Death Note and all its characters aren't mine. They belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I simply write about their characters as an act of obsessed loyalty.

Written in Matt's POV. There are spoilers. Light fluffy-angst, all written while listening to the Titanic soundtrack.

I love reviews like Mello loves chocolate. Feed me chocolate, if it pleases you?

I liked rainy days. I liked watching the minuscule droplets slide down the window panes, I liked the beat of them upon the roof. There was a repetitiveness to it all that I found calming, a lot like the little musical tunes in video games. Over and over, the same thing, predictable. Not only that, but rain was a good excuse to avoid going out. I could stay inside all day, lounging about and relaxing as I pleased.

At least, that was exactly what I should have been able to do. But it seems that when one is stuck with a person like Mello, anything that ventures near being relaxing is promptly shot…sometimes literally.

He's always been…how can I put it…high-maintenance? Difficult? Either one would fit him. I'd like to think I only stay around him because he helps pay the rent on this dump of an apartment we call home, but I know it's really more than that. For some twisted reason I like his company, as wild, unpredictable, and difficult as he may be.

I'd also like to say I stay around him for entirely selfish reasons. I'd like to say, "Sure I like his company, so what? He's nothing more than something to entertain me, to keep me busy." But that wouldn't be true either. Unfortunately, I can't pass him off as nothing. He means something to me…I suppose…I…care for him.

And it was exactly that which made this particular rainy day the exact opposite of what it should have been.

I was used to him going through his moods, recklessly jolting from one passion to another, from one obsession to the next, the only thing about him never changing being his drive to overcome Near. One day it would be my cigarettes:

"This place always reeks, open the windows. If you didn't smoke the damn things our heating bill wouldn't be through the roof because of me having to air out the place all the time! And stop throwing them all over the floor, you're getting scorch marks everywhere! Look at this! Just look at this! That is a burn mark Matt! You're going to burn the place down!"

The next day, the video games:

"This is why we pay so much for electricity, you always have the TV on!" and "If I hear that freaking Mario theme song one more time I am putting a bullet through that wretched GameBoy!"

Other days it was how messy the apartment was, and sometimes it was just me. I was annoying him, I was in the way, I was lazy, and various other insults. I was used to getting things thrown at me, I was used to getting hit and having to barricade myself in the bathroom until he calmed down. It was all part of the way he was, all part of having him for company.

All those things I was used to and could therefore handle. Somewhere in their unpredictability, they became perfectly predictable, like the rain. Chaotic, yet somehow there was a rhythm to it.

But on this particular day, it was as if a large stone came through the chaotic rhythm of the rain to fall directly on our roof. Imagine that for a moment, if you will. There you are, you have my feelings exactly!

One would have to know Mello to be shocked by it. He loved his chocolate, the dark variety in particular, as dark as he could find it. Therefore seeing Mello, trigger-happy, tough-guy Mello, eating white chocolate, was enough to give me quite a mental jolt.

I had been lounging on the couch (which was ancient and had come with the apartment) when he arrived home, nibbling that rectangular bar of solid, sickeningly sweet white candy. I glanced up from my DS only briefly to mumble a quick "Hey", but I looked back almost immediately. The little death tune sounded from the game, but I wasn't paying attention to it anymore.

"Are you…okay?" I said, sitting up slowly. He stalked off into the kitchen without a word, his ragged blond hair dripping from the rain. Idiot, he hadn't even put the hood of his coat up! I closed the DS and tossed it on the couch, following him to the other room cautiously. I peered around the corner, just in time to see him shove something into the freezer.

"What was that?" I said, and he shot me a surprisingly weak glare.

"Look for yourself," he said, walking past me, one corner of the chocolate bar in his mouth. He appeared to be freaking nibbling it, like some kind of giant, scarred, blond hamster. I opened the freezer, dreading seeing what I thought I had glimpsed….

"Meeeellllo," I went back into the living room, holding what I'd found in one hand. "Heeey, man, what's up?"

He turned a very slow, very icy glare on me. I smiled as nicely as I could. "This," I held out the carton in my hand, "is ice cream. Vanilla ice cream."

"Congratulations Matt, I officially deem you not blind," he said, turning away from me again. I frowned. Something was not right here. Vanilla of all things? The flavor he'd always called sickeningly, disgustingly, and nauseatingly sweet? It was unusual enough to get ice cream when it was raining, but his choice of flavor was enough to shove this event over the cliff of Odd and into the pit called Weird.

