Inferiority Complex, a death note fanfic

Disclaimer: If I owned Matsuda...well...that would be pretty awesome. But I don't. So there.

AN: Matsuda shares one thing in common with Mello. That little feeling of being inferior. So...Here's my first DN fanfiction. Fweeeeeeeee.

For him, it was difficult to be in a position where he was surrounded by people he found to be so much smarter than him, so much more capable, so much less likely to screw up everything. The last time he'd tried to be capable and prove himself, he'd had to fake his own death, and he'd never been so frightened in his entire life. It made him doubt his ability to handle the Kira case, just because of that fear. That's what had caused so many to quit it right from the beginning. Was he any better?

If it weren't for people such as Ryuuzaki and Mr.Yagami, he would be dead. Yet they were both dead now, and there was nothing he had done about it. Maybe there was nothing he could have done, but perhaps if he was smarter, more alert, he could have somehow helped.

Sometimes, it was hard to feel so inferior to everyone else.

Sometimes, he just wanted to be anything better than Touta Matsuda.

"Fuck, Mello! What the hell happened to you?"

Mello gingerly touched the scar that now consumed half of his face.

"This is what happens when I try to be better than Near," he murmured bitterly. "I become a Mafia thug and get half of my face melted off."

Matt was uncharacteristically silent for a moment.

"What?" snapped Mello, waving his bar of chocolate in annoyance. "Does how I look bother you that much?!"

Matt sat down next to his friend, halfheartedly pressing buttons on his DS.

"We're going to get killed if we go on like this," he said, still staring at his pokemon game despite the fact that his mind was quite clearly somewhere else.

Mello said nothing.

"You want to be the best," said Matt, a detached half-smile on his face, "And I want you to be the best. But is that blinding us to the fact that we could die trying?"

There were many things Mello could have said. He could have argued that if anyone were to die, it would be him. He could have defended his position. He could have said nothing.

"I don't know," he replied.

It was almost monotone.

Matsuda was in a helpful mood. There just wasn't all that much for him to help with. Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide were off doing work of their own, and he was, once again, staying at headquarters with Light. Light, however, was busy doing computer work, which left him to be bored out of his mind.

"So..." he began somewhat timidly, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

The other young man looked up, thought for a second, and said, "I suppose you could get me a coffee."

Matsuda looked down. Ryuuzaki had asked him the same question once, hadn't he? Maybe that was all he was good for. Doing busy work. Fetching drinks for people. Being utterly insignificant.

"Right," he laughed. "I'll go do that."

As he left, Light laughed to himself, and Kira sent some very important emails.

"What the hell kind of place has all of these flavors of ice-cream but not regular fricking chocolate?!"

Matt had suggested that they go out and do something relaxing, just to distract them from the task at hand, but Mello – apparently – didn't know how to relax.

"I'm going to...go get a pack of cigarettes from that place over there. Try to survive with something other than Chocolate. And don't go shooting anyone," he sighed, adjusting his goggles.

"I don't go shooting people because I'm frustrated. I don't even like ice cream that much anyway – it was your idea."

Matt rolled his eyes – not that Mello could see it, he had his goggles on – and went to get his cigarettes, muttering to himself.

While going to get coffee for Light, Matsuda realized that they had ice cream as well.

"Wow, look at all the flavors!" He said, with a rather boyish, happy smile that made him look less like a task force member and more like a small child who had barely seen the world.

"They don't have chocolate though," muttered an annoyed voice next to him. "Pansy."

Matsuda sobered up immediately. "I – I guess I just –"

"I don't need an explanation for your oddities, dumbass. I don't even know you."

Matsuda looked somewhere else. He had to get Light his drink. At the same time, though, he was feeling depressed at being treated as so useless and expendable, and ice cream seemed like a good idea for a pick-me-up.

'Though if this angry person keeps making comments at me, maybe I should go back...'

Then Matsuda had an epiphany.

'Wait...this person is at least ten years younger than me and looks sort of like a girl! So it's not like he can make me doubt my sexuality just because I'm happier than him!'

So Matsuda decided he was getting ice cream.

"Are you in line are do you just enjoy staring off into space looking as stupid as you do?"

'Actually, I don't need it, Light's waiting for me."

