(A/N: Hey looky here it's a oneshot!! I wrote another little story . . . thing. Yah with my favorite pairing, obviously, though i was contemplating LightxL. I'll maybe do one after I finally kill off J&K. It's getting pretty pathetic; blame my figgin muse who decided to go die in a hole somewhere. Ok pplz I know that the title is not exactly how the little phrase thing goes but I made it that way for a reason. Reason being forgotten but still there was one once. Oh and big surprise but even after all this time out of contact with FF I still don't own Death Note. S H O C K E R. Well enjoy and pleez be nice with some R&R-age!)

Not So Many Words

The slight 'click' of Matt's lighter pulled Mello out of his thoughts. A familiar flicker of warm light accompanied by the smell of nicotine soon followed. He glanced over at the redheaded whose face was now illuminated by the harsher blue light of a handheld gaming device. The burning end of his cigarette contrasted softly with the glow reflected off his orange goggles, and the entire familiarity of it caused Mello's stomach to lurch sickly.

He grimaced and Matt looked up at him. Mello was surprised at how observant Matt was today, he was usually more or less oblivious to the world, but maybe it was just the unimaginable tension radiating from Mello at the moment, almost tangible, practically smothering. He sighed and tried to relax, worrying wouldn't help anything. Matt refocused on his game and left Mello to his own thoughts. How did he do it? Mello was seriously thinking of straight out asking Matt how he was so calm. How he was always so damn calm, no matter what crazy plan they were being thrown into he was just; there. Smiling at Mello, reassuring the badass mafia boss who never needed any reassurance. What a lie. Without Matt Mello probably would have snapped long ago, no definitely snapped. Even right now, as they had just finished re-going over the plans for tomorrow's abduction of Takada, the gamer was stretched out on the old battered couch across from Mello, playing his games while smoking a cigarette as if all tomorrow would bring was a walk in the park. Mello had really stressed (possibly over stressed) the danger involved in this mission, and all his tech junkie of a best friend said was "I'm good as long as I can beat this last level."

Mello didn't understand. He was worried out of his mind because he knew the chance that they would both survive this was as low as it was gonna get. This plan was going to be the death of him, but more importantly Matt. Mello didn't care about himself. He was already resigned to the fact that all the Hail Mary's he chanted under his breath and all the worn down rosary beads that slipped through his fingers couldn't save him. He had realized this when he designated is life to avenging L and beating Near, the little albino bastard, by doing whatever it took. In fact it was all Near's fault. If Mello wasn't so obsessed with finishing this case before Near, of doing everything before Near, he and Matt wouldn't be fated to die tomorrow. He bit his lip as he felt self-loathing slide down his skin like poison, cooling the white hot anger but not necessarily making him feel any better. No it wasn't really Near's fault, it was his fault, his fault, his fault. Matt was going to die, his beautiful life cut off too short because it was all HIS fault.

Mello wanted to throw something, or maybe start yelling at himself. Instead he counted to four hundred and sixty three while attempting to control his breathing.

Mello was, technically, not afraid of death at all. He had faced it too many times in his young life to fear pain or hell. He was however afraid of being forgotten. Not so much being forgotten, but ceasing to exist of just fading into nonentity. He was scared that when his time was up there would just be nothingness; a complete blank stretch of white. Mello was not very fond of white. He was also not very happy with the idea of all his memories disappearing. He did not want to forget Matt, the way he talked and laughed or the way he looked after sixteen straight hours of gaming. All the times they had together in Wammy's and afterward . . . Something soft and wet fell onto the back of Mello's hand. He roughly brushed the tears from his eyes as a haunting spectrum of memories colored his mind like some sick disjointed idea of a rainbow.

Matt noticed the quick movement; he hadn't really been paying much attention to his game anyway, he was content just watching Mello for the rest of the time he got. But Mello was crying? He looked up at the blonde with an eyebrow raised, cigarette hanging haphazardly from between his teeth. Mello would have laughed out loud, save for the fact he probably would have choked on the salty remnants of his tears. He did manage to throw Matt a tense look that was supposed to be a smile, but resembled the face you make while your foot is getting stepped on; Matt paused his game. When Mello put down the chocolate he had yet to take a bite out of Matt turned the handheld off.

Mello had only ever refused to eat the precious sweet once in recorded history; when a girl from Wammy's stated that sugar messed with your deduction abilities. (She obviously had never met L) Heck Mello would have kept eating chocolate at the same rate had it been proven that it made you grow wings and a third elbow, but if there was the slightest possibility that it could hinder him in the all-powerful race against Near than he would drop it like it was diseased. Which he did. But after half a day without his sugary addiction he gave up a losing battle. Mello decided it wasn't worth the suffering to live without chocolate ever again. His head hurt and he couldn't think straight plus he was twenty times moodier which made everyone besides Matt run from the premises as soon as he was seen. After that hellish half-day no one in Wammy's ever questioned the side effects of eating chocolate. Matt smirked at the memory, for he had been the one responsible for disposing of the chocolate. Luckily had had thought ahead and merely shoved it under his bed so when Mello came running back to him begging and crying for his candy he wouldn't end up dead a few years early.

Mello looked like he was about to keel over from a panic attack or start gnawing his finger nails off, so Matt decided it was time to intervene. He slowly got up from the dingy couch and traversed the few feet over to where Mello was sitting, stopping in front of his best friend. He pushed his goggles up on his head and bent down in front of Mello, grabbing his chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. He turned the blonde's head slightly so he was staring into Matt's deep green eyes.

"Nnh Matt? What is it?"

Matt wrapped his arms around Mello's body and pulled him up to his chest flipping them around so they were both sitting on the couch, Mello in Matt's lap. Mello shifted facing him with a sincerely confused look.

"Matt . . . what?"

Matt just hummed softly and ran his long fingers through Mello's silky hair.

"You look so worried Mels."

"Matt . . ." a shaky breath, "You do know that we are most likely going to die tomorrow."

Mello's voice broke on die and he buried his face into the crook of Matt's neck. Matt made soft soothing noises into Mello's ear and wrapped his arms around his shaking slender frame. Mello tried to suppress the hot tears that were streaming down his face.

"Matt I don't want to lose you."

Matt shook his head and smiled his special don't worry we're the-invincible-orphans-from-the-land-of-Wammys smile.

"Mels, according to your oh-so-optimistic version of our little escapade we'll go down together, so we won't be lost at all."

Mello leaned away from the striped shoulder he had his head buried in to look at Matt through questioning, watery eyes. Matt lifted his hand to brush the glistening droplets away from the ice colored gaze.

"Mihael, I love you, and I will love you even when we are both dead and Near is ruling the world with an army of transformers and even if the Kira case is never solved and we die in vain or if we live through this and spend the rest of our lives in jail or Cuba I will always love you and I always have."

Mello smiled through his tears and leaned his forehead against Matt's.

"I love you too, Mail."

And Matt leaned forward and kissed Mello in a way that defined exactly what he just said in not so many words at all.