X. Fulfillment

Despite any preparations that Mello may or may not have made, it was never enough. A few hours later, Matt looked over to find the blonde missing, and he recalled one of the events of the nights before: Mello had rejected a bar of chocolate. As odd as that seemed, he still couldn't help but to wonder if it really had something to do with Takada's kidnapping. He never struck the younger male as someone to become anxious enough about a kidnapping of that magnitude; after all, according to Mello's declaration about his past after he left the orphanage, this was nothing new. He had been in even more dire scrapes before.

What was so different now?

Disregarding the question in his mind momentarily to sit up groggily in his seat and rub his eye sockets. He was still tired, but he knew that eventually he'd have to get over it and get his ass in gear. Tonight was Takada's opening, and there was no way Mello was going to let him laze around just beforehand, else he withstand a hell of a lot of nervous complaining on the blonde's part. But he put up with it still, since his loyalty for him had at least increased since the time the elder one had first showed up.

Matt called his affection for Mello loyalty and reverence; awe and tolerance. Well, that was then. This was now. Now, he suddenly labeled this admiration as friendship and maybe even a little bit of devotion.

Synonym being love.

Then again, Matt was way too badass to find himself smitten with Mello, and admit it, too. His confession earlier wasn't serious…he had convinced himself of that the moment he had said it. Just a ploy. It was just a ploy to appeal to Mello's emotional side. That was it; that was all. No ulterior motives hid there. So as he swung himself off of the hotel chair he had grown bored with, even after playing through multiple levels of Lunar: Dragon Song. You knew you were in trouble when video games ceased to fill your boredom.

Or maybe this was because Mello was gone…?

Whatever the reason, it was starting to get on his nerves, since if he grew bored with one thing, Mello always had something for him to do. Strangely enough, even though this was the day that they were supposed to execute the kidnapping, the blonde had been mute with his usual instructions. This definitely meant that something was up, and when Mello was unsettled, Matt was as well.

He didn't have long to broad, much to his relief. The other had returned, expression daunting. He cast a quick glance to Matt, and then threw himself into the seat he had previously occupied.

"What's up?" the redhead asked, lifting coloured irises to stare questioning at Mello.

"I brought you this," he said, drawing a bag from inside his jacket and handing it to Matt, who took it curiously.

"A present? How thoughtful."

He ignored Mello's scowl of disapproval at this jest and retrieved what looked like a really fancy gun.

"I thought we already had guns," he commented, examining it.

"We do," the other one replied. "This one is for the diversion."

Oh, yeah. He should have figured he wouldn't be using an actual gun to draw the attention of Takada's guards, in fear of hurting—or at worst killing—someone. Small cartridges littered the bottom of the bag, bullets for this new gun probably. It vaguely reminded him of picking up ammo on Halo 2.

He stowed the bag away with the guns, and then stopped to look at Mello, who was determinedly examining the wall. He looked like he was deteriorating; it was kind of sad to look at, since he was such a strong person. A strong person who was finally unraveling at the seams…

If Mello no longer carried that air of self-confidence he was known for, who then could Matt admire?

He strode up to the other with a measured slowness, hesitantly reaching out to touch his shoulder. Mello jumped violently, twisting in his seat to aim a few good curses Matt's way.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Now stop touching me."

"You don't sound fine."

"Did you hear me? I said stop touching me."

"What'll you do if I don't?"

Mello stomped to his feet and aimed a punch at Matt's shoulder; the one that was not injured. It was meant to be a warning, but the gamer took it all too seriously. He was prepared for it. He took Mello's fist in his hand and twisted it in such away that he was able to effectively shove him up against the wall and pin him there.

It was obvious that the blonde was not happy about being outdone. He grew furious.

"What the fuck? Let me go!"

"Tell me what's wrong."

