I was listening to Famous Last Words by MCR, then I just come up a flash animation about Matt and Mello in my head whenever I listen to it. But since I couldn't do Flash, I wrote a fanfiction instead.

Warnings/Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and Famous Last Words, even if we all wish that we did. May contain references to shounen-ai, slight OOC, does not contradict the canon story(I did calculations to get the timing right), dramatic scenes, and Matt goes emo.

Also, Matt's natural hair color will be revealed in the next chapter. I did not make it up, it was his hair color as a kid in Relight 2.

On with the story:


Now I know that I can't make you stay, but where's your heart? But where's your heart? But where's your...

It was yet another rainy day in England. Although the weather was nothing out of the ordinary, to the thirteen-year-old Mail Jeevas, it added to the depressing mood of his situation. He sat quietly on his bed, his handheld video-game put aside. Across the room, his best friend, Mihael Keehl, crammed the few belongings he had into a small backpack. Just the thought of his closest friend leaving devastated Mail, but he respected Mihael's choice, because it was for the better.

"Mello." Mail whispered to himself, but loud enough for his buddy to hear.

"Yeah?" Mihael responded.

"You don't have to leave. Please think about what you're doing. At least take me with you."

"I can't Matt. I'm sorry, but I really have to do this for the sake of succeeding L." Mihael looked into his friend's pleading eyes. Even though they were concealed by the orange tint of his goggles, Mihael was able to see the sorrow in his face.

Mail slowly collapsed into his bed, closed his eyes and pretended that he heard nothing. He groped the space around him for his PSP, then took a pair of earphones out of his pocket. He plugged them into the electronic device and put them in both his ears, then he played a song.

Mihael felt a pang of guilt as he watched Mail just lie down, almost motionless, seemingly depressed, and keeping his emotions all to himself.

"Mello..." Mail simply muttered.

Mihael disregarded him and tried to leave, anyway. As he put on his jacket and got ready to exit their room, he got interrupted when he heard the sweetest singing voice he ever did in his life.

"...But where's your heart? But where's your..." Mail was singing along with the song playing on his PSP.

"Matt, what are you listening to?"

Mail didn't pay attention. Instead, he kept singing along, only louder, especially when he got to the chorus.

"I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone." he sang as tears fell from his deep blue eyes, which wet his goggles, so he had to take them off.

"Honey, if you stay I'll be forgiven..." he continued singing as he did crying.

Mihael walked over to him, then he saw the tearful, bloodshot eyes that were once hidden behind those mysterious goggles. He gave Mail an apologetic glance, and having identified the song he was singing, he decided to say out loud the last line of the chorus.

"Nothing you can say can stop me going home."


And I know there's nothing I could say to change that part. To change that part. To change...

Mihael was already pacing the streets out in the pouring rain. His girly blond hair and black clothes were soaking wet. He kept marching on, with no place to go yet, but he had the rest of his life being planned in his mind as he walked. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching, splashing on the puddles, and someone called out his name.

"Mello! Wait...for...me..." Mail panted in exhaustion after chasing Mihael.

"Matt, I told you to stay."

"I'm not staying!" Mail retorted, "I'm not staying unless you're there with me."

"I thought you understood why I'm doing this."

"I do understand! It's just that I can't think of how my life would be without you. Who would beat up those bullies for me? Who would I laugh with after pranking Near? Who would keep me from being alone?" At that moment, Mail fell down on his knees, sobbing, but without any tears.

"Matt, you're being overly dramatic. That makes it even harder for both of us." Mihael knelt down so he was on the same level as Mail, then he hugged his friend very tightly.

"Matt, you have to understand. This is goodbye. I don't want anything dramatic going on, so please keep moving on without me. I'll even give you something to remember me by."

He reached into his bag and took out a cheap-looking metal ring, he took Mail's hand, gently placed it on his palm, and pushed it towards him.

"Honestly, it's just a cheap old ring. It's nothing special, but it is, now that it belongs to you." he told Mail.

"Alright, but promise me that we'll meet again someday. I don't care when, just promise me." Mail begged.

"Alright, Matt. It's a promise." Mihael swore.

Mail took his token of remembrance from his own hand and wore it on his ring finger. "I'll be waiting. You promised." he smiled and waved goodbye.

