TREASURE
"Let's go look for treasure," eight-year-old Mello announces, hands planted on his hips, his smile dangerous (or so he hopes).
Matt looks up from the alarm clock he has disassembled. He is lying on his belly on the floor as he attempts, patiently and meticulously, to put it back together, and a glittering halo of gears and wires and assorted fragments spreads around him.
"Okay," he decides. "Where do you think it's gonna be?"
"I dunno," Mello replies bemusedly. "I bet we can find something. But we'll prob'ly have to go outside of the yard."
Matt's eyes, bright below the disheveled bangs caught in the goggles he has pushed up his forehead, glimmer with the tentative wonder reserved for the forbidden.
"You really want to?" he prompts breathlessly, and what he's actually asking is, "Do we dare?"
"Yeah," Mello answers stoutly. "It'll be awesome."
Matt beams. "How 'bout Near? Should we bring Near, too?"
"Nah," Mello replies immediately. "Near'll just ruin it."
Matt supposes that might be true; Near's so smart he might figure stuff out and find treasure way before they do.
"Well," he murmurs, "okay."
"Great!" Mello declares. "Let's go!"
Matt collects all the pieces of his clock and drops them into a shoebox, which he slides under his bed before standing up and brushing off his clothes.
"Okay," he concedes. "Let's go."
As they sneak towards the distant fence, casting surreptitious glances over narrow shoulders, intending to clamber over the wrought iron barrier and forge fearlessly into the world beyond, a ripple of guilt undulates through Mello's chest.
Near probably wouldn't ruin anything. In fact, he'd probably love it. But at Wammy's, you have to share everything. It's just the way things are.
Matt scrambles over the top of the fence and drops heavily to the ground below. Before Mello can panic, Matt's up and laughing, and Mello knows that, nice or not, he made the right choice.
Because he doesn't want to share this.