AUTHOR'S NOTE
PLEASE READ
This fiction is going to be a collection of one-shots, in chronological order. They will be a look into the psychological states of all of the characters, though namely Matt and Mello. It is a Matt/Mello fiction and will contain extreme graphic physical and sexual content as well as its fair share of angst. It is my insight into why I think the characters function as they do and will be told through various POVs though mainly Matt's POV.
Enjoy the story! Reviews fuel my updates and all criticism is welcomed.
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Matt POV
Mihael Keel has always been hot-headed, to say the least. When he was first brought to Whammy's Orphanage, aged 7, he often threw intense tantrums if he didn't get his own way. He would ball his little hands into fists and pound them on the ground, eyes screwed shut so tightly that the only evidence that he had any eyes at all was the two wrinkled indents in his face, where his eyes should've been. Even his knees would be clenched so his whole body grew rigid, warning off anyone foolish enough to try and make him relax. There were many reports to Roger as to how Mello was seen shoving around other kids and bullying them. Roger had initially blamed the aggressive streak in Mello on his family life. Roger had been told the glum and all too familiar tale of how, like so many others, Mello had watched his father beat and ultimately kill his mother. He'd assumed what child wouldn't be angry after that? After all, children who bully are usually bullied by a parent themselves.
As the years progressed, it became apparent that Mello's hot-headedness wasn't going to fade. In fact, it seemed that his emotions were so out of his grasp that they controlled him, rather than the other way around. Mello acted in accordance to his feelings, regardless of how illogical the actions were and this was something he despised about himself. Mello hated that he couldn't work out a cool, collected plan if he was under pressure. Mello hated that he couldn't stop himself smashing the action figure (the one he had saved three weeks of his allowance to buy) because all he could feel was red hot fury after Linda had told him it was 'for babies'. Watari once told me that he believed this to be the true reason that Mello hated Near so much; Mello's emotions controlled him and made him do silly things whilst Near seemed devoid of any emotion at all. Mello was jealous that Near was so disconnected and detached. Like L, Near's mind was full of careful deduction and cool logic, whilst Mello's was full of passion and emotion. And the thing that Mello was most jealous of (so envious that he could taste bitter resentment filling his mouth every time he looked in the mirror), was that Near was similar to L.
I was one of the few (if not only) of the orphans who had managed to maintain a relationship with Mello that consisted of more than fear and respect. I was the only person in the whole of the orphanage who Mello actually confided in. Roger and Watari were bemused as to how the silent, relatively normal, underachieving Matt had managed to gain the blonde terror's trust, but I had and they were extremely grateful for it. I knew Mello well and was more than aware of his hot-headedness, having been on the receiving end of it more than once. That's why it came as no surprise to me that Mello nearly broke the door of their dorm off its hinges when he stormed back in after his meeting with Roger. Roger had given me the - much needed - heads up that L had died and that he would be asking Mello and Near to work together on the Kira case earlier that day. Mello was a whirlwind. In one quick, violent movement, he swiped the contents of the desktop onto the floor and tore his picture of L off of the wall.
"The cheek of it!" he spat at the ceiling though aware that I was listening. "The bloody cheek of it! Asking me to work with him? As what? His blooming assistant?" He continued to destroy our shared room, like a sniper, annihilating any signs of L or tests or Roger in sight.
"Roger meant work with his as equals, Mel, not his assistant," I reasoned gently.
"But we aren't equals are we? That stupid little albino thinks he is better than me, fucking better than anyone!" Mello cursed in outrage. "He just sat there, with his stupid little toys all… all smug," he cried petulantly.
"Near's a dick. He's always been a dick, there's something not normal about the creep, man," I agreed. It was futile to argue with Mello when he was on a rant about Near. He needed someone to agree with him and loyal old me stood in for that role.
"I'm not doing it Matt! I'm not being a pawn that Near can play with like one of his toys. I'm going to do it myself! I'll get Kira. I will teach Roger that he should have put me as number one! I'll do it by myself and I won't bloody wait here to do it either. We're old now so we can leave and look after ourselves. I've had enough of being treated like a stupid baby," Mello declared passionately, turning for the first time to actually face me and look me in the eye. "I vow to you Matt, I will get Kira first." I (having now had turned off my Gameboy and given Mello my full attention) reached out and grasped Mello's shoulders, leaning down to stare into his red, angry face.
"Mel, you're a genius…hell screw first and second place, you're a genius no matter what and yes, you are going to get Kira. I know you will. But, where are you going to go? We need a plan first man, then we can set to it and you'll defeat Near, I bet you my whole game collection on that!" I spoke steadily and firmly, encouraging Mello to bring his emotions under control and see the reality that running away (as he had done on a couple of occasions before) was pointless. Mello's chest heaved in and out with ragged breaths as he tried to reign himself in. His face was wet with hot, humiliated tears and they served only as a reminder of how his emotions made him weaker than Near. My speech seemed to have worked on him for a minute, before realisation dawned on his face and a look of outrage returned.
