Chapter two! :D I decided to update early for two reasons—the positive response for it, and I realized I'm leaving for a ten to fourteen day trip earlier than I thought (tomorrow!). Still, I hope you enjoy this. (:

As I waited for everyone else to arrive—I still had an hour before class started—I decided that if I couldn't get Matt, I would devote myself to my studies like before. I'd slacked off enough thinking about him, when I could have studied even more. The thought didn't even satisfy me—I wanted Matt, more than anything else. I'd rather have him kiss me than beat Near for a week, than humiliate him, even.

What was Matt changing me into? I wasn't as angry at Near when he walked in—though I did take the liberty of throwing my eraser at him as he walked through the door. But rather than glare at him as he sat in his chair, I watched the clock. Half an hour until class started, now—and four hours until lunch. My stomach rumbled just thinking about him.

I sat at my desk, an open book in front of me, but I couldn't focus on it. I alternated between drumming my fingers on the desk, checking the clock and glancing at the door any time I heard it open. Not glaring at Near, like I usually would; thinking of Matt. Wondering when he would arrive.

Even with most of the students already seated, there were still a lot of empty desks—this room was used to teach the top fifteen, though there were rows in the front, middle, and back of the class, in the left, right, or right areas of the room, to allow students to choose where they could sit.

Matt didn't occupy any of the desks, and with a nervous feeling in my stomach, I wondered if he was with his little group of whores.

With ten minutes to spare, Matt walked through the doors, two girls at his side. I couldn't be bothered to remember their names, though I went to class with them every day we had lessons. They seemed to be the only girls in this class obsessed with him; other girls were looking at him, but not the same way. I guess I was right when I assumed the girls he was with were stupid… For this place, anyway. Nobody in the higher rankings would be caught treating him like that. It was degrading.

Which made me think—he was in the top fifteen. I'd have to ask him later what rank he was. I kicked myself mentally for not realizing it earlier; obviously, someone had to be kicked out of the class for him to join, and as I looked around the room, I found one of the kids missing. I didn't know his name, but I knew his face well enough to process he was missing, while there were fifteen of us in the room. Oh, well. I wouldn't miss him, anyway.

Even with all the empty desks, Matt sat right next to me, the girls hurriedly rushing into the seats near him.

So now he was going to recognize me? I was pleased and bitter about it at the same time.

"Hey," he said with a smirk, leaning in closer so the girls couldn't hear him; they were engaged in a conversation with each other, wildly gesturing with their hands. "All the girls love me."

"I've noticed," I said disapprovingly. I really didn't care for this kind of thing—I bumped into couples extra hard in the hallway, with the kind of strength usually reserved for Near.

Near, who wasn't even the subject of my hatred anymore. It was all those girls Matt insisted on spending his time with now.

And now, though romance seemed unnecessary before, I wanted to be part of a couple—with Matt.

"You could at least act like you care," Matt said, in a hurt tone that made me feel a little guilty. "Since you're the closest thing I have to a friend here."

"I'm sorry, it's just—"

At that moment, the teacher started the lesson. I would have been angry—well, I still was—but I just would have said something to embarrass myself again, so I let it go and focused on the lesson.

Even over the teacher, I could hear Matt whisper to one of the girls at his side, making her giggle. I tried to focus on what the teacher said, on taking clear, neatly-written notes, but Matt's plans for "After class, okay?" made it difficult to concentrate. Even the pleasant distracted thoughts (of shoving Near out a window—gravity was what we were studying today, and I'd love to use him to "test the gravity") didn't make me smile for longer than a few seconds.

The girls' giggling, though not loud enough to distract me under normal circumstances, proved irritating. I nearly snapped my pencil in half after being forced to listen to it for a minute or so. It quieted, to my relief, soon after; I saw Matt pass me a note (I could see my name on the outside of the folded paper in scrawled, barely-legible writing), setting it on top of my notes.

