A/N: Sorry about the delay, things have just been so hectic lately.

Rena sat pouting with he rback against the pole, arms crossed, and legs splayed out in front of her.. Mello had stalked off in a murderous rage a few minutes earlier, and now she was stuck in the pitch black darkness, with no idea where anyone was. Matt had left her, Mello had left her (no surprises there), and she was all alone in the pitch black darkness, left for dead.

They hated her. She'd tell Mom – and then they'd get it.

But of course, she was conveniently forgetting their legal-adult status. And the fact that it wasn't Matt's mom, and getting Mello to listen to anyone was a challenge. Her eyes were closed – not that it made any difference whether or not they were open. It was dark in here. Still grumbling, Rena decided to form an action plan, just like her health teacher taught her.

Step one: Identify the problem.

Step two: Consider your options.

Step three: … Consider your values...

Step four: …... didn't she have a test tomorrow?...

Step five: Mello... could be... kinda pretty... not that she thought of him like that...

Step six: ...zzz...zz...z..

Mello had left Rena back on the track, performing the ever so important duty of 'waiting for Matt'. Gullible little girl-slut. He snorted with pleasure at his own wit. And cunning. And luscious hair.

No no, stay focused, Mello reminded himself, hopping down from the track to the walkway running along the wall. He was oblivious to the sharp gears protruding from the space below – only dumb luck (and luscious hair) prevented him from being impaled before he got anywhere near Matt. But, of course, Mello had no idea just how lucky he was.

He ran his long fingers along the wall, searching for the door he knew was just ahead. Ugh - he'd rather not think about what was on that wall; when was the last time someone had cleaned down here? Mello shuddered at the thought, resolving to throw out this outfit as soon as he got back to the apartment he shared with Matt. Matt wouldn't mind – Mello could always buy new clothes, and, besides, he could always wear Matt's (he was conveniently forgetting his other clothes).

Grinning devilishly at the thought of being in Matt's pants, Mello nearly failed to notice the ridge his hand had skimmed across. He stopped and examined the section more carefully. It was, indeed, a door, but an awfully small one. It's a good thing I've got such a great figure, Mello thought, hands traveling the door until he found a handle on the right side. He grabbed it and leaned back until it opened. Mello slipped inside, hunched over, surprised at how little the corridor was. His entire body was folded up in one way or another.

Instinctively, Mello reached behind him for a light switch, finding none. He grumbled about that for a bit, all the while tracing his way through the service hallway. It's a good thing i'm not claustrophobic, he thought as his blond hair attracted yet another cobweb. The ceiling was low, and there was maybe a foot of space from one wall to the other. Cramped and hurting, Mello stomped onwards.

"Ouch!" Mello's angry footwork resulted in a stubbed toe – he'd reached the end. Finding no knob to turn, he kicked the door again and again, until it finally opened a little, letting light in through a small crack. Squinting, he stuck his hand through and immediately encountered stacks of linen sheets.

"A closet... Great..."

There was still a ways to go before he could fit through the door, so Mello resignedly sat down and began moving swaths of fabric out of his way.

Matt was halfway up the staircase. There was still a way to go – the overwhelming grandeur of the mansion called for stretches of carpeted stairs, most definitely unneeded. This particular run of carpet was red and gold – he sensed a recurring color scheme. It was definitely designer – gold, white, red and hints of silver. Looked like Martha Stewart threw up.

Then, looking around, he realized there was a large window ahead, before the next course of stairs began. He ran up the rest of the stairs, regretting it in an instant as his shoulder began to throb again. But he made it to the overly large bay window sporting a cushioned window seat, and sat down on the dusty white fabric. He turned to look out the window, maybe he could get a sense of direction, bearings on where the hell they were, but...

Nothing.

Not nothing like just a white blank, or nothing like stretches of trees, but just... nothing. A sort of billowing, shimmery nothing. Like a deep fog, but more opaque, and brighter. There were random washes of color, faint hints of sparkling gold or barely-there splashes of red, but those were rare and tricky to the eye. It was almost like a magic eye poster – if you sort of... Unfocused your eyes, and acted like you didn't care...

No, it was hard not to pay attention when obviously paying attention. He could barely make out the coast, and a swath of green, but they were gone and he was trying too hard again.

Matt turned away from the window and got up, ready to start walking again. He still had no idea where the house was, or even where in the house he was. He started walking again, just to do something. Matt's stomach growled - at least Mello, wherever he was, had chocolate.

