I don't know why I left him there, all alone. I don't even know why I left, period. Maybe…Just maybe I was scared. My idol, the person I wanted to be was dead. Gone. Just like that. I couldn't do anything but run. It was my only option, and more importantly, my first instinct.
My first night out, I stayed at a crappy motel around the block from Wammy's. I was so pathetic then, not being able to handle being more than a block away. It felt weird, waking up on that small bed and not having him laying next to me, or playing a video game mindlessly at the edge of the bed.
That day I watched him. I watched him take his classes. I watched him eat lunch. I watched him smoke a cigarette. I watched him do homework. I watched him play video games. And finally, I watched him cry himself to sleep. That's what hurt me the most, watching him cry. I knew then, that if I stayed in town for a day longer, that I was going to either a) torture myself watching him cry or b) go back to Wammy's.
Neither was an option.
The next day, while he was in classes, I snuck back into his room, for one last time. As soon as I got in, a big wave of memories hit me. I closed my eyes, reminding myself that this is as close as I'll get to him in a while. Than I remembered what I came here for.
Right.
I picked up a box which I knew held his stationary. Even though he didn't write much, he still liked to keep it. Said it was his mother's.
Hm.
I took off the lid of the box. The first thing that greeted me was an picture of me and him. His arms were draped across my neck, his green eyes sparkling. He was so happy that day I never knew why. We were only at the mall, but whatever the reason, he was happy. I looked as stone cold as always, but when I looked closely, very closely, I could almost see a gleam in my eye too.
Hm.
I gently tucked the photo into a sweatshirt pocket, and proceeded to grab a pen a paper out of the box.
I laid down on the bed, taking the lid me as something to write on. I closed my eyes once again. I realized, at that very moment, how much I was going to miss him. His soft, dark red hair. The way he quivered every single time I touched him. The way his innocence tasted. Every little bit of him. I opened my eyes and quickly jotted a few lines on the paper.
I got off the bed, looking for a place to stick the note. On his dresser, I found a pack of unopened Newports. I placed the note carefully on the pack. He'll find it their eventually. Then, as quickly as I snuck in, got out, leaving only a note.
Matt,
You deserve much better than me.
Love, Mello.
AN- This was a quick one shot I drew up. I was listening to Hinder's Better Than Me, and I thought it would fit Mello perfectly. Plus, most people don't write about him when he left. Review and tell me if you enjoyed it. -Kikyo1027