Matt's POV

There was a lot of noise, considering the day was bright, and no one was around. The heat kept people inside, and the children attached to the latest video game. Ones I played a lot of. Lots of noise made concentrating easier. The music that blasted through my speakers, my tires screeching as they rounded the corner, my breath, coming in short gasps as I followed the biker ahead of me.

He was not getting out of my sight, not like the last time. He was going to have to tell me straight to my face that he didn't want to see me ever again. I knew then that he really didn't want me prying in his business. But, hell, I loved him. Love him still. Never stopped loving the dick. Even after he left without so much as a "Be seeing you, Matt" or "Gotta go, bye". He didn't even write me a note. And now he has the audacity to keep a file on me and not contact me? Keeping a hidden file tucked away on his computer like he needs to keep tabs on me. Like I'm going to fall off the face of the planet and not tell anyone. Stupid Friggin Buthole…. Like I'm the one who always fought, got in trouble, and did dumb things, and then run-freaking-away.

My name's Matt. Mail Jeevas is my formal name, call me that and I'll put lead between your eyes, hack your banking and take your money. I go by Matt and Matt only. I hack people for a living. Missing money? 10,000 dollars says that I took it. Another 10,000 if you can guess who's ten-thousand that was in the first place.

I've been trying to catch up with him for the past 5 years. Call me insane or obsessive…who cares? Know the Chinese proverb "Bad things come from catching up to the past"? It's exactly like that. I loved him, he left, and now I'm desperately trying to catch up. Nothing good has come from it. Absolutely nothing, that is unless you call sleepless nights, boring days, un-eventful hacking time, and no money "good fortune"

I've broken laws before. But no one realizes it's me, hell, no one even knows I'm alive. I was supposedly killed by my father. Which was kind of true, I was shot. Didn't actually die, but what they know won't kill them.

Dead dead dead dead dead.

At least that's what they think. And maybe I would care whether people cared enough to realize I was alive. And maybe if my dad hadn't killed my mother, than himself I would. But he did and I don't and that's that.

You'd think that a genius like Mels would've figured out that you can't out run Matt. But he did, he forgot how good my abilities were, and my inability to let go. Benefit of being abandoned again and again. I don't like bragging, but you won't find a better hacker, I'm the best in the business. So when I saw he was flying to Russia, I was there 2 days earlier than his arrival time.

Mello, uncommonly known -unless you were me- as Mels, and even less known as Mihael Keehl, is the a-hole I'm looking for. The one who abandoned me, like trash and currently cycling away on some motorcycle. If you were to describe Mello the only thing that'd seem fitting would beemotional. One moment he'd be laughing about something you said or did, and then he'd be ranting about something, and throwing things against the wall. He drove me crazy, even to this day he makes me want to kiss and punch him all at once. He was my love like winter, short and cold, leaving me breathless, but wanting more.

Back at the orphanage, we were inseparable. The terroristic duo that'd patrol the halls before attempting to sneak out to watch fireworks, the item, the scandal. Everything we did, we did together.

Many assumed the worst of him. The troubled, ticking time-bomb they called him, he didn't much care what people called him. The only name that drove him over the edge was Number 2. He was always a second to the genius Near. I was number 3, the underdog; I was always just part of the package deal. If Mello got in trouble, I was always there. No one really realized that I was his wall, his support. If I fell so did he. If I cried, so did he. If I was happy, he was happy. If I was scared, he was scared.

On the other hand, without him, the Matt today wouldn't exist. He'd be 6 feet under already. Ironically though, I was called the "dog". I suppose it was it seemed, anything Mello told me to do I did wholeheartedly, without much thought. He did the same for me, I just never asked for anything. I was always afraid he'd leave, which happened anyway. I would knock down anything that stood in his way. I have only one goal in life, to just to make his happen and keep him happily tucked into my arms. Sad isn't it? That someone like me could be pulled into such a whirlpool of deep, raw emotions. Pride, hurt, revenge, even love, all twisted up in some sick thing of fate.

I thought that he was a dream that if I asked too much, or seemed too interested, he'd vanish and I'd wake up to find that everything had been a lie and I did die 12 years ago.