I returned the carton to the freezer before venturing near him again, studying him cautiously. I straddled the back of the couch, watching as he sat on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were half closed, and he didn't seem to even be paying attention to the chocolate anymore. He just sat there with one corner in his mouth, looking as if he was going to drop off to sleep any second.

"You getting sick?" I said, and he sighed heavily, rubbing one hand over his face.

"No." He got to his feet, going over to the laptop set on a crate near the wall. He switched it on, sitting in front of it. "I've just been busy lately. Late nights."

"Ah." Very late nights apparently. I had just now noticed the dark circles that were beginning to show under his eyes. Something suddenly clicked in my head, and I grinned, rearranging my position to lounge on the couch. "Oh, is this some new tactic to beat Near?"

"What are you talking about?" Strange, he didn't even seem irritated to hear his rival mentioned.

"Oh, come on, Mells. I know what you're doing. But I'm sorry, you can't pull off L's look with those clothes. Time to grunge down, man." I tugged at the furry hood of his red coat playfully, and I saw him frown as he stared at the computer screen.

"No."

"Well it's never going to work if you keep wearing these-"

"No. You're wrong. I'm not trying to look like…him. I've just been having late nights. And don't mention L. I don't want to talk about him."

"You sound bitter." He gave no reply at all this time. There was no doubt in my mind now that he was imitating L's behavior, but whether it was consciously or subconsciously I couldn't say. Sometimes during his various obsessions his behavior would change according to what they were, without him being aware. It was especially common when we younger; if Near had really been getting on his nerves, his behavior would change to almost mimic the other boy's. He would sit oddly, and I would even catch him playing with his hair on occasion. Of course he would put his mind to stopping it once I pointed it out to him, but it had been amusing to see. It was just more proof of how extreme his obsessions could be. But it had been four years since L had died; why would Mello have him in his mind now?

I decided to pass it off as another one of his moods. I left him alone, going back to playing my game. It was so unusually quiet that I kept glancing over to the computer to see if he was still there. He was, but the third time I glanced at him he was slumped over, asleep.

I looked at my watch. 11:00 am. Maybe he really was getting sick. I went back to my game, but something kept nagging at me. Mello hadn't looked very comfortable…

I paused the game, sighing heavily. He wouldn't thank me for it, but I wasn't out for thanks. I went into the bedroom and grabbed the pillow off the bed, taking it back out to the living to put it beneath his head. Better.

I had already started the game again, when I realized how cold it was getting. Sometime while on the computer Mello had taken off his jacket, and I couldn't imagine that vest doing much to keep him warm. If I found the temperature uncomfortable while in long-sleeves, it certainly couldn't be pleasant for him.

It was such a bother. Up I got, to the bedroom, coming back with the blanket this time and tossing it over him. I stopped myself just short of sitting down again. It couldn't be very nice to sleep on a hard floor.

I was still trying to figure out why I bothered when I picked him up to carry him to the bed. He was disturbingly light…had he lost weight? I almost expected him to wake up when I moved him, but he didn't even stir. He really was out.

The whole wretched bed creaked when I lay him down, but it didn't disturb him, luckily. Sometime during the walk to the bedroom his hand had found a grip on my shirt and didn't seem very keen on letting go, so I had to loosen his fingers one by one. It was rather awkward; I was sure that if he was awake right now he would hate me for even daring to get this close to him. I didn't mind the closeness, personally.

…

Mello went on sleeping for hours. I returned to the couch, alternating between eating and video games, sometimes both at once. I suppose I should have felt guilty for being lazy, for not working on the Kira case or something of the like. But a rainy day was meant to be relaxing, and I was determined that, as roughly as this day had started, it was going to fulfill its purpose.

And it seemed it would, until I started hearing noises from the bedroom. It was like some sort of low moaning, but quiet enough to be closer to a whimper. I sighed heavily. It would be just my luck if Mello had gotten sick with the flu. He had a bad enough temper when he was healthy.

I got up again for what seemed like the millionth time that day. My legs were probably going to be sore tomorrow from all these ups and downs. I peered around the bedroom doorframe, not expecting to find him still asleep and tangled in the blankets. He'd been sleeping fitfully I supposed; there was no other likely way that he could have ended up with his head at the foot of bed. He had indeed been moaning though, and still was, his forehead damp with sweat. A nightmare then? He didn't seem like the type of person to get into such a fuss over a mere dream, but it was obvious enough that he hadn't been himself that day.

