Author's Note: So, I'm not dead yet! …Though some of you may want to kill me… o_o Life is… weird, right now. I'm not giving up on this yet, but I really need to get my shit together, and I guess that's all I'll say here. Anyway, hope you enjoy, please don't maim me~

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed in the past three months—I still don't own Death Note.

Secret Admirer

Chapter Twelve: Acceptance

"Matty, my letter from Wammy's came in today! I got in!"

Matt grinned as he heard his best friend's voice through the phone, sounding even more jubilant than he had that one day that Near was out sick with the flu. And with good reason, too—Matt knew how long Mello had been aiming for Wammy University. Hell, he could remember tuning the blond out when he used to talk about it during recess way back in elementary school. Mello's Wammy obsession had been a constant in his life—now that his friend had finally achieved that goal, he was almost sad that it was over. Truly, this was the end of an era.

How would he ever pass the time without listening to Mello prattle on about how this project or that extracurricular activity would affect his chances of getting in? It would be a harsh transition, indeed, but somehow, he would get through it.

"Congratulations, Mello!" Matt said. "Thank God, too—I don't know how I would have dealt with your bitching if they hadn't accepted you."

"Fuck you, Jeevas," the blond replied, but there was a distinct lack of malice in it. "Like they could possibly have rejected me. Wammy's is a school for geniuses, after all—that means that the admissions staff is adept at spotting people like me. They aren't idiots."

"Of course," Matt agreed, though he knew that it had been worrying Mello ever since he'd sent in his application a few months ago. Even with the excellent letter of recommendation from L, one of the school's most prestigious alumni, he and Mello had both known it was no shoo-in, which just made him even prouder of his friend for making the cut. "Well, they're lucky to have you… as long as they also have good insurance. Does their policy cover 'Random Acts of Mello'?"

"Well, if I'm surrounded by fewer morons, I'll be less inclined to destroy things, won't I?" Mello asked flippantly. Matt wasn't so sure about that, but he didn't feel like arguing when his friend was in such a good mood. "Anyway, my mom already told my dad, and they're planning to take me out for a celebratory dinner tonight. You're invited too, of course."

"Sweet, I'm all for free noms!"

"That's what I figured," Mello said wryly. "So, we'll be by to pick you up around six, okay?"

"Perfect," Matt agreed, then thought of something. "Um… Will Sy be there, too?"

There was a slight pause, then Mello asked, "Why would he be?"

Matt blinked, perplexed the sincere confusion in the blond's voice. "Because he's like… your boyfriend or date-person or whatever," he explained. For a genius, Mello really could be dense at times.

"So?" Mello asked. "Matt, I've been on one date with the guy, and hung out with him a little at school. This is a big deal. Only people who have put up with me for longer than is probably rational are invited."

Once again, Matt decided that not arguing was the best course here. Besides, if he was completely honest with himself, he was a little bit… relieved… by Mello's reaction.

"Okay," he said. "Hell, it's your party."

"Damn straight," Mello said, sounding pleased. "By the way, have you heard back from any more of your schools, yet?"

Matt grimaced. "Uh, yeah… Got another rejection letter yesterday."

"Fuck, another one?" Mello asked, his voice incredulous. "Shit, I'm sorry, Matty… What the fuck is wrong with those schools? I mean, you're kind of brilliant, even if you are a total dumbass."

"Thanks, Mels," Matt said drily. Only Mello could be so eloquent. "But really, it's okay. I didn't really want to go to that one, anyway."

"Still, it's the fucking principle of it, you know?" Mello said indignantly. "I mean, you're probably smarter than half of their staff. How the holy hell could they reject you?"

Matt smiled at the vote of confidence from his best friend. "Awww, you're gonna make me blush," he gushed. "But I guess not all schools can be manned by geniuses, right?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Mello said sulkily, no trace of his prior elation in his voice. Fuck. Matt had broken a happy Mello—that was like killing a unicorn. He felt guilt settle over him like a cloak, and switched immediately to damage control mode.

"Don't worry, Mello," Matt said, trying to reassure him. "Thanks to your incessant nagging, I sent out applications to tons of schools—I'll get into one of them. You know I will. But tonight is your night to celebrate. Because you are awesome."

There were a few seconds of silence. "Yeah," Mello said, sounding proud and excited once more. "I am pretty awesome, aren't I? And sooner or later, someone will figure out that my awesomeness has rubbed off on you, too."

"And if not, I'll just hack their computer systems and accept myself," Matt added.

