AN: Honestly, I just wanted to write something about my OTP for Valentine's Day. ^^; (I know it's not Valentine's Day anymore, but it was when I started writing this, ahaha.) I wish there'd been more romance in this, but at the same time, I was distracted by my own emotions, and after my fingers rambled for a while, this sort of emerged. I think I'm happy with it, though, even though I'm sure there's imperfections that I'll find after rereading this in the future. If any of you notice those imperfections though, feel free to point them out. Thanks for reading!

Terror.

It was stupid.

Matt knew it was stupid.

Yet he couldn't get rid of it. He just couldn't.

It was the oddest sensation. Of all things, this trivial detail was the last that he'd expect to send his heart into restlessness and make him want to hide, seclude himself with his games to avoid emergence for the next several . . . days, at the least. Weeks would be nice.

But he couldn't do that. Hiding away for so long was not an option. No, sooner or later someone would come to fetch him, demand that he come to class now or risk letting his ass rot in hell—whether by Mr. Ruvie or by Mello himself.

On top of that, there was no way to really avoid Mello without causing more of a scene than he wanted to. No, if he was going to do anything about this, he was going to do it quietly and as quickly as possible.

He could just put it off again, but that was already what he'd been doing for weeks. Perhaps he only wanted to do this so badly because he'd refused to keep it off his mind. Maybe all he had to do was really commit himself to circumnavigating the subject before it would go away.

But maybe not.

As it was, though, it was essentially an itch that'd built itself up to an unbearable degree. It wouldn't do to simply let it go untested; the itch needed scratching.

Needed.

Did it really?

It could still go away.

But he still had to try.

Matt realized he'd left Mario sitting atop a flower for a good ten seconds now. He started at the blinking images for a few moments, questioning them as if they held all the answers, then abruptly tossed the Gameboy to the side and sat up, causing the mattress to groan.

"Mello?"

The blond seated at their elephant of a personal computer twisted around, peering over his shoulder at Matt. He took in the odd sight for one moment, definitely noting the fact that Matt wasn't for once gazing into his screen. "What is it?"

"So you know how you told me last week you were gay?"

Matt observed as Mello began turning the words over in his mind, searching for the underlying reasoning even while prodding Matt for continuance: "Yeah?"

"Well, I lied when I said I was straight." Matt was so practiced in keeping a neutral face that the effort wasn't difficult, but he could sense a blush simmering just below his composure. The only emotion on his face expressed itself through his eyes, blue rings darting about—alighting most frequently on the blond's lighter blue ones, but often enough on the computer behind him or the lean, pale fingers that had frozen at the keyboard.

"So you're gay?"

The question was, to Matt's relief, quite nonchalant. His arms relaxed—and he hadn't even realized he'd been tensing. He had to hope Mello hadn't been paying close attention, for Matt suspected that the blond knew him well enough to note that hunched shoulders, stiff arms, and lightly twitching fingers generally indicated the brunet felt tense. "No. Not gay. Only half. I'm bi."

Mello exhaled, lungs expelling air in something between a sigh and a chuckle. Even more relief graced Matt when a corner of Mello's mouth slid upward, lips parting a moment later to say, "You didn't have to lie."

Matt wanted to argue. He could argue, but that would involve explaining far more than he was ready to. "I know." He managed a grin, too, one that came easier now that his anxiety was receding.

Their gazes stuck together for a moment, Mello still seeking out Matt's motives, and Matt guarding secrets behind a cautiously relaxed expression—at least, one that was relaxed to the best of his ability. This expression, the one marking Mello's close inspections, worried him a lot sometimes; he knew Mello was more than capable of coming to . . . certain conclusions, and he didn't know whether it was more worrisome that he hadn't yet or that he could at any moment.

Part of him thought it might be easier if Mello were to actually realize that Matt had never really seen Mello as just a friend. And it wouldn't be a bad thing, necessarily; after all, knowing that Mello actually was gay definitely was reason for Matt to hope that something could actually come out of this. He'd always suspected before, whether by gaydar or simply because he knew Mello really well, but actually hearing the words was surprisingly inspirational.

At the same time, it had frightened Matt. He found himself immediately wanting to tell Mello everything, but even knowing it might not bad, there was still a part of him that was reluctant to confess to something like that. Mello had never once indicated that such a confession would bother him, but Matt worried all the same. It was just impossible to predict what Mello would do—and even more so how Matt would react to it. Matt had told himself for years that there was no way Mello felt the same, and he'd been okay with that—but to literally be faced with the rejection, to have "I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same" dropped right into his lap should that be the (likely) case, Matt didn't know what he would do, and he especially worried that Mello would feel the need to awkwardly account for Matt's feelings like some newborn baby when that was the last thing he wanted. He was happy here, with the relationship they had, and if he ruined that by telling Mello the extent of his feelings . . .

Maybe it was cowardly of him, but Matt would rather keep things the same than confess.

Thankfully, Mello turned aside his gaze after a few moments after offering Matt one more reassuring smile. Matt expected more relief to follow when his best friend resumed tapping on the keyboard, but instead he simply felt a restless lack of closure.

There was no help behind feeling that, though, so he shouldered the emotions aside and turned back to his Gameboy.

As his fingers reacquainted themselves with the familiar, worn buttons, Matt suddenly found himself smiling.