A/N: This is dedicated to Demon of the Moon (who requested this anonymously) and will be a two shot. I don't own the plot, the characters or Death Note. Enjoy!

Mello couldn't pinpoint when the change had happened.

Over the course of three or four days, Matt's naturally attractive looks (though Mello wouldn't admit to that) had become haggard. His cheeks paled significantly and at night, when he didn't wear his goggles, there were circles under his eyes that got darker every day. But when asked, Matt said nothing was wrong and that he couldn't shut his brain off at night. A normal enough occurrence, even if Mello didn't buy it.

Then he noticed that Matt wasn't sleeping at all when they were at the apartment. He recognized that behavior; Matt wasn't sleeping and was rarely eating, absorbed completely in his game. Mello deduced that it was nearing the anniversary of his parent's tragic demise and thought nothing of it; it was an annual thing.

They had an unspoken agreement not to speak of their pasts. Matt knew that Mello's parents had been victims of a random drive-by shooting. Mello knew that Matt's parents died in front of him; they'd been crossing the street and Matt had run ahead. He'd turned just in time to see his parents plowed down by a drunk driver.

Except, a week later, it hadn't changed. He wasn't better like he usually was; instead he seemed to be deteriorating. Mello bit his tongue, not wanting to pry into his friend's business. Their relationship was based around trust; if something needed to be said, they waited until they were ready to talk about it.

One day, Mello came from an excursion for chocolate and found Matt slumped on the couch, sleeping. He tiptoed through the room and slid the controller from his hands, saving and shutting off the game. Then he turned the TV off and retired to his room to read a book.

A pathetic series of sniffling and whimpering sounded through the apartment and Mello stiffened. He stood slowly and glided to the door, cracking it and peeking out. Matt had slumped down and was curled onto the couch, quaking lightly. Mello slipped out of the room and crept up to the couch, leaning down.

"Matt?" he asked, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. Matt seemed to flinch away from the touch and his face was contorted in an expression dreadfully similar to pain and fear. "Matt?" he asked a little louder, gripping Matt's shoulder this time.

A blood curdling scream shattered the air and Matt writhed away from the hand, crashing to the floor. Mello's eyes shot wide open and he leapt over the back of the couch, grabbing Matt's thin waist and dragging him up. Matt thrashed about until his eyes locked with Mello's, then he stared with wide eyes and whimpered a bit.

"Mello?" he asked in a pathetic voice. Mello sighed and slipped his arms around Matt's frame, grimacing at how thin he'd become.

"Matt, what's going on? Talk to me." Matt shook his head at the demand, shivering.

"Just a nightmare," he said softly, pulling away and wiping at his face. Mello set his lips in a hard line and glared at Matt, silently demanding an explanation. Matt leaned back and freed himself from Mello's arms. "It was just a nightmare. I've had trouble sleeping and it was a nightmare. I should stop playing so many violent video games, huh?" Mello's eyebrows shot into his hairline and Mello sighed. If Matt was resorting to blaming his games… Mello didn't want to think about what would disturb him so deeply.

"I can get you some pills that will help with that." Matt shook his head sharply.

"No. It's not that bad yet, and I don't want to do that unless I have to." Mello sighed and nodded in understanding while Matt stood and stumbled to the kitchen.

He decided then to give it another week. If Matt wasn't eating and sleeping by then, Mello would step in.

As it would happen, he didn't end up waiting that long.

Rod noticed that his money wasn't coming in the way it was supposed to and had several suspects in mind. Mello bugged each of them with tiny cameras and microphones and Matt kept the video up for hours before one made himself known.

Matt stiffened as he watched the screen, eyes going wide. Mello slid over and watched the feed for Snydar, taking one of the headphones and listening. The man was at some auction where teenage girls were being sold off and he was bidding on a perky brunette with a collar around her neck. She whimpered when Snydar's cold hands circled her wrists and he began to rip off the little clothing she had on.

