AUTHOR'S NOTE

WELL…what can I say? I'm back? I'm sorry? It's been a while *cough* years *cough*? I'm not even sure if any of my original readers will even be reading from this site anymore or if they will remember me or read this. But if you are… thank you so insanely much for your patience. I can't believe I managed to start this up again. I had left it – and writing in general – for good in my head. I didn't like writing as it tends to knock my sleeping habits out of whack (still does apparently seeing as I am posting at 5am) but I stumbled upon this old account by chance the other month and re-read all of my stories. I feel like I have changed and inconceivable amount since and my writing style HAS changed. So, if this is completely different from what I used to be, I don't really know how to change that apart from to say I'm really sorry and I tried to recapture the old essence of this. Matt and Mello and this story called out to me since Christmas and I just had to come back to this story.

This wasn't the way I was originally going with this story but I feel that after such a long posting time gap, I had to have a time gap in the story and couldn't carry on from the morning after as I simply am not the same person anymore. However, reading over my reviews I love you all so much and I love this pairing so much I just had to carry on. There is STILL A PLOT.. and STILL more to come. This isn't the ending chapter and things deviate from the real storyline of Matt and Mello's death etc. guys. So please read on!

New readers.. welcome! And if there are any old survivors... comment any questions or ANYTHING you want to know and I will answer in my next update as soon as possible. It's been a long ride guys… and it's been unbelievably emotional. I've been well for a long while now and am studying psychology at university, coming back to this place is extremely nostalgic.

Love, always… Erika

xxxxxxxxxx

People say that God is a Divine Comic and, I guess, perhaps he is. After all, if I take a step back from the situation, I guess I do see the humour or, at least, the ridiculousness of my situation. But I can't step away from the situation for long because…well…it's my fucking situation and it's intense and ridiculously important and – most of all – because Matt is in my situation. And there is nothing fucking funny about people messing with Matt; not even when that person is God. So I don't find it funny that the only conceivable way to take down Kira is to take myself down. And I don't find it funny that the closest I'll be to being number one and taking down Kira will give Near the final puzzle piece to defeat Kira for good; be number one for good. And I sure as fucking hell don't find it funny that God gave Matt and me all the time in the world to be miserable and six short, dream-filled weeks to be happy. And we have been happy. And not in our usual fucked up sense of happy. I mean real smiles and genuine laughs happy. The type of light heartedness and hopefulness I never really fucking expected to have in my life 'cause, well, I'm Mello and depression and darkness is all I have ever known from my sorry birth to my orphaned upbringing. Well har-de-har God, the plan is final; I'm kidnapping Takada. And I'm going to die. And I know (though I've tried to push the knowledge so far back into my subconscious that even Freud himself couldn't pull it out) that there is a chance that Matt – my Matty – is going to die too. I sometimes pretend I wish that I had never told him that I love him; that I wish I had been a true fucking martyr and pushed him away so he'd stay safe. Yet, that's not true. What I really wish, is that we had more time. What I really wish, is that I didn't have to ask the person I love more than anything in this fucked up, reeking cesspit of a world, to die. And his death won't even guarantee victory over Kira. We won't be heroes; that status is saved for Near.

And, despite my tendency to have an aversion to overt signs of emotion, my eyes mist over when Matt bounds back into the apartment clutching some new GTA game like a child with a toy on Christmas. I have to tell him the plan. I have to tell him we have a matter of days left. I have to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face and replace the love in his heart with disgust and fear and hopelessness.

