A/N: Just a little late-night drabble! Well, not that late, but I had a busy weekend, so I should probably be sleeping anyway... but I'm not!

Disclaimer: I WISH I owned Death Note. Sadly, I'm just a random fan. Sigh.

It gets tiring.

Always being second, working so hard only to watch someone else grab the prize just as my fingers are about to close around it. It's exhausting. What's worse is that while I labor away just to get silver, the gold seems to be attained without any special effort, just something that comes naturally.

And it's hard. So hard to get my hopes up, not to just slam the book closed and quit, to build up the morale to keep trying, to tell myself that you'll have your day. Sometimes all I want to do is quit, quit and run away to a place where I could be on top, without any competition. But that would be a cowardly thing to do.

Me? I'm all about appearances. I like to act tough, make everyone think I'm strong. Really, I'm so weak. Every failure hits me like a whip. It breaks me down, it peels away the composure, it hits me right at the center of my being where I'm the most helpless. Every time I'm second, I get more desperate to be first. I do stupid, dangerous things sometimes; I'll do anything if it could lead to victory. It's like standing at the top of a cliff: I'm so likely to fall, but if there's the slightest chance that I could fly... well, I have to try it.

So it's tiring. And hard. And heartbreaking.

But it's never too much. You don't let it get to be too much. Every time I come close to crashing, when I'm upset and angry and I'm sure I just can't take it anymore, you're there. You wrap your arms around me, bury your face in my neck, and then I hear that little voice: "It'll be alright, Mello. It'll all be fine." And even though it's just an empty promise, reassurances we both know are false, your words are so sweet that I have to hug you back, and sometimes we stay there for the longest time, holding each other. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes you cry, though to be perfectly honest I never really figured out why. I never asked.

So strange, really; you were always the puppy dog, the one who let me order you around. But it was always me who came to you, with my problems, my insecurities, my secrets. And you fixed it all, Mattie. You fixed it all with that cute little smile on your face, the one that makes me want to kiss you breathless, the one I absolutely adore. You needed me, too, sometimes; you always had those wretched nightmares, and you were easily scared. But me, I was just a trainwreck, yelling at someone one minute, crying in our room the next. And you took care of all of that. You took care of me.

I don't know when I started to love you. I think a part of me always did. But eventually you were all I could think about. Every time I saw you, I wanted to say it: I love you. And then, one day, I did say it. Totally out of the blue, like I was commenting on the weather. It just sort of slipped out. Imagine my surprise when you spoke: I love you, too, Mello. And I don't really remember who kissed who, but the next thing I knew our lips were locked together and our arms were around each other and sparks were flying. The sparks still fly, whenever we kiss, when our arms brush, when our eyes meet. I love you, I love you, I love you.

And still, I'm never first. Always, always, always that damn Near beats me. No matter how hard I try, I'm not the best.

But when I'm with you, I feel good enough.

A/N: Wow, I'm very in touch with my inner Mello today. First I'll See You There and now this? I think its because instead of eating lunch and/or dinner today, I just kinda ate chocolate all afternoon. I swam it off, though, so it's all good. Sorry if it's a little short, or if it's bad. I did my best.