So here I was, chasing the motorcycle that had my Mello, my Mello straddling it. I didn't really need to follow him I already knew what hotel he was staying at. I just wanted to see the sun glint off the helmet. Watch him, that was what I really wanted to do. A bit stalker-ish, but can you blame me?

So I followed and followed, completely unaware of someone following me, follow him. Just so enthralled and angry that I found him, I failed to notice the black suburban pull up next to me. Someone honked and then I did notice, the barrel pointed at me through the open window.

BANG

I turned sharply evading the bullet whizzing past the front of the car.

BANG

And everything went back.

Mello's POV

I heard the car's music over the roar of my rented bike. The bass hummed through my body reminding me of a time that I locked away. To my dismay, I found myself reminiscing about the days before I became the macho boss. The days before I ran away, leaving the only thing good that had happened in my life. I found myself remembering him. His smell, his hair, his cool collectiveness, his affection….his smile. I remembered how he'd hold me when I was sad, or upset, how he would whisper sweet nothings into my ear in my native language. How he'd wrap his arms around me and how I'd feel as though I was the most protected thing alive. But then…that happened. And everything was ruined. The curtain abruptly pulled down. The charade brought to a painful, tragic end.

I heard 2 shots and I was brought out of my thoughts. The red, SUV had been following me for the past 12 miles. We'd been expecting him of course, well maybe not that exact person, but some weird stalker. Someone had been hacking into my account as of late, a hell of a good hacker. So, with my genius mind, I figured he'd tail me. Poor idiot didn't know who I was, or maybe he did. He was hacking my computer of course. So I directed my henchmen to tail whoever was following me.

I swiveled around, and watched the car flip. Poor, poor idiot. Poor, poor smart idiot. He had to be to hack into my database, into my computer even.

I caught a glimpse of copper hair, and my heart stopped. I jumped off the bike, not caring as it rammed into a passing truck. I practically owned the area. I was Boss.

I ran to the wreckage and removed the chocolate from my pocket. Took a huge bite, and threw it to the other side of the wreckage. Something you don't take lightly. If Mello-that'd be me- throws away his chocolate bar, something is seriously up. I was addicted to the bittersweet candy.

"Captain, what are you doing?" Quin, the new kid, had just been promoted, or transferred to under my direct command. So maybe he wasn't used to the Boss, getting dirty. He'd better get used to it, and fast. I gave him a quick look over, and returned my eyes to the overturned car.

I liked being involved. I strongly believe that if you want something done, and done right, you do it yourself. Or you at least are there to witness anything going wrong with your own eyes. That way, no one argues with you later. In my line of business that kind of thinking either gets you shot, or gives you total leadership. I haven't died yet, so I seem to be doing fine.

"Quin, stop your blabbering. Get over here and remove this piece of wreckage off this body. I want to get a good look at the man who hacked my system."I gave my signature grin. The one everyone told me was as scary as a face could get. A mixture of hate and madness. I suppose you can't have madness without some sort of hate.

Quin removed the car door, and the body groaned. I felt my chest tighten, and I thought my heart stopped completely. The face before me was all too familiar. It was the face that I'd seen every day in my dreams since I left my old life at the orphanage and stepped into the new one as a Mafia Boss.

Matt's face was bleeding on one side, and his goggles were nowhere to be seen. But there was no mistaking it. It was Matt. The Matt. The, my Matt.

I turned my head down, sunk to the floor, and cradled the head in my arms.

God if I killed him I don't think I'll be able to live with myself.

"Did you know him, Boss?" the voice came from behind Quin. Someone I didn't notice before was standing there. Looking down on the scene outlaid before him. The Fearless Mello, Master of Everything, Unbreakable Mello, was crying over the body of some foreign character.

"A long time ago, we were," I stopped searching for the right word, "close." The mafia was known for being ruthless, but even they could learn to love. And there were lots of homosexuals in the Russian Mafia. They had no escape from public discrimination so they joined. Everyone already knew I preferred men. But ever since I left the orphanage, I never entered another relationship. My heart was still firmly held by the man I was cradling. Hopefully Matt would forgive me, then maybe I could forgive myself. Isn't that how it worked?

