As time progressed, Matt's laughter became less and less frequent.

During his younger days, he found a lot of things funny. He would laugh at the fights the other orphans would get into, at Mello's razor-sharp scowls (but only if the scowls were Near-induced), and at Roger's uptight lectures. He could find humor in anything and everything.

But it wasn't even like Matt's laugh was normal or anything. It was just idiosyncratic and habitual. Matt's laughter had always sounded nothing short of snarky and sardonic.

When Mello saw Matt again after all that time, everything about the boy was different. He was taller. His hair was shaggier. His wrists were scrawnier.

His smiles were rare and his laughter? Even more so.

Mello was hoping that Matt had retained that one bit of his former self. If everything else in the world changed, that would be okay as long as Matt still had that assholic string of laughter.

But when Mello finally said something that struck Matt's odd sense of humor, it just wasn't the same. It was jerky, stifled, low, a bit painful, and oftentimes mixed with a hacking cough, because Matt was smoking now, Mello noticed (how could he not?) and it really wasn't cohesive with his asthma and his generally poor health.

"What happened to you?" Mello asked, a question so vague and general that Matt had to think for a good amount of time before he could give a decent answer.

"You. Or a lack thereof, I suppose. I never really had a real smile, you know, but I did have a real laugh. It was kind of like a sign of life. An indicator that I was actually human. You took that. You left and for a while there, I wasn't even sure I was real."

"What restored your faith in your own humanity?"

"Near had this little Lego guy that looked like you."

"Matt, that's so pathetic."

Matt laughed. Painfully.

"Really, though. You're barely alive now, Matt, and I'm sitting right beside you. Something else must have happened."

"Nothing happened. That's the problem. You know, my life revolved around you. It gave me something to do. Kept my mind working. You left and I just kind of died. I would sleep in Near's room---"

"--- in his bed?---"

"--- in Near's bed, and I would sleep with my back to him because I figured the warmth of another body would be nice, but Near's not warm, so I could never close my eyes and pretend it was you."

Matt stopped talking. Mello had no idea what to say. That moment should have been special and poignant. Mello should have said something caring and sweet and then all the lost time would have made up with that simple statement and a heartfelt glance. Instead, he said:

"Matt, you are absolutely, indisputably, without one single iota of a doubt, the most warped, tragic, closet homosexual I have ever met in my entire life."

Again, Matt laughed. It was a step up from the last one, but it was still pathetic.

"You know, you have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh." Mello observed.

"I've had a kind of sick desperation in every aspect of my life ever since you left me." Matt pointed out and Mello figured he was probably telling the truth.

Matt carried that sick, desperate laugh and that sick, desperate existence around with him until the very second those bullets were lodged into his body.

The line "… you have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh." is from Fight Club which inspired this whole entire thing. Review, pleaseee.