It's funny, but I'm not scared at all as I walk into Mello's apartment. I mean, this guy just shows up out of nowhere, threatens me if I don't come to him, and when I do come, he aims a gun at my head.

A normal person would be afraid.

I'm not afraid.

Not at all.

I have nothing but the fondest memories of Mello. As I follow him to the room we're going to be sharing (Jesus Christ Dying on the Cross, this place is small) I reflect about our days at Wammy's House, specifically, the day we met.

I was about seven when my parents died. Already at that age, I was showing a huge potential, and seeing as I had no other family, Wammy's took me in. I remember my first view of the House. It was grey and cold outside, and it looked large and imposing to me. I was afraid, but the worker who had brought me there gripped my hand, trying to be encouraging. I wasn't going to let her cheer me up though. I think I had it in my mind that I was going to be sad and miserable forever. I didn't want to be happy.

But when she led me inside, it wasn't the dark, dreary place I had come to expect an orphanage to be. The media showed me the images of a cruel and lonely place where the starving children fought over everything. This place was warm and friendly looking, and while the children we passed stared curiously at me, they didn't seem outright cruel.

I barely listened as the worker talked to me, trying to make me feel better. She told me about the people here and all the friends I would make, and her words sounded promising, but I was stubborn. I wouldn't like this place, I told myself, and nobody would like me. I was going to be miserable for the rest of my life.

When Watari came to talk to me about changing my identity to protect me, and that instead of Mail, I was now Matt, I didn't care. I didn't care when he told me about the school here, and the classes I'd be taking. I didn't care when he told me that if I worked hard, someday, I could become the next L. And of course, I didn't care when he told me that I'd be rooming with a boy named Mello, who was right around my age, and that we should get on wonderfully.

As one of the workers led me to the room I would be sharing with the Mello, I trudged behind, threw a temper tantrum, and just made hell for the poor lady. When we got to the room, she practically pushed me inside, telling me that Mello would help me.

I stepped into a small room with two beds. It was messy, at least on one side, as if someone who was used to having the entire place messy had just taken half the mess and pushed it over to the other side. I didn't see him at first. The room had seemed empty and silent when I walked in. I happened to glance in the closet, which was next to the door, and then next thing I knew, I saw a pair of icy blue eyes staring at me from the darkness, and then I was sprawled on the floor, pinned before I even realized what had happened.

I looked up to see a blonde girl sitting on top of me. This was Mello?

"I thought I was gunna share rooms with a boy," I grumbled. I didn't even feel the punch at first. It took a few seconds for me to register the fact that the girl had hit me.

"I ain't no girl," growled the figure pinning me down.

"But you look like one."

"No, no no! I do not like lika girl!"

Yes, he did, but after that hit (my shoulder was going to be bruised from that one) I decided it would be better for me to stay quiet when around this temperamental little figure.

"Get off me."

Surprisingly, he did. And Mello even reached a hand down to help me up.

"I'm Mello," he announced.

"I'm Matt."

"Shut up."

And that's how our friendship started. For the next several years, I would follow Mello around everywhere. We would do everything that best friends do together as we grew up. We formed our own "no-girls" club, we had games of pretend, and we destroyed action figures. I felt like we were family, and you're supposed to love your family, right?

I imagine I did love Mello. In a brotherly way, of course, but as I got older, and began to have "real" feelings, I questioned myself.

On the night Mello left, I had something I wanted to tell him.

I had been trying to work up the courage to do this for months. We were only fifteen (almost sixteen!) but as I had been living with him for years, I think I felt sure enough of my feelings to tell Mello that I was gay. I wouldn't mention who it was for or anything, but I figured it wouldn't be hard to figure out. I was afraid this was going to ruin what we had. We had the perfect friendship, and to risk ruining it.. It had taken weeks of never of thought and contemplation, trying to figure out what I thought was right.

I went walking through the grounds that night. It was raining, and in the darkness, the rain was like this strange, unseen alien force. It was ominous, a sign of things to come.

When I finally got called inside by one of the workers, I took my time getting to our room. I was afraid.

When I finally did, it was a scene out of my worst nightmare.

Mello's side of the room was almost empty. He was standing there, trying to fit all of his clothes into a single bag. He turned around, but it was like he didn't see me. He shoved past me, tripping me and making me stumble, and then fall. As I sat there on the floor, stunned, I watched him walk away. I didn't even call his name.

I would find out what had happened later on from the higher ups. Watari and L were dead, Mello had refused to work with Near to become the new L together, and had left. It struck me that if hadn't been so afraid to ruin our friendship by telling Mello that I loved him, that if I hadn't spent that time outside, I could have been there for Mello. I could have stopped him from going and leaving me alone, and from being on his own.

When Mello left, I fell into a depression. Within a year, I was addicted to smoking and gaming. I lived in the fantasy world of my games, and soon enough, I decided to leave, as Mello had a few months earlier. I let the people at the House pick out an apartment for me, and they gave me some allowance to buy what I needed, but they had given me up for dead. I was dead.

"Hey. Hey. Hello?"

His voice calls me back to reality.

I listen to him as he tells me that he couldn't afford another bed, so I'd be sleeping on an old mattress, next to his bed. That was fine with me. We are both tired, it seems, and ready for sleep.

He falls asleep quickly, and I stare up at him. In the moonlight coming through the bare window, his is beautiful. An angel. Lucifer the fallen, perhaps.

I know that tomorrow, the work is going to start, and it will be hard, and it will take it's toll on me. That toll might even be my life. That's okay. I'm prepared to accept that, for Mello.

Anything for Mello.

L, if you're listening to me, I hope you realize how much you mean to Mello. Keep him safe, please.