Since the teacher was just answering questions (and I had none), I unfolded it immediately, the writing taking a few seconds to decipher. It read:

Hey, unless you feel like joining me, don't come to my room until after dinner. I have a bunch of girls coming over—the girls here have a few friends I convinced them to invite—and I want to see how far they'll let me go. (; We'll try to keep it down, though, so you can study…Unless you want to participate? It might actually be better if I wasn't the only guy there.

Matt looked at me proudly, nodding his head at the two girls sitting near him.

The thought disgusted me—both that Matt would try to have sex with them, and that he was offering them to me. Like it was a game. I was full of jealousy. Couldn't he see? I didn't want to have sex with them, or any girl.

I wanted him.

So I shook my head at him, and he said a few things to the girls. I was aware of their eyes on me, and their stupid giggling seemed to get louder. I couldn't bear it—not when I heard the words, "…all to myself," spoke from one of their stupid, unfit mouths.

I gathered my things, crumpling his note in my fist, and headed towards the door. I didn't care that the lesson was barely half-over, or that everyone—including Matt, and those idiotic girls around him—was staring, or that the teacher briefly disrupted his answer to one of the students to call after me. I was already out in the hallway, headed to my room, the only place I felt comfortable letting my emotions (besides anger) out.

And I had quite a lot of emotions running through my head, practically bursting out even as I walked up the stairs to my room. Thankfully, the halls were void of people to witness me in such a state—although I could use them to relieve some of my anger, especially if the next person to cross my path was a girl…

But I decided the wall to my immediate right would serve that purpose. After leaving a small dent in the wall, I continued my climb up the stairs, ignoring the pain in my hand. Guess I'd have to write left-handed for a while now, again. But I didn't really care, for the moment. Not now that thoughts of Matt threatened to make me cry.

I finally made it to my room, slamming it to express my rage, though to no one; they wouldn't even hear—everyone was still in class, and classrooms were on the first floor, too far away for them to hear.

Almost as soon as the door shut, I opened it again, glancing down the disappointingly empty hallway in both directions.

Matt didn't follow me. Nobody followed me.

Why didn't anybody follow me?

Frustrated, I slammed the door shut again, locking it this time. I fell against the door, bringing my knees to my chest, allowing myself to sob, tears leaking onto my jeans and sleeves of my shirt.

No sense in holding it back if he wasn't even worried about me, for God's sake. Why wasn't he looking for me? He said I was the closest thing he had to a friend here.

He probably doesn't want to ruin his chances with those sluts, I thought, immediately forcing it out of my head. Even though I knew it was the truth, or at least the closest thing I could come up with without talking to him.

And he didn't want me to talk to him, did he? He'd shown it, after practically telling me in that damn note of his. Speaking of which…

I unfolded the paper, still crumbled in my fist—it was now wrinkled even more than originally, from his folds—just to read the words, even though they were now smudged, slightly-torn, which made them harder to read, and infuriated me even when I wasn't quite as emotional (they were what brought me into this state, after all). I folded it again, so I could read my name in his writing, messy as it was—it was better than his words. My name showed he cared—the words showed he didn't want me close.

Now when he completely ignored me forever, I could remember there was a time, however brief, that he had thought of me. As a friend. Someone to share things—though things I wasn't interested in—with.

I don't know how long I sat there, thinking like that, but the lunch bell rang, pulling my out of my thoughts. I decided to go, though I didn't seem to be hungry anyway. Thoughts of Matt took priority even over basic instinct—eating, or hating Near.

As I walked down the halls, glaring at anyone who looked at me, I figured Matt might at least talk to me, or ask if I was all right, but when I stepped into the cafeteria, I saw he was with those girls again.

Frustrated, I sat at a table facing the opposite direction, and across the room from him. I didn't want to watch him laughing and flirting with those girls—I lost what little appetite I had left just thinking about it. I wasn't even aware there were this many girls at Wammy's!

