When Mello was very young, he could have slept through anything. It amazed his parents to no end how much he could sleep through, having dozed off during thunder storms, a car crash a few doors down, and even a kitchen fire with four fire alarms going off.

After Mello's parents died and he went to Wammy's, he would stay awake for as long as he could and eventually pass out from exhaustion, only waking up when he was sufficiently rested. No one could wake him up, and no amount of racket would rouse him, much to the dismay of the adults.

Eventually, Mello got used to being at Wammy's and got back a normal sleeping pattern; by then he was rooming with Matt, who was prone to having nightmares. It would take Heaven and Earth for Matt to wake Mello on these occasions, but eventually he found a way, and Mello would help him out when he couldn't fall asleep again. Likewise, on the rare occasions Mello had nightmares, Matt would lull him to sleep by telling him stories or sweet nothings, talking all night even after Mello was asleep and burning out his voice for the next day or so.

After Mello left Wammy's, though, he joined the Mafia, and his deep level of sleep became an issue. He eventually trained himself to wake up at the slightest noise, which was both a good idea and a bad one. Good because if someone tried to storm the base he could be awake and alert, but bad because if anyone tried to betray the organization with Mello nearby he'd hear their plans and expose them.

Matt didn't know about Mello's new talent, since he'd never brought it up or told him. When Matt had told him about his life after Mello left, it had lulled Mello to sleep, just like old times, but he could still hear every word Matt said. He found it slightly comforting to hear the other man's voice.

"I should probably be mad at you for everything. For leaving, and for trying to steer me in the wrong direction. Hell, I should be furious, but I'm not. I haven't completely forgiven you either, but I'm getting there, because damn, Mello, you make my heart hurt," he was saying. Mello wasn't sure where Matt was going with this; a moment ago he'd been talking about when Mello called him after blowing up his base. He continued on, though Mello was only half tuned-into it, until finally there was a pause. Mello wasn't sure how long it lasted until he finally heard Matt's voice again.

"I love you, Mello, you fucking idiot."

Part of his brain screamed at Mello to wake up, that he needed to answer Matt, tell him he felt the same. The more dominant part of Mello told him he'd simply imagined it, that it was all a dream, and he finally agreed, shifting closer to his friend before entering a deeper part of his rest.

For the first time in weeks, Mello had a full night's rest.

After the first night, Matt continued to tell Mello stories in order to get him to fall asleep, always telling him something new. One night, he told Mello about his life before Wammy's. On another occasion, he went on about some guy who'd asked him to do a job for him, only to refuse to pay him because Matt was two minutes late in contacting him, even though the guy had been on the phone the first time Matt tried to call. He'd ended up skimming money from the guy's account, and that had been that.

Over the next few weeks, the routine remained the same. Settle in around ten thirty or so, Matt would go on for about half an hour, and then silence. For anywhere between five and fifteen minutes, the only sound would be the two men breathing, until Matt's voice would puncture the silence, gaining confidence each and every time.

"I love you, Mello, you fucking idiot."

To Mello's tired brain, he couldn't decipher it's meaning. Was it a dream? Was it real? Could Matt really feel the same? But come morning, Mello would usually have forgotten about it, and Matt never made any indication of wanting to tell him anything.

About two weeks after their new routine began, Matt was playing a video game while Mello was destroying past connections on Matt's laptop. He'd been at it for a while, and about to destroy yet another useless contact when the laptop screen flashed. All white, with a large gothic N in the middle, Mello was sure Near was going to begin talking any moment. He braced himself, prepared to yell, fight, be belligerent and rude, but after five seconds the screen popped open like an envelope and revealed an email addressed to Matt.

Matt,

Mello has disappeared, and I would like to enlist your help in finding him. I believe it would be easier to get Mello to agree to help if Matt is already working with me, and together the three of us may be able to defeat Kira.

Should Matt agree to help, I can send along Mello's last known location and multiple resources you may have need of.

I hope this finds Matt well, and please respond soon. Time is of the essence.

-Near

Mello scowled at the text, and waved Matt over. He read it, and shook his head.

