Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note
Suggested Listening: Sober by Kelly Clarkson; Fireflies (light messengers) by Saosin
~Sober~
It had started like any other Saturday night for them. Drinking, sex in a dirty bathroom stall and more drinking until one of them could hardly stand anymore and the other less impaired was left to drive. It was all stress relief; Mello allowed only one night a week in which to do so, and had only started that after surviving the Kira case.
It had burned Mello out and he had crashed in the aftermath, but had picked up the pieces though he conceded he couldn't let himself get that wrecked again. So every week he had allowed Matt to drag him to a club and get shit faced together.
That week had been no different, though Matt swore the drinks were stronger or his tolerance had weakened, and both he and Mello were completely trashed as they stumbled to his car.
"Ma-att. You o-okay to drive?" Mello had slurred to him, leaning heavily against the hood. And he had nodded, falling into the drivers seat and making them both laugh as he accidently went in reverse after he'd started the car.
Alcohol had always affected Mello more than Matt, had always made him 'loose' in many interpretations of the word. Matt had been paying more attention to the hand sliding along his thigh, and the blurred triple lines on the road rather than what was actually on the road.
And that had been a mistake he would never forgive himself for.
The other car had tried to avoid them but turned too late and smashed into them head on, though a bit more to the front right. Matt remembered hearing the glass shatter and the horrible squeal of the tires as they skidded and the unmistakable sound of metal bending and compacting with the collision.
He didn't remember the cars slamming into the guard rail. Or how they had started rolling down the hill in what should have been a fiery ball of death.
He did remember when his seatbelt snapped and sent him flying onto the steering wheal, the horn blaring loudly and making his ears pound until he had been able to roll off of it, though he hadn't had the strength to do much more.
He remembered looking over to Mello's side, blood flowing into one of his eyes, and seeing the twisted piece of steal that was pointed at his chest and only inches away from goring him. Mello had looked at him, chest heaving, and given him a sort of half disbelieving smile.
The other driver had some sort of new vehicle and it had apparently alerted someone that there had been a crash, that same someone on the other end still trying in vain to get the driver to respond.
Mello hadn't said anything to him, but Matt had known he was pissed off as hell. Probably at Matt and himself. Matt, for driving drunk, and himself for being drunk and letting him drive.
"I'm sor-ry Mello.." he had muttered, though his speech was still a bit muddled and Mello had only glared harder at the spot in front of him.
The emergency workers had arrived not too long later, and pulled the other driver out. They were dead. They had then started working on getting the door open on Mello's side to free him. And Matt should have known something was wrong the second Mello looked at him, panic written across his face.
Matt had always intended to get new seatbelts as the ones he had were the originals, and his car had been a piece of shit before he'd fixed it up. He watched on, not understanding until it was too late, as the leather holding Mello in place frayed and tore until it just snapped, like his own had and Mello fell foreword on to the metal.
It must have hit just the right way, because Mello didn't die immediately. He lay there, speared on the metal like some fish, gasping as blood filled his lungs and mouth and dripped his life over the wreckage.
He had gasped out a few words but Matt had only been able to make out one of them. Matt's name. His real name...
And then, as though he were drifting off to sleep, Mello's expression relaxed and his eyelids froze at half mast, his entire body going slack.
Matt had stared in complete shock, not being able to grasp the fact that he had just watched Mello die. And when he had come out of it, he was already in the ambulance and being injected with something to calm his racing heart.
He didn't wake until days later with a police guard there. He was a criminal after all, driving drunk and causing the deaths of two people.
Mello had always said that Matt would be the one to die in a car crash, and he wished Mello had been right. Because living through it, was hell.
He hadn't said anything to the hospital staff, nor to the police. There was no need. He would be convicted no matter what, and it was no less than he deserved. But just before he was to go to trial, not even three days away, he got the word that he would be transferred into the hands of a world class detective to work off his debt, or some bullshit like that.
Matt didn't know what Near had promised them, and Matt didn't care.
Near had taken him in, allowed him to stay at his headquarters as he healed, with all those knowing looks at him, after the albino had old him that the only reason he had saved him from jail was that 'Matt would punish himself better than anyone else ever could'
Matt hated Near for that more than anything.
He left at two in the morning on a Sunday and never once looked back. Near obviously hadn't cared as he never bothered to look for him. He had gone back to what had been his and Mello's apartment, took one look at the abandoned chocolate bar on the table, and had to clamp a hand over his mouth to withhold the bile that rose up.
Matt had slept on Mello's bed that night, and wished more than anything he'd had the guts to tell the blond it was more than just sex to him.
.
Three months later Matt walked down the sidewalk, his things in the canvas bag slung across his shoulders as he whistled a tune he couldn't remember the name of. He took a sip out of the small container and winced at the taste. The powder had settled to the bottom and left the water bland and nearly tasteless.
It was Saturday.
And he hadn't had a drink since that night. Couldn't stand the stuff anymore.
Couldn't stand a lot of things anymore. Like cars. He hated the fact that he was afraid to drive, that it pained him whenever he saw a car like his old one. He missed the feeling of the wind in his hair and the radio cranked up as he sped down the streets, but he couldn't get the look on Mello's face as he'd fallen out of his head.
He hated the way the flowers he brought to the grave were always a mix of red and yellow.
..Hated the fact that it he was three months sober; three months of having to face the fact that Mello was dead because of him. Three months that he was still breathing, three months and Matt knew he would never forget.
-End-
AN:...well wasn't that depressing... I somehow, in the spam of fifteen minutes, got myself in a 'mood' and this was what came of it. The idea for this particular oneshot has been sitting on my computer for months (since Nov 19 2009 XD) but I was never quite in the right (or wrong depending on view) to write it. *shrugs*
written at 4am
review?