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Mello awoke, the smell of steel filling his lungs. He had been lying on the floor, and gingerly propped himself up. His head was pounding, the walls around him were rocking back and forth.
“Careful, you were knocked out.” A voice called from nearby. Mello groaned, recognizing who accompanied him immediately.
He blinked his eyes open, and managed to rest himself against a metal wall behind him. He seemed to be in a large cargo crate, with nothing inside besides a small lantern, and Near.
“What are we doing here?” Mello asked quickly, his voice growing agitated.
“I assume we were put here to die.” Near answered, with his usual air of calm. Mello widened his eyes, and began to look for any means of escape.
Any opening that had once existed was welded shut, the surrounding air was still and warm.
“It’s no use, we can’t get out,” Near added, watching him closely. Mello threw him a dirty look, and ran and hand through his hair. Last he remembered, he had been at a safe house planning his next move.
“How did we get here?”
Near shrugged, and twisted his hair between his fingers. “Probably Kira, although a murder of this scale seems unusual for him.”
Mello felt unsettled as Near usually had a definitive answer. Again, he scanned the crate for any exit, this time noticing an opening the size of his fist, that allowed a small amount of light in.
Carefully, he stood, and crossed the room to inspect it. It looked like a valve, with metal bolts circling it. The cover wouldn’t budge, no matter how he moved it. His pockets had been emptied, leaving him with nothing besides the clothes he was wearing.
He felt himself growing more panicked as realization hit. They weren't making it out of here.
“I told you.” Near spoke, his tone flat. Mello felt anger bubbling up in his chest, and cursed loudly.
“Fuck…how did this happen. How did I get stuck with you?” He gestured to Near.
He sat angrily, opposite of his companion. Thinking to himself, he wondered what L would do in this situation. He quickly realized this was pointless, because L wouldn’t get here in the first place.
He kicked the wall beside him, causing a loud metal clang to ring out.
Near gave him a look, but stayed quiet.
“What? You’re too smart to be mad?” Mello spat out, watching what he would do. When Near had no response, his rage grew.
“Typical. You didn’t give a shit when L died, why should you give a shit now.”
At this, Near blinked, a slightly shocked expression on his face.
He dropped his hands from his hair, and looked to the ground.
“I didn’t want him to die.”
Mello frowned, sensing something had changed within his tone.
“It seemed like such an unlikely outcome.”
He returned his hands to his hair, still avoiding Mello’s gaze.
“Hm.” He said gruffly, looking away as well.
The silence between them was heavy, thick with memories of their old mentor. Mello supposed Near was the only person left who had really known L. It was infuriating, but a bond they shared nonetheless.
He never really liked L, his lack of empathy had rubbed him the wrong way from a young age. Maybe that was partly why he hated Near, they were practically carbon copies.
Cutting the silence, Near glanced at Mello,
“Do you think it’ll feel good to die?”
“Jeez, that's dark.”
He paused to think, and gave an answer regardless.
“Well, If hell ends up being real, probably not. At least I'll see a few familiar faces.”
Near nodded in understanding, although Mello knew he didn’t believe in things like god. As for himself, he was never really sure. He figured whatever divine punishment waited was probably deserved.
“Do you ever miss Wammy’s?”
Mello scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No. That place was a prison.”
Near tilted his head, “Really?”
“Well, maybe not for you.”
“Actually, I Don't remember much about it. It's all kind of…blurry.”
Mello raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet.
“I don’t know how to describe it. It feels like I've been drifting through life. Now that I know my death is coming…I feel more present than I ever have.” Near smiled slightly,
“How do you feel, Mello?”
He narrowed his eyes, “What’s with all these questions?”
“I figured it wouldn't really matter what I say, we’re dying anyway.”
Mello paused, and looked away. Unfortunately, Near was right. He was going to be the last person Mello saw, spoke to.
“Pissed, I guess. ” he chuckled to himself.
Their attention was stolen by the sound of a drop, water hitting metal. Mello turned his head to the small opening he had seen earlier, now pouring water.
“Oh, shit.”
Water was filling the crate quickly, pooling around his feet. He moved to Near’s side of the room, trying his best to avoid the water. It was irrational, but it brought him comfort.
Near simply watched the water pour in,
“I’m glad I’ll get to die with you, even though you hate me.” He said, turning his head.
Mello furrowed his brow, he was confused on why. He supposed Near had nobody else in his life, FBI agents didn’t make great companions.
“Really?”
Near nodded, And continued watching the water.
Everyone Mello knew was dead, or dying. Nobody would remember his name, he had no legacy. Any memory of the two would die in this metal box. Knowing this made him feel something he hadn't felt before, it twisted a knot in his heart.
“Near?”
He look at him wordlessly.
“I’m sorry. For being such a prick. I don't know why I’m always so angry.”
He looked down, and answered simply, “That's okay. “
The ice cold water was rising quicker now, rising above their calves. It stung, causing Mello to gasp sharply.
“Do you think L would be proud of us?”
“Fuck if I know,” Mello laughed, “He was always kinda vauge about that stuff.”
Nodding, Near bent down into the water. He dunked his head in, and rose quickly. Pushing his wet hair from his face, he blinked the water from his eyes.
“Why’d you do that?” Mello questioned,
Near ran his hand along the metal wall beside them.“I want to feel as much as I can before I die. It wont make up for the years I spent away from it all, but that's okay. I just need to feel alive for a little longer.” He gazed at the water below them with wonder. It rose to their waists, stinging cold to the touch. He made small waves with his hands, watching as the ripples traveled a short distance.
Mello held his head for a moment, not wanting to bear the knowledge of what was happening. For the first time in years, he was crying. He was unsure whether it was anger, regret, or fear. He let the feeling consume him for a moment, and wiped his eyes.
He felt his mind racing. The water was rising to their chests, lifting them slightly off of the ground. He could feel his chest pounding in anticipation, silence felt deafening. Quickly, he blurted out a question.
“What's one thing you wish you did?”
He had to speak loudly, as the water was rushing in faster. Near thought for a moment, and spoke his answer back.
“Jetski”
Mello couldn’t help himself from smiling a bit,
“Why?”
“There was a magazine in wammys.” Near started, “The cover was a man on a jetski, he looked like he was having the time of his life. I used to dream about feeling like that too.”
Near waited for Mello to answer the question expectantly.
“I wish…that I had done karaoke. Matt always tried to make me, but I never let him bring me onto the stage. Maybe I would’ve had fun.”
The boys’ heads were nearly touching the roof of the crate, air was running low.
As his last moments approached, Mello felt calmness wash over him. He always thought death was supposed to terrify you. Reaching his hand out to Near’s, he helped him to stay afloat. The two clung to each other, awaiting their final moments of life.
“Thank you, Mihael.”
He smiled, happy that the last thing he’d hear would be his real name, not the alias Wammy’s gave them.
He imagined his life up until this moment, the mistreatment he endured as a child, all the bad decisions he'd made, the harm he’d caused. And he saw the good too. The time he had spent with people, riding a motorcycle for the first time. Smoking a cigarette in the rain. The sensations came rushing back to him. It’s unfortunate that he only began to appreciate life as it ended, he thought. Mihael loved it, in all its beauty and horror. It was something to cherish, and to experience without regret. He forgot of any childish rivalries he may have had, and turned to the last face he would ever see.
“See you, Nate.”
Mihael only wished Nate knew he was glad to die with him, too.