Matt POV

Home. I don't suppose I ever really had a good, solid home. I hadn't had loving parents like Mello; I was abandoned at birth.

I never considered the countless orphanages, the endless foster "homes" or the strange, unfamiliar faces as a home.

That is…Until I got sent to Wammy's.

It was only then had I found a home to belong to—and my one true love.

Don't get me wrong, Wammy's itself was not what I had found the feeling of homeliness in, as white, hospital-like cleanliness and the slight smell of baby sweat is not exactly what I find comfort in…

It was Mello.

Now, I had never been a believer of fate. But me landing myself as the roommate of the most feared child in the orphanage must have had to be either fate, or one hell of a coincidence.

Mello was not a violent child, as most believed…Yes, he was a typhoon of a child, with more energy and emotions than what his tiny body could hold, but not…violent. He was just Mello, and I wouldn't change him for the world.

Mello was actually the one that showed me the love of my life…

Video games.

I won't ever forget the first time I played on that old Nintendo; watching the pixelated graphics blink, flash, dance in front of my eyes; hearing bleeps and clicks and the cheery, brainwashing game music blast from the old television speakers. It was love at first sight.

Mello also showed me a lot of other things…Strength, willpower, how to not only be alive, but to live.

So to hell with "home is where the heart is"; my home lies wherever Mello is.

Mello POV

Home.

Home was a concept as vague as hope was to me.

Being too young to remember my folks and the only real loving home I've had, it's as if it never happened.

Wammy's, with its competitions and frustrations, wasn't home; the mafia base, with its anger and forced-back fear, was never home; the illegal hospital I spent weeks in after the explosion, with the mind-numbing pain and uncertainties, could not even pass for a kennel…

And this. This dump of an apartment, littered with ashes and old candy wrappers smearing perpetual stains onto the bare carpet; with the suffocating, yet somewhat endearing stench of nicotine permanently engraved into anything and everything in sight…Was this home?

I had chocolate. And most importantly, I had Matt, with his cigarettes and video games, in all his goggled-and-striped glory.

I guess…This will do for now.