A Word Like 'Protect'

What does it mean to protect? Wait. Too serious. Let's try again.

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Protection - meaning to-

Damn it. Whoops. Excuse my potty mouth. All right, again.

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Frosting, frosting, frosting! Oh, the sug-

...Okay, how did we get to that topic? Never mind. Again.

/

Mello is probably the most screwed-up-in-the-mind person you've ever met.

Hm. I like that. Okay, let's keep going.

Probably the most insane, too, along with most temperamental, most bitchy. But really, he isn't all too bad once you get close to him(after you get past the gunshots, attempted-killings, etc). To me, he's the most valuable thing I have. I love him. And even though he's, like I said, screwed-up-in-the-mind and insane, he's like this rolled-up ball of energy that bounces around 24/7 and growls at anyone who stands in its way. There are so many things that are unique about him. Like how he can take a simple word like 'protect,' morph it into something vaguely resembling an 'obsess,' pitch in some 'crazy,' add a little dose of 'illegal,' and top it all off with the simple objective of 'love.'

The normal and most common definition of 'protect' is this: to shield something from harm.

Mello's-because he's so unique- goes something like this: To give a bloody nose-

Wammy's Orphanage for Gifted Children. Nine years ago, when me and Mello were both eight, and suddenly, it's a cool autumn day again. I was sitting by myself outside, underneath a slide, playing my game with my numbing fingers. I resented the older children of the orphanage, the ones who thought they were so much cooler than everyone else.

Psh. I'm probably smarter than them, with my knowledge on computers and my keen sense of observance. But that didn't stop them from pushing me around, and that was how I'd ended up outside, in the freakin' cold, wearing nothing but my long sleeved shirt and ratty jeans. I was barefoot, my sneakers having been taken away from me by the older orphans. My feet were paling and I could only slightly move my toes, but what the hell. At least I got to play my game.

Mario. God, I love that game. I'd found the cartridge abandoned under the big rug in the Playroom, so I took it.

It was quiet except for the constant tap tap tap-or was that just because my ears were numb?- as I guided Mario down a green, animated tube. And then, the next thing I knew, there was this weird boy dressed in all black standing in front of me, with bright yellow hair cut down to his chin, looking down at me curiously.

"Hi," he said.

I just sat there. What do you say to a random boy who just decided to walk up to you and try to strike a conversation? I was eight, mind you, and I wasn't the best social butterfly. "Your hair is really bright, y'know?" were my first words to the blond boy.

He cracked a smile. "Thanks."

He must have taken my observation as a compliment, but I shrugged mindlessly, returning to my game. A few awkward seconds later, I felt him move and sit himself next to me, scooting closer to see the screen. I didn't mind too much, since some of the warmth from his cotton shirt shooed away numbness from my arms. "Are you that guy?" he asked, pointing at Mario.

I nodded.

"What're you supposed to do?" he said.

"I've gotta rescue Princess Peach," I answered softly, making Mario enter a castle. If the blond boy was still curious, he didn't ask anything else. He watched me defeat Bowser and rescue the Princess.

"I'm cold," he said as we both watched the credits roll on the tiny screen. "Why aren't you inside?"

I shrugged. "The older kids like to give newcomers a hard time." I turned to look at him, pocketing my DS.

A glint passed through his eyes. "You're new. And they're giving you a hard time."

I shrugged again.

"C'mon." The blond boy stood up, brushing his pants of tanbark, and held out a hand to me. I took it wordlessly, letting him pull me to my feet. We began our slow walk back inside Wammy's, considering I was still barefoot and every step felt like needles stabbing my feet.

"Where are your shoes?" Jeez, he asks a lot of questions.

"The older kids took them away."

The same glint in his eyes again. "Okay. What's your name?"

"Matt," I told him my alias.

"I'm Mello," he said. "Want some hot chocolate when we get inside?"

A little smile played on my lips. "Yeah."

We finally made it inside and Mello walked me to the cafeteria, where he got some hot chocolates for both of us as I waited, sitting at an empty table and trying to warm my feet. He came back with two steaming cups and pushed one towards me. He set his down on the space across me and said, "I'll be right back, Matt. I'm going to go get you some shoes if I can."

