1/26/10 - A sad day, indeed.



Their lives were outrageous, in the best sense of the word. Live loud, live fast, live with no regrets and no looking back. It was this way until the very end, and even then, they went out with a bang.

Bodies recovered, and shipped back to England. It was the only place that either of them had any "family", if you could count Roger and the rest of Wammy's as such. Both of them considered "home" to be L.A., the sweet city that they, especially Mello, had loved so dearly. But, two seemingly unclaimed bodies are all that anyone needs in L.A.; those people already have enough corpses to deal with.

The funeral is small and quiet, the exact opposite of what either of them probably would have wanted. A dusty priest prattles on for what must be hours, remembering people that he had never met. Meager amounts of tears are shed, a faint sniffling becoming a harmonizing undertone of the priest's stuffy voice. There are only a handful of people in attendance that could truly say that they knew Matt and Mello.

With the Kira case over, Near had decided to attend. He was sure that Mello would scoff at his presence, and was probably staring from wherever dead people went, and wishing Near would trip over a pew or something. Had Near believed in ghosts, he would be willing to bet that he would be haunted for a very long time.

The final prayer said, everyone stands in unison, moves through the church doors, and gathers around two identical holes with two identical coffins suspended over them. The sky is misty, foggy, and grey, and a cold wind whips around the onlookers, swirling their coat tails and scarf ends. The frozen grass crunches under the weight of feet shuffling nervously on the ground.

The two coffins are simultaneously lowered, accompanied only by the sounds of creaking pulleys and wires. The wind echoes the sound of a sickening thud as the wooden boxes hit the ground. Fog seeps into the holes and blankets the coffins with an almost mystical, angelic layer of white.

Roger and Near both grab fistfuls of dirt and toss them into each hole. Had the inhabitants of these holes still been alive, Near was fairly sure that Matt would have casually brushed the dirt off of himself with an odd expression on his face, and Mello would have instantly erupted into flaming anger, leaving the dirt to fester on himself as he chased after Near to beat him to a bloody pulp. Near almost smiles.

Linda had come with paint smudges on her hands from her new job in France. She drops a white lily onto each of her friends' coffins and steps back, mixed emotions running through her chest, tightening and releasing. She can't decide whether to cry or to smile or laugh or to scream. It's been so long since she has really talked to them, and she can't help but feel a little guilty. In the end, giving them flowers was the only thing she could do.

The funeral gathering slowly fragments and breaks off, people wandering back to a row of parked cars, ready to shake death from their shoulders and go back to normal life. Near, Linda, and Roger are the last to leave. They stay until two young men have finished pouring dirt over dark wood, and all that's left are two discolored humps in the ground. Thoughts concluded, they silently glance over the tombstones, the dirt, the fresh bouquets of flowers perched on the mounds, and drift away like fading shadows.

The lonely cemetery is still and silent. The wind has stopped blowing, and distraught souls sleep peacefully under green blankets. No visitors pass for days, and not even the noise of the nearby farmer's cows and sheep can be heard. In this desolate place, at least the two newest residents had each other. For that, they were both grateful.


A/N: For Matt and Mello, in thanks of all the inspiration they've given me. I hope they rest in peace. And thank you for reading.

P.S. Wondering where Linda came from? There's a brief mention in the manga somewhere about her being a famous painter. I think...