Matt, as ever, remained completely calm. Perhaps he really didn't want to know what was wrong with Mello, since it was apparent that he already knew. They were planning one of the most dangerous missions in Japan, given who Takada was. And more importantly, who she was connected with. He resolved that the only reason he was trapping the other under his irrevocable fingertips was that he didn't want him to go anywhere, not yet. They were going to go get themselves killed within hours for chrissake. Couldn't he give his best friend at least ten minutes of his time?

Or maybe just a second…just one. He owed that to him.

There was a long pause. Obviously, Mello wasn't going to talk. He considered Matt's question very ignorant, and ignorant questions deserved the same type of answer. Which in this case was none. Apparently, Matt understood this.

"Alright, alright," he confessed. "I know what's wrong. It's just…can't I do something for you? I dunno…monitor something. Track or bug someone. Something."

"I thought you'd appreciate the break," said Mello scathingly. "You'll be able to have a precious few more moments to play your mind-rotting games."

"But I…"

Matt looked clearly hurt, though in a placid way that only showed by a glimmer of desperation that traced a hazy outline around his pupils. It was so subtle, and yet Mello noticed it.

"I have to help you somehow, Mel'."

"Why?"

Why? What could he say? It was a routine, and he found comfort in Mello's presence? Helping Mello brought purpose to his life where it had not been before? He wanted to please Mello? He wanted to do something meaningful before they went through with something that was likely to kill him, and helping Mello was more meaningful than anything just because he was important to him?

Sure, most all of these things were true.

But could he…would he really put any of them into words?

"I need you to use me," he said finally. "I want to be of some use to you, Mel'. C'mon."

The elder one appeared as though he was seriously giving the matter a fair bit of thought. His thinking face, however, looked quite austere, much like most of his other expressions, so it was hard to tell. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, a temporary fix for the stern expression. Hell, now he looked almost human.

"Why do you want to help me so much? What's in it for you?"

"Do you honestly need a reason?" demanded Matt, knowing that this was Mello; of course he'd need a reason. And a damn good one, too.

"Yes." As was expected, and this time, Matt had thought up a counter-attack.

"It's the closest I can get, Mello. As close as I can get to you…because you're a reclusive ass who flirts with danger and doesn't even know that there are actually some people out there that would really care if he died. You're selfish and callous. You're you. And it drives me fucking insane. Can't I do whatever possible to keep up with you?"

Mello finally was able to shrug him off, gazing at the clock, realizing what time it was, and that they'd have to get going if they wanted to set everything before hand. He looked back to Matt gravely and exhaled as though expelling every word he had previously taken in.

"We ought to get going, Matt."

Is he serious?

Matt had poured his soul out, wanting to get some recognition, and he got this instead? Being ignored. He wanted desperately to beat the living shit out of Mello. Instead, he did something even more surprising:

He wheeled the ascetic male around and kissed him full on the lips. There was no ardor there; no passion or love behind the movement of his lips over Mello's. Just severe anger and desperation, a yearning to somehow show the other what he could not express with words, since he had no words to lay claim to.

Mello seemed to have frozen for a moment, eyes glazed over by the suddenness of this attack. His stomach curled to the back of his gut, withdrawing from the offending contact as though it too could be touched by zealous lips. After a moment, a long spell where time did not exist to count the minutes they had been standing there, Matt broke away, cheeks enflamed. He didn't say a word, but simply shuffled out the door with the guns and a fresh pack of cigarettes, not to mention the keys to the rented vehicles he had sorted out over the internet using a false credit card account. Not entirely the same one used to buy the plane tickets, I case the two could be linked. Mello had passed some of his irrational paranoia onto Matt.

"Yeah, we ought to go."

And without another word, they exited their hotel room. Mello cast another wistful glance backward (though you couldn't necessarily classify it as wistful just by looking at his face), staring at where his chocolate lay, then to Matt, who had diverged to a different direction to take the car, while Mello was left to the motorcycle. He had just been kissed by Matt. Odd…he didn't feel anything because of it. No disgust, no pleasure.

