Authors Note: Sorry it took so long to update guys! Thanks to Zellicy, orgymoogle, and someoneudontknow5 for reviewing the last chapter! Please enjoy this one!
I am currently on a plane headed to America.
Obviously, I wasn't arrested. It wasn't the police at the door. I should have known. The police aren't smart enough to track me down so quickly.
I was surprised, however, about who was at the door.
"Near?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I came because of Mello," He answered, twirling his hair around his finger, which annoyed me immensely. Every trait about him suddenly annoyed me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Mello hated him. "I saw the news story. I knew that if you were a part of it, Mello must have been behind it."
"Yeah, well that doesn't really matter now, does it?" I spat angrily. "He's gone." How dare he even say Mello's name! That stupid albino twit had no right to even be there. I couldn't even stand to see his face. He had caused Mello so much pain throughout his whole life. Mello stressed himself out at Wammy's trying to beat Near, so much so that he would get sick. He caused Mello to leave me, because Mello had been so focused on beating him. He caused Mello to join the mafia, feeling like it was his only option. He caused Mello to become so obsessed with defeating him that Mello was dead now.
Mello risked everything to beat Near, and it ultimately cost him his life.
"What are you even doing here?" I hissed.
"I'm sorry about Mello," He told me, his face so full of sincere sympathy that it almost scared me. "I know how much he meant to you."
"What would you know about it?" I snapped. "You're the most cold, emotionless person I've ever met! You're almost not even human at all!" I was aware of how loud I was, but I didn't care. I was so overcome with emotions that I didn't care about anything.
"That's true," Near said calmly, despite the fact that I was acting as hot-tempered as Mello. "Usually I don't feel a lot of emotion, but I have always thought of Mello as a friend."
I almost laughed in his face. "Friend?" I asked him in disbelief. "You really thought you were friends? He hated you!"
"We may not have had what you consider friendship, but he was the closest thing to a friend that I've ever had. I've always thought of you both as my friends."
Me? Near thinks I'm his friend? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, Near, but Mello hated you, so I do too.
"That's why I was worried about you," He continued, surprising me even more. "I know you loved Mello. I was genuinely concerned about how you would react to his death. It seems my prediction was right…"
"What prediction?" I asked, my anger rising. How can he come into my home, pretend like Mello was his friend, then act like he knows me well enough to predict how I'll act?!
"You don't look so well," He explained. "I'm concerned about your health."
I gave him a confused look, wondering what he meant, but then I figured it out. I took a good look around the apartment and realized that there were cigarette butts and empty beer bottles everywhere.
Did those really all come from me? I wondered. I guess I really had become a chain-smoker lately.
"What do you care?" I asked, not being able to deny his claims and say that I was fine.
"Like I said before, you're my friend," He answered. "Maybe you shouldn't smoke so much."
And you know what I did? I slammed the door right in his face.
He is not my friend and he can not tell me what to do!
But, thinking about it now, maybe I shouldn't have done that. I mean, his tone was as cold and robotic as always, but his actual words had more emotion than they've ever had.
So here I am, allowing myself to actually think about what he said, and, of course, it brought up memories of Mello.
I remember, when I first realized how I really felt about Mello, that I thought that it was all too much for me. First the abuse, then my mother's death, and now I was gay? I couldn't handle all the feelings that were swirling around in my brain, and I searched for a way to get rid of them, or at least block them out for a little while.
That's how my addiction with nicotine started.
I was twelve, and I had heard about this group of older kids at Wammy's who always had cigarettes (they sold other drugs as well, but I didn't want to get involved in all that). I found them and coaxed them into giving me some. They were hesitant at first, because I was so young, but once I waved money in front of their faces, they seemed to drop that concern pretty quickly.
Anyway, I started smoking, and it didn't take Mello long to figure it out. He was number two at Wammy's, after all.
"Matt!" His voice woke me from my sleep. Normally, I would be grateful that the first thing I heard in the morning was Mello's voice, but not that day. It sounded angry. Furious. You did not want to be around Mello when he was in a bad mood.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, trying to sound as fearsome as him. "It's six in the morning!"
"What's wrong with me?" He retorted. "What's wrong with you?!"
"What are you…" My voice trailed off when I realized he was holding a pack of cigarettes in his hand. My cigarettes. I sighed, preparing myself to explain, but, before I could start, Mello started yelling again.
"I knew it!" He shouted. "I knew you were doing something stupid like this! Why didn't you tell me?!"
"You're going to wake everyone up." I told him quietly but fiercely.
"I don't care!" He continued, even louder. "And you didn't answer me! Why didn't you tell me?"
"You wouldn't understand." I answered simply, making a grab for the cigarettes.
