Warning:Implied drug use.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
Mello sat up suddenly, breathing hard, a cold drizzle of sweat running down his forehead and another prickling its way down his spine. He shuddered. That was the first time he'd ever dreamt about Matt.
And in Mello's dream, Matt was crying. Matt was curled into a little ball on the floor like a five-year-old child, and he was crying. Mello had tried his hardest to find the reason for Matt's sadness, shouting and pleading for an answer, because all he wanted to do was make it all right; to stop the pain, whatever was making Matt cry so much, just to end it.
But, Matt wouldn't tell him. Matt just shook his head, and kept crying, pushing away all attempts at comfort from Mello.
It was Mello's worst nightmare.
So, Mello sought out Matt in the land of the awake, and found him.
However, the Matt that Mello found was not the Matt Mello remembered. This Matt was cold. This Matt was empty. This Matt was a hollow shell.
This Matt did not smell of spices and clean, this Matt smelled of cigarette smoke and the smoke of things that Mello saw smoked in the Mafia. This Matt was faded, like colors bleached from too many washings; this Matt was worn thin. This Matt was tired, circles under his eyes, his skinny body even skinnier, almost too thin from not eating.
This Matt was not the Matt Mello had met all those years ago.
A/N: Written to get a thought in my head out. The dream is based off of one I actually had. I think it was more of a nightmare. Well, anyway, I'm rambling. Hope you enjoyed. :)