Matt shuddered and stood, nudging the laptop to Mello.

"I'm gonna go to the apartment, see if I can catch some sleep," he said softly, not meeting Mello's eyes. The blonde immediately knew something was off with his friend, but he nodded nonetheless.

Matt ran to his beautiful car. He was too pale and his hands were shaking. Sweat was pouring down the back of his shirt in little rivulets and he had a hard time controlling the Chevelle as he tore back to the apartment. When he'd managed to get up the stairs and into the apartment, he strode through with long, fast steps. Everything he deemed absolutely necessary was shoved into a duffle bag.

The cell phone that only had one contact was pulled out and disassembled. Matt threw the screen and plastic casing out the window, but took the memory and battery cards and put them in the sink. He dumped Extra Virgin Olive Oil all over them and lit the sink with his lighter, disabling the smoke alarm. Then he watched the sink as the two hunks of plastic shriveled beyond recognition and fell apart. Baking soda was haphazardly sprinkled on the flames until they spluttered out.

Then the crying redhead (when had he started crying?) looked at the apartment he and Mello had called part-time home for three years. A part of him detached and sprawled across the couch like he would do any other time. But he shook his head and bolted down the stairs, afraid to write a note. But he couldn't stay, not when these memories and nightmares were cropping up and shaking him so desperately to the core. He couldn't stay around Mello without the inquisitive blonde finding out. And Mello couldn't know; nobody could. The burden was Matt's to bear and his alone.

And even as he floored it and drove away so fast that his stomach was somewhere on the road behind him, the hands that groped and pinned him remained, a reminder that they would never really be gone.

Mello sighed as Matt's phone went straight to voicemail for the third time. The idiotic redhead was probably fast asleep on the couch with his handheld game dangling from his fingers. It wouldn't surprise Mello, even though Matt had been gone for sixteen hours.

Oh well. Matt was probably crashed out and would be demanding greasy take-out food the moment he woke. With that in mind, Mello picked up some sweet and sour chicken for his friend on his way to the apartment.

But when he got there, Matt's car was gone.

Of course, this was no reason to panic. Matt had probably gone on a cigarette raid and would be back soon.

'Then why doesn't the moron have his phone?' a deep, suspicious part of Mello's subconscious grumbled as Mello tore up the stairs. He threw the door open, calling out for his friend. Then the bag in his hand dropped to the floor with a thud as Mello saw the ransacked apartment and no sign of his beloved redhead.

Ice blood was running through his veins and he followed his nose to the burned mess in the sink. He gingerly picked up the piece of plastic remaining and was vaguely able to make out the name of the phone Matt had. Then he raced through the apartment to Matt's room, trying to ward off the rising panic. He looked for any clues as to who had his best friend, but froze when he noticed that Matt's laptop and DS were missing. Kidnappers wouldn't take things like that for him, so…

Matt left.

Mello snarled in key with the Ducati he mounted as he raced back to the base. He body was pushed forward, leaning over the handlebars and his helmet was firmly over his head, shielding the outside world from seeing the outraged tears tracking down his face.

Why would Matt leave? What could drive him to that? There was always the chance that he'd been kidnapped, but Mello's inner L told him that there was less than three percent chance of that. Matt had willingly left, and if he hadn't told Mello, he wasn't planning on coming back.

Mello swore then that when he found Matt (because he would find his Matt and drag him home again) he would find out what had plagued his friend and prevent him from ever leaving again.

He stormed into the base, fuming. For once, the emotions didn't show on his face but rage emanated from him in thick, contagious waves.

"Matt's gone," he barked to the room. Rod looked up.

"You mean the hacker?"

"I do." A lowly subordinate cursed, knowing how important the hacker was.

"What the fuck are we gonna do?" A click echoed through the now silent room and that subordinate suddenly found himself at the end of a gun. At the other end was a coiled, blank-faced Mello.

"Thank you for volunteering. Find him!"

A/N: Review!