He was being nice to me, something I could hardly believe. I managed to utter a "Thank you" before he walked out of the cafeteria.

About fifteen minutes later, he came back carrying some sneakers and a brown hoodie, leaving the cafeteria door ajar a little bit. As I pulled on my new shoes, I glanced at the door and saw Dare, the guy who'd taken my shoes, holding his nose and rushing past. I swore I also saw blood dripping.

"What happened with Dare?" I asked curiously, sipping my hot chocolate.

Mello handed me the hoodie, which I pulled on, relishing the nice comfy feeling it gave me. "I heard he tripped or something," Mello said, sounding like he didn't care. He smiled at me, a smile that reached his eyes.

I smiled back, lifting the mug to my lips to drink some more of that delicious hot chocolate.

-to scare-

A month later and we were practically inseparable. It was also coincidentally Halloween, a holiday Mello was ecstatic for. He told me that besides Easter, Halloween was his favorite because one, he gets a lot of chocolate, and two, it was L's birthday.

I was still fairly new. All that I knew about L was that he was a calligraphic letter on a laptop, and Mello's idol. He'd never told me, but it was pretty obvious with the way he worked so hard to beat this kid named Near.

Anyway, I was looking at my reflection in the mirror, alone in my room. I adjusted the puppy ears-really, they were just two pieces of cloth sewn to look like ears and attached to a headband- and did a double take. I didn't have any costume, so Mello had found me this brown fluffy vest. It was sleeveless and I had to wear a long brown sleeved shirt underneath. My jeans were denim, since I had none that were brown, or remotely close to that color.

It was Mello's idea for me to go trick or treating as a puppy. He liked to joke about me acting a lot like one for the first few weeks we'd known each other.

I heard my doorknob being twisted open and knew it could only be Mello(my roommate was downstairs already and besides, Mello never knocks). I suddenly felt ridiculous in this costume, especially with the added presence of my goggles, and I yelped, diving under my bed and trying to crawl to a place where Mello wouldn't be able to see me. I could imagine his laughing face.

"Matt?" He yanked gently on my right foot and I squirmed.

"I-I'm not ready yet!" I said.

"Okay, I'll help you get ready." And then suddenly I was being pulled out from my hiding place and I was staring at Mello with wide eyes.

"Aww," he said, smiling wide and tussling my hair. "You look fine, Matt."

I blushed, looking at his costume. He was wearing a black cloak, the hood down, and in his right hand was a sleek scythe. "Thanks," I mumbled, shuffling around.

Mello tossed me a pillow case and said, "Come on! We've gotta hurry or the chocolate will run out."

I nodded, dragging the pillow case behind me as I walked out of my room after him.

Trick or treating at Wammy's was, according to Mello, basically the orphans walking around in the first floor of the House. We were allowed to visit all the rooms, which all at least had one staff member giving out chocolate.

Our first destination was the Commons. Roger was there, handing out small packs of M&M's and lollipops. He didn't look particularly happy, and I swear he scowled at us when me and Mello came up to get our candy.

"Don't worry, he's always like that," Mello whispered to me.

I was puzzled. "If he hates children, why does he work in an orphanage?"

Mello shrugged. "Maybe he wasn't the brightest tool in the drawer. Ooh, look, chocolate eggs!" He dashed off to the Playroom with me following suit.

A good half an hour later our pillow cases were filled a little past halfway. We were on our way to get more when we ran into Dare, who was dressing up as someone who just got out of surgery. At least, that what I think. The bandage on his nose made it hard to tell. The moment he saw me, puppy costume and all, he smirked and strode over.

I wondered why. I'd figured out that Mello was the one who gave him the bloody nose last time, so why wasn't he afraid of Mello? I turned to say something to the blond and found my best friend wasn't there.

He'd ditched me.

I suddenly felt very small as Dare planted himself a foot away from me. We were about the same height but still I felt miniscule. "Aw, look at Matt, dressed as a puppy," he said in mock-awe.

