Devotion

I always had a sense of devotion to Mello. He was the only one who acknowledged me at Wammy's House for being a person, and not just 'third'. Although, when I got a phone call out of the blue, I seriously questioned that devotion.

Needless to say I was surprised. The last time I saw Mello had been at least five or so years ago, before he ran away from the orphanage. Soon after I had left as well, moving from place to place for a few years.

"Matt." He said simply.

"Mello? How did you find me?" I wondered out loud, setting down my game controller.

"Wasn't easy." He admitted, a bid grudgingly I might add, and I couldn't help the smug grin that plastered its way across my face. He continued, "But, that's beside the point. I need your help." It wasn't until then I heard the roughness of his voice. Was he okay?

"Sure, what's up?"

"I need you to come get me."

Upon arriving at the address Mello had given me, I looked upon the tattered remains of what once was a building, and I wondered how anyone could have survived anything big enough to reduce such a large building to this. Without wasting anymore time and hoping that Mello was still alive, I lit a cigarette and walked towards the building. My chest felt tight after fifteen minutes without luck. What if I never found him?

The sun was starting to set behind me, and I still needed to find him. What if he was dead? What if I was too late? What if- A sudden coughing pulled me from my thoughts. My heart stopped.

"Mello?" I called, trying to relocate the origin of the sound.

"Here." Came the relieved, but hoarse reply. I rounded the corner, finding a scene that looked like it had been cut out of a movie.

Mello was sitting with his back against a partially smashed wall, his clothes torn to shreds and blood running out of cuts along his body. An angry red burn covered the upper left half of his body, including the left half of his face.

"Fuck, what the hell happened to you?" I muttered, walking towards him slowly, still surveying the damage. He was missing a shoe, and his pants were torn at the right knee, showing a nasty gash. He just glared at me exhausted. "Yeah, never mind. I always knew you'd get into some kind of trouble and drag me into it somehow or another."

It must have hurt too much for him to talk, or he probably would have chewed me out, cursed at me, or something, but I was thankful he didn't. For now, I just needed to get him taken care of.

I put my cigarette out, and picked him up very gently. "You're going to be the death of me..." I mumbled to him quietly. He didn't say anything.

For several weeks Mello stayed at my apartment while I took care of him 24/7. It was obvious that we couldn't go to a hospital; we didn't have real identities or records of any sort.

Weeks passed, and his health slowly progressed. After the the fourth week, he was almost completely back to normal.

When he was finally able to walk by himself again, he got right back into the Kira case without missing a step. There was no thank you for all I had done, and I didn't expect one from him. He needed me, and I obliged in every way possible.

Somehow, I think he was testing my devotion when he asked me to help him, but I never was able to say no to him.

A few weeks of monitoring some girl that was apparently in cohorts with Kira went by, and finally Mello put a plan on the table to do something.

The plan was for me to distract the bodyguards of Kiyomi Takada, the spokesperson for Kira, so Mello could swoop in and grab her. After much precaution, we set our plan into action.

We got a good night's rest, something rare, and we had breakfast in silence in my apartment's sorry excuse of kitchen. We didn't have anything to say to each other.

Right before we were about to leave, we stood facing each other at the door way.

"...I have a bad feeling about this." He admitted, looking off to the side slightly.

"Come on, it'll be fine." I put on a smile for him, but he just stared through me. "Well...let's go, I guess."

Just as I turned to leave, he grabbed my shoulder, and pushed me back against the door forcing me to look at him. The face I'd known at Wammy's was gone, replaced by a torn, desperate ghost of the previous.

"Mello?"

He moved in closer, his chest flat against mine leaving less than an inch of space between our faces. His lips just barely brushed over mine, when he jerked back as if he'd been shocked.

"What was that for?" I asked, trying to hide the blush creeping up on my cheeks.

"Just in case." He said under his breath before walking out the door. "Come on!" He called back to me. And like many times before, I followed him without question.