Chapter 1

I stood in my doorway, staring at my friend.

"What's that for?" I asked cautiously, staring at the spray paint can in his hand.

"You ready?" He tossed the can at me, not really answering my question, and pushed past me, entering the house. I shut the door and followed him.

"I'm not sure.." I hesitated, my conscious telling me this was not a good idea.

"C'mon Matt, take a chance for once. It'll be fun." He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a drink, not even bothering to ask permission. He was a familiar face; sometimes it seemed like he lived here, since he was so often at my place instead of his own.

"Mello, I'm not sure about this," I tried to protest, but with Mello, there's no such a thing as backing out. Not in any way, shape, or form.

"Nu-uh. Not even gonna discuss this. Now come on, we have to go right now! I can't be late at work again. It'd be the fourth time this week..." He muttered. He didn't seem to take his job as a bartender very seriously. "Besides, I really wanna get laid tonight. Now come on already." He put his drink down on the counter after one more big gulp. "Ooh! That shit burns my throat," he hissed and shook his head. He tossed the keys at me. With all the stuff Mello tends to toss at me during the day, my reflexes have gotten pretty good.

"You drive. I drank too much and you drive really smooth so I won't get sick." Of course, I was always everyone's chauffeur. I was a good driver, but I realized quickly that I should have kept my skills to myself.

Once we were seated in my black Lamborghini Veneno, I turned the keys to start the engine. I smiled to myself as the motor purred. I loved hearing that sound.

"Ahh, music to my ears." I thought to myself.

"So tell me again what legal job you have that allows you to buy a car like this?" Mello asked incredulously. No matter how close we were, I had never told Mello what I did for a living.

"I never said it was legal," I smirked. I loved messing with people.

"So, you're saying you have an illegal job?"

"I never said that either."

"Matt, I hate you. Have I ever told you that before?"

"Everyday mate, everyday." I grinned at the pissed off expression Mello gave me. I fixed my eyes back on the road.

"So, are you gonna play with me?" He asked.

"All the time, mate. All the time."

"Why are you saying everything twice?"

"Why not, eh? Why not?"

"You know, one of these days, I'll figure out if your job requires you to be so incessantly annoying.

"You'll never figure out what my job is." I told him flatly.

"You wanna bet?" He challenged.

"There is no way on Earth you could ever figure out my profession unless I chose to tell you." I said, trying to contain a smile. Mello was so naïve .

"What makes you so convinced?"

"Because I, unlike you, can keep secrets. Left?" I asked him, even though I knew the way by heart. I just wanted to change the topic.

"Yeah. Take a left. Then another left, then two more lefts, then a right, then a left, then two more rights, then a left, and we're there." He explained.

"Thanks Mello. Very helpful." I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Was that sarcasm?" Mello asked.

"What do you think?" I retorted.

"I don't know. That's why I asked. But never mind." He was quiet until we arrived to our destination. He pulled the spray paint out of his bag and grinned at me childishly.

"Let's go!" he said, a maniacal laugh escaping from his lips as he shook the can. I laughed at his crazed expression.

"Yeah, yeah, calm down Satan," I chuckled and got out of the car, locking it behind me.

Mello looked around warily and when he was convinced nobody was around, he started spraying the walls of the house we stood in front of. I joined him. We finished after about forty minutes of careful concentration, making sure everything perfect in our masterpiece. In big, bold, neon green and blue graffiti letters, it said, "We are the Champions" Doing graffiti was actually one of my passions, even though I didn't look like the type of person to commit any type vandalism. But hey, looks can deceive.

"Matt?" Mello asked.

"Yeah?" I responded.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me. I really, truly do appreciate it." He slung an arm around my shoulders in a one-sided hug.

"No problem Mello. I'll always be here for you when you need me." I slung an arm around him as well.

"I have to go to work now. Come with me, I'll give you a free drink." Mello said. I couldn't decline such an offer, and nodded.

We made our way to the car. Unlocking the door, we slid onto the smooth leather seats.

"Matt?" Mello asked again after I'd been driving for a couple of minutes.

"What is it, Mello?" I responded.

"Do you trust me?"

"Um... I guess I do," I hesitated. I didn't know what to say, especially because I didn't know why he was asking the question.

"You think you do, but you don't know you do." His voice became melancholy. He sounded genuinely upset and disappointed.

"I mean, I know I do." I tried to amend my words, but the damage had been done.

"No you don't." He responded sadly.

"How would you know what goes on in my head?" I didn't know where Mello was going with this. Was he just looking for an argument?

"Because, Matt," his voice broke into my thoughts.

"Because why?" I pushed.

"Because we've known each other since we were young, stupid kids in that dumb orphanage. Neither of us have any family. Matt, I don't have anybody else and I know you don't either. The only thing we have is each other. Yet, you still hide basic stuff from me."

"Like what?" I came to the conclusion that Mello was just in a bad mood because he had work, and he had no one except me to argue with.

"Your name. Tell me your real name." He looked me straight in the eye with his own piercing blue ones.