"…The scary thing is, I think you may actually be able to do that."

"Hm, it's possible," Matt said vaguely, grinning. "Anyway, see you at six?"

"Yeah, see you then. Later."

"Later."

The call disconnected, and Matt stared at the phone for a long moment. This was definitely going to blow up in his face eventually.

But not yet, gods willing.

Shaking his head, Matt grabbed his PSP to kill time until dinner.

The Keehls ended up taking them to the Cheesecake Factory, Mello's favorite restaurant (because where else can one get a gigantic slice of Godiva chocolate cheesecake?), and Matt had enjoyed watching Mello preen over his victory while his parents glowed with pride. He had recounted the myriad academic achievements that had doubtlessly led to his inevitable acceptance with all the arrogant glee that they had come to expect from him, and Matt managed to only get hit twice for his teasing commentary. The night had ended with cheesecake, of course, and an additional surprise from Mr. and Mrs. Keehl: a keychain, to hold the keys to the brand new car that they would pick out this weekend to take Mello to and from his new dorm in the coming year. Even Mello, whose overly-healthy sense of self-importance normally led him to believe that he was entitled to everything he wanted, was blown away by the gift, his eyes wide and his voice choked as he took the offering from his father and hugged his parents in thanks.

All in all, it was a beautiful evening… and as the creators of the Cheesecake Factory had apparently never heard the words "portion control" before, it left Matt with a pile of delicious leftovers that had him bypassing the mystery meat line in the school cafeteria the next day. Not for the first time, Matt found himself thinking that anyone who said there were no perks to befriending Mello Keehl had obviously never been fed by his parents.

"'Sup, Near?" he asked as he popped open the plastic container, revealing half of a massive sandwich, just waiting for him. When he picked it up, his hands barely fit around it. Beautiful.

"Not much, Matt," Near responded, eyeing the redhead's lunch as he popped a puzzle piece into place. "You had dinner with the Keehls?"

Matt paused, his prize halfway to his mouth, and frowned. "Yeah, how'd you know?" he asked, curious.

"You do not normally eat out at restaurants," Near stated. "And you do not socialize with anyone other than Mello and myself. Therefore, the logical explanation is that Mello's family invited you to dinner with them."

"See, my social life sounds really pathetic when you phrase it like that, Near," Matt complained, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Near tilted his head, reaching up to twirl a lock of hair between his fingers. "Is that not an accurate assessment?" he asked.

"Touché," Matt said around a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "But seriously, that was some impressive Sherlock Holmes shit. Deductive reasoning for the win."

"Indeed," Near agreed, smiling just slightly. "Or should I say, 'Elementary'?"

Matt snorted, startled into laughter. "Shit, Near, that was actually pretty good."

"Thank you," he said, turning back to his puzzle. "And I appreciate your comparison to Sherlock Holmes. After all, I am planning to become a detective… though not of the cocaine-addicted variety, of course."

"No kidding?" Matt gave Near a surprised look. "That's Mello's plan, too… right down to the cocaine-free part. Well, at least I hope so."

"Yes, I imagine it is," Near said absently. "After all, he was recently accepted into Wammy University, correct?"

"Yep!" Matt said proudly. He wasn't surprised that Near knew; last he'd heard, Mello had been all but shouting it from the rooftops and passing out flyers. "Best school in the country for genius detectives-in-training. He's gonna rock it." Possibly literally, if they let him near any sort of chemistry lab.

Near nodded. "Indeed. It will be… interesting… to see him on campus."

For a moment, Matt did not comprehend what Near meant. Then, suddenly, it clicked into place. "Wait… You got into Wammy's, too?"

"Of course," Near said, looking pleased. "I am top student in our class, after all."

"Yeah, I suppose you are." Matt chuckled sheepishly, grinning. "Well, congrats, man!"

"Thank you, Matt."

They settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Near playing with his puzzle, Matt happily munching away at his sandwich, pausing only occasionally to remind Near to take a few bites of his own lunch—because seriously, what was it with geniuses and their inability to feed themselves properly? Matt wondered how either of them would survive at Wammy's.

Then he wondered how Mello would react to the news of Near getting into his dream school… and winced.

Fuck. This would not end well. As in, inanimate objects being thrown, lives being threatened, and a SWAT team being called in while news anchors provided live coverage. Matt swallowed a mouthful of food, eyeing Near thoughtfully. He hated to ask… but really, the alternative would not be a pretty picture.

"Hey, Near, can you do me a huge favor?"