"Wait a second. How did you know Roger asked us to work together? How did you know what I was talking about?" Mello's voice raised an octave in suspicion and my eyes widened in panic. I'd slipped up; I had commented that Roger had wanted them to work as equals and not Mello as Near's assistant. I had inadvertently revealed that Roger had told me about L's death before he had told Mello and that, in Mello's eyes, was an ultimate betrayal.
"Don't be mad Mel. I wasn't told any details. Roger just warned me to look after you. He knew I would want to help you!" I pleaded as Mello wrenched himself out of my grasp. My hands felt strangely empty.
"I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help!" he screeched. A terrible, heartbroken sound escaped his lungs. "You're not even anything! You're number three… what could you possibly offer me? You're a stupid, lazy child who likes stupid childish Gameboy games!" Mello voice portrayed perfectly his desperation, his humiliation and his feelings of betrayal. My eyes began tearing up beneath my goggles and they suddenly felt steamy and unpleasant on my face. I pulled them down. I was used to insults from Mello and knew he didn't mean what he said but I hadn't seen Mello this upset before; this volatile. "I'm leaving this fucking place. For good this time! And YOU… you aren't coming with me. All of you are so pathetic and now L is dead…he's DEAD, so there is no point waiting around here. I'm not coming back this time Matt!" he yelled until spit was flying out of the corners of his mouth and his face was shiny with redness. His hair swung wildly around his face as he rampaged through the room, grabbing his rosary, his money stash, his clothes. I was well aware that Mello made empty threats. He would be gone for a night, maybe two, and then come back surely? He wouldn't really go out into the world with no money, nowhere to go? I was a sensible person. I craved a normal life and part of that plan was staying looked after at the orphanage for as long as possible until I had a firm job or place to live. I had seen how cruel the outside world can be; it had chewed my mother up and spat her to the dogs when she was broke and desperate for some drug money. Somehow, I didn't quite see Mello lasting long out there. Amongst the rational want to keep Mello from acting like a complete idiot, I felt something else; a fear that I hadn't experienced since I was first brought to Whammy's. Was I really being abandoned again? First I'd been abandoned by my drug-whore of a mother and now I was being abandoned by my best friend… my only friend.
"Mello man, you can't leave here. You've got nowhere to go! You're my best friend Mel and I believe you can do this but really, what good is coming from leaving. I know you're upset but can't you see it's a bad idea?" I followed Mello's path with his eyes, wringing my hands together in anxiety. I finally reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Mello's T-shirt and tugged with all my might. Mello snapped around to meet my gaze. "What about me Mihael? I've put up with all your shit these years. I've been there for you. What the fuck about me?"
"Well you should've acted like a best friend and not kept L's death from me Matt! You should've told me instead of discussing me behind my back with Roger! Go to Near… you deserve him," Mello wrenched his arm out of my grip and left me, teary eyed and frustrated in our dorm.
Mello's fury was what guided him to the bus stop. His humiliation placed his hand in some middle aged woman's bag to quickly pickpocket her purse with the hefty sum of cash in it. His hurt was what sat him on the next flight to LA.
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Mello's POV
It was only the next day when I woke up in a grimy motel (the only motel that didn't assume I was a rent boy just because I was a young boy on his own), that my emotions stopped controlling me. I wept like a child into the thin sheets at the pure stupidity of my situation. Near was at Whammy's with all the resources and money they had to offer whilst I was a teenage boy in an unknown city with nothing but a fistful of stolen cash. I tried to swallow the thick lump of embarrassment that was building in my throat and simply call Matt, but pride was a thick gag over my mouth and I hit the red 'hang up' button before the phone had rang twice. How could I admit that I was childish enough to throw a hissy fit the whole way to Los Angeles? How could I admit that the things I had yelled at Matt were due to hurt and not hatred? Being the bigger person and apologising was never one of my strong suits.
I cursed quietly again when I felt the familiar stinging behind my eyes and harshly wiped away the tears threatening to fall. It fucking hurt that Matt had been talking to Roger about me like he was my carer, not my friend. And it really fucking hurt that I didn't have any texts or missed calls from Matt. I didn't, for one second, consider the idea that Matt was giving me space to cool off. I was used to being unloved, dejected and unwanted, so my brain looked at what it knew from experience and took Matt's lack of contact as Matt not caring that I was gone. Maybe, if I hadn't had the unfortunate upbringing I was given, I would have deduced that Matt wasn't calling me just yet, because he was scared of driving me further away whilst I was angry. I certainly didn't think that my auburn haired companion may have also been sitting, alone, feeling just as dejected and just as abandoned as I did. I desperately wanted to be superior to such basic human emotions and have a complex reason as to why I refused to call Matt, but the truth was clear; I was just too proud to be the one who called first.
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