I'm really tired, sorry, I've just not had it in me to actually work on revisions and re-typing for this mess, I apologize again. Anyways, all chapters from here on out are gonna be 2,000+ words and if I remember correctly there will be some over 3,000, so that's nice. I've tried to rewrite Sheridan, I still want her to be a shitty therapist, but not as bad as she was in the first draft, so I based her off this military therapist I had a while back, that woman was a monster, I swear. Alright, read on!

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note

Warning: Mentions of bulimia and anorexia


It had been three weeks since Matt used the handcuffs to keep Mello from sneaking off at night. Although, that wasn't to say that Mello hadn't thrown up in that time, Matt couldn't be everywhere at once. Usually, when they returned from breakfast to shower, Mello would flip on the fan and start running the water. Matt usually timed him but Mello was willing to sacrifice a few of the minimized minutes Matt had given him.

In that time, Sheridan had seen him for nine appointments, three a week. He still hated the woman, though Matt or Roger had to have talked to her because she didn't bring Mika up again. She'd grown the slightest bit bearable after the first handful of sessions. She was patient, and she didn't bat an eye with Mello commented on her recent weight gain and the fact that she was staring to show signs of premature wrinkling and greying hair. Though, the grey hair was probably his fault, he made sure to put the woman through hell.

Sheridan reminded him time and time again that she was only here as a sounding board, just to talk. Mello didn't want to talk to her though. The idea of spilling his guts to the woman was repulsive. He'd enlisted the help of one of the younger children to distract her before their session one day so he could sneak a look at the notes she took. The neat words recorded his poor anger management skills, his habit of deflecting attention by way of insults, as well as his apparent inferiority complex. He couldn't really argue with that.

A little foot note stressed the importance of reaching even ground with him. Like that would ever happen.


Matt had handcuffed them together every night since the first, and though Mello would never admit it, he'd gotten used to the extra presence beside him.

"Matt?" he called quietly as the boy climbed into his own bed, rolling on his side so his back was to Mello.

"I trust you Mells, don't make me wrong."

"What the hell?" he shouted.

"I'm serious."

"You're crazy."

"We both are."

Mello was angry, he didn't know why. The most likely candidate was Matt's tone, it was too calm. Did he expect Mello to sneak out since he was no longer handcuffed? Is that why he used the most guilt inducing statement possible? That had to be it; he was going to play on Mello's obvious soft spot for him. Sneaky bastard.

"Matt-"

"Unless you'd rather me handcuff you, if you feel safer that way, that's fine."

"Safer?" Mello spat incredulously.

"Yeah, you feel safer knowing that you won't be able to sneak off. You feel safer with me, don't you?" Matt had yet to turn around so Mello was staring at the back of his head.

"That's not-"

"I'm not judging you, Mells, you know I won't do that," Matt heaved a sigh and sat up, swinging his legs off his bed and propping his arms up on his knees.

Mello just grumbled.

"I'm serous, honest to god, Mells-"

"You said you don't believe in a god, that statement means absolutely nothing," Mello cut in.

"Whatever, point is, if you want to sleep together, I don't care. If it makes you feel better then I'm all for it."

Mello dropped his gaze to his hands. Why was Matt doing all this? Mello was nothing but a broken genius and he didn't see why Matt was wasting his time with him. Or why he cared so much. The bubbling voice at the back of his head whispered to him that Matt felt bad for him. He was nothing but a pity case. He was worthless-

"Why are you doing this? Why are you putting up with all this?" he finally asked.

Matt looked at him with a tired grin, green eyes full of hazy warmth.

"You're my first and only friend, Mells. I believe that speaks for itself."

Matt held out his hand, baggy sleeve pooling at his wrist. He waiting patiently, keeping the grin on his lips until he saw the tension slip from Mello's body.

"Now," he chuckled, "we have a math test tomorrow, you've got to get some sleep."

Mello took the proffered hand and Matt's smile grew even wider. They settled into Mello's bed, facing the other. Matt kept hold of his hand and Mello was the first to close his eyes.