"I suppose," Near said. He looked up at Matt, his eyes calculating. "You do not want me to tell anyone that I was accepted to Wammy's yet, do you?"

Damn, the kid was good. Matt nodded. "Yeah… I mean, I know it's a huge deal, and I'm really proud of you for getting in… but Mello was so happy yesterday, Near. Have you ever seen him happy? …When someone else isn't in pain?"

"I honestly had not ever considered the possibility that such an event could take place," Near said solemnly, and Matt wondered if he was joking again. No matter.

"Well, it's a beautiful thing," he said insistently. "And I'd really, really like it if he could hold onto that for a little bit. Just a while, until the gloating starts to taper off. Okay?"

Near nodded, popping another puzzle piece into place. "Of course, Matt," he said. "It does not bother me. My family already knows. You already know. Those are the only people that I care about hearing my good news."

Matt blinked at the unexpected sentiment, then grinned widely. Near was full of surprises today. "Aw, Near, that was the sweetest, most human thing I've ever heard you say! Quick, say something else!"

"…According to the Pythagorean Theorem, the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides of a triangle."

"…You ruined it with math."

"Apologies."

"It's okay, dude," Matt said, reaching out to ruffle the younger boy's hair. Like Mello, he looked very annoyed at the gesture; unlike Mello, he allowed Matt to retract his hand with all fingers still attached. "I appreciate the sentiment. And I really appreciate you doing this for me."

Near just nodded in acknowledgement, then settled that calculating gaze on Matt again. "And have you heard back from any schools yet, Matt?"

Matt felt the queasy feeling in his stomach return, and his face felt hot, but he tried his best to ignore it. "Just rejections so far," he said, shrugging.

Near kept looking at him, his unblinking robot-stare making Matt shift nervously in his seat. "I cannot believe that," he said finally, after a long pause.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be geniuses, right?" Matt said nonchalantly, reaching for his sandwich just to give himself something else to focus on.

"No," Near said, his tone stubborn. "I cannot believe that, Matt."

Matt looked at Near through orange lenses, saw the question written on his face. No, more than that… saw the knowledge written on his face. He knew.

Damn, this boy was going to make an excellent detective.

Perhaps it was time to come clean. After all, it's not like Near was Mello—he wouldn't throw a fit, or a punch, or a chair. He wouldn't understand, of course, but he would be impartial, like he always was. And Matt didn't even need to tell him everything… just enough to take some of the weight off. Taking a deep breath, Matt prepared to confess his sins…

…And then the bell rang, interrupting them. Near continued to stare expectantly at him, but the spell was broken. Whatever momentary lapse of judgment Matt had been about to act upon was over.

"Shit, I didn't get to finish," Matt lamented, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth at a record speed. "Later, Near—congrats again!"

He pretended not to notice the look of disappointment on Near's face as he hurried his way out of the cafeteria, disappearing into the safety of the crowded hallways where no one gave a shit about his secrets.

There was an envelope waiting for him when he got home.

Matt stared at it, sitting innocuously on the kitchen table along with a scribbled note from his father wishing him good luck and asking him to text him with the results. Fuck, the guy could barely stay sober outside of work hours, but he still had the presence of mind to check the mail that morning? That just figured.

Sighing, Matt opened the fridge and rummaged through it for a can of Coke, then grabbed the letter and retreated into the safety of his bedroom. Cracking open the blessed elixir of caffeine and sugar, he booted up his computer, ready to escape the world for a little while. It had, after all, been a long-ass day.

Almost immediately after he signed on, though, he heard the telltale "blip!" of an instant message coming through. Frowning, he clicked on his email account… and shook his head, his lips quirking into a little half-smile. Of course, it was Mello.

"Hey, did you hear? I got into Wammy's!"

Matt wasn't sure whether to be pleased that Mello was still talking to Mail despite his new relationship, or concerned that the blond was this excited to talk to a "stranger" on the Internet. His fingers found the keyboard and began tapping away. "Fuck, is there anyone who didn't hear? I think I passed some billboards announcing it on the way home. And there's a story on the news about how the sign-language-using gorillas at the zoo were discussing it. Very interesting stuff. Kind of a fluff piece, though."

"Hilarious."

"Gorillas generally are, yes. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks, Stalker."

"Hey, you're the one who was waiting for me to come online," Matt pointed out. "Did you miss me? I thought you were still going hot and heavy with that other guy, but if there's room for one more…"

"Don't be a perv," Mello wrote back. "I just thought you might like to know that Wammy's has recognized how awesome I am, too. Seems like you're a trendsetter, huh?"

