Mello was different now. He was harder, more unstable than before. His drive for success had grown, his thirst for something more than second best had grown. His mind was more cluttered, more frantically involved in his life.

The only thing that hadn't changed was his love for her.

Kenna had stuck with him. So had Matt. Those two, he knew, should be the things he prayed for. But every night, he prayed to a God that he clung to desperately, and he prayed for Near's downfall.

He thought of how L always said hello, always abandoned him abruptly for Near, for the number one, for the one thing driving him off the edge of insanity.

Mello was born to succeed with his determined mind and will to move on. But hate had driven him too far.

But Kenna was always there when he was about to give up, when he had the gun to his head, when the entire world turned it's back on him, yet again.

Kenna would calm him, talk to him, listen to him, let him shout, let him cry, hold him, let him hold her. She would let him touch her, let him make her eternally his. She wouldn't complain, wouldn't object, merely attach herself to him, enjoy every ounce of pleasure he could humanly give her. She had been worried the first time, had told him, reminded him of the time she threw herself at him when they were young. Mello had remembered. Kenna had given herself over willingly.

Now things were harder. More frequent. Kenna seemed to grow weary of the nights Mello would stroll in and vent his frustrations. But she always gave herself over to him, willing to accept the pain and pleasure that always came with the nights with Mello.

There used to be a time Mello would sneak in to merely make love to her, to be able to feel her, to be able to hold her, and listen to her, and see her. He would hide himself with her, careful not to expose their love to the people surrounding them. He would listen to them, calling him a bitch, calling him a lover boy, calling him fem-boy, wondering if they could stick it.

Now, Mello took what he wanted, when he wanted it. Which included the gang, which included respect. Included Kenna.

Kenna had grown remarkably closer to Matt, obviously her source of comfort now that Mello had grown cold. It was a frequent thing. Get in, vent, stay a few minutes, hoping, praying she would say, "I love you" again, and then leave, watching her walk to Matt's room. He could only hope they spoke words, and only words.

Mello would sit and remember, biting his lip, watching the still nothing in the air.

"Mello! Mello, come here!"

Mello walked over to where Kenna sat. She smiled up at him, showing him her latest artwork. She was amazingly talented.

"It's you and me."

Kenna smiled.

"Yupp! See, you're under the tree, ready to catch me if I fall! It's like a metaphor, for our lives," she smiled up at him again, "You're always ready to catch me, Mello."

Mello had taken the gang, had taken it all without question.

"It's mine, old man. You refuse to help me catch him, and now it's all fucking mine, old man."

A single shot fired, into the middle-aged man's head. The cigar fell from his mouth, the glass of gin and ice fell from his hand, shattering.

"Mello."

He turned to find Matt and Kenna.

Kenna's eyes clouded with tears.

Mello smiled.

"We're going to defeat Near. I'm going to come out on top, Kenna."

He tried to explain. Kenna nodded.

"I understand."

It was as plain as day that it was a lie, but Mello was beyond caring. A lie was better than the truth right now. He could live with that lie as he tried to sleep at night. He couldn't live with the truth. It would kill him.

Mello sighed, laying beside Kenna, spent and tired.

He had broken his word.

He had let them leave the "this" that Kenna had desperately tried to hold on to while Mello shot people down, killed for glory. Kenna hadn't been able to do it alone. Mello watched as she slowly broke, the last remains of hope dimly lighting her eyes.

It was love. It used to be love.

Now it was about catching Kira, defeating Near, coming out on top.

He had told her sex wasn't a proper outlet for your emotions, and here he was, using every moment he could spare making Kenna into an outlet, and nothing more. But Mello knew that was a lie.

Mello needed Kenna. He needed her there. She was his last remains of sanity, and he couldn't lose her.

When he held that gun to his head, she was the only one there. She had told him, every second she could, how much she loved him. She would use every moment of daylight confessing her love, and every minute of moonlight proving it.

Now, everything was breaking, and slowly fading. Mello couldn't let it go. But he couldn't give up on this. He was so close.

"Kenna…?"

He was slow and careful.

Kenna rolled over, facing away from him.

"You should get some sleep."

Her voice cracked.

She was crying.

"Kenna."

"From what it sounds, you have a busy day."

Mello stood up.

"I fucking hate this."

Kenna froze.

Mello stared at her.

"What is "this" exactly, Mello?"

It was a whisper. A tiny sound.

"This is fucking broken, fucking psychotic. It isn't what it used to be, and it sure as fuck isn't what it's supposed to be. Kenna, I promised… I wouldn't let us leave what you wanted to stay in."

Kenna rolled over, looking at him.

"I'm happy, Mello. Now get some sleep."

Her eyes shone in the moonlight streaming into her room, the window betraying them. The dim lamp's light was enough to make her look even more desperately broken than Mello thought was possible.

"You're lying."

Mello sat beside her, a gentle hand on her waist.

"I remember everything. I remember Wammy's, and how we used to cuddle in my bed when it was cold in the winter, and how you begged me to stay for just a few more minutes, which turned into the whole night. I remember… I remember falling in love with you, every moment."

Mello closed his eyes.

"I remember when it wasn't an obsession. When it was just simply me hating Near. But it turned into more. It's overwhelmed me, Kenna. And I'm scared. I'm helpless and afraid."

Kenna sat up, clutching the thin sheet to her body.

"Come back to me, Mello."

Mello opened his eyes.

"I don't know if I can anymore, Kenna. I don't know if I can remember how to be… just me."

Kenna touched his face, the sheet failing her. But Mello was too content with her touching him, with her forgiving him, with her.

"Just be mine again, Mello. Just try to be mine. Just let me be yours."

Mello grabbed her hands, and looked in her eyes.

"I love you, Kenna."

It was simple.

"I love you, Mello."

It was simple.