Then, Matsuda had another epiphany about how he was definitely the least assertive person he knew, and that he really was being an idiot.

"I'm in line!" he said in a way that was more 'spontaneously happy' than assertive.

"Yeah...That's really fucking great for you. This must be a big step forward."

Matsuda mentally began cursing at himself.

Mello was becoming extremely, extremely annoyed. He had just discovered that there was a type of person who frustrated him almost as much as Near. He'd seen stereotypical teenage girls less flighty than the guy.

If only Mello had gotten in line thirty seconds earlier, he wouldn't have this problem. Actually, he didn't know why he was still there. They didn't have chocolate. They had names that sounded drug induced – things like purple cow and kitten paws and other things that apparently involved mutilating animals to appease small children – but there was no strawberry, no vanilla, and more importantly no chocolate.

And now the guy was ordering.

"And you'll have?" asked the man behind the counter. Mello was used to seeing teenagers working at these types of places, but this guy was one of those middle-aged peoplewho just seemed naturally pedophilic by selling ice cream.

"Uh...I don't know," began the man. "I can't really tell what any of those things are..."

Mello rolled his eyes. 'Aaand...this must be his next victim. A little too old, but hey, the mindset fits.'

After a minute or two of the man in front him not choosing anything, Mello took matters into his own hands and pushed him out of the way. He looked rather flustered.

"I was going to buy something..."

"How about this," snapped Mello. "You go tell your mother that I'm not playing nice and then she can call my lovely home at the orphanage and they can ground me when I go home in a few years."

The look on the man's face was somewhere between embarrassment and irritation.

"Now hold on a second..."

Before the conversation could continue further, the man behind the counter said something that was far beyond the bounds of the dumbest thing that the idiot from line could ever say.

"Hey punk, where'd the scar on your face come from?"

The silence that followed wasn't just an awkward one. It was the 'holy-crap-all-these-people-are-going-to-die-slow-and-painful-deaths' type of silence.

"You mother fucking son of a bitch!" he shouted, clutching the front of the man's shirt in anger. "It's none of your business!"

Matsuda marveled at how much the teenager was swearing for a grand total of three seconds before he remembered he was a police officer and should have been doing something about it. The thing was, the boy had already stopped and was already storming off. And Matsuda didn't really want to suffer the wrath of a gender confused teen. Or anyone, for that matter. It was enough to work on a case where he could potentially die every day.

Mello sat on an uncomfortable bench, wanting Matt to return, but way too stubborn to go and get him. He was still unreasonably angered by the question on his appearance. Mello had always seen himself as the outcast, because of how he dressed and acted, but at least he felt he was defining himself in that way. Now he felt like the scar was defining him, and he didn't like it.

He ostracized himself enough, he didn't need it to be done for him.

Matsuda didn't even notice whom he sat next to when he heard his cell phone ring. It was Light.

"Are you alright? You're taking a while."

Matsuda rubbed the back of his head nervously, not that Light could see it.

"I was held back for a minute. That is to say, there was a long wait..."

Light was silent for a second. "That's fine. There's not really any rush." 'In fact, it's better to be rid of you.'

"It's just..." Matsuda searched for words. "I know I'm not as good as the others at this, or as helpful...And it's not that I feel the need to surpass them or anything, I just want to work with them as equals..."

Light was mildly surprised at Matsuda's sudden dialogue, but he also didn't care.

"It's fine. You don't need to think that way." 'And don't talk about the case in public, you stupid fool.'

"Right. Well, I'll be right there, anyway."

Light had already hung up.

Mello didn't care much about the fact that a certain idiot had sat next to him. He could care less. The guy hadn't even seen him, much less was he talking to him.

But for whatever reason, he listened, and heard something that piqued his interest slightly.

"I just want to work with them as equals..."

Mello had sometimes wondered exactly what it was he'd wanted from Near. Years ago, he had almost thought that he'd wanted to be his equal, but the more he felt he was failing, the more obsessed he came with surpassing him. For a second, just one, the somewhat older man in front of him reminded him of a younger shred of himself. Except for the fact that Mello was smarter, of course.

Matsuda hung up as well, sighing to himself and closing his eyes.

"Feeling inferior?" asked an amused voice, and he heard the sound of something snapping.