"Just wait until I launch the fanclub."

"Make sure that the club T-shirts are high quality. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"Well, I plan on making plenty of money for that sort of thing by auctioning off your belongings," Matt wrote, grinning evilly. "A chocolate bar with a bite taken out of it could probably fetch enough to give me a decent budget…"

"…Okay, this is starting to get seriously creepy."

Matt laughed. "Starting? Dude, it's been seriously creepy," he wrote. "But hey, maybe your boyfriend would like an official Mello Fanclub shirt, yeah? I'll even include a free button if he calls in the next fifteen minutes."

There was a brief pause, and Matt could tell that Mello was flustered—probably trying to find a way to get back in control of this horribly derailed conversation. He smirked. He really did enjoy messing with his friend like this… even if it did probably make him a terrible person. And even if he was starting to worry that he was developing an alternate personality named "Mail." Perhaps it was time to "borrow" a few of Mello's psych texts…

"He's not my boyfriend," Mello wrote back finally. Matt rolled his eyes—he'd heard that line a few times already, as Matt and as Mail. Honestly, he didn't know why the blond was so adamant about the semantics of it… but if it gave him more fodder for teasing his best friend, he wasn't about to question it.

"Fine, but 'guy you've been on a date or two with and make out with in the hallways' just doesn't roll off the tongue as easily," he wrote. And then, because he was curious and Mello hadn't told him much about his date beyond the fact that it had happened, he added "How has the dating been going, by the way?"

"It's going okay," Mello responded. Matt raised an eyebrow at the computer screen.

"Just okay?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Creeper," Mello wrote back quickly. "I'm still getting the hang of this stuff, that's all."

"Well, you've definitely picked a good one to get the hang of it with. Your not-boyfriend is pretty sexy. What's it like getting your hands on that?" asked Mail, the alternate personality, and definitely not Matt.

But hell, even Matt had to admit that Sy was attractive, in that Springsteenian, blue-jeans-and-leather-and-car-engines sort of way. It was a very specific way, but it worked for him. And Matt wasn't the only one to have noticed, either—he had done a little bit of research (read: asked Linda, the biggest gossip he knew) and learned that when Sy had officially "come out" last year, there had been more than one heart-broken girl wandering the hallways of WHS for weeks to come. Surprisingly, that had been the extent of the drama that had come with that announcement, as Sy's fairly extensive group of friends had stood firmly by him and made it very clear that anyone who had a problem with him would have a whole new set of problems to deal with.

The other research Matt had done, using considerably more advanced and less legal means, had revealed no criminal record, but four detentions and one speeding ticket. Oh, and he had failed social studies one semester back in middle school. His grades otherwise were average at best, but they were balanced out by a reputation for having a way with cars that had landed him a part-time job at a garage when he was barely fifteen. Matt still wasn't one hundred percent sure he trusted the guy—he seemed a bit too good to be true, which had Matt on his guard—but overall, he seemed like a really good person, with a great personality, a decent head on his shoulders, and an ass made for denim.

Which was why Matt was very confused when Mello responded with a simple "It's okay."

Matt's brow furrowed, and he typed back rapidly. "Okay, you seriously have to give me more information than that. I'm living vicariously through this guy, you know. I need juicy details, not just vague outlines."

"Yeah right, like I'd wittingly give you spank-bank material."

"C'mon, man," Mail wheedled. "I'm a semi-anonymous, faceless stranger on the Internet who idolizes you and won't judge you or hold anything against you. If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"

A part of Matt wished that Mello would realize at that point that he did have someone else he could tell, that he didn't need to resort to creepy secret admirers for comfort and validation… but alas, the anonymity of the Internet gave him a strange power as Mail that Matt simply did not possess. After a short pause, the response came through: "Can you keep a secret, Mail?"

Matt could have laughed out loud at that, his heart sinking just a little bit. Oh, if only he knew…

"Mello, you still don't know who the hell I am," the redhead responded instead. "I think we can both agree that I can keep a secret."

"Good point. But will you?"

"Fuck yes, man. Why the hell would I tell anyone, anyway? I'd have to out myself to both you and the school to do it, and I'm definitely not there yet. In no small part because I'm pretty sure you'd kill me, and I like living. So come on, spill."

