Chapter 7: Gone

Mello's POV

Three months. Three months of utter torture. Three months of barely saying two words to Matt, or anyone else for that matter. I'd kept to myself, barely eating, and spending all my time either studying or hanging around in the village near Wammy's. I hardly even bothered with Near for all that time (emphasis on the 'hardly', of course I still hated him and would beat him to a pulp every chance I got, I just did it more discreetly now...). The teachers and students alike noticed my obvious change in behaviour. Every kid in Wammy's knew it was because of Matt, though I doubted they knew the details. I couldn't say the same for the teachers, who didn't know anything. They just left me alone, clearly afraid that I would change back to my demonic self at any provocation.

Matt had tried a countless number of times to talk to me, but every time he did I had either ignored him or walked away. And I regretted it more each time I shut him out. I wished I could have had the courage to talk to him, to tell him how I felt. Because, yes, three months pretty much alone gave me more than enough time to think, and... I loved him. But I had only just come to terms with it and I was still having a hard time. I didn't want to think that I needed him just as much as he needed me, I hated feeling so dependent on someone that I could no longer lay any claim to.

I was sitting on my bed, alone in the room, trying to study, but my mind drifted to other things so frequently that I had all but abandoned my hopeless quest for knowledge.

I was bored of the monotonous existence that my life had become. At least when I had Matt we would try our hardest to break the flow of things at Wammy's. Either by torturing the teachers with our ill-conceived antics, or by constantly finding new ways to break the rules.

Now each day was pretty much the same; wake up, avoid Matt, go to classes, avoid Matt, skip out on lunch and head to the nearest village (a good way of avoiding Matt), study, sleep, rinse and repeat. The only differences I had were that occasionally instead of going into the village I would stay in my room (but only if Matt wasn't there).

I felt increasingly pathetic and even though I managed to stay from that certain red-head, Linda still somehow managed to sink her sharp, hooked claws into me. She had taken it upon herself to become Matt's personal caretaker, constantly harassing me whenever she could. Of course I would still shout back whenever she tried to insult me, but my heart was never fully in it.

.oOo.

I was sitting silently in class, at the very back like always, furiously working at the quadratic equations written on the board in front of me, desperately trying to finish them before Near. There was a knock on the door and one of the various helper nannies that worked at Wammy's poked her head in.

"Excuse me." she said, in a heavy north London accent. "Mr. Roger wants to see Mello and Near in his office. Now."

"Very well, Mello, Near, off you go. You can finish when you return." The teacher shooed us out of the classroom and we followed the nanny to the old pedos office. I knew nothing he could say would interest me, he probably just wanted to have one of those "talks" about my behaviour. I thought back, but couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary that I'd done, apart from the usual that is. Roger had already noticed my change in attitude and had told me he was "proud" to see that I was finally maturing. Hah, that's a laugh and a half, he could just go and fuck himself.

I barged in unannounced, just to annoy Roger and glared at him until he started talking. That sheep freak crawled in slowly behind me and began putting together a completely white puzzle, rhythmically snapping the pieces into place. I hadn't even been here five minutes and already that fucking pyjama boy was pissing me off.

Snap. Snap.

"Mello, Near..." He didn't continue for a while, so I decided to prompt him. The sooner I got out of Near's proximity, the better.

Snap. Snap.

"What is it, Roger?"

Snap. Snap.

His head rested silently on his intertwined hands for a few moments longer before he answered.

Snap. Snap.

"L is...dead."

Snap.

My mind went completely blank for a second, and then suddenly everything went into overdrive. Dead? How could he be dead? L was my dream, my one goal in life. Every child in Wammy's dreamed of L, they all aspired to be him, some even went crazy from the pressure of trying to succeed him. How could something – someone – like that die?

My eyes flitted to the white monstrosity kneeling beside me. His face was as impassive as ever, as if he'd just been told Wammy's was getting new wallpaper, instead of learning that the Saviour had died. You'd think that little bastard would show at least a small amount of remorse.

My thoughts moved on to another frightening thought: how had L died? I tried to think back, what case had L been working on most recently? The Kira case, it was the only one big and strange enough to interest him. A heart attack then. I felt jilted that something so mundane could kill L, no matter how different the circumstances were. But I had to be sure.

"It was Kira wasn't it? He said he would see Kira dead." My voice came out shamefully high-pitched and strained, and I couldn't decide if it was from anger, shock or sorrow.

"It was most likely Kira. Yes." My fists were clenched and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

"He lost to Kira. He was nothing but a loser." The sound of Near's voice shocked me, and it brought up another painful subject. I almost couldn't ask, but I had to.

"W-who did he pick? Which of us did L..."

"He didn't, Mello. And now it's too late... But how would you two like to work together?" Work together? Work...together? Work together? No matter how many times I said it to myself it still sounded ridiculous. Working with that...that emotionless white freak would be physically impossible!

