, he waits. But Mello waited less than he thought he'd have to.
He collapsed. It was time for him to leave. Finally. Just as he had made it his time to leave.
Mello was struggling for consciousness when he smelled it. The best smell in the world, or almost.
Mello had always loved explosions. They smell so oddly familiar, so pleasant. When he shot his gun (usually in the general direction of the sheep) it sometimes reminded him of that scent. The smell that was almost the smell he loved. But he had never been able to identify it. What was it? Mello turned his head painfully. Lights danced across his vision.
Ah, fire. Smells good.
The flames were close now, blocking out all other sounds. His "friends" from the mafia had already run out. He would have snorted in disgust if he could. Friends? Ha, Mello thought as the flames began licking at him. The only real friend he had ever had was…. An image surfaced in Mello's mind.
Red hair, goggles, and a gameboy that only Mello could convince him to put down. A cigarette in his mouth, due to the unhealthy habit established at the Whammy's.
But the habit helped define him, Mello mused on his deathbed. It made his striped shirts smell good, anyway. The best smell in the world.
Suddenly Mello knew what the fire engulfing him reminded him of. And if he shut his eyes, he could pretend the warmth was from his embrace. The smell, the happiness of just being near him… Mail. Matt. Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt….
A/N: I originally based this on a thought I had while watching a MattxMello AMV. I like the thought of Mello dying alone thinking of Matt, but normal people don't like that. -.- So, I made a happy ending by ending the following on! You decide which is better.
"Didn't last long without me, did ya Mells?"