Hai buddies! I was bored (big surprise there XD), so I started this a few forevers ago, then forgot about it. But then I remembered it :P

I was originally making a one-shot, and they were thirteen, but then I was going to make it continued when they're older, but then I decided to make it with them when they're younger, so first it's when Matt gets to Wammy's, then Mello. Next chapter, they're older (I already wrote it XP).

Also, until they get to Wammy's, they're being called by their real names, not aliases. Just 'cause when it always switched back and forth in fics I get confusled :P

Also also (roflcopter), the song for this (it's not a songfic, but the song still works) is When It's Time by Green Day. It kinda works for the whole thing, I guess.

Welcome to Wammy's.

Grinning, Mail jumped down the brick steps leading to his house, three at a time. It was his seventh birthday, and he knew exactly where his parents were taking him, but he would pretend to be surprised for their sake.

The biggest toy store in their town wasn't very big, but Mail had never left for any long period of time, so to him, the store was huge. Playing With Fire (Mail only knew the name because he went there so much and knew everyone who worked there; it was because the owner's favorite toy, and first toy they sold, was a dragon called Fire) was next to the only candy store (very originally named Candyland), and Mail knew his parents would take him there, too.

It was all a seven-year-old could ever want for his birthday.

"Mommy! Mommy-Mommy-Mommy-Mommy! LOOK!" Mail pointed a small finger to a big stuffed elephant, almost up to his shoulders. "I want THAT one!"

His mom smiled a big smile, which made Mail grin, showing the space where his front tooth had been.

They got the elephant, and put it in the car before going to Candyland.

Mail could get whatever he wanted.

He ran as fast as his little kid legs could carry him through the big doors, with big plastic candies in a big arch. He squealed at the enormous, clear containers of candy in front of him the moment he stepped through the arch.

Gumballs and sour strips and gummy bears all tumbled into a paper bag, and another, and another, until he finally had to stop because he couldn't hold any more.

"Mail, we're going home," his dad eventually said.

"Nooooooo! I want more candy!"

"You'll get sick," he said. "You don't want to get sick on your birthday, do you?"

Mail huffed and crossed his arms, the sleeves on his spotted shirt slipping past his fingertips. "Fine."

In the back of the car, refusing to sit in his car-seat (it was his birthday, he could do what he wanted), Mail played with his elephant, a long sting of licorice between his teeth.

"I will name you Elephant," he whispered in the fuzzy ear. "It suits you."

Crash.

"Oh, shit!"

Spin.

"Mommy?"

Shatter.

Mail jerked forward, and the seatbelt rubbed painfully against his neck, making him drop Elephant.

"Mommy!"

Bang.

"…Mommy…? Daddy?" No response. Mail struggled against the seatbelt holding him back, tried to sit up. His arm hurt, and his neck hurt, and everything was sore.

There were noises coming from outside. It sounded like people were shouting.

Kid there.

Get him out.

Mail felt like his brain had turned to mush. His head felt heavy and he couldn't see right and it was scary.

"Mommy?"

Blurry.

"Mom…Mommy…"

Dark.

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

Mail sat straight up. The beeping went faster as he looked around him at the white walls, white sheets, white floor.

It was creepy.

Mail hated hospitals already, but automatically hated them even more.

"Mommy…?" he called, eyebrows knitted together when he got no reply. "Daddy?"

There was still nothing.

"Mommy!" he shouted. The beeping went even faster. "Where are you?"

A door on the other side of the room opened, and a doctor with a white coat (hate white coats) walked in.

Mail didn't like him.

"How are you feeling, Mail?"

"Where's my mom?" he asked quietly, pushing himself back against the scratchy pillows. "I want Mommy."

"She…she can't be here right now."

Playing dumb with me.

"Where is she?" he asked, a bit louder this time. "Tell me."

"She can't be here now," the doctor repeated.

Thinks I'm stupid.

"Tell me!"

The doctor paused. "I'll be back in a moment. Please hold on a second." He walked away, without any further explanation.

"Tell me where she is!" Mail shrieked.

The door clicked shut.

Tears started slipping from Mail's eyes. What if she…what if they…no…can't be…

It's my birthday.

No one can die on my birthday.

Mail was sobbing soon, full-body sobs that wracked his tiny frame like mini personal earthquakes.

He almost didn't hear the door open again. This time, instead of the doctor, an old man in a suit with a mustache and a kind smile walked in.

"Hello, Mail," said the man. "I'm Quillish Wammy."

"Where's Mommy?" he asked again. He didn't expect any good answer. Adults never talked to him like he was smart, even though he could beat basically anyone at basically anything.

"I'm very, very sorry," he said. "It's never good to be the one to have to say this."

No.

"Your parents…"

No!

"They died in the car collision."

NO!

Mail shook his head. "No they didn't," he whimpered. "It's my birthday. No one dies on birthdays."

"I'm truly very sorry."

"No."

The man went on. "It has been discovered that your intelligence is quite above the average. There is a place you might want to look into going to."

"My parents aren't dead," Mail said. Can't be.

"I'm sorry."

Welcome to Wammy's.

Mail couldn't keep anything. Not Elephant, not his clothes.

Not his name. Secretly, he wrote it on his arm in sharpie, every day, so it wouldn't fade away. He wanted to keep his name.

But he still wasn't Mail anymore. He was Matt now. After two weeks, he couldn't quite answer to it as quickly as he normally would.

He couldn't wear spots anymore.

He'd asked a girl (her name was Linda; she was nice) and she said the opposite of spots were stripes. Matt wasn't sure he believed her, but it was the best he could do.

Matt rid everything of spots that he could.

It made him think of his parents.

Stop.

Forget.

Please.

"Mihael, get in here."

He was seven now, almost eight. No one seemed to care, though, that he was only a little kid.

"Yes, Daddy?"

He was seated in front of the TV, arm around another girl. Mihael didn't like them. He wanted Mom back.

Before she'd died in the car crash, everything had been great. But then Dad had started drinking the stuff that smelled bad, and he'd turned mean, and he brought home those girls. They smelled like the drink.

He hated them.

"Get Daddy his drink," he slurred. "And another for Amber here."

"Julie," she reminded quietly, twirling a bit of bleached blond hair around a badly-manicured finger.

"Yeh, Julie, huh. Beer, Mihael."

"Yes, Daddy." His small hands were clenched into fists as he went to the dirty refrigerator. "Um, Daddy?" he called into the other room. "There isn't any left."

"Eh, c'mere."

Mihael stomped into the living room and stood in front of the TV with his arms crossed around his skinny chest.

"Guess they won't let you pick some up for me…" his dad said contemplatively. He pulled out a grimy five-dollar-bill from his pocket and handed it over. "Get me a…I dunno. Some burger or something. McDonald's. I don' care."

"Okay." Mihael shoved the money into his pocket and walked away.

At the McDonald's closest to their house, he ordered a hamburger and some fries for himself (mooching when he was doing errands was really the only way he got food), almost not able to reach the top of the counter, and walked back home with the greasy bag clutched between his fingers.

When he got back to the house,it was surrounded by cars.

So much noise.

So many lights.

Mihael clenched his teeth and walked through them. He didn't know why the police would be here; maybe it was nothing.

But Daddy was in one of the cars…

"What did you do?" he saw his dad mouth. "Idiot kid."

Mihael's eyes went wide, and the McDonald's bag dropped to the ground. "Daddy?"

"Come with me, kiddo."

An hand was around his arm.

"Let go of me!"

"We're not going to do anything you don't want," said the man with a hat. He was a policeman, wasn't he? This was strange. "But you can't stay home alone."

"I do it all the time anyway," Mihael said. "Daddy isn't home a lot. I'll be fine."

"We need you to come with us."

After five minutes of arguing, Mihael ended up in the back of one of the police cars, fingers tangled in his hair. He didn't like this. He was getting nervous.

Heroin.

Meth.

Mihael recognized those words. He'd heard Daddy use them. Why were the police saying them?

This was scary.

The man with the hat was leading him into another room, an empty one with a few chairs and some magazines. He brought him a juice box and a cookie, and left without explanation.

Mihael had never felt so lonely.

"Mommy, I miss you," he whispered at his hands. "I wish you were here."

There was lots of bustling and noise on the other side of the door, and Mihael hopped off the chair and looked through a small window into the hallway.

He couldn't see anyone but policemen and some of Daddy's friends. No one he knew.

An hour later, he was curled up on the chair, trying to sleep. Nothing happened.

The door opened, and an old man with a mustache and a suit walked in.

"Who're you?"

"I'm Quillish Wammy. You must be Mihael."

He nodded once, getting a smile in return.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to stay with your father anymore." What? "But it has come to our attention that you are a very smart boy."

Mihael smiled a big smile. Finally. "Mm hmm."

"There's a special place for very smart children like you. It's called Wammy's. Only the very best get to go there." He smiled again. "All we need now is for you to agree."

Mihael grinned even wider, nodding quickly so his neck was a bit sore.

"Very good."

Welcome to Wammy's.

Despite being happy, Mihael was scared going into the big building.

But, no. He wasn't Mihael anymore. He was Mello now.

In all honesty, he didn't want to be Mihael. He'd learned, over the past few months, that his mom hadn't really wanted that name. It was his dad's idea.

He hated his dad.

"Mello, this is your room."

There was nothing in the room except a bed, a few books, and an oddly skinny boy in stripes.

"This is Matt."

The skinny boy in stripes looked up, blinking his huge as at Mello. "Uh, hi."

"Matt, this is Mello."

Mello smiled. The boy, Matt, had absurdly messy hair and was missing a front tooth.

He was kind of adorable.

Mello smiled hesitantly. "Hi."

Matt smiled back, and both of them thought the same thing.

I like him.

Yay! Chapter one's FINISHED! WOOOOO! victory dance

I have chapter two basically finished. It should be up soonish. Then, they're around thirteen.

So, about the spots thing, I thought that Matt wouldn't have, probably, worn stripes even before Wammy's. It just seems kind of unlikely. So I made him hate dots, and like stripes, because the two don't go together, and all he wears is stripes :P

Thanks for reading :D

Reviews are like blood for vampires. I'm a reviewpire XP

Also, you'll get cookies. And a ninja hug. I think that's a pretty epic trade.