Matt, I didn't think they'd kill you.
I saw him, lying slumped half out of the car. I remembered asking him to shoot at Takada. He'd distracted them all for me, shooting at them, getting them to chase him instead of me, while I left with her, a lure away for Kira, exactly what Near needed, even though he probably didn't realise,wouldn't realise until the end. Maybe he wouldn't even realise what I had done, that I had planned this out.
But I hadn't planned enough.
I didn't realise they would kill him.
It was obvious they would kill me. It was obvious that Takada would kill me. I knew she knew my name, because I knew Kira must know my name, must've told her, and she would see my face. I was quite prepared to die, now.
Near had won, that much was obvious. Near had always won. Near would always win. But maybe this way, Near would live, too.
I don't know when I decided that I wanted Near to live. I don't think I would ever know, not with Takada, spokeswoman for Kira, sitting in the back of the truck. She would kill me. She had probably got a scrap of notebook from somewhere, ready to write on when she got the chance.
The last forty seconds of my life were probably ticking away, right now. I would never have the time to work out why I wanted Near to live.
I knew why I hadn't wanted Matt to die, although it was only in the last few seconds of my life that I admitted it to myself. Sure, I knew that Matt was great in bed, that he was one of the few people I could trust, that, apart from Watari, he was the only person who knew my real name. Mihael Keehl. I think I was one of the few people, perhaps the only one apart from Watari, who knew that his real name wasn't Matt. It wasn't even Matthew. It was Mail Jeevas.
To be quite honest, I preferred Matt. Much easier to say in the height of passion.
But to see him lying there, shot through with bullets from the guns of Takada's bodyguards, I knew that I would never hear him cry out my name again, as I… I would never see those eyes full of lust again, when I… It was like a blow, you know?
And I'd never told him how I truly felt, had never admitted it to myself that I, Mello, could feel something so… so common, so exploitable, as… as this. Appreciation, yes. Lust, yes. Admiration, yes. But this…
I remembered something Matt had said, although I was pretty sure he had never wanted me to hear it – would've hated for me to hear it, even. He was like me in that respect. It was as I lay, recovering from the blast that had scarred my face. He must've thought I was asleep, and he leaned over and pressed his lips to the bandage covering half of my face.
"I love you, Mihael," he'd whispered.
I think it had been one of the few times he'd used my real name.
I hadn't thought about it then, couldn't think about it then, because of Kira, and Near, and the general excruciating pain in the side of my face. But I thought about it now, as my life ticked away, as I saw his body riddled with holes.
I love you, Mail, I thought.
I'm sorry.