Maybe because he knew that was the end of it; Matt had decided their fates for them, whether they made it out of this predicament alive or not.

Walking the opposite way toward his rented bike, flinging one leg over its sleek leather exterior, Mello sped off.

See you soon, Matt.

It was on the brink of dusk when the blonde found himself preceding Takada Kiyomi's caravan of guards and supporters. The crowd was loud and obnoxious, as all crowds went, but Mello really didn't hear them. Focused on the task ahead, and the wind roaring in his ears, he barely even heard the boom and the screams of frightened people who scattered at the smoke shot Matt had shot out. As predicted, no one was injured.

Time to move.

Mello sped the bike around in an intricate circle and sought Hal and Takada in the crowd, shuddering to a violent halt.

"Let me take her to safety," he said, or something of the like; his own words were drowned in the chaos. "Takada, get on the bike! Hurry!"

Hal, as rehearsed, allowed the Japanese woman to cling to Mello, frightened, and had only managed to wrap her arms around his thin frame before they were speeding off. They hadn't gotten far before guards began pursuing them. Well, this wasn't necessarily expected; Hal hadn't been supposed to send a trail after them, despite the fact that they could be easily rid of. Mello clasped a pair of handcuffs on his new captive, much to her chagrin, and spun into a backroad. The bike wasn't all too accepting of this tactic, but it worked in brushing off the pursuers.

They road for what seemed like hours, though Mello knew very well that they hadn't been that long. Even so, night had fallen, making the task of escaping to his predetermined location tricky, regardless of the fact that they were relatively safe under the cover of night.

Finally, the location. Another shuddering stop was made into the back of a large moving truck. He instructed her to get off the bike and into the truck, unlocking the cuffs. She obliged, not that she had a choice. It was inherently obvious that Mello was carrying a gun, it sticking out of the crotch of his pants.

He tonelessly instructed her to take off her clothes, having recited this all to himself before. He gave her a blanket, feeling that it was appropriate to do so. Something about staring at the woman Matt had fallen in love with naked was rather nauseating…

…for one reason or another.

But this chore was soon done, and Mello was able to slip into the driver's seat and turn the key in the ignition. They sped off again, this time at a variable lesser speed than before, when they had been on the bike. They were disguised now…they were…

The television on the dashboard flickered to a familiar scene.

The car that Matt had been driving was parked in the middle of a four-way intersection, abandon. Mello stared solely at this picture, and suddenly tuned in to the woman's voice, who was speaking in rapid Japanese. He couldn't understand all of it, but a good majority translated itself smoothly into his ears:

Matt was dead.

Mello then put his selective emotions to use. Ordinarily, his practise of selective emotions usually morphed his outward feelings into anger. Now, it led him to reflect only a blank look, a far away expression.

"I'm sorry, Matt…I got you killed…"

His stomach turned.

And yet he continued to drive. On and on he ventured, only vaguely knowing now where he was going, up until he arrived at that point, much to his surprise. He switched the gear to park. Thoughts swam sporadically in his head.

Beat Near. Beat Near. That's all I want to do…that's all I ever wanted to do….c'mon, Matt, you aren't dead. I need to use you…Beat Near. Beat…

A familiar pressing feeling bore down on his chest, but this one was all too real, unlike the one he had felt not long ago in his dream. His breathing became laboured, and the only real sound was the tempo of his thundering heart.

I'm finished.

He hadn't beaten Near, after all. He was going to die second, just as he had lived. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't…

"And in the end, if Kira wins and both you and Near are dead, will you die satisfied?"

No, he couldn't die satisfied, because he still wasn't first. He couldn't die fulfilled because he hadn't beaten Near.

But then there was Matt.

And really, honestly, sincerely, maybe he was a success all on his own.

The one thing Mello had done right.

The one thing he could honestly say he liked about his life, and maybe even his death.

But Mello didn't die satisfied, propped up against the steering wheel, eyes glazed over, unable to see.

But goddamn did he finally feel good.

FIN.