"Move the ring, Matt. We're not married." Mihael laughed shortly then he fell silent. "Well...goodbye, Matt."

"See you soon." that was all he could say.

Later, the two if them started walking away from each other, farther and farther away. Each trying to find the home they searched for.

"It's too late, Matt. It's too late. It's too late." Mail told himself repeatedly while rolling on his bed from side-to-side, like a show dog performing a trick.

"I am not afraid..." he tried to comfort himself by constantly replaying that part of the song. It was unusual for him to just crack from depression since he was emotionally strong, but it was different when it came to Mihael.

"Snap out of it, Jeevas. You're losing it. So what if Mello's gone? So what if my best friend left?" he said out loud, but ended up in tears, anyway.

Mail curled himself up in fetal position, feeling alone, inferior, and in danger, without Mihael by his side to protect him.

"Matt! Are you sure that you don't want to come downstairs for supper?" one of the caretakers yelled through his door.

"I'll be there in a second." he weakly replied as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He put his goggles back on to cover his saddened face, so nobody else would notice his misery.

"Crying won't get Mello back." he thought silently.

"There's nothing I can say to change this. Crying won't help. It won't. It won't. It won't..." Soon, the words echoed in his thoughts incessantly.

"Get over it." he said firmly.

He used his remaining strength to get out of bed and head towards the door. After he turned the doorknob with his shaky left hand, the wooden door slowly creaked open, and right before the caretaker stood Mail, who had a bright, crooked smile plastered on his face.

"How are you doing?" Mail cheerfully greeted.

The caretaker eyed him suspiciously, then she answered "Everything is going well, I guess. And you?"

"For me, things are just very wonderful. So very wonderful."


So many bright lights, they cast a shadow. But can I speak? Well, is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?

Square tables covered with white cloth were scattered around the room in an orderly manner, they all had a chair on each side, and almost every seat was occupied. One side of the room was lit by the minimal amount of sunlight that passed through the few windows on one of the walls, since most of the rays were cut off by the dark rainclouds floating in the atmosphere. Although the hall was fairly dark, Mail was still blinded by the little bit of light that was present. He tried to forget about all that had happened, but the task was impossible. And so he figured that talking to someone else would probably help.

The only vacant seats were the ones next to Nate River, the top student which Mihael despised with a passion. For the sake of his best friend, Mail decided that it would be better if he avoided the antisocial albino kid, so he had to take whichever seat was left. The only one he was able to find was beside a girl about Nate's age. She had dark brown hair tied up in pigtails and she wore a yellow sweater. In front of her was a drawing pad, where she was sketching on the faces of multiple children.

"Hi, Linda. Is this seat taken?" he asked her.

"No, go ahead." the girl named Linda replied. She didn't seem to care that much, she just focused on her artwork and made no eye contact with the boy.

Mail took his seat and set down the tray of weird substances that nobody dared to call "food." When he peeked at Linda's drawing, he suddenly felt odd, and even more depressed.

"Is something wrong, Matt?" Linda asked, concerned.

"N-nothing." he stuttered. And then, he recalled what was in the picture. Among the many children were him and Mihael, side-by-side, laughing like they used to.

"I just miss someone."


A life that's so demanding, I get so weak. A love that's so demanding, I can't speak.

"It's already been a year of agony since Mello left." Mail sighed.

Nobody heard him since all the other children were inside, and he was all alone, sitting in a dark corner outside the building, with only a small blade to keep him company. He looked around to make sure that there weren't any witnesses, then he rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt, revealing his wrist. But the ring on his finger caught his attention.

"Sorry, Mells. I didn't move the ring. And I can't handle this much longer." he spoke under his breath while he stared at the ring.

"You said that I had to understand. But it's you who needs to understand how it's like for me!" he cried as he let the cold blade touch his skin.

Mail was reluctant at taking such action, but he still pressed on the blade carefully and swiftly pulled it downward as he hissed in pain. Blood slowly gashed out of the wound and started to drip on the grass beneath his feet. He grabbed his own wrist and brought it up to his face to examine it. The cut went all the way across one side of his wrist and the crimson red blood flowed down his arm and stained his plain white shirt. It wasn't very deep, but it was deep enough to clear his cringed at the pain for a second, then he smiled at a sudden realization.

"I never felt this kind of pain before. It hurts so...so...good."

[To Be Continued]