"Maybe," the person said, not bothering to open his eyes. He sounded...drained. Like he'd stopped serving a purpose and he was just an empty shell trudging through each day, waiting for an opportune moment where he could shine, just for a moment. A second, even.

"Good, then. I'm having one of those moments too."

Matsuda opened his eyes more. He noticed that it was the teen from earlier, and said person was holding a rather large bar of chocolate. They had an enigmatic smile on their face. So that was the snapping noise he heard...

"Are you?" he asked cautiously.

"It's not a moment, per say," Said the boy in a more indifferent, casual tone. "It's more like the entirety of a completely fucked up life, but who wants to think of it that way? And you you've got the exact same thing in front of you, don't you?"

"I guess so," said Matsuda quietly. He had no idea why he was suddenly talking to this person, nor why they were talking to him. "Everyone's expectations of me are so standard...I don't know how to prove them wrong."

"Same here. There's really only one little bastard in my way, but that's enough for me to be obsolete in the eyes of a lot of people around me. Such an antisocial little son of a –"

"But..." began Matsuda slowly, not wanting this person to hit him if he said the wrong thing, "What do you want more, to be accepted or to be the best?"

"I'm neither right now. And I'm not one to call myself social. So beating that bastard is my only option."

Matsuda wanted to protest, but he couldn't really argue that this person was antisocial.

"How would you solve that problem?"

The person across from him rolled his eyes. "I have my plans."

Matsuda stared distractedly at his hand, playing with the sleeves. "I don't have any plans. I'm not that good at making them. I want to wait for the right moment, and I'll try and use it to do the right thing."

"You might die waiting. And I might die trying. Quite interesting, really, if you think about it." The scar-covered teen took another bite of his chocolate, the smile on his face somewhat sad and bitter.

"But why might you d-"

"Not important," interrupted the blond.

"I was just wondering w-"

"I said it's not fucking important."

Matsuda was quiet for a second. "Okay, then. You're right, it's not my business."

Mello was silent as well for a moment. So he did one of the only two things he could in an awkward situation. He ate chocolate. The other option was to pull out the gun and point it at someone, but he was surprised to find that the dimwit in the suit and tie was a much more bearable person when you actually started a conversation with him.

That person's voice broke the silence once again.

"Well...I hope you're able to defeat that person you don't like, anyway."

Mello looked directly at the person for the first time in the entire conversation.

"What the hell are you talking about? You can't root for one side if you haven't heard the other! I mean, sure, the guy is a complete bastard, but are you going to honestly judge based on my opinion?"

The other man cringed slightly.

"I'm sorry...Sometimes I like to trust in a person's word..."

"Right," scoffed Mello, who was momentarily entertaining himself by idly flicking specks of paint off the bench. "And I bet all of the people you associate with are perfect angels, is that it? None of them would ever betray you?"

"Yes," protested the other in a much more authoritative voice than Mello thought he was capable of. The expression on his face was stern and unwavering. "I trust every single one of my friends, and I have no intention of thinking any other way."

Mello looked somewhere else. He wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"You're an idiot."

"I'm not."

"Trust me, you are. Naive pansy."

Matsuda was frustrated with this person, yet intrigued at the same time. But mostly frustrated.

'Aizawa, Mogi, Ide, Light...I trust all of them.'

So why was he feeling a little unsure?

"You don't know what you're saying either!" he argued, and his voice rose somewhat. "I'm sure that it's your own fault that people don't trust you. You probably keep yourself in a box and away from people!"

The blond boy twitched. "You should watch what you say to me. I don't like criticism from people like you."

"What do you mean 'people like me?' So I'm just the same as everyone else, because I can't do anything right? Because no one can do anything right? What makes you so different from me?!"

He was surprised when he was grabbed by the shirt in a way similar to how the other man had been.

"What the fuck would you know?! There's a lot that separates me and you! For one, I'm not a ridiculously naive idiot who goes about thinking that everything is shiny and happy and perfect like a child would! Look around you, jackass! There's a maniac going around killing people and playing the game of God! But what he doesn't realize is that no matter how many locked up prisoners he kills, there's always going to be death, disease, deceitful people and poverty and not a fucking thing he does will change that! And there's nothing you or I can do to change everything!" He yelled, shaking Matsuda despite the fact that the man was around ten years older than him.

"But we can change something!"

