A/N: Oh ffff, I just did a oneshot about remembering! Damn these stupid prompts! *flails and sakajos* Well, here goes anyway… Oh, and oh joy, more NEAR. T_T god dammit… oh, p.s. there's been some problems with the paragraphs seperating...? I press enter + it works on Microsoft but it changes on doc manager...idk why... sorry about that XD

Memories are something many people would describe as priceless. Something to hold on to. Something precious to never be released. Something to talk about with friends, something to remember along with the people you shared the moments with. To hold on to with all of our might's.

So why do we forget them so often?

Memories (noun):

the mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences.

That is what a memory is. It's right there in the dictionary. Word for word. I should know. I copied and pasted.

It was these very things, these memories, that I had fleeting through my mind as I sat plopped in the usual position on the floor of Wammy's house in a particular room. Not my room, but Matt and Mello's. It was exactly as the redheaded boy had left it - nobody wanted that room anymore. Not after Matt started cutting himself - there was blood all over the floor in the corner to prove it that not even Roger could get out of the carpet. It was better that way anyway - Mello and Matt were important parts of Wammys. We couldn't tear away the memories. That's what Roger had said, anyway.

Me, I don't know. I hadn't even come to visit this room since the end of the Kira case. It had been about a mouth since I'd been to Wammys at all, much less in this room.

It was almost eerie, sitting there on the rug. There were still posters on the wall that Matt hadn't ever taken down - Mello's Johnny Depp, Vampire Weekend, and Paramore posters, and Matt's Nintendo posters. All up on the walls. The bed was made - that had been Rogers doing, neither of the boys ever made their beds. There was a chocolate stain on the desk. A dent in the wall where Mello had smashed his fist into the wall - it had surprisingly hurt his hand more than it had the wall, though. Cigarette burns on the carpet. Still the same.

But none of that was what interested me. What interested me was the things splayed out in front of me now, that I had found under Matt's bed. How nobody had found it before, or at least bothered to look at it, was beyond me. There were several things.

One was a photo album, which was what I was looking at now. It wasn't often I choked up, since I'm a rather emotionless person (though I've been told by Gevanni that I'm opening up a lot more, which is most likely a good thing) but I was choking up as I looked through the pictures.

The first one in the front was a picture of the three of us, all bunched together. Matt had his arm around Mello, who looked irritated but he was blushing like mad. I was sitting between them, Mello using me as an armrest oh-so kindly. I looked blank, as usual.

There was another one of Mello, who was running away from whoever had the camera in drag. I guess he didn't want pictures, splaying his hands out trying to keep the camera from seeing him, but you could still tell he was in a black dress. I wondered how Matt managed to get him into that.

There were a lot of pictures. Mostly of Matt and Mello. Some of Linda. Some of L. Some of me, too. All of them brought back painful memories, of fighting and loving and laughing. Of hurting and healing and playing and resting. Of a childhood I never really got to enjoy.

I felt stupid for wanting to cry, flipping through endless pictures. How had nobody never found these? Surely they should be burned… but no, Kira was dead. That was useless now. I sigh and brush my hands along a picture, one of my favorites. I remembered the day splayed out perfectly in my mind, playing like an old movie in my mind.

An eight year old me was laying outside in the grass, playing with a transformer toy that I kept transforming and untransforming, over and over again. That was the only entertaining part of the toy, really - I wasn't one to go on "adventures" with my toys, or make them pretend to do things. It was trying to transform them as fast as possible that was fun, for me anyway.

"TACKLE!!"

I gasped in shock at the sound, realizing what it was too late as Mello barreled into me, sending us both rolling down the hill. Matt was on our heels, jumping in and piling on top of Mello (and me beneath them) with a full-blown laugh. I was squished underneath them, confused and wide eyed, but Mello was laughing like a maniac.

"I win, I got him first!" Mello declared, then grinned at me with that creepy yet somehow attractive maniac smile. "You just got tackled."

"I realize that, Mello," I reminded him, but Mello ignored me, trying to shove Matt off of him. Before he could, though, the redhead pulled out his camera - which he abused and took pictures of everyone with, no matter the time or place - holding it out and grinning.

"SAY CHEESE!" he announced. Mello squealed in protest, trying to grab the camera, and I just stared at it, not understanding. Where was the cheese? I didn't see any cheese.

And then the camera flashed and blinded my eyes, making me see stars - maybe it was also the fact I was being crushed - and I yelped. Matt was crackling happily as he hopped to his feet, turning to help Mello up.

The redhead suddenly looked at me, green eyes narrow and studying. I froze under his gaze, uncertain as to why he was looking at me, and then he grinned and said, "Hey, tomorrows your birthday, isn't it?"

I nod. "Yes, I was born tomorrow eight years ago," I confirm (oh, yeah, I was actually seven then. My bad.) just as Mello gets off of me, ignoring Matt's hand and hurrying ahead of the redhead, a little spring in his step. The redhead gives me an uncertain, slightly apologetic smile before hurrying after Mello, calling for him to wait up.

