Metal/First
It was odd. Mixed up, switched up, uncanny. Matt had always liked himself some symbolism, and he couldn't understand how it came to pass that gold, pure uncorrupted gold, hair and spirit, could be breaking his teeth trying to better silver. It wasn't right that golden, bright and intense Mello should hit his pillow and snarl, too stubborn to cry.
It wasn't right that the fragile, silver prodigy that was Near was treated like the only one who mattered. But Matt was, if nothing else, blessed with insight. He saw how Near turned his head away and tightened his grip on his playthings whenever he saw how close Matt and Mello were, what a connection they had. Near had his mind and a massive collection of plastic, and that was that.
If Mello was gold/silver and Near was silver/gold, that would probably make Matt bronze. But his hair was more like copper or rust anyway, and he cared little about gold/silver/bronze and the whole title thing. He was with Mello, by his side, and frankly didn't care who was which metal.
Mello would always be his first place, anyway.