I ate quickly, not wanting to overhear even one word he spoke, not with that fake soothing, caring tone, or a second of a giggle (as he probably kissed one, the thought making my stomach churn and make me have to fight to keep down the few bites I had managed to swallow). After I was done nibbling at the meager meal I had—I didn't even want to bother getting a lot, when I knew I wouldn't eat much—I went back to my room, Matt still on my mind. Tempted as I was to glance at him as I walked out the door, I knew seeing those sluts with him would only make it hurt more, and make it more likely for me to make a scene. My emotions were already high, and I didn't care to make it worse. I'd already made a scene in front of him today—I didn't want to make another one.

I slammed the door of my room, not even bothering to lock it again (why bother? He wouldn't try to come in to talk to me, he was busy with those girls) before I headed to my bed. I felt so empty knowing he chose those worthless sluts over me. I pulled out some of the chocolate I kept reserved for times emotions were high—typically, when Near went another week undefeated by me. But now, I needed it more than ever, and just because of Matt. Near had nothing to do with my emotions this time, which surprised me, but I was too occupied with my feelings to dwell on it.

I wasn't even hungry, and couldn't even taste it after the first few bites, but I needed it. I fell into a pattern: raise bar, bite, chew, wipe tears, swallow, repeat, and every so often, I'd reach for a new bar, throwing the empty wrapper on the floor.

I ate my way through the whole box after a while. I probably had a hell of a stomachache, but I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn't notice.

I hurled the empty box at the wall, listening to the hollow thud as it made contact. Then I curled up on my side and allowed the tears to keep coming, void of any feeling but the loneliness.

In just two days—hours, really—Matt had changed me from a proud, aggressive, dominant teenager to a girly, emotional, crying wreck. I didn't like the change—I was fine before, even if I was lonely at times, but I never turned into this. I never cried like this, not over something as stupid as jealousy—jealousy enraged me, made me stronger. It didn't turn me into this, this weak creature, a vague imitation of what I used to be.

So… Was I always this? An obedient, subservient, crying mess? My normal self would have marched up to Matt, grabbed him, and dragged him to my room, without giving a damn what he thought or whether he wanted it or not. But now, I was a coward—worrying what he thought about me, the thought of competition unbearable.

I lost all track of time, thinking about the mess I had become—which enraged me—and of Matt, which started the cycle over again. My thoughts always brought me back to Matt, which only made me hurt more. Just as I stopped crying, I thought of him and felt even worse than before.

The way I was now, I couldn't face him. It hurt, every time. I'd have to wait for all the girls to be gone to even consider it.

I sniffled, wiping the last of the tears from my eyes, surprised to find I really was done crying. Curious, I glanced at the clock, shocked to find it was already six thirty.

Six thirty! Dinner's already half over!

I was more surprised than angry I had missed the first half of dinner; I wasn't even hungry, so I likely wouldn't have gone anyway—with my chocolate binge (that I now cursed myself for, since I was right, and I did now have a painful stomachache), it was unlikely I would eat until lunch tomorrow, at the soonest.

So, for the remaining half-hour until Matt would be free, I half-heartedly flipped through the physics book again, though grew bored quickly—I kept glancing at the clock, waiting for the time to pass. I wanted to talk to Matt again. For the remaining fifteen minutes (after I dropped the book near my bed, bored) I gathered my courage, trying to think of what I should say to Matt. I braced myself to ask him out—I might as well be direct.

By the time my breathing evened out after resigning myself to telling Matt I cared for him, it was 7:10. At first, I was angry with myself, but then I realized it was better the later I went to see him—it would look like I had better things to do than sit around and mope all day, thinking about him. I'd look…Casual, if I waited a while.

I forced myself to stand, then to walk out the door, and finally, calmed my nerves enough to the point that I knocked on his door.

As he answered—hiding a view of his room with his body—I felt suddenly self-conscious. Could he tell I'd been crying most of the day? Was my face red? Was my hair messy?

I coughed awkwardly, forgoing the carefully-planned words, others forcing their way from my throat, to my dismay.

Maybe if I act dedicated to my schooling, and talk to him like fellow classmates did (without all the violence, so…like normal classmates) he won't think I'm strange just standing here…

I really should have waited to talk to him…

My failed reasoning was the reason for the utterly stupid words that came from my mouth.