"Hey. Hey Mells." I shook him carefully, then a bit harder when he didn't wake. "Come on, wake up. You're dreaming, man."

His eyes jolted open as he drew in his breath sharply, almost as if I'd burned him. I backed off quickly, giving him space. He seemed disoriented for a moment, looking around the room in confusion, until his eyes settled on me.

"I fell asleep in here?" he said.

"Well, sort of," I replied, running a hand through my hair. "You sure were getting loud."

"Sorry," he mumbled, sitting up and shoving off the blankets, his hair falling messily into his face. "Anything new?"

"New what?" I said, watching as he went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face.

"On Kira. Anything new on Kira," he said, not bothering to dry off. "Or am I the only one capable of watching the news?"

"I guess so boss," I said, smirking. As I followed him back out to the living room I said, "Hey L, you're hunching."

He stopped walking and straightened his posture before turning around to face me. "I said I don't want to talk about him. I meant it."

I held up my hands. "Okay, okay, got it. So what was the dream about?"

He didn't even glance at me again. He just sat back on the couch and turned on the TV, beginning to flip through the news channels. They were all coming in pretty badly, and he leapt forward, beginning to rearrange the antennas.

"Amazing how much you've gotten done with all this junk equipment," I said, hoping to brighten his mood. The glare he'd given me when I mentioned L had looked fierce enough to shatter glass. "I mean, look at Near. He has to have all his high-tech screens and computers. He bet he couldn't manage with what you have."

He slapped his hand against the side of TV, swearing at it furiously. I winced. Time to change the subject. "So what was the dream about, huh? Come on, tell me."

He mumbled something under his breath before settling back on the couch, having finally found good reception. I fiddled with his hair a bit, wrapping a small section of it around my finger. "So what was it about?"

"Will you shut up?!" he said, turning around so fast he knocked me off my perch on the back of the couch. "Don't you have something better to do than pester me? Why does it matter what the bloody hell I dreamed about?"

"Sheesh, sorry. I'll back off." He turned away from me again, soon becoming distracted as the subject of the "Great Lord Kira" came up on the news.

I could tell he was already in a furious temper, but when the subject of L came up on TV, he only got worse. I could practically see him steaming. I understood his anger of course. As the world began turning to Kira's side, L became despised more and more. Dead though he was, to most of the world he was still alive and a threat to their new god. It wasn't easy to sit and listen to the man you had looked up to the most all your life being insulted, but it really seemed to be setting Mello off today. His whole body was shaking by the time he turned off the TV.

"Ungrateful bastards," he said. "And now there's this second L, this imposter, doing nothing but degrading his name even further. I'd kill him with my bare hands if I could just find him." He got up, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. "I'm going out for a while."

"Out? Mello I don't think you should-" I stopped quickly, but the damage was already done. He turned about, his face reddening, his hand reaching for the gun under his belt.

"You do not tell me what to do!" He grabbed me by the collar, shoving the gun's muzzle up under my chin. "Unless you've got a death wish," he jerked me close to him, our faces hardly an inch apart, "do not tell me what to do."

"Okay, okay, okay, easy. Sorry." I kept my voice as light as I could. I doubted he would really shoot me, but I wasn't about to push him. "I just thought since it was raining, you-"

"I don't care what the weather is like! I'll go out if I want!" He had wrapped my shirt so tightly in his fist that it was starting to impair my breathing. He shoved me away. "Got it?"

"Got it," I said, nodding quickly. He watched me a moment, then snarled in frustration as he turned away. Though I would prefer him away from me until he calmed down, it wasn't the wisest decision to send him out alone into public with a loaded gun and a bad temper.

So, officially deeming this day as ruined, I waited until he was outside the building, then started down after him, following at a distance. It wasn't exactly easy to keep track of him in the downpour, but at least he wasn't taking any sudden turns. He kept walking in a pretty straight line really, but it soon became clear to me that he wasn't heading anywhere in particular. He'd probably just come out to clear his head. Perhaps he'd realized how dangerous his own temper was getting as well.

It was miserably cold, and I was just about ready to just go home when I realized that I'd lost track of him. He was no where in sight, and I felt a sudden ridiculous surge of panic. He could take care of himself, what was I worried for? Yet for some reason I searched for him. I glanced down every side street, alley, and doorway I passed, and was beginning to curse in frustration when a voice said behind me, "What are you doing?"

