Oh gracious me! I'm terribly sorry for the extreme delay I put on this story, inspiration is lacking in my neck of the woods and I'm juggling multiple projects with school and downtime... I also apologize for the length..Or lack thereof, of this particular chapter, I will attempt to push out more for you all this next go, and sooner, too!

A looked over again and like usual, Mello was glowering; his ice blue eyes frosted over her own spring green. Each of them held their gaze for a few moments until the contact was broken by Near, who kneeled between the two and began droning along in monotone. She only half-listened, he didn't notice. His speech was reduced to background noise, joining the prattle of the other orphanage children. "Alarice, you are doing it again."

She was shaken from her thoughts. "I'm sorry…What?"

"You are staring at him again. I highly doubt that ogling will do you any good, friend."

"Oh, I know…" she sighed, pressing her palm to her face. "But what good will anything do for me? I mean just look at him… He's perfect…And I'm just… I'm just here… And I don't even know why! Sure, I'm smart, but I'm no genius. The only thing I'm good at is art and…"

"I believe I can help, Alarice."

"…And—You what?"

"Well, if you will calm yourself down, I think I can assist you in your pursuit of young Matthew."

Matt resisted Mello's unremitting offer of aid to the brink of insanity; a border that Matt was positive his best friend crossed many a times. He sat on his bed, hugging his pillow as the winter eyed blond emptied his closet onto his own bed, varying shades of neutral colors, blacks, grays, and whites stacked nearly to the ceiling, piling up around the bed as well.

"A-ha!" Mello exclaimed, waving a shiny, oversized leather jacket above his head. "I knew it was in here, I just had to dig. Told you so, Mattyboy." Matt looked up from his sack of goose feathers and shook his head.

"There is no way on Earth that I am wearing that thing. It reeks of mothballs; I can smell it from here. I bet that if I had a grandpa, that's what he'd smell like."

Mello snorted and pulled the jacket around himself; "C'mon, Matt," he pleaded. "Leather makes you look dangerous; chicks dig danger." His pale brows danced behind the straw-colored fringe.

Matt slid off the bed. "Alarice isn't a chick, man… She's better than that. She's—she's a lady." He decided.

"Even better!" Mello shouted, throwing his fists in the air. "Chicks dig danger, ladies need it. No one wants to be boring forever. The quiet girls always need a bad guy." He took off the jacket and draped it on his friend's shoulders. "One look at you in this thing, she'll toss aside that sketchbook and wish you had a motorcycle and a sunset."

Matt sighed and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

I wish I could just write her a letter…