Beside him, Lake laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised if that collar of his said 'Property of Mello.'"

Dare punched his shoulder. "Yeah, man. He sticks to that blond like super-glue."

My cheeks felt hot and I looked down, wringing my hands like I did when I was nervous. I heard the two boys share another laugh.

"Leave Matt alone."

The voice was dry and raspy, sending chills down my spine. I glanced up, seeing Dare smirk defiantly. "And who's defending him?" he taunted. "You can't protect him much in the shadows, genius."

"One, I am a genius," the raspy voice said again. "Two, I can use my genius mind to think up of ways to torture you, and a million more on how to kill you. Your death will be a creative and messy one."

Dare faltered. I noticed Lake had ran away. "H-hey, you can't threaten me like that!" he blustered, looking around for the source of the voice.

"And you shouldn't harass Matt like that." Then a black-clothed figure was standing behind him, and when Dare saw it, he shrieked and ran. I watched as he scrambled upstairs, back to his room, probably.

Mello's blond head appeared when he pulled his over sized hood down. He grinned at me. "Sorry for leaving you behind, but I saw this opportunity and thought it shouldn't be missed."

"Thank you, Mello," I said, taking a step forward to hug him. When I thought he'd be creeped out and run away from me, a slim hand petted my auburn tresses.

"Anytime, Matt," he said softly. "Anytime."

-to literally bite-

About three months later and it was my ninth birthday. Mello took the liberty to bake a chocolate cake and scare a side of the cafeteria away so we can have our own little party. He gave me a gift: a rectangular box in striped wrapper. Surprisingly, a few other orphans stepped up to join us, and Mello didn't mind as long as Dare wasn't present.

So I got a few more presents and a few more voices when they sang 'Happy Birthday' to me. The chocolate cake sat proudly on the table, nine candles lit and standing. To the side, Mello grinned at me as the song finished.

I paused before blowing out the candle, thinking of a wish.

When I finally had one in mind and had leaned down to blow, I saw that someone already blew them for me. I was confused. Didn't the birthday-boy or girl do that at their parties?

Mello didn't look happy also. He glowered at Roger, whom I supposed was the culprit. The old man grumbled, "He was taking too long."

"Well you didn't have to blow his candles for him, you big old bastard!" Mello exploded, and there as a flash of yellow and black as he attacked Roger. There was a brief scuttle, one that Mello won. It was pretty obvious, with the way Roger's wrist was bleeding and Mello grinning.

"Did you bite him?" I asked, incredulous.

Mello scoffed. "Yeah. He tasted disgusting, too."

-drive away with noises-

Five years later and we were thirteen, lounging around in our shared room. We were finally able to become roommates when my original one left. Mello managed to convince Roger to put us in the same room, the kid-hater reluctantly did it.

Anyway, I was in Mello's lap, leaning against him comfortably, half asleep. There was an open textbook in my lap and I could feel Mello's warm breath and his chin on my neck as he read it in this fashion. Finally, he put the book away and just sat there.

"Matt, I kinda need to move sometime, you know?" he asked a while later.

I mumbled something incoherent. I was too tired to move. Maybe I shouldn't have pulled that all-night gaming marathon for two nights straight...

There was banging on our door and an excited voice exclaimed, "Mello, Mello, Mello!" More banging. "Play soccer with us!"

"Make them go away," I whimpered, my head throbbing at the high-pitched voice.

Mello stroked my arm consolingly, and I felt him smile against my neck. "I'm busy studying!" he called back to the door.

There was a brief silence before the banging resumed. "Please? It's no fun without you!"

Mello sighed. "They won't go away," he said honestly. "Why don't you take a nap? I'll be back in thirty minutes or so."

I shook my head. "I don't wanna be alone." I shot him my puppy eyes.

His face was burning and he turned away in an attempt to hide it. "F-fine," he mumbled.

More banging. "Mello!"

My eye twitched. This was the most I'd been annoyed in a long time.