I turned around so quickly I almost stumbled over my own feet. Mello stood there with his hair dripping, his head tipped to one side curiously, watching me. I sighed heavily.

"Oh, just thought it was perfect weather to go walking," I replied sarcastically. "What about you?"

"It's the bells I guess," he said softly. "They're loud today."

…

We went on walking for a while in silence, traveling aimlessly. Mello seemed to be in thought, and it was refreshing to see him calm at last. We passed by a few coffee shops, each one of them looking invitingly bright and dry, but Mello didn't seem to have any intentions of getting out of the rain.

"I guess we should head back," he said, stopping suddenly. The water was rushing by in the gutter, the rain was still pouring; the steady sounds of water were everywhere. Yet, somehow, I could sense another stone getting ready to drop and throw off the whole rhythm of things.

"If you say so." I heard him sigh in irritation. What on earth had I done now?

"I wish you'd say no for once," he said, turning around to head back the way we came, but I grabbed his arm, jerking him around to face me.

"What?!" I said, certain I must have heard him wrong. "You wish what?"

"You always say yes," he shrugged. "You always do what I say. I'm just…" He clenched and unclenched his fists, then shook his head. "Never mind. Let's go."

I suppose he expected me to let go of his arm. But this time…oh no, not this time! He wasn't going to ruin my rainy day without an explanation!

"Mello," I jerked him back, forcing him to turn and face me. A risky move indeed, considering he carried the gun. "You can tell me."

He was completely serious as he met my eyes. "No, I can't."

There was dreadful finality to those simple words. I exhaled sharply in frustration. "Of course you can! What, do you think I'll laugh? You've been acting weird all day, I want to know why! What, do you want me to defy you for once? To stop following you around like I'm your dog? Okay, fine! We're not going anywhere until you tell me. I won't let you go. You can yell at me all you want. That's the way it's going to be. How's that?"

He smirked. "I don't think you'd follow through. But…it's nice to imagine that you would."

"Why's that? I thought you liked being the boss."

"Matt, I've 'been the boss' my whole life. You know something? No one has ever told me no and meant it? Sure there were plenty of teachers and rules saying no, but they never stopped me. It's like getting in a wagon without brakes. You shove yourself down a hill, and you know what happens? You just keep going faster and faster and getting more and more out of control until you crash. There's my life for you." He spread his arms. "Now I'm just waiting for the crash."

Again he tried to turn away. Didn't think I'd follow through did he? I proved him wrong, jerking him back. He was starting to look a bit shocked.

"Well, well, puppy Matty has grown a backbone," he said. I glared.

"There's more on your mind, so keep talking," I said.

"Maybe I don't want to talk."

"I'm not giving you that choice."

Now he frowned slightly. There you go Mello, it was what you wanted wasn't it? Someone's telling you no, so what are you going to do?

"I could shoot you," he said, which wasn't exactly an unexpected response.

"You could. But you won't."

He glared a moment, then tipped his head back slightly. "Alright. You win. You want me to talk? You want to know what I'm thinking?"

"I'd just love to," I said, veering off into sarcasm again. I let go of him, shoving my hands into my pockets. "So talk."

…

"I guess L was the only thing that kept me in control before," he said, as we went on walking the way we had been going, then crossing over the puddle-filled street to the park. It was a bit drier under the trees along the walkway here, but no less cold. "We didn't see him much, but he kept me focused. I wanted to please him, impress him, no matter what. So I had to do my best to stay in line and behave. I suppose saying no is usually a parent's job, and they're their kid's brakes. But, you know." He shrugged. "We didn't have that."

I nodded in understanding. L had been a big part of both our lives, and Near's as well, even though we had seen him only a few times. He basically became the core of our whole reason for existence. Having that ripped away so suddenly…I could still remember how shocking it had been, how much it had hurt.

It had only worsened my pain when, the same day we were given news of L's death, Mello left as well. He had been the only person I could have really counted as a friend at Wammy's House. It was after he left that I had become wrapped up in my video games so completely. I'd overheard other people saying it was my way of coping with all the loss, a kind of escape from reality. They had been right.

I still had to wonder how Near dealt with the pain. He'd never seemed affected by anything, but it was hard for me to believe that he didn't care at all. And as for Mello…well, he wasn't the kind of person to get sad over something. He'd get angry instead. I couldn't imagine anger being much of a relief though. It seemed like it would only make things worse in the long run.

