Author's Note: I just finished reading Death Note, so I thought I'd branch out a little from Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Death Note related.
One day, after it had just stopped raining, and you had come back from the store, you asked me what I wanted for Christmas. You then went on about how you had found the perfect present and that I needn't worry but really, Matty, what do you want? What if you didn't like it? Of course you'll like it, you continued, in your most threatening voice. And I believed you. I was sure of it. Because you always got me good presents.
I never asked for any, I mean, we are just friends, and I don't like to make a big deal out of any holiday. But you always insisted, and I always accepted. I felt like one day, you'd disappear and leave me behind and I wouldn't have anything left of you. That's why I always shop for gifts late. I wouldn't be able to stand having the perfect gift ready, or having tickets to something, or planning a vacation, and waiting and waiting for you to never come home.
I know some of what you do all day. And I support you. I don't always think it's right, and I wish you would calm down, but I can't not stand by you.
But I also can't allow myself to plan for our future.
It'd be a beautiful luxury, being comfortable, feeling secure. But I will not downplay the game you-we're playing with a dangerous killer. You do everything so easily, and without a second thought. It terrifies me. You have to do this, you say. It's a matter of pride. You have to show you're worthy.
Is Near the only one who can do that? Every time you mention him I want to break a plate over his head. Actually, I want to break twenty.
You always tell me to stop worrying, and then I tell you to stop worrying. But you still go. You still don't think you're good enough. I hate to sound like one of those girls on those drama shows you watch, Mel, but I'll always think you're good enough. Better than that, really.
But who am I? Always third. You have your ambition, then your revenge, and then, maybe, me. Which is fine. Because you've always been better than good enough. But that's why, whenever you ask me questions about the future, what I want to do, what gifts do I want, I can't answer. You're playing a dangerous game, and I'll always support you, but I can't pretend you won't die, or disappear. And I'll try to find you if you do, but I can't allow myself to plan for our future. No matter how much I want to.
