this isn't anything important, it's just a small portion of violence and anger coming out through my favorite character's actions which of course are engraved on the walls in the caverns of my heart. at least, that's what i thought it was.. until i realized that this was only a hyperreality of my own consciousness, yeah that's right. this happened to me before, i think, but only as a real world incident, the one where authoritative figures called it "an overactive imagination raped by some unnecessary dream." yeah.. or something of the sort.

•••

Mello. Everyone who came in contact with him remembered him. With his blond hair tousled in all the right ways and leather clothing tight in every single way, his flat stare would cause anyone and everyone to immediately fall in love with him but sink to their knees in dreaded fear. The red rosary that hung from his neck was never taken off and it left marks on his skin. He thought that the longer he left it on, the deeper the marks and the deeper the marks, the more he felt like he was allowing something come in and warm his cold heart with love and safety. Maybe it was just the sketch glances he'd receive, the ones that grew his dignity, that caused him to feel that way but he knew he needed them still, his heart and emotions were nearing total freeze and in all honesty he had no want to keep on this track.

There was no downhill spiral for Matt, though. Calm, considerate; the boy who hated the brokenness in people. He needed to make sure that everyone of his classmates' tears quit falling and the shattered heart taped back together again. He seemed to be dubbed most regarding and protecting children at the house. At least, that's what his guardian had told him. He accepted it, because that was what every little boy did at the small age of five. But he questioned everything when he met the blond roulette of a boy. Matt's first instinct was to try and fix the boy, like every man's natural instinct when he comes across a dilemma in the road, but somehow, he knew he couldn't. And that was what caused him to entangle himself in the intrusive man's life; the mere fact that this man was the first problem he could not entirely fix. He let him drown him.

And that was the story of how Mello and Matt came to be the worst of compatible partners ever. They both behaved equally different but shared the same desires.

So, they fought. They screamed, yelled, kicked, hit, cried, bled; but they needed it. It seemed like every story told needed immense fire before refining. That was how they were kept superglued together, after the burning and the anger in their hearts was gone, they would build each other back up by roughly stitching their thoughts and their wants back together again. It is a rather beautiful story, actually, the two of them against every flaming arrow shot at them. It looked like the world was trying to tear them apart and while they naturally did that themselves, the blond and the red head would never allow themselves to separate. In their minds they grew a reality where if the other was missing, it wouldn't be real at all. They needed each other as much as beauty needed fire, as much as happiness needed its pain.

•••

Matt- It was one of those evenings, the type where the house seemed like it just couldn't keep the summer heat out of its walls. It nipped at the tip of Matt's nose as he breathed out a rather loud sigh, the remaining heat of the day was just piling around his face. He sweat it out. Laying across the dark colored sofa and wistfully looking over the living room, Matt took in the orange tint of the room. It seemed to sparkle in his face, taunt him in knowing the predicament he and his person fell into. Mello was gone, he wasn't coming home until the morning. And it scared Matt. He was scared for him, not for himself. He knew what was going on and the only thing he could find himself feeling was lust. The lust for the bastard's blood who think he can use Mello in any way he pleases. But Matt stayed home. Mello got himself into this trouble and as much as Matt loved him, he knew things would spin out of control for Mello then he would get himself into a bigger issue. Matt absolutely didn't want any of that.

After taking the last drag of his cigarette he angrily threw it on the floor, not minding it burning a hole into the multicolored rug. He tossed his head back and shielded his eyes from the bright sun. The LA summer evenings were too much for him, he'd rather be covered by the refreshing blue sunset England gave him. He pulled at his striped shirt, the sleeves being too long and kicked off his leather boots. Once he was fully laying on the sofa, he dizzied himself by watching the fan's blades dance in a formation that was still too slow. Huffing out a sigh, he was trying his hardest to get the images of last night out of his cloudy brain.

"Mell, I need you to calm do-"

"How can I Matt? There's no other way to get out of this-"

"Yes there is, we just gotta work harder with it-"

"Damnit Matt, I can't have you stop me. Do you want this job done or-"

"Mello! I will not allow this to happen to you, you already know-"

"Matt! I know how this place is worked, how this disgusting man snakes himself between everyone, I don't want to loose you. Besides, you can't control me! You'll be in trouble too if you get involved and apparently once you're involved you can never get out." The look on his blond's face caused him to stop his words. Matt look at Mello and a pained expression was etched into his face. He sighed and looked down, a hand frustratingly detangling his red sweaty hair.

"No." was all he told his Mello, "I can't loose you. I will not and cannot let you do this." he was strewn, hard faced and not in the slightest willing to work it out with Mello. His chest fell up and down heavier and his eyebrows furrowed together. The blond was steaming and while Matt was aware, he would much rather have his best friend absolutely hate his guts then him be touched and hurt in the worst ways. Mello left to meet the owner of the club, still, and bet him for his life back.

He pushed himself deeper into the sofa, tears rimming his eyes. Matt didn't ever try to stop them from falling over his Mello and his pain, he wanted the blond back home, back home in his arms. It seemed like an impossible request but he would never stop praying for it until the hour Mello came back safely.

