AN: This story will not be completed; however I will leave the previous chapter's up. c: I'll be starting one later on which details Matt and Mello's life in Wammy's House as sexual frustrated teenagers, so be prepared for that and as much angsty-smut as you can handle! ;D
This probably sounds clique, but I don't believe in love.
I guess you could call it the burden of an orphan – even if we're auspicious enough to wind up in an orphanage or a home instead of out on the streets, there is still that little part of you that is different than the average kid. One day it's there: you might be safe at home; you might be returning from school: you might be tucked in bed without a care in the world and then suddenly, it's gone.
It might have been a car crash. A gunshot. A careless, inordinate accident. Call it what you will- but once they're gone, they take all the uninhibited gooey feelings with them, and suddenly you're scraping the bottom of the barrel for it, hysterical, dilapidated, because somehow you've become a shell instead of a kid.
Maybe I'm just talking for myself- when I learnt that my parents had bit the bullet (quite literally) you wouldn't have recognized me from a bag of bones.
It's safe to say I'm over it now. I had to be. Wammy's House may have been packed to the rafters with prodigies, but they were still kids, and kids can be the most titanic assholes in the world. After all, they'd all lost their parents in one or another- they had little time or sympathy for the new kid who stunk up the place with his misery and tried to hoe favouritism from Roger (who generally provided none anyway, the old bastard.)
You get used to it- the loneliness; for a while it was me against the world. Don't get me wrong, though- I don't say this for pity. I sure as hell don't need or want pity. I've roughed it for far too long to rely on sympathy from others. Kind words and compassion will only get you so far in your life- from then on, you're on your own.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, I've been strong. I've been stronger than you can imagine. But not because it was exciting and not being I wanted to be because but because I had to be.
Maybe for this reason you won't blame me for some of the things I've done- I'll do. This won't be the first time I say 'hear me out': I was an orphan and used this as a justification to be a dick to others and to put all the pleasant parts of me austerely under lock and key. I'm not a good person. I've never been a good person.
But sometimes, good things come to me.
