A/N: I had to reupload the entire Oneshot as a new chapter because it looks better as a whole and I kept the original up there since people already read it (thanks btw). I also miscalculated Matt's age on the last chapter, so I fixed that. I also fixed the typos.
Warnings/Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Famous Last Words, and Nekozawa's wig, even if we all wish that we did. May contain references to shounen-ai, slight OOC, dramatic scenes, overuse of the word "blood", and Matt goes even more emo.
And please review. I hate how my bad stories get the most views and favorites, while nobody ever bothers reading the good ones.
Yeah, so about Matt's hair color...
Blue- video game
Brown/green/whatever it is- anime
Blonde- Relight 2 (we can assume that it's his natural hair color because he was younger back then, and he dressed up like L.)
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 fourteen-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 emotions. He 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."
"Matt! Where have you been for the last three hours and why is your hair blue?" Roger, the current head of Wammy's House, yelled at Mail.
"I dyed it. You got a problem with that?" Mail grumbled.
"First, you disappear in the middle of class, and then you come back with blue hair. What were you thinking!"
"My natural blond hair was just too bright." he whined.
"And you thought that dyeing it blue would help? You're the second best student here, you should know better!" Roger scolded.
"I was the third best before Mello left." Mail pointed out."Besides, you can't boss me around anymore, I'm graduating in a bloody week."
'I swear, he's becoming more and more like Mello everyday.' Roger thought.
I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey if you stay, I'd be forgiven. Nothing you can say can stop me going home.
He watched his blood get washed away down to the drain as the shower head sprayed cold water on him. He grasped the blade with his trembling left hand while he stared at his wounds, although they weren't clearly visible because of his goggles.
All of his thoughts were foggy. Mail never cut himself that deep before. The stinging pain was worse than ever, but according to him, it felt amazing. It hurt so good that he couldn't stop being masochistic. It was his escape from misery and loneliness. That was his solution, escaping. Escaping through self mutilation, smoking, and countless hours locked up in his room playing video games alone.
His lower right arm already had multiple traces of the slashes. Some were scars from the old ones, the rest were newer wounds that haven't healed. The scars, his earlier cuts, were all parallel, precisely two centimeters apart from each other. But the most recent ones were sloppier. Some of the lines intersected, as if they formed letters. Four letters. And he was about to add a new one.
His angst started building up, the pressure was crushing down on him. His hand finally stopped shaking when he brought the tip of his blade to his arm, right next to one of the letters. Then, he cut in a circular motion, going deeper than he expected. He let out a quiet shriek when he suddenly realized how much he was bleeding. So, he quickly turned the water off and instinctively grabbed a towel that hung on a bar attached to the tiled wall and pressed it against his open, bloody cut.
After he returned to his room, Mail had to dry himself off with a blood stained towel before he got dressed. Rather than wearing his favorite white shirt that resembled L's, he wore a black and red striped one instead. Later, he took a cigarette from his secret stash under a floorboard, lit it, smoked it, then proceeded to his daily routine of exorbitant gameplay.
Can you see my eyes are shining bright, 'cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror, and I'm so weak.
Mihael already began investigating the Kira case shortly after he left. He managed to somehow move to America and live on his own. Unlike the others, he wasn't socially awkward and was able to befriend others easily. But he had an empty space in his heart that he knew only one person could fill. His closest friend.
Everyday, he would call Mail and send letters to him. He would answer every time, but as time went by, their calls have gotten shorter, and Mail eventually stopped writing back. Usually, he would answer Mihael's calls just telling him that everything was alright and to come back soon. Mihael knew that something was wrong.
There he was, standing before a mirror in the darkness of his apartment. He skimmed through the contacts on his cellphone and pressed the "call" button when he found Matt's name. There was no answer, it didn't even ring in the first place.
"Dammit, Matt. I miss you." he sighed and dramatically took a bite of his chocolate bar.
"Come on, Matt I need you."
Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete? A love that's so demanding, I get weak.
"Matt! Wake up, you're going to be late!" Linda called as she repeatedly knocked on Mail's door.
She tried waking him up for five minutes, banging on the door and yelling out his name, but she never got a response. Linda slightly turned the doorknob to check if it was unlocked, which it was. She felt awkward, invading someone's privacy, but it was possible that something terrible happened to Mail, therefore he couldn't answer.
Much to her surprise, everything in the bedroom was out of place since the last time she saw it, but there were only a couple things that were off. There was a pack of cigarettes on the floor and Mail was lying down on his bed, almost passed out.
"Oh my goodness! Matt, are you alright?" she worried.
She walked in and got a closer look at him. He was sprawled out, his sleeve was rolled down which uncovered his bloody, mutilated arm, and he had an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Right next to him, his cellphone rang loudly, and Linda answered the call.
"Matt! You finally answered! Don't tell me that everything is okay, because I know that there's something wrong and you better tell me!" the voice broke in.
"Mello?" Linda gasped.
"Linda? Why did you answer? Is Matt okay? What happened?"
"I don't know."
"Linda, the phone..." Mail weakly demanded.
"You're awake." she said, relieved.
Mail took his cellphone from her hand and spoke to Mihael.
"Mello, don't worry. Everything is fine."
"What do you mean? I'm smart enough to figure out that something is wrong, just tell me."
"Please just come home."
Mail hung up.
"Matt, why don't you just tell him?" Linda yelled.
"Tell him what?"
"About your addiction!" she chimed in. "You smoke and play video games all day long. And you slit your wrists!"
"Those aren't addictions, Linda." Mail argued.
"Call them 'obsessions' or 'escapes' or whatever, but you have to stop. Now give me the blade." she commanded.
"Don't play dumb with me! I know you're hiding something."
"No, you're not. You'll probably become an alcoholic or a druggie soon enough."
"That's an exaggeration."
Linda wanted to smack herself in the head because of Mail's stubbornness, but all she could do was try to help him.
"It seems like you're not the Matt that I used to know." she frowned. "But you'll get through this, trust me."
I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone. Honey if you stay, I'd be forgiven. Nothing you can say can stop me going home.
"It's been years, Mello."
"Matt... What have you done to yourself?"
"It doesn't matter, you fulfilled your promise."
These bright lights have always blinded me. These bright lights have always blinded me, I say...
"So it was true. All those calls I got from Linda... I never knew you suffered this much when I was gone."
It was on the day the two reunited. Mihael stared at the friend he hadn't seen in years, shocked by how much he had changed. He still had his usual gaming habits and goggles, but the smoking was new, and the bright red hair as well. So were the scars on his wrists. Mihael counted each one, traced them with his finger, and read what the letters had to say.
"How much did Linda tell you?" Mail asked in monotone.
"She told me that you were depressed and suicidal. And she always ranted about your addictions and how she would try so hard to help you get over them."
"That's a lie."
"It doesn't look like she lied." Mihael answered back while he pointed at the scars.
"Yes, I was depressed. But I wasn't suicidal. If I killed myself, I wouldn't see you anymore."
Mail's words almost made the blond shed a tear, but he smiled, instead.
"So what are these words supposed to mean?" Mihael questioned.
"Oh, these?" Mail said, looking at the evidence of his masochism. "You don't have to know. You already responded."
"It says 'MELLO, COME HOME.' Did you seriously cut that into yourself? And where exactly is 'home?'"
"Ask yourself." Mail replied. "All I know is that I am home right now, because you're here."
I see you lying next to me with words I thought I'd never speak, awake and unafraid, asleep or dead.
A/N: yes, Matt was taking a shower with his goggles on, while being emo. And I have NOTHING against emo kids. And I'm sorry for not looking up synonyms for "blood."
Once again, please review, unless you want some random kid ending up like Matt in his depression phase.