Matt

Rain pounded steadily against the windows of the cheap motel. The room smelled of mentholated tobacco, cold coffee, and the stifling tension that hangs between people when their illusions begin to crumble. Matt sat on the floor, illuminated only by the cold glow of the monitors holding the intercepted data. For the first time in a long time, his beloved console lay forlornly in the corner.

Your relationship always resembled the smoke from his cigarettes: elusive, bitter-tasting, yet deeply addictive. You hid from the harsh reality behind screens and caustic jokes, while Mello obsessively plotted to capture Kira. It was your shared "blue pill"—a desperate choice to remain in beautiful ignorance, ignoring the fact that the world around you was falling into the abyss, and you along with it.

But today the usual armor has cracked.

Matt exhaled a cloud of blue smoke without turning his head, even though he knew you were standing in the doorway with your bag packed. An insurmountable wall of unspoken words and pent-up pain had grown between you. You'd given him too much of yourself, trying to break through the constant indifference and the lenses of those stupid orange glasses, but now all you felt was emptiness.

This attachment has become a toxic, exhausting game without rules. Does he truly love you, or are you just a convenient NPC in his chaotic life, to whom he can return at checkpoints? And do you still love him, or is it simply the fear of being alone in this deadly chess game?

"If you walk out that door now," Matt suddenly said hoarsely, shaking the ashes right onto the carpet, "I won't look for you."

His voice was even, but the white knuckles of his fingers, clutching the lighter convulsively, screamed otherwise. This was the finale. The moment of truth, drenched in despair. A single, silent question, devastating both of you, echoed heavily in the smoky air: "Do you love me?"