"Yes, that sounds fine." WHAT? How could that possibly sound fine? He didn't even look up as he said it. He can't under any circumstances want to work with me, can he? NO! Even if he does, I refuse! I refuse to work with that underhanded little sneak! How could L do this to me?

I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself before I spoke.

"That's impossible, Roger. Near and I never have and never will be able to work together. I don't care, Near can be L's successor. Unlike me, he'll solve the puzzle without his nonexistent emotions getting in the way."

"Mello-"

"I'm leaving now, I'm old enough to take care of myself. I'll live life my own way." I turned my back on them and walked out, slamming the door as I went. I knew it was rash, but what else could I do? I couldn't stay in the orphanage and watch as Near got to live out my dreams. No, I'd pack my bags and find my own way to avenge L's death.

I headed towards my room, I only had one other thing I had to do.

Matt's POV

I woke up slowly and turned to face Mello's bed. I knew it would be empty, but I always checked, just in case Mello had decided for once to sleep in, instead of waking up as early as possible merely to avoid me.

I gradually got out of bed and did all the usual morning things. I only noticed something was wrong as I was about to get dressed. Why was Mello's bed made? His philosophy was always "What's the point in making a bed that's just gonna get un-made? I hurried to his desk and opened the drawer that kept his never ending supply of chocolate. Empty. His clothes were gone, along with his toothbrush and everything else he owned.

I didn't think as I ran down the stairs to Roger's office, still in my pajamas. I burst through the doors shouting.

"WHERE IS HE? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH HIM?" Roger looked up from his paperwork, startled.

"Matthew, what ever is the matter?"

"Mello! Where the fuck is Mello?!" He put down his pen slowly and sighed"

"Ah, I see. Why don't you take a seat while I explains things to you?"

"I don't want to take a fucking seat, I want you to tell me what you've done with Mello!" He pursed his lips at my colourful use of the english language, but continued anyway.

"I would have thought he'd have told you, I know how close you two are. No? Well, then, this may be a little difficult to hear but, Mello has left us." My brain couldn't quite process the notion of there not being any more Mello. My hands relaxed, leaving little half-moon marks from my nails digging into my palms and my head drooped, my anger almost completely spent. Silence filled the room, filled only by the pitter patter of english rain.

"What do you mean left? Where did he go? Why?" I continued in a whisper.

"He refused to succeed L with Near and cooperate, so he decided to live on his own. He did not tell me where he was going."

"L? L is...dead?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so-" I didn't hear the rest of his sentence as I ran full pelt out of the room. I pushed open the huge front door of Wammy's and hurried out into the courtyard. The gravel cut open my bare feet but I didn't stop until I'd reached the gates. I sank to my knees and howled, my tears mingling with the rain that was pouring down. Goddamn you L, it's your fault. You took away Mello. Mello is gone because of L.

I grasped the iron grill of the barrier and pulled myself up. Stumbling back up to my room, I just stood in the doorway for about ten minutes, dripping rain water onto the carpet. Then I walked to my bed and flopped down.

.oOo.

A week later and I was forced to remain in my room, for fear of spreading the flu I had caught to the other orphans. How ironic that I should be left to stir in my own depressingly melancholic thoughts. I had twice considered killing myself, but those thoughts were only brought on by self-pity. The kind where you contemplated taking a long walk off a short plank just to see if anyone would really care, I quickly pushed the idea out of my mind, scolding myself for being so self absorbed.

Linda had come round a few times to see how I was doing, and to try and clean up a bit, but I hadn't let her. My floor was covered in junk food wrappers, dirty clothes and even a few cigarette butts. The stench of smoke mingling with my own sweat hung thick and heavy in the air, and the fact that I was filthy only added to the disgust that I felt with myself. Yet I was either too weak or too dismal to shower.

A few days later and I finally set foot in my bathroom. My fever had gone down, and the hot water helped the ache my back from lying in bed too long. I came out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist, but I realised as I looked around the room, that if I sat anywhere i would instantly by dirty again.

Right. Time to get out of this gloomy rut and sort myself out. I had never been one to dwell, and I wasn't about to start now. The first thing I did was open the window, even though the air was fairly chilly. I got rid of all the trash first, then the dirty laundry, after that I put on some clean clothes and started cleaning more thoroughly. I had never been much of a neat-freak, but now I found it helped clear my head a little. I got down on my hands and knees to check for anything under the bed, before I vacuumed there. Strange, I didn't remember losing anything that I'd written recently, what was that piece of paper doing under my bed?

Reaching under, I pulled out the neatly folded A4 sheet. There didn't seem to be much written on it, so I didn't think I had found anything interesting, maybe a cheat to a game I'd wanted to remember, but when I read what was on it all my breath left me.

I must have sat there for at least half an hour before anything properly registered. And only a few days later I realised what it really meant, because there, on that single most important piece of paper in my life were written two words, in Mello's neat, girlish scrawl.

I'm sorry.