Mello chuckled behind me. I felt the vibration in his chest. "Watch this, Matt," he whispered. "Didn't I tell you?" He shouted at the door. "I-ah!-am busy."

"Mello, we want to play with you!" they persisted. Annoying twits.

However, my breath hitched as soon as I heard Mello moan loudly, "Mmm, Matty."

The orphans went silent for a while, and picked back up with more vigor.

"Mello, are you okay?" A kid cried.

"Mmm, more fine than ever-ooh, do that again." Mello groaned hotly in my ear. I was aware that he was now hugging me to him. I reddened, looking down self-conciously as the teen behind me continued to make noises.

Finally, someone screamed, "Oh, god, he and Matt are doing the deed!" and there was the sound of running feet as they rushed away.

Mello went limp behind me, squeezing my waist once, gently. "That did the trick."

"Do you know what you just did?" I asked in a distant voice. "They think you're gay now."

Mello shrugged, grabbing his chocolate bar from our dresser, opened it, and took a bite out. "I thought I already made it obvious enough, what with my hair and all."

"Y-you're gay?" I gaped up at him.

"Yep. Are you going to run away now?" Mello smiled down at me, looking the least bit unperturbed.

I managed to smile back. "Nope," I said. For some strange reason, I was glad he was.

-to leave his best friend-

A year later and the inevitable happened. Well, I supposed it was inevitable. It really looked like nothing could stop Mello as he hastily gathered his things, and with a red face, stormed out of Wammy's House, leaving me.

Strangely, I was calm as I soon left shortly after him. I was so confident I'd find him, because surely he'd have left me some clue to his whereabouts, right?

Wrong. For three goddamn years, I was a wandering teenager in the streets of Japan, staying in a crummy apartment and hacking for a living.

I picked up a couple more habits through those years, all the while strengthening my obsession for gaming. Things like smoking and drugs kept my mind away from the thought that I may never see Mello again. The drugs stopped after I had an overdose and nearly died. I nearly died a second time when I realized that I'd come that close to dying without ever reuiniting back with Mello. I tried to quit smoking, too, but when I first tried, I began to cut myself and found the pain relieving. Nearly two weeks later, some sense was knocked into me and I resumed smoking. I never cut myself again, as long as I smoked.

In short, I was a mess without my other half.

But maybe every cloud did have its silver lining. Near the beginning of my fourth year without Mello, I found myself sitting in a bar, pushing away girls with too-short skirts and too much makeup. Bodies ground against each other on the dance floor, and finally my claustrophobia caught up with me. I stood to leave, walking to the exit. I was halfway out the door when someone grabbed me roughly by the arm and yanked me back.

I was tall, and not at all graceful. I landed against a muscular torso, stumbling over my own feet. My face hardened into a glare as I turned to stare sharply at my assailant. "What?" I snapped.

"You need to come with me," the man rumbled.

I was about to hiss, "Well, what if I don't want to?" when I felt the cold barrel of the gun press against my temple. The other people were too caught up in dancing or drunk to notice, or really didn't care. Against my will, I was led to one of the rooms in the back at gunpoint.

There were about five or more other men with big guns poking out from their suits. I would have sneered at them had not a gun been pointed to my head.

I was pushed roughly in front of a maroon leather couch. I stared, waiting at a lithe form before me, clad in black leather and head dipped down, blond hair falling in the way of me recognizing the face.

"Look," I started, "I don't know what's going on, but I do know you have the wrong guy-" I stopped mid-sentence to suck in a breath. The person in front of me was now staring right into my eyes, leaning forward the slightest bit.

"M-Mello," I said softly.

-to incapacitate-

I stood there dumbly, frozen in shock. Mello was grinning slightly, baby blue eyes bright, radiating happiness.

"Hey, Matt."

At those two words, I broke down. I leapt forward, tackling him further into the couch, nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck. Like old times.

"Still as perky as ever, eh, Matt?" Mello chuckled dryly, patting my hair with a gloved hand.

There was the sound of multiple guns cocking and the moment was ruined. I slowly looked up and blinked at the seven guns loaded and aimed at us. The man who'd taken me here stepped forward, smiling triumphantly. "Don't move, or we shoot."

