Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
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There
Hey, Mello. You still there?
It's been a while. Three years, eleven months, and three days. Feels like longer.
Of course, I have no idea where you are. I came to America, you know. LA's not that bad.
But, I don't know why I came. Why I really came. I felt like I'd lost something. That's all I remember.
I got myself a job at this tiny, family-owned restaurant and I rented this piece-of-crap apartment. It's enough for me. I don't need much.
I never stopped thinking about you, though. Isn't it strange how two people that were once so close can drift apart so easily? I don't even know where you've gone, what you're doing, even if you are fucking alive still. It's almost like you never existed.
But, I know you did exist, and you probably still do. Because I heard your words, saw your expressions, and memorized your little quirks that made you so Mello. And I felt your hands on my back, your breath on my neck, your lips on mine.
It's not an illusion, is it?