Author's Note: This was written for the 30kisses challenge on Livejournal, but since I love you all, I thought I should post it here too. It's very different from anything else I've written, as this piece relies heavily on symbolism-type things. Either way, I hope it's alright. I'm trying to decide if I'm happy with how it turned out or not.

Anyways, please review and let me know what you all think!! ^_^

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Title: Memories Of A Color
Author: Josephine Falnor
Pairing: Mello/Matt (or Matt/Mello…either one…)
Fandom: Death Note
Theme: #19: Red
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Matt, or Mello. If I did, I wouldn't be in school. I'd be writing manga, or something awesome like that. Oh, and Mello/Matt would be canon, of course.
Rating: T
Warning: **spoilers for Death Note series! I'd suggest not reading this if you haven't finished the series, and you don't want anything spoiled.**

POV: Mello

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I've seen red many times through my life, and over time, it's become a color that I connect with pain. I can never allow myself to associate it with anything good. When I see it, it never precedes or follows something pleasant.

Even the first real memory I have involves the color red. I remember seeing my father shot, the red blood slowly escaping from the bullet holes in his body, running all over the floor. At the time, I had no idea why he'd been shot. To be honest, I still don't know why it happened. I just know he was my only family. That's all that matters to you when you're a four year old kid.

After his death, I remember looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes red from crying when I realized I was all alone. I wanted to die, but I was too scared at the time to kill myself. I never cried again after that, not wanting my eyes to be red like that again. It was the only level of control I felt like I had over my life.

I remember the red sunrise when I first arrived at Wammy's House. I had no idea at the time of the sort of hell I was walking into. The constant need to be better than the others; to be good enough to become the next L. It was impossible really, the way it was set up. Only one person could ever be good enough, and I could never pass them, no matter how hard I tried. Everyone knew it, even me. I just denied that fact. Even to this day, when I look at the front of that building, or picture it in my head, I see the red sunrise.

Red was the color of the sunset as I left Wammy's House, shortly after L's death. Considering how much I hated it there, you'd think I'd have been happy to go. However, I lost everything that had given my life meaning for the ten years since I'd arrived there. I'd left Matt, the one person that I'd called my 'friend' there, despite how hard it was. I really wanted to take him with me, but it wouldn't have been fair. After that night, the feeling of being alone awoke again inside of me, and all I could see was red.

Red was the color of Soichiro Yagami's eyes when he found me at the hideout. He was supposed to kill me, and the eyes that he traded his life span for were going to help him, but he was weak, and couldn't bring himself to write my name in his death note. I stared death in the face, and death's eyes were red. I tried to get rid of them by setting off the bomb that almost ended my life. I was lucky to get out of that alive. If my old friend Matt hadn't come, I know I'd have died there, alone and surrounded by the red blaze of fire.

Even now, red is the color of the burned skin all along the left side of my body. Red is the color of the blood that oozes out slowly, reminding me again of when I was four and my father was killed.

Red is the color of Matt's hair. He carefully tries to clean the blood off of me; tries not to cause me any more pain than he has to. Just watching as he takes away the red blood calms me down.

Red is the color of his lips, and after a moment, I realize I'm staring at them.

Red is the color of the blush in my face as I lean forward, touching my lips against his momentarily, before pulling away.

Red is the color of his cheeks, as he realizes what just happened.

He leans forward again and presses his lips to mine, kissing me again.

The warmth I feel is red.

The closeness is red.

The love is red.

Maybe red isn't such a bad color after all.