A/N: Hola! I'm back with more! Beware, I wrote this at three o'clock last night. So if it sounds like I was on drugs, that was just the lack of sleep. I was taking a friend's advice. I was whining to her about haven't been able to sleep very well lately, but if I could just not dream the I'd be able to sleep. So she said to try exahusting myself to the point where I couldn't stay awake anymore and then I wouldn't dream. She said it always worked for her. So I tried that and it does work, for the most part. But as a result this chapter, and what will probably actually be the fourth, sound like I 'm on something. This is more or less just showing the time passing. They're a little older now. (I changed the age in the last chapter to 13.) And the title of this chapter is a Jimmy Eat World Song! Cause i'm just cool like that. Not really...
Thank you to MattTheGamer for being my first reviewer!
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
They were just friends. Matt and Mello both knew that no one could know about what went on between them. Anyone else would think it strange. But they knew it was nothing. They were close, perhaps too close. Each of them was the other's only true friend. That was the way it had been for as long as they could remember. What was so wrong about such things occurring between two people who were so close? So they were both guys. So what? In the end, did gender really matter? And besides, it wasn't like that. They weren't gay. They were just close.
Still, it would seem odd to an outsider. The two spent nearly every waking moment together and they were almost always in some form of physical contact. Be it Mello lounging against Matt to read a book while the other played video games or Matt propping his feet up on Mello's lap to take a nap while the blonde watched TV, they were always touching. When they walked, they walked side by side always shoving each other with their shoulders, each trying to make the other lose his balance. Even at meals they sat so close that they elbowed each other constantly.
Both boys knew that no one could learn of the kisses they shared when nobody else was around. It was a means of comforting one another, of expressing joy, of showing each other how much they cared. It was nothing. Just a gesture of friendship. So maybe sometimes the kisses were a bit too passionate. That didn't mean anything. It was an expression of their close bond with each other. No one else would have understood that. They knew it didn't mean anything beyond friendship.
No one could ever find out about the nights they spent together. It always started out innocently enough. Usually it would begin with one of Mello's night terrors or Matt claiming he couldn't sleep. And, as when they were small, this would result in them sharing a bed. The other's presence was comforting. As was physical contact. A warm and calming embrace, a kiss from the comforter to the panicked, telling him it would be alright. It was merely comforting. And the way they would run their hands along each other's sides and backs. It was soothing, nothing more. Each of them knew exactly what place to touch to elicit the desired response from the other. They were close, and that was merely another sign of their closeness. The removal of shirts was always easily justified: Skin on skin contact, the feeling of another person. It was reassuring to be able to feel someone else so close. But of course from there things sometimes escalated into something more. Still, it was nothing. Theirs was a special kind of bond no outsider could understand.
There was nothing wrong about their bond. It was completely normal, completely platonic. It had started when they were very young. They had always spent their days together and at night if one of them had a nightmare the other would allow the boy to sleep in his bed with him. Each was, to the other, a source of strength in hardship, a source of comfort in sorrow, a source of reassurance in times of self-doubt. Each was the other's person with whom to share their happiest memories and darkest secrets. Each provided the other with someone to laugh with, to be sad with, to be bored with, to run to in pain or in fear. Of course they were close. Perhaps they were closer than most teenage boys were to their best friends. Then again for most teenage boys their best friend was not the only person they had in the world. So it stood to reason that they would be somewhat closer than was considered 'normal.'
It made sense. It was all reasonable. Wasn't it?
A/N: Say it with me now: De-ni-al!