"Can I borrow your notes? I left early, so I want to know if I missed anything important."

Word vomit. Still, I hoped it sounded believable. I knew he watched me write my own notes, for God's sake! At least I had the last part…

"You're so focused on school," he noted with a smile; it made me blush. "You can relax a bit—you're in the top three. Impressive, I have to admit."

Well, isn't he relaxed, I thought bitterly. Apparently, my sarcasm and wit didn't go away, with my masculinity. I was pleased to discover this.

I dwelled on his words for a second—it sounded like he was flirting! But no, that wasn't possible, was it?

I couldn't help blushing as I spoke, though I did so seriously; I couldn't risk flirting with him, it'd make the conversation awkward—even if that was the point of this conversation—or not as serious as I needed it to be.

"How do you think I made the top three? And I can't relax—I have to be first." My gaze was harsh (too harsh, maybe? I lessened it up after a few seconds) just from thinking about it. I didn't have to fake that, at least, and now he wouldn't tease me anymore. Which made me a little sad, even though I knew it was hard to bear.

"Fair enough." He shrugged. "But I saw you take your notes," he said with a smile, leaning against the door frame. "And we mostly discussed the book after that, as anyone in the class could have told you, so you don't have anything to make up or notes to copy."

"Oh. Well…" I felt so stupid. Quick, make up an excuse!

"I… Lost them," I said, rather stupidly.

Matt looked at me skeptically, his lips twitching as he struggled to keep himself from smiling. "You lost them?"

"…Yes."

Matt, looking like he desperately wanted to burst out laughing, said, "Wait here," and shut the door, though not in a rude way, presumably going to get his notes.

Just as the temptation to look inside rose to an almost unbearable level, Matt returned, bearing a single piece of paper in his hand, though there was no way he could have all the information we had covered in class today on one sheet of paper.

As he handed it to me, a soft murmur of "Thanks" escaping my lips, I saw his writing was even more illegible than the note he gave me in class.

"This is all?" I asked incredulously.

"Well," he said with a grin," I lost the rest." He gave me a mischievous look, as if he knew more than he let on, though in a playful way, and I sighed.

"Fine, so that's not the real reason I came here," I admitted.

"You underestimate me." Though his eyes were closed, his face conveyed amusement with a small smile as he shook his head. "I already guessed that. So why are you here?" He still smiled, amused.

Well, I guess I had underestimated him. I forgot, sometimes, that other people than me (or, unfortunately, Near) were able to understand things.

"Well," I said, suddenly nervous. "I just wanted to ask—"

To my simultaneous relief, annoyance—yes, it was possible—and jealousy, a girl materialized behind Matt, tapping him on the shoulder. "Matt?" she said in a teasing voice, elongating the 'a' unnecessarily.

How dare she defile his name! I cursed in my head, barely restraining an expression of intense hatred.

"Just give me a minute," he said, completely unconcerned, though he had a smile on his face.

The girl, displeased, left, raven hair flying as she quickly turned.

"Who is she?" I asked, hoping my jealousy wasn't evident in my voice.

Matt shrugged, still smiling. "I don't know. It doesn't really matter, though, does it?"

Cruel as that was, I agreed—and was pleased to hear she didn't matter to him.

"Look, I have to go. But what did you want to ask me? I can stay for a few minutes, if you need."

I shook my head. I didn't want to have this conversation rushed. "Nothing."

He looked at me with a curious expression for a moment before saying, "All right, then," and closing the door gently. Within moments, I heard words being exchanged—I couldn't make them out, which was a blessing—and giggling.

Faced with no other choice, I sighed and returned to my room for the night.

Sorry Mello's so OOC. . It seemed the right thing to add to the story. Sorry to say this when I won't be able to update for a while, but I think the next chapter should be more enjoyable (and with far less angst). This is REALLY fun to write. (:

I would appreciate reviews, even though I won't be able to reply to them for a while. (: