Summary: All along, Misa had been waiting for her God to save her. She didn't expect a guardian angel to be there for her. MattxMisa. Songfic. AC.
A/N: I'm guessing this would be considered AC, seeing as Matt is still alive.
Disclaimers: Matt and Misa don't belong to me, and Don't Jump is property of Tokio Hotel.
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On top of the roof
The air is so cold and so calm
Truthfully, Matt had no idea what the hell he was doing following her, or why Misa had gone to the stairs in the first place. He just knew it couldn't be a good thing. At all.
He had sprinted as fast as he could up the stairs of the apartment, taking them two at a time in giant leaps, stumbling more than once. The soft clacking of heels could he heard further up the staircase. Graceful and poised, like the walking doll she had become.
The door at the top of the staircase was swinging on its hinges and closed just as he reached the top, as if to say "This isn't your place. Leave". 'But it is my place', Matt thought as he opened the door to let in the chilly night air, 'I've made it that way'.
Golden hair was fanned out on her back, her black dress ruffling out around her legs, and then tightening around her petite waist. She was skinny. Too skinny. Her back was to him as she took slow and deliberate steps forward, one foot in front of the other.
Misa Amane.
I say your name in silence
You don't wanna to hear it right now
"Misa!" Matt shouted, jumping off the final step and up onto the rooftop, "What're you doing?" Dammit, he knew the answer. He knew too fucking well what it was. He just didn't want to admit it.
She spared him a fleeting glance, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, before she continued her funeral march forward. Misa looked beautiful even then; everything seemed to fall into place to what seemed like a fitting ending. Misa was an actress, and this would be her greatest and last performance.
Perched on the edge of the building, she looked like a bird ready to take flight into the night. Sure, it was just a part she was playing. This wasn't real. It just couldn't be.
Matt knew she wouldn't fly.
The eyes of the city are
Counting the tears falling down
Each one a promise
Of everything you never found
There were people amassing at the foot of the building, gaping and screaming in horror up at her. Her audience. They didn't understand the show they would be privileged to see today.
And, dammit, it was all his fault. Kira just had to take something as pure as her, fill her to the brim with false hope of promises he would never fulfill. Then leave her to rot. And the manipulative bastard knew damn well what he was doing back then.
It was his fault.
He soiled her, he destroyed her. Matt could almost see a rope tied around her neck, tugging her further and further towards the edge. Kira was the one that had tied that rope, and he was guiding her to this rooftop all these weeks. Even after death, he still haunted her, he still controlled her. She still loved him.
It just wasn't fair.
I scream into the night for you
Don't make it true
Don't jump
"Dammit Misa, don't do it!" Matt stressed, his voice cracking.
She didn't look at him, she looked at the ground. But not at the people there, no, at Light, who she knew was standing down there with open arms, waiting with a wide smile on his face. She couldn't see him, but he was there, she knew it. But he would catch her. Light would save her because he loved her, right?
Right.
Matt knew it was coming. Everyone knew it was. Misa's devotion-- no, obsession would drive her to this. Everyone knew it was coming, but no one would stop her. No one cared. And Matt didn't either, because he was just helping her, right? He would just talk some sense into her and then they'd both just go on with their lives, right?
. . .Right.
The lights will not guide you through
They're deceiving you
Don't jump
Spotlights shone up on the roof top from police cars, illuminating her figure and most of the roof. Matt stood in shadows. Forgotten. Just an extra standing in the background, of no importance to the scene about to unfold.
That was all her performance was missing, proper lighting. Because, as her final memoir, it had to be perfect. Just like Misa herself, she had to be perfect. It was all set; the actress, the audience, the set. Everything was all ready, the prelude was over.
The real show could start now.
Don't let memories go of me and you
The world is down there out of view
Please don't jump
Matt had never really introduced himself to Misa, but they both knew of each other's presence. Misa had seen him in the reflection of a shop window when she went shopping a few times. Sometimes, it would be a little creepy. His gaze was just a little too set on her, and not the game in his hands for it to be normal. For a while, she'd called him Mr. Cute Stalker-chan. Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Matt was kind of cute.
But Light was better. He always would be.
Even after Matt didn't have to watch Misa anymore, sometimes he still would. It was just when Mello was busy or after he was gone, and sometimes when he didn't have any good games left to play. That's it. He didn't do it because he like watching her, found it funny how high-pitched her voice could get when she was annoyed or happy enough, or thought she looked pretty cute sometimes. That's not it at all.
Even though he still watched her the day he got a new game he'd wanted for months.
You open your eyes
But you don't remember what for
The snow fall quietly
You just can't feel it no more
Misa opened her eyes, blinking away the tears, but a new torrent of them followed. She didn't know why she looked, maybe it was that voice in the background, but it was blurred out. She didn't want to hear it. She wouldn't look at him.
Snow fell from the sky, and, god, that only made her look better. The white flakes stuck to her black dress, not melting as if her skin and the fabric was as cold as the icy slivers themselves. They settled on her eyelashes, and when she blinked they joined the black river of tears streaming down her face.
Misa saw it only as a sign. Light was calling her.
Somewhere out there
You lost yourself in your pain
You dream of the end
To start all over again
He couldn't tell exactly when she came to this point, if it was just Misa reaching her breaking point, or it was slow, like she was deteriorating. Either way, one person could only take so much. The smile truly faded from her face the day she found out; the day her heart most certainly broke.
The day Kira was murdered.
She wanted nothing more for her and Light to start anew, in a world without Death Notes and stupid Shinigami. A world where their marriage really could have happened and she could have been Light's housewife, that's all she wanted. Was it so much?
Obviously, it was.
I don't know how long
I can hold you so strong
I don't know how long
"God dammit Misa, get away from there, please?" Matt pleaded, taking a few steps forward. She only leaned forward even more, one foot dangling precariously over the edge and into the night air. Halfway there. Halfway to him.
Matt's fists clenched at his sides in frustration. He was so much better than that bastard. If only she'd get away from there, and maybe Matt could fix things. He could show her all the things Kira promised, but never did. Maybe he could fix her and she'd smile again when she went out shopping and gawk at the items in store windows. Then, just maybe, and he could see her pout when she'd look at the price tags. If that happened, he just might get the nerve to go up and talk to her so she'd know him as something other than Mr. Cute stalker-chan.
He knew that it wouldn't happen.
Just take my hand
Give it a chance
Don't jump
Matt took those last few steps towards her and tightly held her hand in his. "C'mon, this is stupid, get down from there," Matt said, tugging lightly on her hand. Kira wouldn't win in the end. He couldn't have her. If it came down to a tug-of-war, he'd win.
Hesitantly, Misa turned her head to look at him, smudged paths of black tears trailing down her face. It was him. Her stalker. She wanted to say millions of things, "What are you doing here?", "Go away.", "Leave me alone".
Matt's other hand rose from his side, and with the pad of his thumb he wiped away the black pigment from one side of her face. He smiled, and it was the grin she had seen every time she would hear the little bleeps of victory from his DS across the street when the volume was too loud.
Most of all she just wanted to ask, "What's your name?".
And if all that can't hold you back
I'll jump for you
Misa turned her face away from his hand and spoke in such a quiet, little voice, Matt couldn't believe it was hers. "L-let go. . ." Weakly, she tried to pull her hand away but Matt's grip was too tight. "I-I said let go!" Misa tugged harder, the force making her stumble back. Her footing slipped, the heel of her boot slipping over the edge of the ledge. She fell backwards, that rope pulling even stronger and Matt held his grip, falling forward with her.
There were no arms to catch her at the bottom, no God to save her. But two arms were wrapped securely around her, he was there. Like he always was. But Misa kept hoping, just hoping he would be there. He wasn't. And he never was.
She could have sworn she felt smoky breath caress her cheek, and just three words whispered against her ear:
"My name's Matt."
It might not have been her God that would be there for her in the end, but her guardian angel.
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A/N: I let Matty live only to kill him. . . God, I'm a bitch.