Author's comment: Beta by Tama1998 on deviantart

Warning: contains: drug use, violence, rape….

Matt sat in front of the house where the party just had ended smoking a cigarette. He did not know where to sleep tonight, but it didn't really matter to him. Likewise, he had not been invited to this party, but had gotten drunk at the host's cost because what he had got hold of.
Ok, in a few hours he'd probably have the headache of his life, but normally it was worth it. A few hours without worrying constantly about everything were worth more than being clear minded for a few hours. It didn't matter.
Maybe it did matter, where he could get something to eat today, 'cause he hadn't had anything for three days now. And money. Money WAS important.
But he didn't want to worry about it.
Better have another drink.
If he continued to think about everything his thought would lead him to…
'Mello…'
He didn't want to think about him! He had to forget, to beat it out of his head! Even if Mello did care enough to show up one day or to notice- oh there was my friend I had forgotten- now Matt wasn't in a situation he wanted to be seen in by the blonde.
Let alone giving him the ass kick he deserved for leaving the redhead all alone without even a message or something like that.
No, he didn't want to think about Mello.
He didn't want to think at all.
But he realized he had surpressed his thoughts for such a long time.
A few glasses of brandy didn't bring salvation anymore. Not now, when he'd tried something stronger and become addicted to it.
He needed money if he didn't want to reach the state of total clear mind the next morning.
Maybe something to eat too… What was the time he'd at least got something? He was used to not eat within 24 hours without even noticing he was hungry.
He didn't feel it anymore when he got wasted.
He felt nothing anymore and that was exactly the state of feeling Matt aspired every day. No more pain. No more thinking. He didn't want anymore.
The thoughts racing through his head drove him mad.
24 hours a day without doing something useful, except maybe looking for food.
Matt didn't even know anymore why he hadn't committed suicide yet. Maybe he was too cowardly to finish what he had already begun?

Slowly and unsteady he got up. He had tried to scrounge on this party but novody had wanted to give him something. He sighed. He hadn't imagined things to go like this when he had left Wammy's House. On the other hand, he couldn't return, could he? Not after he went on this route. This was the life. He'd chosen it for himself, so he had to know how to go on. Back to the prak?
Finally he walked down the street to the homeless asylums. The first one would open in the morning again but at least he had the chance to get something to eat there.
It started to rain.
"Aaargh!", thought Matt.
Today was one of the worst. On the other side, his clothes could only get cleaner by the rain- and they were already so dirty you couldn't even see the stripes anymore. In his backpack was a second set of clothes, but that one was dirty, too.
Slowly he realized he could no longer live like this. On scounging. He needed more money than a few weeks ago.
"Shut up!", Matt said to himself. "Did you think living on the streets would be easy and one great big party?"
No, he hadn't. He had trusted he'd find Mello in time. And Mello would've get him out of trouble.
But now, after half a year, Matt had given up hope. He wouldn't find him. Ever. And he himself would die on the streets the way he'd chosen, slowly, a bit day by day.
And the only one to blame was himself.
This was his life.