A/N: Hey, I wrote a few drabbles for the Mello/Matt LJ comm and this was one of them. Please enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
Yours
Hardly anything could grab Matt's interest.
At Wammy's, he would sit for endless hours in various classrooms and endure lessons that would become a blur to him only moments after he begrudgingly pulled himself up from his desk. Teachers would pull him aside to tell him that he was unmotivated, that he didn't try, that he was lazy and distant and going nowhere, and seemed to think that this, in turn, would plant a seed of interest in his mind.
Matt failed to see their logic; after all, these words were true and he had known this for quite some time. How would simply stating the facts push him to excel in class?
So Matt would listen, and nod, and pretend to understand; pretend to be sorry. But he knew that it really wasn't that simple. After all, he couldn't make something interesting for himself, and the teachers obviously weren't trying to make textbooks and blackboards and equations interesting.
So he spent his days pretending: pretending to understand, pretending to try, pretending, essentially, to live.
When Mello sauntered, arrogant and rude, into the classroom, flopped into the chair in front of him, turned around, and chomped onto a bar of chocolate angrily (this boy was the first person he'd ever known who could pull off eating chocolate and being angry in the same fluid motion), he was interested. Not mildly intrigued, interested. For the first time in his life, Matt wanted to know more.
Hardly anything could grab Matt's interest, and after Mello did so without batting an eyelash, he never let go.
Matt never let him.