He pulled the carton back, making me stumble and almost fall off the bed. "How would you know?" He asked. "You didn't even try to talk to me!"
"Why would I talk to you about it?" I questioned, allowing my voice to raise a little as well.
"Because we're best friends!"
After that, it was silent. It was so quiet I could hear my own heart beating. We were both surprised he had said that. He had never called me his best friend before. I wanted to cry because it showed how much he cared about me. He was genuinely worried about me.
I knew I couldn't do that, though. I wouldn't cry in front of Mello. So, instead, I put on a smirk. "What? Are you worried about me?" I asked in a sarcastic voice. "Mello you sound like a girl."
Mello punched me in the arm, as to prove his manliness. "Shut up, idiot!" He yelled again, forgetting the silence that had just occurred a few moments ago. "I just don't want to watch you kill yourself!"
My smirk disappeared. I didn't have a comeback to that. I thought for a few moments before mumbling. "Then I won't do it in front of you."
He was quiet a minute too, considering this offer. He knew he couldn't admit how much he cared about me. At Wammy's you had to be tough to survive, you couldn't go around showing your emotions. Mello had taught me that on the first day. He couldn't show that he had any weaknesses, especially if that weakness was me.
Realizing this, he finally mumbled an "all right". Of course, I didn't hold up my end of the bargain. I smoked more and more, which meant, eventually, I started smoking in front of Mello. Whenever I pulled out a cigarette he would complain, but didn't try too hard to stop me because he reminded himself that he couldn't show he cared too much about me.
We wasted too much of our lives pretending we didn't care. Looking back on it now, it was totally pointless, but, back then, it seemed like the most important thing was to be as cold and unfeeling as possible. That was good at Wammy's.
Some people, like Near, stayed that way (at least, I thought he did), but, luckily, Mello and I were different. At least we had emotions. A lot of kids at Wammy's lost who they truly were. But I can't really blame them. They were trained to be the way they are.
Maybe it would have been for the best if I had turned out more like Near. I never thought that I would want to be like him, but, maybe if I was, I wouldn't be an emotional wreck right now.
At least my angel really is an angel now. At least he died fighting for something he believed in. Of course, those are just things I tell myself to help me get through it.
I miss him so bad.
He would always make excuses to hide the fact that he was worried. If I smoked in front of him, he would tell me to take it outside because he would breathe in the secondhand smoke, or that he didn't want it to smell like smoke in our room. He hoped that my laziness would be stronger than my addiction, and I wouldn't make the effort to actually go all the way outside. But I always did. I couldn't help it. I needed it so bad. And I hate relying on something like that, but I do.
Once, there was a horrible blizzard outside. One of the worst I've ever seen. The windows were frozen shut and the doors were barricaded with snow. When I lit up, Mello immediately snapped, "Out."
"Are you serious?" I asked him, looking out the window to the storm and then back at him, just to emphasize my point.
"As serious as a heart attack." He answered. I didn't mention that it was probably best not to say things like that with Kira around.
I stared at him incredulously for a few minutes, but, when I realized that he wouldn't budge on the issue, I sighed heavily and made my way downstairs.
When I opened the front door, snow piled in from outside. I mentally groaned.
I trudged through the deep drifts, cursing Mello under my breath the whole time. I made my way to a corner of the woods where I always smoked. It was far enough away from the house I knew Roger would never see me.
I was only out there for a few minutes before I caught sight of a familiar figure trudging through the snow, headed in my direction. I couldn't help but smile as I watched his blond hair being whipped around be the fierce winds.
"Miss me?" I asked, a smirk on my face, once he reached my side.
"Just hurry up. I'm cold." Mello spat. I knew I would pay for this later, even though it was his own choice to come outside with me. I appreciated it, though, so I didn't say anything.
It was things like this that made me love Mello even more. Even after I found out that Mello loved me too, I kept smoking. It was just a horrible habit by then. After that, he became more persistent in his efforts, but I kept doing it. I didn't realize until much too late that when I smoked, I was not only killing myself, but killing him too.
But that doesn't matter anymore either. I can smoke as much as I want and the only person I'm hurting is myself.
And it's not Near's job to stop me.
Mello was always the one who tried to get me to quit, which is another reason that I couldn't stand Near telling me I shouldn't smoke so much. If Mello couldn't get me to stop, Near sure as heck wasn't.
Actually, I'm pretty irritable right now because I can't smoke on the plane. I just yelled at the flight attendant for offering me something to eat.
Maybe I just need to get some sleep. It will probably help pass the time. I just hope I don't dream about Mello again. I hate waking up and being reminded that he's not here anymore.
But I am tired…
Maybe if I'm lucky I won't dream at all.