She lives in a fairy tale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of the world that she's left behind
It's all about the exposure the lens I told her
The angles were all wrong now
She's ripping wings off of butterflies

Keep your feet on the ground
When your head's in the clouds

Well go get your shovel
And we'll dig a deep hole
To bury the castle, bury the castle

-Brick by Boring Brick (Paramore)

(MATT'S POV)
I sighed deeply as I tried to concentrate on a particularly troublesome math equation. Tapping my pencil on the edge of my desk, I cast distracted glances to the other children in the classroom. Most of them were doing a lot better than I. Near, especially. He was nearly done with his quiz. How did he know all of this stuff? All I ever saw him doing was playing with his toys. When did he study? I sighed and shook my head. Focus, Mail…

Try as I might, I found it almost impossible to focus. My mind kept drifting to what happened in the playroom.

Was there something wrong with Mello and I being good friends? Was there something wrong with being me?

I looked down at my hand. I turned it over so I could see the scar that marked the place where my father had stabbed me through, like Jesus on the cross.

Jesus... Jesus Christ. The man who was supposed to be our savior. Or redeemer. The great I Am and all of that. So, where was he? Did he not notice what was happening in my life? Did he not

know what we were all going through?

I forced the thought from my mind. God has a plan for all of us. He cares about everyone... even me...

... Doesn't He?

I forced my attention back to the test paper. The numbers continued to swarm before me. I tapped my pencil a few more times, before giving the first answer that popped into my head.
It would have to be enough.

My test completed, I stretched out and looked over at Mello. He seemed to have finished long ago, but was looking over his answers again and again, trying to catch any miniscule error he might have made. He was determined to succeed L. Determined to beat Near. Me? I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted to relax. To be a kid for a change. To let my problems drift away like the ocean tide. Maybe that's why I was always so into my video games. In that realm of digitalized everything, I didn't have to worry about being a super genius. I didn't have to worry about being bullied or made fun of because of my friendship. I was able to stop worrying.

Is that such a bad thing for a six year old to want?

After what felt like forever, class was over, and we were let outside for a break. Mello dragged me over to the group of boys that were organizing a soccer game. Two of them elected themselves as team captains, and began calling other boys onto their teams. They drifted away, one at a time, onto the team of the boy that called them.

Eventually, Mello and I were the only boys that remained. Wow. What a shocker.

"I guess I'll take Mello," One of the captains said, more than a hint of annoyance in his voice. I smirked. Apparently he didn't know just how good of a player Mello was.

I began to head over to the opposing team.

"Hey, hold up, ginger," he snapped at me. "We already have an even number of players. Get lost!"

Mello opened his mouth to snap at him, but I raised my hand.

"It's okay. I don't mind," I said. "I'll just sit on the bench if you need me."

I sat. I waited. Of course, nobody ever called my name. Even Mello eventually forgot about me, scoring goal after goal, much to the astonishment of everyone playing. I ended up pulling out my Game Boy, stuck in my Yellow Version, and began playing, pausing every once in a while to cheer Mello on. When recess was over, Mello ran up to me, sweaty and grinning, with wind-tousled hair and sparkling eyes.

"That was great!" He gushed. "I bet I impressed everyone! Did you see how good I did, Matt?"

"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "I'm glad you got to have fun."

"Hey, don't be like that. I'm sorry you couldn't play. I bet you'll get the chance next time."

I shrugged again, clicking my game off as we headed to our next class, sticking it in my side pocket. I honestly didn't care too much anymore.

Mello took my hand, like he always did when we walked together. We ignored the snide remarks of the other students. Mello was rapidly becoming an expert at giving the cold shoulder. I learned to make a snarky comment or two at anyone stupid enough to insult me to my face.

"Homos."

"Says the guy with earrings."

Mello would inevitably laugh when I'd say something like that. His laugh was beautiful. It had an almost musical quality to it, high and clear, the way I imagined an angel's laugh might sound.

No matter how many times I got him to laugh, I always wanted to hear it again.

(MELLO'S POV)

"Are you coming to bed yet, Mel? It's past midnight," Matt whined.