"I think we should invite Matt in today."

Mello's eyes instantly narrowed. Why all of a sudden? Did she think that Matt would be her trump card? That Matt would be her battering ram to get through to Mello? No way would Matt do anything to help her, right?

Despite the immediate anxiety that gripped his stomach, he really did want Matt in there with him, even if only to hold his hand.

He stood up and opened the door, hanging onto the frame so only his upper body was visible. Matt sat against the wall, one of his game players untouched at his side.

"Matt?"

He stood quickly, clearing his throat, and Mello tried to look beyond the orange lenses. What was up with Matt? Had he been crying? Is that why his goggles had little smudges on the inside edges?

"Yeah?

"Um, Sheridan wants you to sit in today."

It was instantaneous. The awkward air settled over them, heavy and suffocating, it had both boys shifting uneasily on their feet. Matt scooped up his DS and slid it into his pocket before casting a split second side glance to Mello's hand. No doubt thinking back to the first session where Mello had just about cut off his circulation.

They sat down on the couch, Matt taking note of Mello's posture. To anyone else, Mello might seem composed, in control, but Matt could see the toll the false composure was taking. No wonder Mello always seemed so worn out after the sessions.

"Alright Matt, I've decided to include you today because I feel that Mello might feel a bit more comfortable with you here."

Matt knew that wouldn't work, but he nodded anyways.

She turned her attention to Mello who just glared back.

"So, from what I've gotten from Mr. Roger, you have been eating, which is good, but I am going to ask if you've been keeping it down. It could be a fluke of course, but according to the chart, your caloric intake and weight gain aren't quite lining up."

After three sessions of sugar coating things, Sheridan had figured that the best way to deal with Mello was blunt statements. She noticed of course the very pointed way that Mello refused to even side eye his friend at the observation.

"I've been allowed field time to play with some of the other kids, and I have a fast metabolism, I've always been slim, even before it all," Mello said calmly, never breaking eye contact with the woman.

He wasn't necessarily lying. He'd been born premature so it wasn't like he had much weight to spare. He'd managed to put on some pounds in his toddler years but even then, he'd still been small. It was what he used to hide the bulimia before. He'd asked Mika about bulimia and anorexia, asked which was easier. Mika said that bulimia was a bit easier to hide, people noticed the lack of eating, and it was only after a number of years that the repercussions kicked in.

"I see, have you weighed yourself?"

Mello arched a brow, he wanted to, he really did. The Wammy's House nurse weighed him but the scale was two part, the numbers only appeared on the small secondary part, the one he couldn't see because the woman could hold it in her hand. Besides that, Matt had somehow managed to do away with every other scale in the entirety of the orphanage. Mello had gone so far as to sneak into a few of the girls' dorms to just to see, but nothing. And he was dying to know just how much weight he'd put on.

All he knew was that he was in fact gaining, tiny layers of fat were beginning to form. He was still most likely underweight, but it killed him when he noticed that day by day, he grew heavier and heavier.

"That's a 'no' then," Sheridan scribbled something on her notepad and Mello scowled, eyes roaming over her to find a detail he could exploit.

There was band of skin lighter than the rest on her ring finger.

"Divorced?" he asked.

He knew Matt gave him a look, it was most likely one of disbelief, but he ignored it.

"Good eye," Sheridan grinned, not at all as thrown off as Mello had hoped, "I am, yes, a few months now, it's nice."

"Kids?"

"Two, a few years younger than you," Sheridan had to know where he was going.

"Hmm," Mello took a piece of his hair between too thin fingers, inspecting it and letting the silence drag on for a little bit, "How would you know if either of them were in my situation? I mean, I've heard that people in the psychology and sociology professions make terrible parents."

He saw Matt's lip tug into a smirk before it was smothered by a frown.

"I'm just saying that they must get tired of being analyzed all the time? I know I would, hell, I am, and I only see you for three hours a week. That must suck, full time, wow, stuck beneath a mountain of 'Perfect Parenting', god, even the thought makes me want to gag."

