"Hey, Matt?" Mello began. It was our third day in... here.

"What?"

"Do you remember when we were kids?"

I paused before answering to wonder where he was going with this. "Yeah. Why?"

"Do you remember when we cut Roger's hair when he was sleeping? And what he did when he woke up?"

I remembered that. He had been so mad that he forced us to wash the kitchen until he could see himself in the black iron wood stoves the chefs kept specially for when they cooked pizza. laughed a little. The air was thin, so it was hard to breathe. The sun was out, just like it always was, shining its burning hot rays down on us.

"I was just thinking about that. I've been thinking a lot lately. You know, about things I didn't do and things I did. Things that I could have done differently. And the 'what if's"

I could have snorted. "'What if's? You? I didn't think you had 'what if's"

"What if I hadn't kidnapped that girl Takada. What if I hadn't taken off my helmet in front of her. What if my parents hadn't died. What if I wasn't a genius. What if I had never left Germany... things like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "I didn't know you were German."

"Apparently I am. Roger said so. I don't know much myself."

I looked away, the sun glinting off my goggles. I squinted as beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. My hair was matted to me, around my neck and forehead. The top of my head was burning hot.

Mello was looking at the ground we both sat on. He was, like in life, sprawled out. I wondered how he could stand being in tight leather in this heat. Once more, I scanned the landscape, looking for a large rock, a tree... anything that provided shade. There was nothing. Just flat, barren land. No tree could live here, and there were no large rocks. God only knows why. We would have gone looking, but the heat had robbed even Mello of his energy.

"Do you remember when that girl broke up with you? What was her name... Kade, or something?" I asked with a sigh.

Mello smiled at a joke I didn't get. "Yeah. She was hot. It pissed me off, too. I actually liked her. She wasn't one of those gossipy bitches, and she actually had a brain. And she was hot. Never did find out what I did wrong." Mello's only movement in his weak state was a tilt of his head in my direction.

I wiped sweat off my forehead. My arm fell exhaustedly to the ground and tingled like it had fallen asleep. I felt like I was going to fall over sideways. In fact, I swayed, but caught myself.

"I know why she broke up with you," I told him. The sentence drug on as I tried to turn the volume up on my voice, but my throat was so dry and cracked, it was just a murmur. Not to mention the guilty tone to my voice that I couldn't hide.

Mello turned to me, his whole body twisting and suspicious. I could see his muscles move gracefully under the leather, and I couldn't help but frown. He had always had the coolest body a male could ever have: great muscles without looking like a fucking body builder- because that shit was disgusting; hip bones that protruded enough to keep him from looking like a prepubescent girl; and looks that could kill.

Not that I looked his body, or anything. Or judged other men's bodies.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. We had eternity to talk, and he was still impatient.

"All right, all right. Jeez, Mello, don't have an aneurism."

I didn't speak for a long time. Maybe it was because I was too guilty to tell him. Maybe I was too afraid. Maybe it was because watching the anger in him grow gave me a sadistic high.

"Tell me, will you?" he yelled. Well, his yell was really an angry whisper. This made me wonder how long it would be before our voices stopped working completely. How long would we sit in silence, without so much as bread and water in our prison?

"Why did she break up with me?" he repeated.

I took in a deep breath. "I told her to."

Mello's eyebrows raised, but then fell. His face grew hard, but I knew it was only because there was no more energy in him to show his emotions. He saved his energy to talk and asked, "why?"

My shoulders lifted slightly- a shrug. "Jealousy."

He smirked. "Why would you be jealous?"

"You were all, 'Kade this, Kade that. Oh, Kade is so pretty! Oh, Kade is so smart! Oh, Kade likes green, not blue, Matt, get the other shirt! Did you buy anything for Kade's birthday, Matt? Oh, sorry, Matt, I can't hang out with you today. Kade's alive and breathing so I have to let her sit on my lap and stare at her drooling as if I had never seen a girl bef-"

"Hey!" Mello interrupted angrily. "I never let her sit on my lap. And her name was Kane." He laughed, and I joined in.

Night came. This place was truly a desert. It was freezing cold, to the point where our fingertips were a light blue. We had to sleep close together to keep the cold away. We would- for lack of a better word- snuggle to use the body heat as our only way to keep warm. When the sun came up, fire would ignite us once again, but for now, we had to live through the cold death.

I almost cried out when I realized it would be like this forever.

--

The sun came up, and the sun went down, each day bringing a new nothingness.

--

Mello and I went through several different topics, such as our ideal family; the people we left behind; Kira; heaven; religion; politics; memories; our real names; and mostly Near. Then, one day, our voices refused to work.

Mello had opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. If it hadn't been for his panicked expression and the hands he placed on his throat, I would have thought he had just thought twice and decided to keep quiet. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It was totally dry. I had forgotten what saliva felt like. How long had we been dead? No more than three weeks.

My throat felt like the blazing sun. I moved my tongue around, attempting to create some spit, but nothing happened. I closed my eyes tight. For a minute, I thought I was going to cry. Then I realized that if I had no spit, I had no tears. All I had was sweat, and I feared even that would run out. I touched my neck and realized it already had. My neck was dry as the land I sat on.

I gingerly touched my throat. All my life, I had never cried. Things didn't sadden me like they should. I had never felt like I had to break down and have myself a good cry. Men didn't think that way, especially men raised in Wammy's.

We didn't, but for the first time in my life, I felt like I could scream out, curse God, cry, and beg to die. But I was already dead.

Nothing could save me here.

And I didn't even have my PSP.