Mello remembers—
He remembers, before the orphanage, when his mother used to sing him and his brothers nursery rhymes and lullabies. Before the orphanage, ice cream streamed around his fingers under the midday sun, and school was just another thing you did, when it was just another way to jump out from the crowd of his siblings and shout, "Look at me! I'm Mihael!"
Matt remembers—
He remembers, before the orphanage, when his parents were nothing but shadows, flitting here and there but never touching on his life. Before the orphanage, Matt shunned the sun in favor of secluded nooks and video games, and school was something he excelled at, even though it always got him in trouble with the other kids.
And Mello, after the fire—
He remembers, at the orphanage, shivering in an empty room, alone, with cool white sheets and the wheezy breath of the air conditioning slapping against the burns on his legs. He recalls discovering a redheaded shadow slumped against the wall, and from there, other memories: scaling walls and sneaking out, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke, the glittering sunshine of the grounds. And, at the orphanage, school blossomed, until it grew into something that eventually eclipsed the rest of his life.
And Matt, after his parents' trial—
He remembers, at the orphanage, arriving broken and bruised and a little lost, but not grieving; he slipped back into the shadows, alone, afraid. He recalls a blonde whirlwind tripping over him and a flurry of a swear words, and from there, other memories: concocting pranks and hopping fences, the sharp snap of a chocolate bar, the explosive dynamite of a personality. And, at the orphanage, school receded, and Matt finally had a place in life.
And Mello, after L died—
He remembers, after the orphanage, wandering the streets of a foreign country until he immersed himself in the sulfuric smoke of guns and drugs and blood. He remembers the thrill of a dual-sided competition, Near versus Mello versus God, and he recalls the memories that faded to the wayside until one of them burst like lightning to the forefront of his world. After the orphanage, Mello was no longer Mello, but someone else, someone new—and still, when Matt materialized, he felt his lips shaping the incredulous syllables of an old memory, and he remembered.
And Matt, after Mello left—
He remembers, after the orphanage, the sensation of being groundless once again, stranded, like a motherboard ripped from its tower. He remembers the startled aftertaste of disbelief, followed by anger, followed by determination. He recalls the memories that burned like acid on his tongue as he sank his roots into his networks, searching, wandering, a homeless shell with a genius mind, until finally, his search yielded results. After the orphanage, Matt wasn't Matt anymore—he was Mello, or a part of him, and when he rejoined his whole, all he could think was: this is right.
And both of them, after the end—
Blood streamed through Mello's fingers instead of melting ice cream, and the flash of guns replaced the glittering pixels of video games. School was a notion of the past, reeking of anachronisms and old ties. Mello remembers, and Matt remembers: the orphanage, when they found their lives, and that it was the joining of two and the beginning of one. And this is them, the carnage, the battlefire; this is them, dying jointly. Blood rises to the surface like oil, and they're dying, and this, this—
These are the memories.