AN: This will be my first multi-chaptered fic. I'm trying, you see! BTW, I do not own Death Note.

November

"But Mom," the seven year old boy whined, "why can't I have glasses like Will?"

The boy's mother turned towards him. "Because, sweetie," she explained patiently, "I've already told you; you have perfect eyesight. Will doesn't and he needs corrective lenses. Okay?"

"But Mo-om," the boy protested. His mother only smiled.

Will, who was ten, smiled at his younger brother. "Don't worry about it, Mail," he said. "They're not as cool as you think."

"But I want them, too!" Will and his mother smiled.

December

As the days got colder and snowier, Mail pestered his parents over and over for glasses. It was all he seemed to want. His bemused parents explained, repeatedly, that Mail didn't need glasses, and therefore would not be receiving any.

"Why do you want 'em, Mail?" Will asked one day.

"'Cause," Mail muttered, "you have them. They're cool."

"You're cool anyway."

"They make you look smarter. I want to look smart and sophisticated, too."

"You are smart. You don't need glasses for that."

But Mail couldn't seem to make Will understand that it was only his older brother that thought this way. The kids at school teased Mail and called him weird. Mail only wanted to be as cool and normal as his older brother. He didn't see what was so weird about him, anyway. But it was hard to argue with playground logic.

Mail thought about himself, and his brother. They looked pretty much the same. Same nose. The same messy hair, though Will's was dark where Mail's was red, like their mother's. Will wore glasses, now, but their eyes were the same shape. Not the same color though; Will's eyes were blue like their father's.

Will, Mail reflected, was good at drawing, something that Mail envied. Will could draw anything. Mail's wobbly stick figures were just embarrassing. Whenever Mail pointed this out, Will would always point out that at seven, Mail already understood more about electronics than he did, more so even than their parents. But this did not assuage Mail's frustration, for this was one of the things he was teased about. 'It's weird,' the kids would taunt. 'Why do you like that stuff anyway? Why do you like weird stuff?'

'Stupid,' thought Mail. 'It's stupid.' But whether he meant their reasons or his own interests, he could not have said.

Christmas Eve

After dinner, Will and Mail squirmed anxiously until their parents announced that it was time to open presents. With twin shrieks of delight, the boys raced into the living room, where the ornate tree that everyone had helped to decorate stood majestically in a corner, twinkling softly from its many lights. Underneath the tree lay the objects of the boys' desire: stacks of presents heaped two and three high, all the way around.

Everyone took turns opening presents. For Mrs. Jeevas there was a gold necklace. For Will there was a skateboard. Mr. Jeevas received a handsome pair of cufflinks. Mail's first present was a Gameboy. His eyes shone. Who cared if it was weird? He loved electronics.

There were other presents, too, handmade ones from the boys, and also the ones picked out with careful help from their parents. Will got quite a few art supplies, and Mail didn't even care, because it was Christmas. Finally, there was only one present left, and it had Mail's name on it. The previous year the last present had been for Will, because he was the oldest. This year, it was for Mail, because he was the youngest.

"This," Mrs. Jeevas explained, handing her younger son a small package, "is from all of us. Happy Christmas, Mail."

Mail accepted the gift and eagerly tore it open. Inside was a pair of goggles with yellow lenses. They had an adjustable strap that would make them fit more snugly or loosely depending on which way you pulled. Mail was delighted. After all, they were practically glasses. "Thank you thankyouthankyou!" he shouted, hugging each member of his family in turn.

He wore them to bed that night.