He saw something flicker in Sheridan's eyes. It wasn't good.

"Is that what you were stuck under? Perfect Parenting? Or parents expecting perfection?"

His fingers twitched, wanting to close around Matt's hand.

"Something similar I suppose, at least they didn't act high and mighty," Mello said evenly.

The timer on the desk went off, its shrill tone shattering the tension in the room.

Mello beamed and stood up, dragging Matt out of the room. He wanted out, Sheridan had flipped the script and he was not happy about that.


Matt had a bad feeling since the announcement was made. Dread swirled heavy in his stomach. Test scores were posted in the meal room during dinner. The score was a conglomerate of all the tests they'd taken in the past couple of weeks. They were getting ready to go, Mello nearly bouncing in anticipation. He'd not had any fights recently, but given the incident with Sheridan earlier, Matt worried that Mello would snap when he saw that Near beat him yet again.

"Hey, Mells?"

He wanted to ask if Mello still remembered their deal. He'd proposed it so that if Mello felt bad, he would eat the chocolate, preventing him from throwing anything up later, and also because the bars he got were as high in calories and fat as Matt could possibly find. He hadn't even known if it would work initially, everyone's stomach worked differently, but it had been worth a try. It also served the purpose of letting Matt know when Mello was feeling bad so the boy didn't actually have to vocalize it.

"Yeah?" Mello was shining, his shoulders thrown back confidently; he felt that he'd actually beat Near.

Matt didn't want to ruin that.

"Never mind," he mumbled, grabbing Mello's hand as they entered the meal room.

Mello immediately went to the score board, tugging Matt along.

Near: 100

Mello: 98.5

Matt: 95

Matt swore silently and made sure he had a sturdy grip on Mello's hand. The other kids smartly kept to themselves, they knew better than to step in.

"Mells, hey, it's fine. It's only a point and half difference, that's better than the last one, I'm sure you'll do even better the next go around."

He saw Mello's free hand clench, saw the shakes that ran up his arms and down his back. He saw his toes dig into the floor and saw the hot tears that began welling up. Mello wasn't one to contain his anger; he didn't blow up, not yet.

Instead, he wrenched his hand from Matt's, knocked over a few chairs and kicked open the door. Matt hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his pace.

"Mello!"

The door to their room nearly slammed into his face when it rebounded off the wall and he had to throw his arms up. The door stuttered open and he saw Mello on his bed. He sat there, toes barely touching the ground, holding his head in his hands. With a quiet sight, Matt sat down beside him, wrapping his arms around Mello in a loose hug.

The boy all but melted, falling apart into a mess of angry babble and tears. Matt rocked him lightly back and forth, occasionally running a hand up and down Mello's arm or back. He didn't say anything; it wasn't the right time yet.

About ten minutes passed before Mello managed to stop crying.

"You calm now?" Matt asked quietly.

"Shut up," came the weak reply.

"Mells, really, you shouldn't beat yourself up over this, it was a point and half difference, that's better than you've ever gotten."

"That's not the point," Mello's voice was hoarse, emotionless. Matt didn't like it, Mello was passion and emotion incarnate, he projected with a megaphone.

"Enlighten me then."

He waited until Mello gathered himself up enough to speak more.

"I'm never going to beat him, ever. He'll always be a step ahead, two steps, whatever. I can't beat Near. Anything and everything I try to do, I end up failing."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Mello meant much more than just beating Near.

"Well, there is one thing I can think of that you definitely have not failed."

Mello pulled a bit out of Matt's arms, not entirely disentangling himself. He brought his eyes to Matt's.

"And what would that be?" he sounded skeptical.

"We're still friends, aren't we?"

Matt knew it was corny as hell but it wrung a small chuckle from Mello and that was enough. He grinned as Mello rolled his eyes and moved closer to Matt, wrapping his arms around him, finally hugging back.

"It pisses me off, you know? That you're good at this," Mello mumbled.

"I know."