BeforeNote: So, yeah, this is a bit morbid, but it's how I like to portray Mail's life before Wammy's House. Mello, and other characters, will come into this story, but I'm not making this a yaoi or romance thing. It's mainly friendship and slight AU.

Warnings: Slight swearing, drugs.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any drugs.


Mail Jeevas can't remember the first time he tried out a cigarette, the first time he tasted alcohol, or the first time he shot the gooey, black liquid into his fragile veins. Maybe it was when he was only six years old, when his father was dozing off on the couch on a hot, summer day.

All he remembers is walking past the drunk man, who shakily held a syringe filled with some black substance. He knew better than to ask, though, what it was that his dad had filled up the plastic tube with, or else he would be beaten. That day, however, after he walked passed the older man, his father grabbed his arm and sat him on the couch.

"What're you doin', boy?" his father asked, his words slightly stirring, and his breath a putrid smell. Mail had to resist the urge to cover his nose. "I asked ya a question, kid, now fuckin' answer!" and his father slapped him hard across his left cheek.

"I-I was just looking for my b-book, papa. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." six year old Mail responded, without looking into his father's eyes, and trying to hold back tears.

"Heh heh," his father chuckled darkly. "Who a hell needs books when ya got this shit right 'ere?" and he held up the syringe to Mail's face. "Look 'a it, boy." He forced Mail's head to turn around, and he thrust the syringe closer to the six year old's eyes. "Don't that look nice? Do you wanna know wha' it is?"

Mail didn't respond, didn't look at his father's face. Instead, he tried to turn away, so he wouldn't have to look at that disgusting tube, but his father held a strong grip on his chin. Mail already knew that it was drugs, though he wasn't quite sure what kind it was. He only knew that it was bad, that it fucked with your mind and your health, and sent you on a blissful journey for a measely few minutes. His father took the shit everyday, and that was probably why his whore of a mother left him, left them. Mail didn't want any part of it, until-

"Ya know wha', boy, I think you should try some of this. You'll like it."

And his father shot the disgusting liquid into a vein on the underside of Mail's arm.


AfterNote: I will continue this, I promise. This was just a random idea that popped into my head while I was getting dressed this morning.