Mello- It seemed right, the owner taking Mello off the hook once he pays his dues but this, this was much different. Much riskier business. Of course the owner was a psychotic lunatic who was drunk and high of his rocker most all of the time. A girl and a boy were always on either side of him as if telling Mello that he was stronger than him and could instantly ruin his life for good.

It was funny because it seemed as if he already ruined Mello's countless of times but the blond was always strong enough to get it back just before breaking again.

"This is it, Neylon, I'm taking my money back and giving you all my burdens. There's no way you're keeping me here by force every again." The dirty haired man shook his head. His gold hair made Mello's heart skip a beat; it was engraved in his memory and seemed to trap him with a sense of PTSD fear.

"Oh Mello, I knew this would come, especially from the independent strong willed nature boy inside of you, but that's not possible." Mello's stomach leaped into his throat when he heard the all too familiar tone in the man's voice. Neylon leaned forward getting a better glimpes of a flustered Mello. Mello noted the stench of his voice and the crazed look kindled off of the music and hormones dressing every person's skin. It disgusted him. Mello feared every worst as he even took one step into the club; the scents and sounds were so violent he thought he'd catch every STD known to man just by taking a breath of the putrid air. Mello's light eyes studied Neylon's and he suddenly seemed to see right though him. So, Mello pulled a victorious smirk and leaned back in his chair. One of his legs was coiled into his chest, heel sat on top of the edge of the chair as his elbow rested on his knee.

"By the way your speaking," Mello began, "I'd assume you realize that you've already lost."

"What are you speaking about, boy?" Neylon's spiteful tone tried to cut Mello but the blond didn't accept it.

"You need me." That shut Neylon up, "That's right, you knew you were in trouble when you found out I wanted to leave this lifestyle with a trade and you realized you lost when I discovered that you needed me." By lack of a response from Jack, Mello knew he had already won. A small laugh escaped the young man's mouth.

"What do you say? Make the trade or keep on losing as long as you have me?" Neylon's eyes pierced a Mello's fair skin. Every ounce of the man wanted to rip the boy apart.

"On one condition," Neylon suggested a handful of seconds after Mello's proposition.

"Take the stage once more then you be free to get as far from me a possible."

The music around him muffled away and the drugged air was decaf in Mello's lungs. A heavy rock was suddenly rooted in his stomach and if Mello didn't leave the building soon, he knew he'd get sick everywhere. He looked to the floor. The neon lights, the darkness, slutty music, everything his nightmares consisted of laid before him and to remake his life, he'd have to willingly face his fears and enter it all again.

'"So what do you say?" Neylon smirked as he caught Mello up in a deeper situation. Neylon was fully aware of Mello's fears and anxieties. That was why he used them against Mello in pleasure for his own self.

What seemed to be an eternity of empty thoughts swirling around Mello's head, he tried to make his decision. If he chose to leave he'd have to dance, if he was bound to stay he'd have to dance. It was a loose-loose situation.

"How about this," his foggy head snapped up to Jack's voice so quickly he swore he gave himself whiplash, "if you don't get on the floor, I'd best you say goodbye to your boyfriend, there's some incentive for you." Mello's already anxious and broken frame was frozen. Matt. Neylon was threatening him with Matt. Now he knew he'd have to dance, if not tonight then every other night of his life. He couldn't let his best friend go just because of a small fear of his.

But no, this was no small fear. This was PTSD, it wasn't something legal. This was rape and Neylon's fantasies force-fed to Mello for the past seven years of his life. This was illegal and Neylon's punishment could be death if the authorities were to be involved. No, Mello realized, his punishment would be death on count of drug trafficking, illegal weapon possession, sexual assault on minors; the list went on in Mello's mind and suddenly, he had a plan.

"Fine." was all the blond said. A pregnant pause filled everyone who was sitting around the laminated table. An evil smirk pulled at Neylon which turned into a smile, which turned into laughing.

"Alrighty,"

"-ready up then."

-ready up then.

Mello heard the same voice and the same three words echo in his own mind at the same time Neylon spoke. He had that sentence down; with that tone, the queue was set. Two bigger men stood on either side of Mello and with a dizzy feeling, the petrified blond stood up and was lead back stage where he changed his clothing.

This is for Matt, this is for Matt, he will die if I don't go through with this. Mello thought, whispered, to himself as his shaky hands pulled on gross clothing that had too many unknown substances on it. The two, presumably body guards, watched him to make sure he had nothing to make a weapon of before leading him out to the main stage.

This is for Matt, this is for Matt, this is for Matt...

•••

I hate the idea of doing this to my Mello but it's for the story so it will be over soon. I've had this idea circling around my mind for a long time but I've just now decided to put it on paper because I thought Light and L's characters weren't appropriate or rough enough for these roles so when Mello and Matt came to mind I pursued.

Definitely will be a shorter, short story, thing than Playing God so it will be updated and finished quicker. Leave comments, questions, reviews; I'd love feed back or propositions on where you think the story should go. *Disclaimer: I do hate when it's evident when a writer doesn't know where to lead the story but is still writing and updating anyway. I won't do that so do not worry about my story becoming shallow for that reason. If it does, though, then that means my idea wasn't the best and the story is just overrated and unneeded.

-Tana