"You never told me yours!" I retorted. And it was true. He never did tell me his birth name. "So your argument is invalid." I added. I felt like I had trapped him now, because he knew what I said wasn't a lie, but yet, he tried to argue with me about the same thing. I snapped back into focus when Mello started talking.

"Mihael Keehl. I was born in Russia. I'm around 75% Russian and 25% German. My father and mother died when I was very, very young and I do not have any other siblings or family. I speak Russian, German, and English. I was born on December 13, 1989. " His voice was soft and small as he told me all this.

I realized suddenly that this argument was different from any other we'd had before. I was so floored, I couldn't get any word out. He had just told me all of his personal information, and I hadn't even asked for it. Why would he do such a thing? Did he really trust me to that extent? I still was speechless when he said "Stop the car." I faintly nodded and complied. I was not mentally stable enough to drive.

"Are you okay?" Mello asked with concern. I nodded.

"Stop lying." He said with the most serious tone ever in his voice. I never heard Mello in my entire life talk to me in the manner he did tonight. "Also, I'm not looking for any argument. I just want to talk." He said softly. This was so unlike Mello, considering one of Mello's passions is to argue until he nearly makes you pull your own hair out.

He took my face in his hands. He stared straight into my eyes and didn't break eye contact at all. "Look, I don't expect you to tell me your real name, or your past or anything. I just want you to know that you're the only person I ever trusted and still trust and will always trust. I know I can confine in you with anything and everything and you won't ever tell any other soul. I just want you to know that and I think you had to hear that. That's all. Now let me drive." He changed the topic all of a sudden. I took the keys out of the ignition and handed him them. We changed seats and he started the car and drove away aggressively like we were in a car chase or something.

"Are you still coming to the bar?" Mello asked and gave me a quick look that I couldn't read for my life what it meant.

"Yes." Was all I said. Right now, I just wanted it to be silent in the car so I could get my thoughts straight in my head. Should I tell Mello my real name and my past and what I do for a living? Because he trusted me enough to tell me everything about him, so why shouldn't I be decent enough to return the favor. And he was right. He was everything to me. He meant the world to me, and I'd never want to jeopardize our relationship towards each other, by making him think that I didn't trust him. Before I knew it, Mello's crazy driving got us to the bar in less than 5 minutes.

"You were speeding," I pointed out the obvious.

"Do I seem like the type of guy to care?" He grinned at me.

"No," I laughed. We entered the bar, and everybody in the bar stopped and stared at Mello.

"Wow, popular much?" I asked. This was my first time coming to a bar with Mello.

"So and so." He said and walked his way towards behind the counter. He picked up a bottle and read the label on it. Then he plucked up 2 more. He opened them and mixed all three beverages together into a glass.

"Alright my dear, here you have some Jagger mixed with Red Bull and another secret ingredient that you will have to guess," He smiled at me playfully.

"Why thank you," I stared at his name-tag to play along. "Mello."

"Aw, no problem. Tell me if there's something specific you want, I have everything. Okay, I have to take care of these customers real quick, be right back Matt." He looked at me apologetically. I realized there were about twenty people that gathered within 1 minute, waiting for him. They all wanted to be served by Mello, even though there were two other bartenders working. I guessed Mello was just really popular. I looked over at him and heard random bits of chatting with the customers. He seemed so natural at it. He was telling jokes and everybody was laughing.

"What a faggot, huh?" A voice, next to me snapped me out of my daze.

"What'd you say?"

"Dude with the blonde hair." He said simply and stared right at Mello.

"What did you just call him?" I glared at the bastard.

"A faggot. Look at him! Wearing leather. Guy probably gets it in the ass multiple times a day. What a disgusting fag-" I acted without warning; I just couldn't take it any longer. Nobody was going to talk about Mello like that, so I did the only thing I could think of. I punched the moron straight in the face. His nose quickly started bleeding and he passed out on the floor. I don't know if it was because of how hard I punched him, or because of the level of alcohol in his bloodstream. Either way, I was more than happy to see this guy on the ground. The people Mello was serving let out cries of astonishment. Mello's head swiveled towards me while still trying to pour the drink into the glass. He looked at me for a split second and shook his head, cursing when the glass overflowed. He walked towards me and grabbed me by my collar. Hard.

"What the fuck Matt?!" He let out a loud squawk. Shit. Mello squawking. Not good.

"I swear, I can explain," I raised my hands in defense. He face-palmed himself and rolled his eyes.

"Common, I'm too tired to work tonight anyway and I just started my shift. I can't pull through the rest." He said, exhausted. He had seemed fine 2 minutes ago when he was laughing and joking around, but I wasn't going to question him. I wanted so desperately to get out of there. He turned around quickly and scanned the room as if trying to find someone or something.

"Hey Jessy!" He yelled really loudly. A girl with voluminous brown hair and a short red dress turned around and looked at Mello.

"Fill in for me?" He said, but it sounded more like a statement than a question. She nodded at him and he winked at her.

"Alright Matt. Let's go to your place. My place isn't as nice anyway," he said pulling me along. And with that, we left the bar.