Author's Note: Wow! Thank you to everyone who is reading! Your comments and support are very much appreciated. I managed to bust out chapter three a little faster than expected. I'm not sure if that's good or bad… This chapter did not turn out exactly the way I planned, but I kinda like it. The only thing that worries me is how my focus is starting to drift a bit. Maybe I'm being overly critical, but the interactions between Matt and Mello are kinda stealing the limelight. I'm hoping that will fix itself in the coming chapters. Anywho, thank you for stopping by and please enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters used in this story. I also do not own Cheerios, though there might be a box of them downstairs.
We all make the mistake of getting entrenched in our own worlds from time to time. After all, empathy is difficult. Many people go their whole lives without ever feeling its bittersweet embrace. To try to imagine someone else's circumstances in any kind of meaningful way takes work. Most of the time, that is. There are those rare instances when understanding just swallows you whole. That is when you learn that empathy is not always the poignant avenue to wisdom it is made out to be. It is a dark, frightening thing that binds you to sorrow and terrors you've never even felt. It ravages your soul before spitting you out raw and bloody on the other side.
The wounds inflicted by empathy always leave scars, but with those scars comes a certain pride. It is evidence that you have some kind of worthwhile connection with another person. Those who can feel empathy are never truly alone. For better or for worse.
As I lifted the fork to my mouth, I felt a light projectile hit my forehead. Seconds later a lone cheerio fell onto the tray before me. I looked at the cheerio in confusion for a moment before glancing up at Matt, who sat opposite me at the table. Our squabble from two weeks ago had blown over relatively easily, partially out of necessity in finishing the academic project, and partially because I could never stay mad at Matt for long.
At the moment his face was obscured by a plastic spoon straining under the pressure inflicted by his fingers. He released his grip on the end of the spoon and another cheerio catapulted across the table and into my hair.
"Aw, missed the bullseye," he giggled to himself, loading up another crunchy cannonball.
I shot him one of my signature death glares before remembering Matt was the only person they didn't work on.
"You can be a real idiot sometimes, you know that?" I muttered, turning my attention back to the waffles before me.
"Ah come on, what would you do without me?" he grinned.
"I'd eat my breakfast in peace."
"Yeah, but then what?"
I shoveled a mouthful of waffle into my mouth to avoid answering.
"So," he began, changing the subject. "What was that envelope about this morning?"
I raised my head and swallowed my waffle a little too quickly.
"Envelope?"
"Yeah, looks like they slipped it under the door. It was on the floor when I left to come here. You really didn't notice it?"
"No, I was kinda in a hurry."
"Ah, well, you should check it out after breakfast. It might be something important. Isn't that how they told you L wanted to see you?"
When I made it back to the room I found a plain white envelope on the floor as Matt had said. It was small and had my name written in Roger's sickeningly perfect handwriting. I opened it and read its contents.
Mello,
Please see me in my office. L has requested to speak with you.
"It's about L again," I said, looking over my shoulder to address Matt, who was busy stuffing games into his bag for classtime.
"Cool, maybe he has more stories for you to morbidly obsess over."
"Maybe…"
"Tell me about it when I get back from class, okay? I assume you're heading there now?"
"Yeah. I'll see you later."
Matt left the room with his bag slung over his shoulder and I stood staring at the note for a few seconds before starting my journey to Roger's office.
I hesitantly knocked on the large, wooden doors and heard Roger's voice grant me admittance from within.
"You wanted to see me?" I asked, closing the doors behind me.
"Yes," he said, looking at me over his desk. "L wanted to speak to you about something regarding your meeting a few weeks ago. I'll contact him to let him know you're here."
Roger opened a laptop and quickly typed something. A few minutes later, L's scrambled voice flowed from the computer's speakers.
"Mello?" the synthetic voice began.
"Yes. I'm here," I replied.
"Good. Roger, I must request privacy once again."
"Of course," the older man answered, politely taking his leave.
I stepped around to the other side of the desk to look at the laptop head on.
