A/N: This is dedicated to 9shadowcat9. Hope you like it!

Its also my first lemon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.

Sometimes I wonder why you came and asked me to help you, after four years of your sudden departure. I often find myself pausing the game in my handheld, as I sit on the raggedy couch in our shared apartment, just to ponder over the reasons why you came back to me.

Shit, we were best friends and all, still are, but why do you look at me with that glint in your eye? Why do you stare at me longingly, with a distant look filling in those soft, blue orbs that turn cold like ice at the drop of a pin? Why do I sometimes see you having an internal battle with yourself, and lightly blushing?

What? You think I don't notice?

Well, I do.

I know you want me, Mello. I know exactly what it is that you want. Although why you won't come up and demand it of me, like the cold, selfish, demanding son-of-a-bitch that you are, is beyond me. Is there something about me that makes me so damn special? Is that why you look at me with what seems to be l-

Whoa. Hang on a second. Mihael Keehl doesn't love anyone, and neither does Mail Jeevas.

But for a second, I could almost believe that you do.

I decide to humor you, as cruel as it sounds, but maybe the both of us need this, or maybe it's just you. Maybe this is all you want.

Me? I could care less. Let's just do this.

I oh-so-gently take your hand, and lead you into the bedroom across the hall.

You grunt as you push into me, and I moan at the feeling of being completely full. You set a steady and rhythmic pace and its pain and pleasure all at once. I had said we should skip the foreplay and the stretching; just get it over with.

I look into your eyes, and I see concern, laced with pity. I don't want your fucking pity. I want…I want…mmmph. I can't even finish my sentence, all coherent thoughts flying rapidly out the window as you roughly attack my lips with yours. I give in and kiss back, feverishly, almost needy. Maybe I really needed this as well.

Might as well savor the moment, right?

Your thrusting soon becomes faster and harder, and jolt of pleasure is sent rushing down my spine as you find the nerves that make me see stars and white and…oh fuck! That feels so good.

"Do that again," I tell you, and there's a light of amusement in your eyes as you comply with my demands, my needs. I'm moaning loudly, and I faintly hear you mutter my name as you slow down a bit. Running my fingers through your hair, I sit up, balancing on my elbows, and plant soft kisses over your face, over the scarred flesh, down your cute, straight nose. I feel you tense up inside of me, and I know you're so close. I finish first, and I'm seeing black spots in front of me, and I can't think straight as I feel your hot liquid coating my insides, signaling that you're finished.

Is it just me, or did I hear you whisper those three words? The ones you said you would never utter? My heart flutters a bit, and I gently pat your head; I don't return those words of affection, those words of dying agony, and you don't seem to notice.

Either that, or you just don't care.

Your semen feels...warm, and it's running down the inside of my thighs. I see your head descend between my legs, and I feel your hot, pink tongue licking up your seed from my body. I'm almost ready to cum again.

You're done, and you tell me to shower with you. I do just that.

Morning comes too quickly for my liking. So this is it, the final goodbye, if even you could manage it. I'm standing by my car, waiting for you to come out. Your bike is next to me. Finally, I hear the door to our shitty apartment close, and you walk over to me, and stand directly in front of me. You're so short; your head comes right below my chin. As you tilt your head upwards, I look into your eyes and see fear, and…regret? Regret for last night, or for getting yourself into this mess, I'm not sure which one it stands for. All I know is that I have the sudden urge to wrap my arms around your delicate frame, and I do it. You tense up a bit, and my embrace on you goes tighter. As I rest my chin on top of your head of beautiful, golden blond locks, you say, "Don't be stupid, Matt," and your efforts to push me away are half-hearted.

You gently return my embrace either way.

Quickly you pull away after you think we've had enough of this fucked up affection, say we got a job to do. You kiss me one last time, and I can feel you pour everything into this fierce kiss, as cliché as it sounds.

"Goodbye, Mail," you say, and you're gone. I follow after you like the obedient dog that I am, always have been.

An hour later finds me completely surrounded by these fucking goons, who suddenly have the right to bear arms. My hands are up in the air, my big mouth stupidly trying to stall them so I can sneakily reach my hand down the back of my shirt, and retrieve the gun that's hiding there. I won't win, I knew that already; I've known it since the beginning, since you called me that one year ago to ask for my help.

My body quickly makes friends with these twenty-four bullets that are shot at me so quickly. I'm gonna die; I lost already. Big fucking surprise.

I just didn't think I would lose like this.

I didn't think we would lose like this.

As I fall back against my car with a loud thud, (heh, so sitting there all those hours really did make me put on weight), I take one last, long drag of my cigarette, and before I can close my eyes and wander into a blind eternity, I finally let the realization form completely in my mind:

It was never love, Mihael; only the need for you to feel safe.

Well 9shadowcat9, I hope it was to your liking!