December 5, 2005

L's death was news brought to the Orphanage on a rainy day. Matt only remembered it being so fucking cliché, wondering why he couldn't have kicked the bucket in the summer. Least then, Roger would have been too preoccupied with funeral arrangements to force him to go outside during the warmer seasons. There had been a storm going on, so Matt hadn't needed an excuse to be inside. Everybody was cooped up on that dreary day.

"Matt!" came the shriek of some twerp begging for the PlayStation. "Give me a turn now!"

It wasn't that he never cared about L. Every little kid at the Orphanage went through an embarrassing hero-worshiping phase, trying with all their hearts to prove their worth to L's computer monitor. Matt had just grown past that age was all. He held nothing personal against the faceless man; he would have gone as far as to say he owed L a debt for scooping him off the streets, whoever he was. It was sad that he was gone. It was sad when anyone died, wasn't it? But when all was said and done, it was still a detached sort of sad like when a random celebrity he liked died. He felt a twinge of nostalgia over it—over him, but in his heart of hearts, Matt had already killed L himself years ago, along with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

Knobby knees and sharp elbows dug into his body. Matt winced, forced to lift his controller above his head and out of reach from the little Gremlin climbing over him to get it.

"Hey, read the box. It says M for mature, kid." Matt grunted in annoyance. "Piss off, and go color or something!"

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention in the doorway. Mello passed them by, probably on his way over to his own room. Matt chewed on his lower lip for a moment before he shoved the kid off of him, thrusting the controller out to her.

The kid brightened up.

"Knock yourself out, brat. Just don't tell Roger which game I let you play." He advised, following in the same direction he'd seen his friend vanish off to. It wasn't strange for Mello to be in a shitty mood, but Matt was always interested in all that accompanied said moods. Fun and destruction.

He pushed open the door to his friend's bedroom, walking in without a verbal invitation. Inside, Mello was cramming his belongings into a bag on his bed, viciously forcing clothes to fit well beyond the bag's maximum capability. He watched him for a moment before making an observation.

"You look pissy."

"L died."

Oh.

"Yikes."

What exactly did you say to that kind of thing? Part of the Orphanage's function was to push out The Next Great Detective L, and Mello was ranked among the top choices to succeed the man. It was kind of fucked up to think about, but as L's heirs, did that imply that they were all just waiting around for the guy to croak? After all, that's what an inheritance was. So what? Did he offer words of sympathy? Was a congratulations in order?

"You don't have to say anything." His friend thankfully spared him. "I know you couldn't care less. You don't care about anything."

"No, I just didn't expect that. I'm not a heartless dick, you know. I just didn't know him all too well. Sorry." Matt shrugged. "Was it Kira?"

"What the hell do you think, genius?" Mello scoffed, throwing a couple of candy bars into his bag so that they rested on the very top.

"Well, you never know. He was in Japan, right?" He was only fifteen. Even ranking third at Wammy's House, the world seemed so vast back then, and everything Matt knew about other countries was the stuff of games and television. It was too far away to feel. Knowing was different from experiencing. No book could have let him understand that, not on any shelf at Wammy's. "Coulda been a crime boss or some freak Samurai accident."

Mello rolled his eyes at him.

"Does that mean you're—"

"No. L didn't pick." Mello cut him off, zipping up his bag. "Not me or Near. Roger wants us to work together. So, I'm leaving."

"Uh, what?" Matt's words felt slower than he wanted them to be. "Why?"

"You know I can't work with him, Matt."

"But why leave?"

"I'm going after Kira myself. The setup here was nice while it lasted, but I'm done relying on charity to get by. Playtime is over," Mello muttered bitterly. "I have to start living life my own way, Matt. "

Matt frowned. Until now, he had never considered the possibility of leaving the Orphanage for some reason. Not when he turned eighteen, not ever. The idea had not so much as crossed his mind. It was just inconvenient to have to pack up his things now when he genuinely hadn't thought about what to take, knowing he could never come back. Maybe he should have planned for that or exercised better foresight. Maybe the reason he hadn't was for the same reason he was ranked third in the house.

He should have realized he wasn't going to be fifteen forever.

"Alright, I'll come with you," Matt agreed with an exasperated sigh. He started making a mental list of all the most important things in his life. "Just give me a second to pack."

"No. I'm leaving."

"Yeah, I heard your spiel the first time. Just give me a second to figure out what I need to bring with me."

"No, Matt. I'm leaving. Me. As in, not you. "

Matt opened his mouth but closed it again. He realized he'd misunderstood.

"Why can't I come with you?" Matt asked, glad that his voice was steady. "No offense, but you're going to need all the help you can get if you're planning on going alone. If Near's going to be the next L, he's going to have every government agency at his beck-and-call. Who do you have, Mello?"

It probably wasn't necessary for him to say because he was sure Mello had considered that already.

Mello sneered at him.

"I don't need anybody's help, and I definitely don't need you," He said very slowly, lip curling at the insinuation that he needed anything from Matt. "I told you that I'm going alone."

The room suddenly dropped in temperature, making the hot flood of shame that filled his face more unbearable. The lenses of his goggles grew cloudier and harder to see through. There were no words he could say to change Mello's mind. They were friends, good friends, but that was it. Not like he was family or a boyfriend. Still, there was an uncomfortably warm, constricting sensation in his chest that he tried not to acknowledge.

Irrationally, a voice in his head screamed that he was getting left behind again.

He finally shrugged, studying the ground instead of Mello.

"Sure, whatever you say..." He was relieved to hear that he didn't sound any different than if he had normally been conversing with Mello—apathetic and dry, not torn or clingy the way he expected.

The way he felt inside.

"Look, it's been fun knowing you." Mello shouldered his bag. "And I'll miss you, but I have things to do. Goodbye, Matty."

He left him cold, ruffling Matt's hair on his way out.