"Thank you for coming," L said. "My message is brief, but one that I felt you should receive."
I stared directly into the webcam and nodded.
"B is dead. I just found out last night. He suffered a heart attack and they were unable to revive him."
The muscles in my face twitched as my brain tried to process what L had just said.
"I have my suspicions that there may be more to it than simple physiological malfunction, but that is not something I want you to concern yourself with. For now, I just wanted you to know that the story is over."
I nodded again, unsure of how to respond.
If I could go back in time and revisit that moment I would surely press L for more information. I would ask him why, even through the voice scrambler, I could almost sense relief. Why he had referred to the event as the end of a story rather than the end of a life. Did this mean anything more to him than the elimination of skeletons in his closet? It must have, right?
I spent some time wandering the halls after speaking with L, not wanting to go to class, and unwilling to return to my room before Matt would be there. My mind was pretty much blank, but I knew it was only a matter of time before the emotion came.
I put my hand over my heart, wondering what it must have felt like…
Had he been scared?
I shivered as I imagined the boy in the picture laying under a sheet somewhere, his brilliant, devious eyes now dull and empty.
After enough time had passed, I went back to my room where I found Matt sprawled belly-down across his bed. His hands were occupied by a gameboy which spewed extremely loud electronic music. It sounded like some kind of victory fanfare.
He turned his head when I entered and shifted the gameboy to one hand, motioning to me with the other.
"Mello! Come here, quick! I just beat the game! I've been chiseling away at this one forever, and even though it took me all class period, I finally got it! Check out the credits!"
I looked at him and winced before flopping face first into my own pillow. I could still hear the overly happy music bleeping away.
"If you don't shut that thing off, I'm throwing it out the window," I grumbled, picking my head up for a moment so as not to be muffled by the pillow.
Matt knew the difference between my hollow, good natured threats and my serious ones, and muted the game immediately.
"Hey, is everything alright?" he asked sincerely. "Not good news from L?"
"No, not good news, Matt," I spat sharply. "Not everything is like your stupid games."
"I… never said it was… What's going on?"
"B is dead."
"That's what L called you in to tell you?"
"Yeah, you figure that one out all by yourself?"
"Calm down, man. I'm trying to help here."
I sat up and looked at Matt, who was now also in a sitting position with his hands free of the gaming device.
"L said he died of a heart attack."
"I'm really sorry, Mello…"
"Oh, spare me. We've both been the recipients of enough funeral handshakes to know how useless those words are."
"I never thought they were useless…"
"Well, then I guess you're just stupider than you look."
"No. I was happy to know that people cared."
"If they cared so much, then why did you end up here?"
Matt turned a serious gaze in my direction.
"Stop trying to pick a fight, Mello. It's not going to make things any better."
I fell silent. Damn it, Matt.
"You don't even care about B," I said bitterly after a moment, desperate to keep the argument going.
"I'll be honest with you. I don't. But I care about you, and if losing the object of your weird, little obsession upsets you, then I'm sure as hell gonna be there to help."
I stared at him with eyes as wide as L's, and for an uncomfortably long span of time the room was silent.
"… Thanks…" I said finally, looking at my feet.
Matt smiled.
"Don't worry about it."
While I mourned for a man I had never met, Matt mourned as well, willingly throwing himself into the claws of the beast. I know full well why I allowed myself to be tortured by the thoughts of B's final moments, but Matt… I will never know why he opted to bear my emotional pain on such a regular basis. Perhaps he wasn't as predictable as I presumed. Perhaps he was governed by more than conceptual decisions. Whatever it was, I was thankful to have him there.
Sometimes a peaceful breakfast is overrated.
Author's Note: End of chapter three! In case anyone is wondering, the video game music I was imagining coming out of Matt's gameboy was the end credit music to the original Kirby's Dreamland… though for some reason I can't quite see Matt playing a Kirby game. Well, whatever he was playing… Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review if the urge strikes you. Chapter four soon.