"Yeah, yeah. Just gimme' a second." I dog-eared my page, closed the textbook, and crawled into bed beside him.

He looked at me with his clear, green eyes, and I stared back at them, mesmerized by their color. They were the purest shade of green I'd ever seen, without even a bit of brown to dirty the purity of their color.

I snuggled up to him, and fell asleep.

"STOP IT! PLEASE! IT HURTS! MOMMA, PLEASE, HELP ME!"

The man refused to even acknowledge my pleas, continuing to pound into me mercilessly as I cried for my mother.

It seemed as if each plunge took him deeper into me than the last, tearing some new portion of flesh with every thrust. I screamed. My throat burned. I cried. He did not care. He just did not care.

It seemed as though it was an eternity before the man finally got off, hot cum stinging the raw, bleeding wounds. I continued to cry, dirty and used.

"Momma," I whimpered. "Momma... it hurts."

He returned me to my father the next morning. I could barely walk. He hurt me too badly. I got sick, and was confined to my bed.

It was just too much... too much for a child to bear.

I awoke. Matt was shaking me. As soon as I was aware of him, he hugged me.

"What are your dreams about?" He whispered. I sighed. I supposed the time had come to tell him.

"I… back before I came to Wammy's, I… was treated like an animal. My dad, he… he would lend me to men ten times my age to service them. I… I was there so the other crime bosses that my dad associated with would be in favor of my dad's plans. He wanted to- to expand his empire and all… I was used… as a bridge… between monsters… to have favor with each other…" I cried into Matt's shoulders as I told him my story, my story that haunted me every night. I felt a strange searing ice coat my face as the tears fell. It felt so good to have someone else bear that secret with me. I wasn't alone, but… it still hurt. It still hurt like it always did. But Matt was there. He was there like he always said he would. Not once did he cringe away, though I clearly saw horror in his expression at my tale.

But he never moved an inch, to my comfort.

"I'm here for you, Mel," Matt said fervently, cuddling up to me again. "I'll never leave you. I'll be here as long as you want me to be."

I cuddled up close to Matt again. The pounding of the rain on the roof outside lulling me, once more, into the world of dreams. Dreams where I was swimming in an ocean of green.

(A's POV)

I couldn't sleep.

I sat up and looked over at Beyond, who stared out the window, watching the trees whip around in the raging thunderstorm. The bells rang low, their sorrowful sound rising above the thunder. I hopped out of bed and walked closer to him.

"B?"

"..."

"B?"

"...For whom does the bell toll?" Beyond asked.

I cocked my head. Why was he quoting Ernest Hemmingway?

"It tolls for thee?" I said nervously, finishing the quote.

"Perhaps," Beyond said, not bothering to look at me. "Or perhaps it tolls for you."

"Huh?"

"They say that every time a bell rings, another angel gets its wings, am I right?"

"That's how the saying goes," I agreed, "but why?"

"I don't believe that." Beyond looked over at me, a maniacal look on his face. He smiled, showing his abnormally sharp teeth. Then, he laughed, and his laugh was cold, and cheerless. A madman's laugh. I cringed at his expression. What was happening to him? Ever since the day he found out about my cutting it seemed as though his sanity had spiraled to near nonexistent. Was he losing it, truly losing it?

"I think that every time a bell rings, another angel falls," he said, ruby red eyes seeming to glow in the dark room. A bolt of lightning would occasionally throw his face into relief.

"Every time a bell rings, a newborn child cries. Every time a bell rings, another human dies." He seemed disconnected, detached from reality. "The bell will be ringing for you soon, Aden Armstrong."

I gasped, taking a small step back.

"H-how do you know my na-"

"Aden Armstrong, one-five-one-seven-zero-eight," he said. "Your life is almost over, Aden."

B/N: Holy cow! Beyond is losing it! Haha I lovez him so much x3 Though I feel terrible for the position A is in. I have grown very attached to the little guy. Sigh… maybe I should write a fic about him… anywho,

Review!

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(Hehe don't you like my creativity? :3)