Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all.

Matt stared up at the obviously disgruntled man, at a complete loss for words. The man, whom Matt assumed must be a friend of the blonde man from the night before, looked down intently at Matt, his head cocked slightly to the side. Matt suppressed a shiver at the oddly blank look in the boy's eyes-- because, Matt realized, he was very young looking. Not a man at all, but a boy. He was probably not much younger than Matt himself, and for that matter, the man who had brought him home last night might not be that old at all. Matt had just assumed the blonde man was older than he was- he had such an air of confidence about him.

"Mello?" The boy called again, a note of agitation creeping into his voice. The boy broke his gaze from Matt- for which Matt was very thankful, the boy was creeping him out- and turn an irritated glance over his shoulder, obviously waiting for an answer. When none came, the boy muttered a barely intelligible 'whatever' and looked back down at Matt. "Move, would you?"

Matt was startled when the boy spoke to him, but recovered quickly and scrambled to one side of the couch. "Sure, no problem." The boy settled himself on half of the couch Matt had just abandoned, appearing to no longer be interested in Matt now that he was no longer blocking his seat.

Matt, not wanting to stare outright at the boy, instead looked straight ahead at the extremely old television set placed on a rickety, beat up coffee table. He really wished the TV was on; anything really to break the uncomfortable silence that was filling the room. Any noise would do, or even better, maybe the blonde man, Mello- if the name the boy had been calling was correct, would come in and rescue him from this too.

A clicking noise drew Matt's attention away from the television set and back to those strangely blank grey eyes. The boy pulled out two toy robots- one from under the couch, and where the other came from Matt could only hazard a guess- and began to stage some sort of silent battle. For the first time since seeing the boy, Matt registered the fact that he had white hair. That was… odd to say the least. Matt spent the better part of a minute contemplating how someone so young could possibly have hair that color, before focusing on the boy again.

He really did creep Matt out. It wasn't just the hair, or the silent demeanor, or the fact that someone his age shouldn't be playing with toys.

It was the way the boy did things. When he spoke, he didn't seem to care about the answers he did or didn't receive. When he played with the toys, he seemed to give the action his whole concentration, but Matt had the feeling it was nothing more than an empty gesture, or a force of habit. Occasionally the boy would smile to himself, and Matt couldn't help but notice that the smile never reached those dead eyes.

Because that was the perfect way to describe them- dead.

All in all, he freaked Matt the fuck out.

"Near?" A familiar voice rang through the room, and Matt had to restrain himself from jumping up in relief. The blonde man was back and Matt wouldn't have to sit in silence with this strange, pale teen anymore. "Near?" The voice was closer this time, and for the first time Matt turned his gaze to the rest of the room in search of the source of the voice.

There was no other furniture besides the couch on which he was sitting and the TV and coffee table he had already observed. There was, however, heaps of stuff. Clothes, a few books, magazines, empty water bottles, crushed soda cans, fast food wrappers, and mounds of trash dominated what little floor space the room had. Matt guessed it to be about the size of his own apartment- so basically, a box masquerading as a proper living space.

There were two doors; one Matt guessed was the front door from its multiple locks, and the other was behind the couch, opened just enough for the shaggy blonde head that was peering through.

"Matt!" A body quickly followed the head into the room, as soon as he saw Matt staring at him. "You're awake! Near, you weren't antagonizing him, were you? He had a hell of a night."

The boy, Near, didn't bother with an answer, still absorbed in his imaginary fight. Matt saw a concerned look flit across the blonde's face at Near's lack of response. His frown was only temporary though, as he turned his gaze on Matt and smirked. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Uh, to be honest, I feel like I was run over by a truck," Matt answered. And he wasn't lying; now that the initial shock of waking up in a strange place with an even stranger person above him had worn off, he realized that he felt like crap. His head was pounding and his mouth was bone-dry. What had happened to him last night?

"Yeah, I figured," the blonde sighed. "Come with me, and we'll get you something for the headache." The blonde quickly turned on heel and disappeared through the door. Matt scrambled up off the couch, thrilled to be leaving the creepy kid behind. He followed the blonde into a short hallway and through the first opening on the right into a small kitchenette. It was simple-- a fridge, a small stove, and barely any counter space. Matt leaned himself awkwardly against the fridge, while the blonde rifled through one of the overhead cabinets for some painkillers. "I'm Mello, by the way," the blonde said, still thoroughly absorbed in his task.