Things were slowly beginning to fit together in my mind. L had been dead four years; could it really be true that in all that time Mello had just let his anger over his death grow?

"He died too soon, don't you think?" he went on, frowning as he stared at the sidewalk. "The last time he left Wammy's House, he told me he would never leave without saying good-bye. But……I guess I've been thinking about that a lot lately. It wasn't really fair." He laughed bitterly. "Not that fairness matters. Life is just one unfair mess."

It seemed I had been right. Mello had spent all this time being angry, but his anger hadn't brought him any relief. It had only made things worse. He may be over-emotional, but he chose all the wrong emotions to feel.

"I used to have nightmares about losing him." He was almost whispering as he went on, his hair shielding his face from my view. "I'd end up staying awake for several nights in a row because I was afraid to go to sleep. I was always afraid of losing everything again."

"You still are, aren't you?" I said. He hadn't been sleeping much lately, and after his fitful nap earlier that day…

"Why would I be? I've got nothing left to lose. It's all or nothing now." He didn't meet my eyes as he said it. In fact, he had turned his back to me completely. He was doing it again wasn't he? Trying to feel anger instead of sadness? He viewed anger as something strong, and sadness as something weak. With the life he was living, I couldn't blame him for that thinking. He could end up dead for showing the slightest weakness.

But if he went on like this, a life without brakes as he said, just anger driving him on harder and faster, he was indeed going to crash. This could kill him quicker and more easily than weakness.

My stomach twisted, feeling as if it was wrapping up in knots. It wasn't as if I could help him. He didn't want my help, he wouldn't accept it if I offered it. Besides, what could I possibly do that would take his anger away? What could I do that would make him see that sometimes he could let go, that he didn't always have to try so hard to stay strong?

He was drawing back into himself again; he wasn't going to say anymore. Up went the walls, all his defenses being set back in place. He'd go on living as he was, heading straight into disaster and unable to stop…

I suppose I acted without thinking. Maybe it was simply instinct, but I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head against his shoulder, holding him tight against me. I was tense, expecting a solid punch in the face, but none came. He stood completely still, stiff, tense. But I felt him shake, just a small shudder, a crack in the wall.

"Mello," I whispered, my lips close to his ear. "It's okay. You're not as alone as you think. You haven't lost everything."

He turned his head very slightly, his face dripping with rain. If he had been crying right then I wouldn't have been able to tell. His voice was perfectly steady. "And what do I have left Matt?"

I smiled. "You still have me."

He turned his face away again, quickly. "You mean to tell me you actually care? After I left you behind? After everything I've put you through? You honestly expect me to believe that?"

"I'm not demanding you believe anything. I'm just telling you the truth."

I felt him draw in his breath deeply, still stiff as a board in my embrace. If only he would just relax, just let go…

I loosened my hold on him, turning him to face me. He obviously didn't want to, because he was starting to pull away a bit now. "Stop," he said. "I don't want to talk anymore."

"You don't have to. Just stop fighting for once." His eyes widened slightly. Was it my imagination, or had he relaxed, just a bit? "What does it matter? Who's going to know? If you want, you can even pretend that I'm not here."

"I wouldn't want to pretend that," he said stiffly. He must have seen the surprise on my face, because he smiled a bit. "I've lost enough already right? And if you're going to be an idiot and actually care about me…" He put his arms around me, and I found his hold surprisingly gentle. "I guess it's worth keeping you around."

It took several minutes, but as we stood there, wrapped in a careful, uncertain embrace, I felt him beginning to relax. All the tension went out of him, his body no longer shook; he just rested against me, his head on my shoulder. I rubbed his back, no longer worried about upsetting him. Everything had faded away, and it was just us and the rain pouring down. Yet somehow, cold as we must have been in reality, in the safe haven we had reached in each other's embraces, we were warm as could be.

…

I still like rainy days. Things may change and years may pass, but I'm pretty sure I'll always like them just as much. They're more than just an excuse to stay inside now. Now they're a memory. And it was all because of that one day, the one Mello ruined.

Many people consider rain to be a bad thing. It ruins their day, sometimes their entire week. It goes on ruining as long as it lasts for some. But for others, like me, peace and calm can be found in the chaos of rain. Because if you listen carefully, and wait for a while, the rhythm of the rain, its gentle music, it all becomes clear.

I suppose Mello is a lot like the rain.