Death Note One Shots

Sunset

Last Updated: 2 February 2020
A/N: When I was sad about Mello's death. ;c

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Danuta lay splayed out on her bed, crying her eyes out. It had been a week since Mello had died, but she was still grieving for her brother. Suddenly, a torn piece of paper fluttered down from the unreachable windowsill above her, and landed on her nose. She picked it up, fumbled about, and saw a large bunch of text on it. A long title, in big, bold letters, shouted:

'Draft Which I Probably Never Will Finish'

Squinting at the very messy handwriting, Danuta began to read curiously:

As I crouch underneath a young sapling, the Sun dazzles brilliantly straight ahead.

It is Sunset now, one of the more whimsical times of day.

I start to ponder about the seaside, describing the absurdly peaceful scene as... mesmerizing.

But as I write now, mini purple and golden spots flitter across my vision, causing me to see words that seem like, well, undesirable words.

Oh, how amusing our human minds can be.

Not to mention naturally perverted.

I can hear the ferocious, lapping waves hurling themselves blindly at the cliffs. The cheerful pitter-patter of young childrens' feet across the soft sand. The excited yells and giggles as they eagerly try to catch the waves, only to be sent back by its lashing backwash.

For some reason, all of these combined reminds me of Her. She's an organized mess; a cross-over; half and half; straight down the middle.

Maybe that's why She has a such a confusing, complex personality.

Sort of like me.

A single leaf flutters through the breeze and-

- Oh!

Would you look at that?! The Sun is going down already.

Hell. What a beautiful sight.

Disappearing beneath red, swelled clouds, it seems to be swallowed up in a gulp. Sunsets here are short, but captivating.

As the last few vainful beams reach out for the sky, the Sun slowly sinks beneath the horizon, its final battle cone to rest.

Now purple streaks appear. Her favourite colour.

The last few seagulls hurriedly fly to their roosts, ready to nuture their young.

Now as fellow humans scream after me, ruining my mood, I have nothing left to contemplate. Just like the empty void of blackness of what we call beautiful night.

Alas, we humans know that the Sun will rise again, and like a clock, start the endless battle between night and day again.

But for now, I crouch on a weathered rock, gazing wistfully after the setting Sun. Though I think the day is bright and beautiful, I prefer the chilling gloom of night, which is arriving now.

The sun's rays still linger, but are quickly being dominated by multi-coloured clouds, racing to cover up the Sun.

Now I feel, since the Sun is gone, the hidden happiness and naivety in my heart gone. But thankfully it is being replaced by a tranquil urge to roam the night woods.

Now there are sparsely any humans left, since we are still subject to the natural fear of being hunted at night.

But what is this?

The Sun is still fighting for survival as I speak?

What intriguing results.

Almost scarlet red, long streaks streak the sky, like at the bloodied scene of a fallen general at his time of death.

There, directly right of me, one single brave star twinkles innocently. He is a memento of the fallen general, but to others He is just another star in the sky.

But now even He is being swallowed up by the hungry, raging clouds.

How sad.

It must be heart-wrenching to go just like that. One look, He's there, the other He's not...just like I have to see now.

I feel a sad pang in my heart, secretly wanting to stay, and soak up the calming, intriguing scenery like a sponge.

But of course, Nature calls me from elsewhere.

And even I cannot resist the call of the wild.

Well, until next time.

Sunset.

~ M

'M?' Danuta thought, puzzled, 'It could of been Matt... but from the detail of the contents, it must be... Mello!'

She smiled at the prospect of Mello writing a whole poem just for her. She laughed. Hell, when did MELLO ever write a poem?!

Then, she saw a small note right at the bottom of the page.

Written on the 1st April.

That was... on the day he died. In an instant, her mood changed; it was too bad that the poem couldn't be fulfilled. Just like Mello wasn't able to fulfill his life-long dream of becoming the best, and beating Near. How coincidental, she mused.

But, surprisingly, as she scrolled over to the next page, she noticed ANOTHER note in even tinier letters.

P.S. I know you are reading this on the 8th April, Danuta.

...Happy birthday, little sister. :)

What? Did you REALLY think I forgot?

Well, THINK AGAIN. :P

If you're sobbing over me like a kitten in distress... DON'T!

Get up, whack yourself in the head, cause amnesia, and move on like the good, strong Danuta I know.

It'll help a lot. >;)

From your dearest (and as sexy as hell) brother, who died like a dog...

Mello. x