So, that was his name. Mello. Matt repeated the name silently to himself. It was an eccentric name, but then again, Mello looked like an eccentric guy. Since Mello's back was currently turned, Matt stared openly, more than a bit intrigued about the person who had taken him home.

Mello's shaggy blonde hair was just long enough to hit the collar of his black, long-sleeved shirt. For pants, he was wearing black leather so tight, it appeared to be painted onto his body, and even though they were indoors, he had a pair of black combat boots on as well. Matt was no expert on fashion- most of his outfits made Light cringe- but Mello's clothes looked expensive. That was odd enough when you looked at Mello's age- Matt had concluded that Mello was about his age, nineteen; and college-age people aren't exactly the wealthiest group in the world- but also in light of the apartment he apparently lived in. This shabby, run-down, and overall dirty place just didn't seem like it fit with Mello's style.

"Here." Matt quickly subverted his gaze as Mello turned and tossed a small bottle of Tylenol his way. Mello watched with an unreadable expression as Matt fumbled with the bottle, cursing whoever thought up child-safe caps.

After shaking two tablets out onto his hand, Matt set the bottle down on the counter and looked apologetically at Mello. "Could I… have some water or something? My throat is killing me."

Mello replied in a tone as unreadable as his gaze, "Yeah, no problem." Mello quickly busied himself pulling a chipped glass out of a cabinet above the sink and filling it with tap water. He handed it to Matt- who swiftly downed the water and pills- and then leaned against the counter opposite Matt, meeting Matt's eyes with a piercing gaze.

"So…," Mello trailed off, obviously trying to lead in to a conversation.

"So, yeah…," Matt replied. "What happened last night?"

Mello smirked and ducked his head forward, letting even more of his blonde hair fall over the left side of his face. That seemed to be his usual state- Matt had yet to see his face clearly. He had, however, seen enough to know that Mello resembled one of those kids at Matt's old high school who all the girls would fawn over. Basically, the exact opposite of Matt. Mello was attractive, but in a way that exuded danger and excitement. Mello answered Matt's question with a demand, "You tell me."

"I… I don't know."

"Sure you don't," Mello laughed a little; he clearly didn't believe Matt. "What were you on? You were really fucked up. It's okay," he reassured, seeing Matt move to defend his previous statement. "You can tell me. Believe me; I'm in no place to judge."

"I didn't take anything! Why do you keep insisting I did?" Matt was more than a little angry.

"Calm down," Mello put his hands up defensively. "I walked into the bathroom and saw you lying passed out on the floor. You woke up and nearly vomited all over my shoes- which weren't cheap by the way, so you're lucky you didn't. Don't think I wouldn't have made you pay for them. So you tell me, what am I supposed to assume? That you're clean and sober? That's bullshit and you know it."

"Well, I didn't fucking take anything. How many more ways can I say it?" Matt tensed, his hands unconsciously making fists at his side. When it was clear that Mello wasn't going to give in and believe Matt, Matt decided he had had enough.

First, he had been taken, despite his vehement protests, to a club to spend the night watching people dance and wondering when he could go home. Then… something had happened, and he had woken up, sick and confused, on a disgusting bathroom floor. Then, some strange guy in incredibly tight leather who apparently thought he owned the frickin' universe, had taken him home where he had woken up to an even weirder, silent, and obviously messed up kid. And now, after all that, Mello refused to believe him when he could honestly say he hadn't done any drugs the night before. This was it, the last straw. Matt refused to stay here any longer. He turned and angrily began to leave the tiny kitchen.

"Hey, hey, wait!" Mello launched himself away from the counter and grabbed onto one of Matt's wrists. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Fuck you!" Matt spat. "I'm leaving. What's the point of staying and talking to you if you're not even gonna have the fucking courtesy to listen to what I'm saying?"

"Fine." Mello dropped his wrist. "But," he said slyly to Matt's retreating back, "if you stay, I'll tell you what really happened last night."

Matt sighed in defeat. He knew he had lost; he really wanted to know. "Fuck," he muttered, as he turned back around. "Fine, what the hell happened to me?"

Review and I'll love you forever.

I'm sorry about the slow pace of the story thus far. The next two chapters will pick and stuff will start happening. Oh yes, it will.