Matt turned a corner, wandering through the house aimlessly. It was an endless network of hallways and corridors – the entire house was a system designed to allow quick access from anywhere to anywhere else. To and outsider, of course, it was just plain confounding. He was sure he'd been here before – but no, he wasn't, there was nothing to mark one door from the next. Frustrated, he grabbed another door at random and yanked it open quite violently.

He stopped just short of falling again.

The door opened onto to nothing. A story below, he could see a maze of stairs, crisscrossing and overlapping in various places. There was no way to distinguish one from the next – the whole thing could have been one big staircase, doubling back onto itself numerous times until it was as twisted up into itself as a pot of spaghetti.

But for the more important matter – the lack of a floor in front of him.

What now? Matt had finally found something other than the endless hallways with doors that opened onto more identical mazes – he couldn't just leave his possible way out. If anything, he hadn't even known what floor he was on, but now he at least knew he was definitely rather high up.

Frowning, Matt stepped back, closed the door, and opened it again. The stairs were still there, obviously, but you can't blame him for wondering. He closed it again and opened the door to the left of it. Another long, no doubt convoluted hallway with more carbon-copy doors.

Matt opened the first door again. The cavernous space extended beyond any of the other doors, but he could still get into the next hallway from the door over?

Okay, this place was strange.

Like he hadn't already figured that out. A long time ago.

Matt stepped back from the door and took out his pocketknife. He then slashed a long line from one corner of the door to the other, the paint curling away beneath the sharp blade. With a long strip of paint and wood now missing, the white door stood out in the hall of identical entrances. Matt, content with his brillancy, folded up his pocketknife and turned back to the other door.

Mello finally managed to clear the door, and stumbled out of the closet, landing on an old brown carpet. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as a cloud of dirt and dust, enveloped him, sneezing wildly. He growled at the motes floating in the air and stood up. This entire place was disgusting. He had to get out soon, or he'd die from nonexistent asthma complications. And, he was almost out of chocolate. Inexcusable.

He was halfway down the hall when he realized there was a window ahead, and a door at the end of the hall. He peered out of the cracked glass, but it was too filthy to see anything. This place sucked. When was the last time anyone had cleaned up here? Never mind that, they were probably the only ones who had even been in the house for years. There was dirt and dust everywhere – Mello was surprised there weren't cockroaches, or mice... rats... spiders. He shuddered, clawing at his hair, still feeling the insect's abandoned structures entangling themselves in his perfect locks. It was freezing, too. If he had any chocolate, it would have been like, frozen by now! Er, almost. Today was the wrong day to forget his feathery overcoat at home... It would have looked awfully nice with these boots, too.

No, focus. You're finding Matt.

If I were an extremely sexy redheaded gamer with terrible fashion sense, what would I do? Mello screwed up his face in concentration again, trying to think, but he forgot to stop walking and promptly ran into the sharp corner of the wall. So he kicked it, which of course made everything better.

Mello threw the closest door open and stomped inside to find himself in a large corridor, leading off to god-knows-where, lit with strange electric chandeliers and with a staircase on either side. They both led up the the second floor, which you could see above from the level Mello was on. The whole place gave off that air of "This is old and scary. Don't touch or you'll be cursed forever." If you replaced the wallpaper and carpet with stone, maybe hung a few whips or torture devices from the walls, it would be a very convincing castle dungeon.

Don't think about whips, Mello.

Find Matt, Mello.

Don't think about Matt and whips, Mello. No. Bad boy.

Mello stalked past the bare walls and started up a random flight of stairs, still trying to get those sexy- disgusting thoughts out of his mind. He was so caught up in his own mind he barely noticed the throngs of people he was shoving through. Stupid tourists - get out of my way, I have to find Matt.

Whaituhsekkund.

People?

Mello slowly turned around to see not throngs of tourists, but a single couple already nearly off the stairs and onto the main floor. He turned and sprinted up to the second level, peering over the balcony just in time to see them calmly walk out the door, holding hands and laughing quietly. The man closed the door carefully behind them, leaving Mello as freaked out as he had ever allowed himself to be.

That was definitely strange.

This place was screwing with him.

A/N: Minor corrections on 7/8/10. I think this was the most fun to write yet – psychotic narcissistic!Mello is the best. What do you think? Constructive criticism is, as always, adored. Let me know what you really liked and what you didn't. I'm trying to get better, okay?

Every review saves a puppy from certain death by oatmeal.