"Alright, so here's what we're gonna-"

"No," Mello cut Matt off. He had a good idea where this conversation was going.

"Mello-"

"No."

"But-"

"No." Mello was prone to stubborn streaks, especially when it came to Near.

"Mello, you fucking idiot, would you mind shutting up and listening to me for two seconds?" Mello wasn't sure if it was the wording or the tone (Matt was normally pretty calm, and Mello was 98% sure his cigarettes actually had weed instead of nicotine, so his snapping out words like that was new), but Mello shut right up and listened. Matt took his silence as a cue to continue. "As I was saying, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna delete that email since you're the one on the computer right now, and we're going to ignore Near from here on out. I have no intentions of working with him, which he well knows, and that's even without throwing you into the mix."

It seemed like a good plan, and Mello did as told. For the rest of the day, it was forgotten, and both Matt and Mello continued to go about their tasks.

That night, Matt lulled Mello with a story about Near right after he'd left Wammy's. There was less of a pause this time before the familiar phrase was repeated.

"I love you, Mello, you fucking idiot."

When Mello's birthday rolled around in mid December, it brought with it memories of his parents.

The Keehl parents had been gone just over sixteen years, taken out by police while at a Civil Rights rally. They'd been devoted Christians, yes, but they'd also believing in rights and equality to all. Ada Keehl, Mello's mother, had been the main breadwinner, working in the corporate department of one of Russia's biggest banks, while his father Max had worked at home, taking care of him.

It wasn't the first time they'd left Mello with a friend to go protest, though it had been their last. Mello's dad had been shot while trying to protect a gay man from police officers, and his mother had been injured and killed by another officer using excessive force.

Mello had been four years old, barely old enough to understand death, though his parents' friends had tried to put it in simple terms. It wasn't until the man they'd saved came to talk to him that he finally clued in they weren't coming back. Shortly after his talk with the man he'd been sent to Wammy's, and he'd lost contact with his homeland quite quickly.

"I wanted to tell you that your parents were very brave," the man they'd saved had told Mello, "and I hope someday someone can say that about you as well. I want you to make a promise, if not to me than to them."

"I'll never judge anyone based on any factors other than how they act." He murmured. He'd kept that promise for so long, never batting an eye at anyone he saw. His hatred of Near wasn't based on judgement but resentment, and anyone he silently judged were usually huge dickheads beforehand.

Mello realized, although somewhat belatedly, that he and Matt had never discussed anything even remotely close to sexuality. Granted, Mello was sixteen and long gone by the time he realized how much he truly cared for Matt, and he imagined Matt hadn't been too far behind him in realizing his preferences as well.

While Matt had never been shy about things when Mello was involved, he could see why the other man might be a bit more hesitant to speak about his sexuality; assuming he wasn't straight. Mello had always been religious when he was younger, though not so much now. He still wore his rosary, and sometimes quoted or corrected scripture if the situation arose, but he hadn't prayed or attended mass in years.

Matt, sitting on the other end of the couch, noticed how Mello seemed lost in thought. He looked like he was about to say something before Mello beat him to the punch.

"What'syoursexuality?" He blurted. Matt blinked slowly.

"W-what?"

"What's your sexuality?" Mello repeated, slower this time.

"I-I'm bi..." Matt trailed off. He squirmed a bit. "A-and you..?"

"I'm gay." Matt nodded slowly.

"W-what brought this on?" Matt asked. Mello swallowed the lump in his throat, and tried to find a proper way to word his next statement.

"I just- You- Aah, fuck it." Mello finally decided. "I love you, Matt, you fucking idiot."

There was something oddly satisfying about repeating Matt's words back to him, even if the other hadn't been aware he'd heard them, as evidence by Matt's gaping fish impression, before his brain finally caught up.

"I, uh, m-me too."

They fell silent after that, letting their confessions set in. Finally, after a few minutes, Matt's hand found it's way around Mello's, and he tugged it gently.

"C-can I k-kiss you?" He blushed. Mello nodded, not trusting his voice.

Sitting in Matt's ratty apartment, hand in hand and connected at the lips, Mello felt his life might finally have meant something, Kira and L be damned.