"What would you like us to do, Sir?" that was Quin. I was starting to like the kid. He looked to be a year younger than I, but I had grown up. Too quickly. You have to with my authority, or you're eaten by the mafia sharks. There's always someone who'll want your position, and everyone knows it.

"Give me a car, and help me get him into the back." They lifted the body, all four buff men, carrying a pale, muscular 19 year-old. Ten minutes later I was in an SUV, with my past bleeding in the back, and a car following me with my 4 henchmen reminding me of my future.

I heard a moan coming from the back of my car.

Matt put a hand on his bleeding side, and looked at me. I pulled over, and waved the car behind me (the one with my henchmen) to pass. Turning around, I noticed his eyes. His big doe eyes and I found myself in a pool of green. Why didn't he ever show me his eyes before? Why would he hide something like that from me?

He coughed and sputtered blood on the car's carpet. "I finally found you." His eyes closed, and I felt my cheeks get wet. "Why're you the one crying?" he asked, his dorky grin spreading across his face.

"You…you dumbass! You could've died! What were you thinking?" I was vaguely aware that we were alone. No cars, no people, no henchmen, and it sent my heart spinning.

"You left, what was I supposed to do? I'm just sorry it took so long." He sputtered again. And I noticed the hole in his side, where all his life seemed to be slipping away. What was I supposed to do when someone was bleeding? Think, Mello, think. You can't take him to base yet. No hospitals. Oliver. I'd take him to Oliver. He'd know how to make Matt better.

And I was driving. The car lurching forward and moving onward at alarming speeds, past hospitals, and towns in the middle of nowhere, I only stopped for gas, and bought cigarettes for the sleeping body in the back. Even if he did smell like the husky macho he'd become, he still had the lingering scent of cigarettes. He really had to stop; they were eventually going to kill him. The car screeched to a stop at the outskirts of a forest.

Figures he'd live in some remote area that no one could get to. I jumped out of the car and got Matt to his feet, and we stumbled down the road that lead to help. Damn eccentric needs to be institutionalized. No one in their right mind would walk a mile and a half to get home.

"Mels, where're we going?" my heart melted at the use of my old nickname. I'd almost forgotten, well, I'd tried to forget his pet names.

"Oliver." I was hot, a bead of sweat trickled down my neck and into my leather. Matt's side stopped bleeding some, and he was able to make it to the small shack that served as Olli's home.

I pounded the door down and dragged Matt to the sofa bed in the corner.

"Look what the cat dragged in, a bleeding Matt, and a…what are you know Mello? Boss?" A short, stocky man of 40 stepped out of the "kitchen". He was wearing a coat, and the scar across his face made him ugly. The receding hair line didn't help his self-image, and he had terrible body odor radiating from him like waves from the ocean. But he was the best. If anyone could save Matt, the gremlin standing before me was the man for the job. No matter how much I hated the man. He smiled cheekily, knowing how much I wanted to cut his guts out and feed them to the birds.

"Yea, I'm Boss now. Look, help Matt. I'll do whatever you want. Just name it." I really didn't need this shit, Matt was deathly pale, and I almost wished I'd taken him to a hospital.

"Your company is more than enough," he was still wearing that god-awful grin. "What seems to be the problem?" he laughed an eerie laugh that sent chills down my sides. The man was insane, it was written in his eyes. I ignored the question.

"What can I do to help?" I wanted to do all in my power to not let the person on the couch die. Olli scurried over and retrieved his tools before sitting before his new patient.

"Mels?" Matt called weakly. I practically ran over, nodding at the syringe Olli was handing me. I kissed Matt on the lips, and injected the drug into his cells. He was passed out in minutes.

Olli cut near the swollen area on his torso, and told me to wait outside. I tried staying awake, but all the stress as of late was taking a toll on me. I slept. My last thought was of Matt. And like every night before this one, I dreamt of him, only this time he was dead. And it was my fault.

(/\\)