"What's this, Jose?" Mello said, not sounding nervous at all. His voice was dangerous. Then he whipped out his own gun and shot at Jose. The big man yelled as he went down in a flash of blood. The other men panicked at the sight, some rushing to help him, others just standing there frozen.

Six more bullets and they were all dead.

"Tch." Mello lifted his chin up in the air, an act of defiance. "Traitors." He stood, forcing me to his feet as well. I could only stare wide-eyed as he tucked his gun into the waistband of his leather pants. He looked at me. "It won't be long until someone reports the gunshots," he said. He jerked a hand to the window. "We should get out while we can."

I nodded. He crawled through the window first and helped pull me out to the cool night air.

"So, Matt, we have a lot of catching up to do," he said as we walked to his motorcycle, parked a few meters away.

"And explaining," I mumbled. I doubt he heard me.

We stopped in front of his motorcycle, and he climbed on first. Then he patted the space behind him and I got the idea that I was supposed to get on, too. I sat down awkwardly, wrapping my arms around his waist securely. I was pretty sure the bastard was smirking as he revved the engine. Soon, we were on the road, the landscape blurry as we sped past it. I tightened my grip around Mello's waist, too busy worrying about falling off to focus on his egotistical attitude.

We arrived at his apartment-apparently, his was no better than mine. The lock was broken, and with the right amount of pressure, Mello pushed it open without having to use keys. Inside turned out to be a messy clutter of balled-up chocolate wrappers scattered all over the carpet, the light in the kitchen flickering.

I whirled on him once he shut the door. "You," I said hotly, "have a lot of explaining-"

He didn't let me finish, closing the space between us in two strides, grabbing my shirt, and pressing his lips to mine.

My first kiss was Mello.

I forgave him that instant.

-to sacrifice himself-

A week later and I found myself listening to Mello-my boyfriend, I thought with pride- speaking to Yagami through a bug barely visible on his vest. I couldn't see him, since the room's cameras were disabled, but I listened to his voice.

And then I heard him talking about blowing the hideout up, and I said, "Don't do it, don't you fucking dare," only to realize in vain he couldn't hear me. I swore loudly, grabbing my keys and rushing to my car. The moment I started the engine, there was an explosion in the earpiece I was wearing. Swearing some more, I yanked it off and backed out of the driveway, not caring if I ran over the mailbox. I frantically sped towards Mello's hideout.

When I found him, he was barely conscious and half of his face was burned off. I winced, trying to get him into the passenger seat of the car. It was hard work, but I finally managed to do it, and when I did, I ran to the driver's seat and drove like hell away from the burning ruins of the hideout. I clutched to Mello's hand like a lifeline the whole way to apartment, where I treated his wounds, because the bastard was too paranoid about going to a hospital.

"Why, Mello?" I whispered as I wrapped a bandage around his right eye.

Mello cracked a smile. "For you, Matty," he rasped. With a shaky hand, he reached inside his vest and pulled out a folded picture. Later I'd find out it was a picture of me. "I've kept it with me since I left you...if I died, they'd have inspected me...found the picture, killed you too..." He trailed off, his head lolling back. "I love you," he got out, before he slipped into a deep sleep that he wouldn't wake from until three days later.

-just to ensure that I was safe, unharmed, not a single scratch on me. He loved me.

He was overprotective of me, some might say. He took care of me sometimes even better than he took care of himself. He stayed by my side through my whole life as my shield, my protector, my guardian angel. Even after he left me, he told me one day, he thought about me almost all of the time, and he regretted not taking me with him.

Mello might be the most screwed-up-in-the-mind person you've ever met. Also probably the most insane, most bitchy. He has a bad temper with a tendency to shoot someone if he doesn't get what he wants. He's impulsive, reckless, and did many things based on his emotions. Always his emotions. His plans were unpredictable, like himself. He was always moving, whether it be punching, kicking, pulling a trigger, or kissing me under the rain.

He's the man I love.