I'm not sure why it was a precious memory. Maybe it was because it was the first time anyone ever "played" with me. Even if I was the one being used as the "toy" and not really being included in the fun, it was none the less the first time anyone really acknowledged me in a playful manner. It was strange, really - I don't know why they chose me as a target. I found out later they did the same thing to Linda and a few of the other girls, but I was the only guy they did it to. Not that I'm sexist, I'm just saying.

I sigh and close the album, turning to the other items I had found in the box. The first thing I noticed was a book, and I picked it up, studying it suspiciously. What was this? Suspicious I opened it up, and I realized with a start that it was in Mello's handwriting. It was about B.

I don't know how long I sat there, reading that. He had guessed correctly - I was indeed the first one to read the book. I smiled softly, allowing my emotions to seep through slightly. It was still Mello - you could tell it was him by the little comments he put in, or the way that it was written. I was momentarily surprised that he didn't mention Matt, but then I waved the thought away. Of course he didn't mention Matt - he didn't want the redhead to be in danger by including him in written format for Kira to possibly find. He hadn't expected Matt to die so soon. Probably hadn't even expected himself to die so soon until the day drew close that his life was to end.

End. Right. Mello is dead. Their both dead. It was a little surprising how painful that thought was. Dead. The only people that would understand me right now were dead - even if they didn't like me particularly much, I still missed them.

Putting down the book I scanned the box for more. I found some more, too. I found a journal, young Matt going on about secrets. I didn't read that one, though, further than the first page - better to respect the other boy's privacy. I would deal with my own curiosities another day.

Sighing I hoist myself up to my feet, picking up the box as I do. It was a struggle, I admit, getting to the door with the box to balance in my arms as well as myself. If I hadn't mentioned this before, I hate my legs. They kind of disable me, so I'm not good at running, or walking for that matter. I feel kind of foolish, now, for not letting Gevanni come with me to help me walk, but I had been too proud. Now, I wished he had come - not only to help me walk, but to help me cope with the memories that were flooding back into my mind.

This was why I bottled up my emotions. This was why I didn't let myself leak before.

But where had that gotten me? Here, all alone, in Wammys house? With only small memories of the ones that I wished I could have been friendlier with now? It left me here, with nothing but questions in my mind.

What if I had tried harder to get Mello to work with me? Would he still be alive?What if I had been friendlier with them? Would I be happier?What if we had been friends?If I could go back and change everything… would I?

Did they have any regrets?Did they miss me, too? Or was I forgotten in the afterlife?

…was there an afterlife?

I sighed, swatting the questions away. Pointless questions with no answers. What was a question anyway, if it had no answer? Easier to not ask at all. It was like…like a puzzle without a final piece. Like a candle without a flame. Like a lover without a love. Like Matt without Mello in those days - just a Matt, just a boy, just a follower without anyone to follow, without anyone to dedicate himself to. Just there. Better perhaps to never have been there at all than to stand around doing nothing at all, accomplishing nothing.

Shuffling my way down the hall, I realized with a sad frown the truth I had been avoiding. Everyone needs something to live for. You can't just go on in live without a goal, without anything to do. Without someone to love, you'll just be… there. Just a blip in the universe without a propose. Even if the love is unrequited, you have to love, weather it be a partner or a son or simply a friend.

That had been me. I had been one without love, with no partner or friend. Without even a family. I guess I felt sad then. I guess I had been lonely. I don't know. I had suppressed my emotions for so long, I didn't even know what I was feeling anymore back then.

Right then, I'm sure I felt sick.

"Near! Back already?"

I look up at Gevanni, who is waiting for me outside the door, a wide smile on his face. He looks younger than usual, happier. He reaches down with his big hands, ruffling my white hair with a grin. "You okay, Near?"And then I smile, and I'm sure I'm happy, I'm sure that I'm relieved, and I take his hand, pulling the box into the crook of my arm and clinging to the other man with the other. Glad for the support - physical and mental.

Inwardly, I let myself apologize.I was sorry. Sorry to Matt, for never returning his uncertain, awkward smiles. Sorry to Mello, for making him feel in superior or second best, for leading him to his death without even meaning to, for letting him hate me so much. Sorry to L, for trying so hard to pass him up and not letting myself see how much I cared about him, deep down. Sorry to Watari, for not trying hard enough to be friendly like he said I should, and for taking him for granted. Sorry to Roger, for being rude to him. Sorry to the SPK members who died, for not trying harder to protect them. Sorry to Light Yagami, even though it wasn't my fault that you picked up that Death Note, I could have stopped you from killing yourself, should have. Sorry to Halle, for using her to get to Mello and acting so sexist without meaning to. Sorry to any of the students I looked down on. Sorry to my parents, for never properly mourning their deaths. And sorry to myself, too. Sorry to the younger self of my memories. Sorry for not letting that self truly live.

And then I squeeze Gevanni's hand and follow him to the car, setting off for what I believe will be just another mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences. Or rather…

Just another memory to cherish forever.

A/N: Near is a corny bastard with too many complicated words. Give him cookies, he deserves them.

Everyone and their mother has done a fic like this XD sorry I couldn't be more creative!