Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or FedEx.

A/N: Lalala...

And then he was in his car and gone. I watched until it disappeared.

Inspiration struck. Before I even consciously decided to do so, I ran into the apartment building and to the second floor. Choosing a door at random, I knocked on it furiously. It flung open and a panicked-looking guy stood in the doorway. "What's going on?"

"Hello?" I said, successfully sounding out of breath because I had sprinted up a flight of steps. "Is Matt there?"

"...No? Dude, I think you have the wrong apartment. Are you okay?"

I cursed. "Yeah, I'm fine, but I need to tell Matt about our dad... do you know him? Matt, I mean? Because I really need to talk to him. Right now." I peered into the room. "Are you sure he's not here? We're estranged, but I don't think he would lie about his apartment number... that's going pretty far..."

"No, I don't even know this guy. And you're sure you've got the right apartment building? There's another one right next door."

"Positive. I checked like three times. Damn it, I told him a million times I was... I've gotta talk to him before our dad... they need a chance to make up, too, or Matt will never forgive himself when he finds out... damn it... Maybe I have the wrong floor...?"

"Look. Stay right there, I'll call my landlord and see if there's a Matt. What's his last name?"

"Jeevas," I supplied.

"Okay. Stay right there."

He closed the door and I heard his footsteps go deeper into the apartment. He returned a few minutes later, opening the door. "Apartment 714," he told me in a rush. "There's a Matt Jeevas in apartment 714."

I sighed in fake-but-very-convincing relief. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how good of a thing you just did." I started to turn, then paused. "Oh. If you ever meet Matt, don't tell him you saw me. Don't even ask about how our dad is. Matt's kind of..." I gestured at my head, "unstable, if you know what I mean."

The guy nodded. "Got it. Good luck, man. Hope it works out for you."

I nodded back and left.

As soon as I was out of earshot, I broke into a run. My blood was primarily adrenalin so I knew that the elevator would probably kill me and I took the stairs instead.

At apartment 714, I screeched to a stop. I tried the door, which was locked. Luckily this didn't make a difference to me because I had yet to meet a lock I couldn't get into. If all else failed I would break down his door and leave an envelope with money to fix it.

After a little fiddling, I managed to get into the room without resorting to destroying his property. As soon as the door was open, I was struck with the scent of Matt. Cigarettes, a shampoo he liked because its bottle reminded him of something from a game, and something else that I'd never been able to identify. Just Matt.

Reverently, I stepped into his front room. His apartment was much nicer than mine, which meant that he had been hacking his way into money. It had a bedroom, a bathroom, a sitting room, and an actual carpet. There weren't even any stains or holes in the walls. I closed the door behind me and padded quietly in, trying not to break the silence as I took a seat on his couch. There was an indent in the cushion that was most directly in front of the huge TV. So this is where Matt spent most of his day. I looked to my right and saw a bunch of computer equipment that was over even my head.

I leaned forward and picked up one of the remotes (it was white and long and thin, I believe it was a 'Wii' remote) and just held it, pointing it at the screen. Matt.

I put it down exactly where he had left it (if it moved more than about two inches he would absolutely notice), and headed for his kitchen. There was a layer of dust over everything, which was pretty funny. I opened his pantry to find stacks upon stacks of Ramen, the poor man's best friend.

Finally, his bedroom. The door was already open a crack so I just pushed it all the way and entered.

It was simple, but at the same time it was so incredibly Matt.

For example, there were two piles of (mostly striped) clothes on the floor- one for clean and one for dirty. I checked the closet and it was, of course, filled to the brim with console carrying cases and overflow games. I closed the closet and tried to ignore the tears stinging at my eyes. His game chargers were meticulously laid out so that the cords weren't even tangled, even though there were like five of them. There was an ashtray on an end table and standard-white sheets with one pillow on his unmade bed. One clock, which I guarantee wasn't set to an alarm.

That was all. No pictures, no artwork, no random knickknacks, no glass of water, just pure Matt.

I climbed onto his bed and put my face in his pillow, inhaling. Yep, he was still using the same shampoo.

And then the tears that were stinging at my eyes ceased to sting and just came out full-force. I knew I had to get off his bed or he would smell me on it (chocolate, at least, even if he wouldn't be familiar with the leather), but I simply couldn't force myself to stand. Instead I lay there and cried, pathetically, soaking his pillow which would also probably make him suspicious if it didn't dry by the time he next lay down on it.

Matt had followed me. He had tracked me- which, by the way, was nearly impossible- and found out I had gone to LA. And then he had followed me. Judging from his setup at this place, he had been here for a while. How soon after I left had he left? And if he was here, why didn't he contact me?

Because, I realized, the trail had gone cold. I had made very sure to completely cover myself before I joined the Mafia, and even Matt hadn't managed to narrow it down to my apartment number, yet. Give him time. Soon, he would figure everything out and he'd show up at my door, grinning around his cigarette, his eyes hidden behind his goggles... I sobbed, hard.

Wait! No! What was he thinking, following me here? Didn't he realize that I'd left him behind for a reason? Damn it, he would just get in the way, not to mention how dangerous this was! He could be killed just as easily as I could, especially as I went up through the ranks! Didn't it sound dangerous to be the gay lover of a Mafia guy? Did he have any idea how many homophobes with guns were in the Mafia? I rolled over and sat straight up, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand, putting my stone face back on so that my nose wouldn't be red by the time I reached the base. I had to get out of here, and I had to get out of here now. I couldn't let his closeness change anything. He might as well still be in England for all it mattered. I wondered if he still had his accent or if he had deleted it like I had.

Damn it!

I jumped out of his bed and literally ran out of his room and to the floor where my hit was supposed to be. The guy was asleep for whatever reason, so slitting his throat was easy and quiet. Then I hauled ass out of there and all the way back to the shithole base.

I had to get away from him before I changed my mind and ran straight into his arms.