He's fucking beautiful and it has been fucking beautiful. And I've hated myself for being such a fucking hypocrite and turning into one of those insipid people that think love is the answer to all problems. But, I'd be lying through gritted teeth if I said the past six weeks hadn't been the best of my life. Hell, they'd been the scariest too; I'd felt vulnerable, raw and embarrassed as fuck ever since the night I'd told Matt that I loved him. On numerous occasions, I had taken back what happened that night, told Matt that I'd been drunk and just trying to please him to get him off my back, even spat at him one day. He would just run his smooth hands up and down my tensed arms and gently tell me to stop worrying that I'd stepped out there alone and that he was miles ahead of me; that nothing I could do would get rid of him and me admitting that I care too wouldn't change the fact that he wasn't ever going to leave me. But despite the psychologically challenging side of things, in these past six weeks, we had actually been going out to see and breathe and take in the things around us; not just speeding past at 80 miles per hour as we had grown accustomed to. We had spent leisurely days in bed fucking and touching and hell, even cuddling. They'd been a surreal blur of sex, sweet nothings, laughing, planning an actual future and kissing lips.

It takes him the total of 34 seconds before he knows something is wrong. Once he's kicked off his heavy-duty boots, rambled about how videogames were his 'sweet ride of a mistress' and pecked me on the lips, he freezes.

"What?" His voice is laced in panic. "Mello, what?" he pleads with me in a high pitched stress.

"Matty…" I start and tears are rolling down my face. I steel myself – a talent learned in my mafia days. I have to deliver the news firmly and quickly. I have to 'pull the band aid off quickly' but I'm more than aware that even if I pull this one off at the speed of light, it will do more than just sting. "I've got a plan. I've got to do it. It's the only thing to do. You're not going to like it and I don't like it… fuck, baby, I hate it". I let out an emotional sob- so much for firmly and quickly. "I fucking hate it and I hate what I'm asking of you". His hands are shaking as he lights a cigarette. He takes a lengthy drag, so long I feel like the whole cigarette may burn down to the butt.

"…It's me, Mel. I'm your dog, your follower and you're my whole heart. I'm going to do what you ask me... so tell me Mihael; what do we have to do?" he breathes and every word he is speaking is the pure and utter truth. I may as well be ordering him to do this, he would never say no to me. I grab his hands, knocking the cigarette aside carelessly and run my hands up to his face (still slightly pudgy from adolescence) and brush my thumbs across his cheeks and into his mass of hair. I tug him to me and press my lips as tightly to his as I can. It's not an erotic kiss, it's clinging desperately to the happiness and innocence we have had. It's a goodbye to carefree. His lips don't even part, just press back, puckered against mine as his hands find my face. My blue eyes meet his green and we are both crying.

"This week, I'm kidnapping Takada. I'm being Near's pawn. He'll win and she'll find a way to kill me. I need you to drive and be the distraction. I need you to warn of the Japanese police... They'll catch you. It's part of a bigger plan that will catch Kira," I blurt out in a matter of what I can only imagine is milliseconds. I will fill him in on the whole plan later; scrutinise every detail with him.

"I'm going to lose you," his voice cracks in the admission and I'm shocked that he doesn't scream in outrage. I'm shocked that he doesn't try and stop me. He knows. He knows this is the way it has to be. He has known we've been stuck on the Kira case for a long time now and, on some level, we both have known it would come down to a plan like this. He has probably worked out a similar one in his own mind; he's a genius after all.

"Yeah," I sniff and my tears seem unbearably cold as they pour down my cheeks. We both grab each other at the same time, yanking hair to a painful extent and gripping each other's flesh. I rip off his jacket and pull the shoulder of his t-shirt down to rub my cheek against his warm skin for comfort. His skin is wet with my tears in a matter of second. He gently unfists a hand from my hair and trails it down my forearm until our fingers are laced. He leads me, snivelling, to our bedroom and pulls my top off, followed by his. I lie down on my side and pull him as physically close as possible. Our chests stick together and I suck on his shoulder like a teething child. His hands push at the back of my leather trousers until he frees my ass and grips it so tightly it hurts. In a wordless agreement we both undress and press against each other. I wrap the sheet around us, pulling it over our heads to protect us from the looming world and press my cheek against his, my breath tickling his ear as he sucks needily on mine. It is childish really, us hidden in our fortress and despite my hard length being pressed tight against his hot thigh, it is not sexual. We hold each other, crying and tragic, until it is dark. I'm not sure when we fall asleep, but when we do, it's an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of us tangled together as the abyss draws nearer.