"…Fine." There was a pause as Mello typed. "You're right, Sy is hot, and he's really into me—and why the hell wouldn't he be, right? He's one lucky bastard. And it's been really great having someone to go out on dates with, and someone to make out with, and someone to tell me when I'm looking particularly sexy…"

Matt sighed, slouching back in his chair with a twinge of disappointment. This wasn't any big news to him. Maybe he should have felt happy that, no, Mello wasn't hiding anything from him, that there just wasn't anything particularly interesting to tell… but still, he couldn't help the tide of annoyance that rose up within him at those words. He wasn't sure why, but the whole situation had him way too agitated, too suspicious. Way more than could be considered normal, he was sure… at least, normal for Matt. For Mail, though, wouldn't it make sense to be irritated at his crush's amazing not-boyfriend?

That thought gave Matt pause… but luckily, Mello wasn't finished typing, and his next post saved him from any dangerous introspection.

"But honestly? I guess I'm just not really feeling it with him. He's nice, he's just not my type or something, and I doubt we'll last too long. But I don't want to graduate high school without ever having dated someone, and since apparently the only other gay guy at our school is a closet-case Internet stalker, this is what I'm stuck working with."

Matt stared at the words on the screen. Eventually, his brain translated them into something that made sense to him: Mello was doing it for the EXP. He didn't actually want Sy, he just wanted practice. Well, that was a game-changer. "Holy shit," he muttered, feeling his heart flip a little inside his chest. For some reason, he found his hands trembling just slightly as he placed them back on the keyboard, fingers moving quickly despite the shaking.

"So, what, you're just using him?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't judge." Matt could practically feel the acid dripping off of those words, and he winced.

"No, not judging, just… I dunno, surprised," he wrote back. "You two have seemed pretty cozy together at school. In the hallways, in the library…"

"Yeah, well, you can't learn everything by stalking," Mello typed. "I imagine it doesn't give you a very complete picture."

"Yeah, I guess not…"

But then, shouldn't being his best friend have given him a little bit more insight? Was Mello really hiding that much from him? Or, hell, was Matt really just that oblivious?

It was definitely something to consider.

Suddenly, Matt—or was it Mail?—found himself wondering another, very important question. "What is your 'type'?" he typed, not really thinking about it.

"What?"

"You mentioned before that Sy isn't your type," Mail continued. "Well, what is?"

There was a long pause, and then, "Mysterious and annoying, obviously."

"Really?"

"Dream on, asshat."

"Oh, I will. Every night. All alone in my bed…"

"God, you are such a freakshow…"

"Yeah, but you know you love it."

"Whatever. I should get going, anyway—I've been slacking off ever since I found out about Wammy's, but they may yet renege on my acceptance if I flunk out in the last semester."

Matt laughed. "I find it very hard to believe that you've been 'slacking off,' he typed. "But yeah, I should go, too. Congrats again."

"Thanks. Later!"

Mello signed off, and Matt heaved a deep sigh, spinning idly in his computer chair for a moment or two. Eventually, his eyes were drawn to the letter still sitting on his desk where he had all but forgotten about it. Well, he supposed he should get it over with.

Reaching out, Matt tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

"Dear Mr. Jeevas,

"Congratulations! On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to offer you admission to the MIT Class of—"

Matt crumpled the letter, not letting himself read it any further, and tossed it into the trash bin by his desk. It didn't matter. He would be fine without going to college—he already knew more about computers than most people with a four-year degree could even begin to comprehend. He had a talent for it; always had. He knew that he could get a decent job in that field, or start freelancing if there wasn't anyone in the area willing to give him steady work. He had plenty of options.

But still…

He wouldn't begrudge Mello his college experience, his acceptance into his dream school, the same way he wouldn't begrudge him his relationship with Sy. But it felt really, really shitty being the one left behind. Especially since he knew how well he could have done in college. Hell, it had been years since compulsory education had challenged him at all, and that was with multiple advanced placement classes (not as many as Mello or Near had, to be sure, but enough to be impressive). It would have been nice to see what higher learning could offer him.

But he couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk leaving his father alone in that house, with no one to watch out for him on the bad days.

Taking out his phone, Matt fired off a quick text to his father letting him know that it had just been another rejection letter. A few minutes later he got a response, all condolences and don't-give-ups. The next letter would have better news for him, for sure.

Matt just shook his head and loaded up a video game, ready to detach from reality for a while.

End Chapter Twelve

Author's End Note: Poor Matty. Why I do this to you? Hope this makes sense, I'm setting up some pretty big shit for Matt here… I feel like this is too much exposition, but fuck it, I just really wanted to get this chapter out there. Hope you guys liked it. Later!