Disclaimer: Death Note and all related characters and materials are property of Tsugumi Ohba and Shonen Jump.

Good
By: Nanaki BH

It had been a long time since Matt had felt that feeling; the warm wind lightly touching his cheeks, the heat of the sun on his skin. He hadn't felt so nice in a long, long time. He couldn't explain what it was; what had put him so suddenly in such a good mood. Maybe it was a dream. Perhaps he was just letting his mind remember things from his past before waking up to their apartment. Whatever the case was, he didn't want to open his eyes. Doing that could take it away, and all he wanted to do was just stay and enjoy what he no longer had. Happiness.

He took a deep breath, aware that when he opened his eyes, he'd inevitably find out if it were true. Crisp, clean air rushed into his lungs and made him a little light headed. A soft laugh escaped his parted lips. It didn't matter. Even if he woke up alone in bed, he'd be left with a good feeling. Or he would lose it. That would certainly be unfortunate. So calmly, he slipped his arms behind his neck.

“This had better not be a dream. I'm liking this way too much.”

“Matt.”

Sounds like Mello, he thought.

“Matt, wake your ass up.”

Yeah, okay, definitely Mello.

A flustered huff followed and then suddenly, warm lips collided with Matt's and he found himself shocked and starved for air. He pushed Mello away as gently as anyone can push and finally sat up, gasping for air like a kid learning to swim. “Fuck!” he panted, dizzy with unexpected euphoria. “What was that... for?” He took a good glance around himself. “Wha... Wait... What?”

Wammy's House in all its proud, studious glory, sitting amidst the natural beauty of Europe in springtime. Why, Matt wondered, why in God's name was he there? And why was it spring? His eyes quickly narrowed and he shot Mello a burning stare. “Why do I have the feeling you know what's going on and I don't?”

“We're dead.”

“Tell me something I can believe, please.”

Mello got up on his knees and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. “We're dead.”

It sounded like a ridiculous statement; just something made up to maybe shake him out of whatever he was going through. He could've been hallucinating but the reality of his surroundings just threw that possibility out the window. It was impossible for them to make it to Europe without first getting on a plane and since Matt couldn't remember anything of that nature, that idea immediately got the axe as well. And it was spring. Last Matt remembered, it was winter. Why else would he be wearing the vest? Unless they were locked in some pervert's basement for the past few months, Mello wasn't lying because everything else seemed impossible.

Matt propped his goggles up on top of his head and tapped the lenses thoughtfully. “So... like, how'd we die again?”

“You got the firing squad. I got the royal Kira treatment. Remember now?”

“Aaaaaah. Yeah.” How could he forget? His head hit the SS pretty hard on his way down. At least it lessened whatever other pain he felt before he finally succumbed to death's clutches. “Shit, that sucked. My poor car.”

Mello's face was a display of only shock and disgust. “Your car? Are you joking?”

“It was from the seventies, Mello. You clearly don't understand the nostalgic value of it. And neither did Kiyomi's bitches! Shit!”

Sighing, Mello sunk to the grass beside Matt, burying his face in folded arms. He chose to ignore Matt's senseless tirade. He was sure that Matt found his life more important than an old car; at least, he hoped he did. Either way, it was nice to be next to Matt again. He could vaguely remember a lot of time passing. That whole period of time was a mysterious blank, though. In that lapse, he could've possibly met God or crossed to Europe on his own or something. Whatever the case, it was clear that they weren't in heaven or at least, not in the heaven that Mello imagined.

Still, there was a great sense of peace and calm he hadn't felt for as long as he could remember. He still remembered his last thoughts before the heart attack took him and the sight of Matt's bullet-riddled car on the fuzzy screen inside the semi. There was none of the pain, though. He couldn't remember what it felt like to die and no matter how badly he wished it, he couldn't bring himself to hate Takada for writing down his name. He wondered if he ever hated at all or if it was the world that had hated him.

It didn't matter.

His hand found Matt's and he held onto it, his gloved thumb brushing over Matt's fingers. He heard Matt yawn and felt him come closer, their bodies nearly touching. Mello looked up at the orphanage, unsure of whether or not it was a sight for sore eyes, as they say. It was nice to see that it was still standing. But as far as he knew, the kids had all left after Kira appeared. It was spring. Maybe Near was already dead too. Something told Mello he wasn't but it could've been just because his hidden confidence in Near told him that was impossible.

“Hey, Mello,” Matt said softly, raising a hand to touch his cheek. “Your scar's gone. You look cuter this way.”

“Is that to say I was ugly before?”

Matt snickered, drawing his hand away before Mello decided to break it. “No, it made you look tough. Now you're cute again. Still just as intimidating, though.”

“Then I guess I'm still myself. That's good.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, giving into a laugh. “I nearly forgot what good was. This is... This is good.”