Fractured Ties (A Death Note Matt x Reader)

Midnight Panic

Your backstory:

Your father, Ryuzaki was L's older brother. He and his newly-wed wife adopted you as a baby but shortly after, they were killed while solving a serious murder case when you were just at the age of three. (L later took his brother's name, as his own fake identity). You were then, brought to Wammy's house by L and made quick friends with two of the three successors to L (Matt and Mello). You've managed to make it in as L's fourth successor, with the potential to beat Near, but your anxiety has always been holding you back. With L being your uncle, you have visited him way more often than any other kid at Wammy's house, and he has filled in the fatherhood figure that you were always missing. Now that L's gone, what will you do?

"VROOM!" The engine of your (f/c) motorcycle rumbles in the dark. You are spending the first few hours after midnight riding down a network of lonely streets and crossroads of LA in an attempt to burn down your anxiety. An interminable array of streetlights and a pattern of dark and light patches blurs by, as you are speeding down the empty streets. It's like the night can devour you whole, if the loneliness couldn't first. The tires carve hot trails onto the other-wise black, asphalt. The scent of burning rubber reaches your nostrils, as you desperately try to evade it. Your long (h/c) billows around your (f/c) helmet and back into the cold, autumn breeze, making your face sting. You would much rather go speeding in your boyfriend's (Matt's) car, but you aren't in the mood for possibly wreaking such a kick-ass car (well, maybe you would, if it wasn't Matt's). Thoughts cycle inside your head at a maddening pace (everything from the psychiatry textbooks you scoured back at Wammy's house to the recent Kira investigation case you just solved and to L's death which just made your anxiety worse, losing your uncle can be hard.....). An acidic, bitter substance climbs its way up your throat, you swallow it back down. Your heart flutters faster and faster inside your chest at an accelerating pace, faster than your motorcycle itself. A strange, gasping sound escapes from your mouth, as you are nervously sucking in air. "SCREECH!" You pull over to the side of the road and slam the breaks. Your now-exhausted self stumbles out onto the dimly-lit sidewalk. You grab hold of a street lamp for balance. You are slightly bent over clutching the lamp, cheeks red, panting and resurfacing back to sanity.

A familiar cherry-red challenger shows up on the road and slowly comes to a stop right next to you. Inside the car, sits an all-too familiar red-head, wearing his orange-tinted goggles and (somewhat) alluring black and white-striped shirt. He flings open the car door and rushes to your side, his black combat boots clicking on the pavement. The street lamp illuminates his red hair and brightens his enticing, green eyes, making him look even better then usual. You quickly shake these irrelevant thoughts away, and let him carry you into his car in your weak, pathetic state. He gently placed you onto the soft, leather passenger seat.

"There's got to be a better way to treat your anxiety, (f/n)." He muttered as he climbed into the car.

"Well, there's got to be a better way to get you to quit smoking these damned cancer sticks." You retort, eyeing his Nicotine patches he slapped on his wrists.

He chuckled. "I hope so."

Matt can't take anything seriously. That's what you both love and hate about him. That's what almost got him killed, if that kid, Near hadn't saved his sorry ass. Anyway, back to the present. You looked around his car. The interior is as pristine as ever. Matt cares so much about his car. If only he can care about everything else in life as much.

"Wait, what about my motorcycle?" You asked, suddenly remembering the motorcycle you abandoned at the curb.

"I sent Mello to go fetch it." He replied.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. You and Matt were cruising down the empty streets in the dead of night, turning a corner ever so often, until you finally reached your apartment building. You fling open your apartment door that read "apartment #404" (Not BB's apartment), revealing a dark, wire-strewn living room. The only light source was a faint, blue glow coming from the TV which Matt has left turned on. You switch on the lights, brightening up the room, unveiling an even bigger mess. Empty pop cans, chip bags and chocolate wrappers littered the carpeted floor, laptops carelessly lay on the glass coffee table. Coffee stains splattered the beige carpet, creating a mess of faded, brown stains.

"Can't you be useful for once and just clean the house, Matt?" You groaned.

"Well useless me drove at least 20 miles away from our apartment to bring you back in the middle of the night! Who knows what will happen to you." Matt spoke with a hint of genuine concern in his voice.

You don't have anything else to say, so you just shut your mouth and begin picking up the garbage. Matt eventually joined in, helping you throw out all the empty cans. After you were done, you plopped onto the leather couch, drained. Matt sat down beside you.

"You look tired, (f/n) you wanna get some sleep?" Matt asked.

You shake your head, afraid of the nightmares that will plague your unconscious mind. You strode over to a shelf of video games Matt has neatly placed and picked out an Assassin's Creed game disk and inserted it into his x-box one. Matt understood at once (that you wanted to play with him), and grabbed two controllers. He pulled you onto his lap (your tense body instantly relaxed), and you two played until sheer exhaustion took you over, leaving both of you fast asleep, curled up on the couch, nightmare free.

Later, while both of you were fast asleep, a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed man, clad in dark leather came back with your motorcycle. He walked by your sleeping selves.

"Aww, how cute, Matt and (f/n) sleeping together." Mello snickered to himself.

He stared longingly at your peaceful figure for a few moments longer.

"If only I confessed my feelings for you back at Wammy's House, (f/n), but Matt has beaten me to it. You're Matt's now. What's wrong with me, I should be happy that we're friends. What are you doing to me?" He thought.

Mello shook his head and headed to the bathroom to wash off his daily residue. His sock feet meeting the cold, white tiles. Mello gazed at his reflection in the oval mirror and gently prodded at his scar and fixed his long, messy hair. The scar shattered his once-porcelain complexion. He took it as a sign of independence, from then on, he was no longer the innocent-looking child at Wammy's house. He is the real Mello. Mello stared at his jagged scar with fascination. It revealed his true demeanor and he was no longer misunderstood by his once-angelic appearance. He continued with his before-bed routine and headed into his bedroom. He flopped on his bed, fingering the beads on his rosary, his eyes gazed at the ceiling, lips moving, saying a silent prayer. He eventually drifted off to sleep, with images of you playing inside his complicated mind over and over.