Mello froze for a second. And then a voice completely broke the stillness.

"Sooo...Who's this?"

At hearing the voice that could have only belonged to Matt, Mello immediately backed off of the man. "What took you so long? And I don't know who this is."

The goggle-clad redhead grinned, glancing briefly at the blank look on the face of the unfamiliar man on the bench. "So, you don't even know him? And to think I thought you were you were cheating on me!"

The black haired man, seemingly only having just come out of a temporary trance to hear Matt's very last sentence, automatically said "I'm sorry! I didn't know you were-"

"We're not!" Snapped Mello, turning back to Matt. "Like I asked, What took you?"

"The woman behind the counter was going on for about fifteen minutes about my wonderful display of individuality because I have red hair and a striped shirt. And I couldn't get her to shut up and give me the damn cigarettes for the entire time. Then she had to show herself to be the only convenience store worker to ask for an ID, which I didn't have of course. So here I am...without something to smoke. I notice you have chocolate, though."

"I always do."

"I have no idea where from...but...you stole it, didn't you?"

"..."

Mello stood up. "I suppose we should go off now." He didn't even bother to look at Matt or the other man, and started walking away

Matt stared after him curiously, thinking that perhaps something had happened.

Matsuda pushed himself back up on the bench. He was clueless as to who the newcomer was, but he was bothered by the fact that he was just walking away.

"Hey," he said.

The blond stopped without turning around.

"W-whatever choices you make, and through whatever means you make them...even if you think that I'll go nowhere...I hope you get to where you want to be."

The teen turned around. It was hard to understand what the expression on his face was.

Matsuda approached him and held out his hand.

"Good luck," he said simply.

Mello did not take it.

"Good luck to you too."

Matt followed Mello, not quite sure what was going on, and he knew his friend well enough to refrain from asking for a little while.

"So," he said slowly, a grin on his face once more as they left. " Shall we continue resorting to highly illegal activities as we try to catch another guy who also resorts to highly illegal activities?"

Mello gave him the wry, devious smile that had become more and more like him over the years. But below it was a friendlier smile that only Matt ever saw.

"Of course."

They had no idea what the future would hold, but sometimes it was better not to know. They would dive in headfirst, and only hope that they could learn to swim fast enough.

Matsuda knew that Aizawa was upset with him when he found out how long Light had been left alone. He just didn't know why.

"Touta Matsuda," mused Mello to himself, looking at his files on the task force. "I would never have guessed from meeting him."

There was something about the guy from the coffee shop that made Matsuda think he'd heard of him before. He just couldn't remember what.

--------------

They had done a dangerous thing, kidnapping Takada.

When Mello turned on the television during his plan, he'd wished he hadn't. He could remember talking to Matt...he remembered his voice and laid-back personality...the way he dressed...how he played games all the time and smoked and got bored easily...that was Matt.

But there wasn't a Matt anymore. There was a corpse, a bloody, bullet-filled corpse that would be buried nameless in some lonely place...That was Matt now.

And it was his fault, his mistake.

But not his plan. The person he knew would die was not supposed to be Matt. Not him.

Matsuda fell to the ground, numb, the sound echoing in the warehouse.

'Light is Kira...all this time he's been Kira! His father died for nothing! Everything was for nothing! Everything...'

But this person...laughing and talking about killing them...uncaring about all but himself and his power...

'It's not Light anymore...This is just Kira! Light is already gone! He's been gone!'

When he saw the small shred of the death note Light had, that he was going to kill someone else, he pulled out his gun and shot.

When he saw that Light was desperate enough to write on it with his own blood, he shot again. And again. He had never been so angry. And never so torn.

'I have to kill him!'

When Mello felt his heart beat irregularly, he knew it was all over. He didn't even get to live for his best friend. He couldn't have said goodbye or thanked him or saved him, but he had wanted to live so that someone would mourn him.

Sometimes, he wondered if he had done the right thing. He hadn't killed Light, but he had helped. It didn't feel right, even if he had been Kira. But that's what he had waited for. That moment. His moment.

And he'd remembered that person from the bench. That person so unlike him. He wondered if their path had worked for them.

Matsuda still wanted to believe in good. In people. In life.

He hoped it had.

Review. I have sharp objects. is eating dividers and random words when I post stuff...It even ate my AN...