OKAY REAL QUICK: NO I'm not planning to, but I'm just wondering… how many of you would stop reading/un-favorite if I kill Near? Ha-ha I promise I'm not planning to. I'm just curious. If you guys like him, I'll try to find him a bigger place in the plot.

Matt POV

I feel like I've just been punched in the stomach. I knew she looks familiar. I should have known instantly who she looks like. Aaron, you had a sister, huh? Thanks for not telling me. I would've sought her out after you left. You did that on purpose.

Sheila looks disappointed. She's probably desperate to find him. "You don't? I thought that you of all people…" her voice trails off.

I shake my head. "Nah, he didn't tell me anything but that he 'had to go'," I say bitterly. She sighs.

"Same here. I wish he'd told me about you, though. Would've made my life easier."

"He didn't tell me that he had a sister. How did you find me?" She holds out the papers in her hand, and I take them. They're photos.

My breath catches. I remember when these were taken. I shuffle through them, remembering when he pulled out a camera from nowhere and snapped a bunch of pictures of me.

I look slightly younger, but gaunt. I can see a shadow of a bruise on my shoulder, and I know that there were marks all over my arms at the time, hiding under my gloves.

I stare at the last one. Aaron is laughing with his dark hair all messed up like always, one arm hooked over my shoulders to keep me next to him. I flip it over, not wanting to look at it. On the back, in his messy scrawl, are just a few words: Matt-Cat. (You like that better than Mail, don't you?) I lower the pictures and hold them out to Sheila.

"Yeah, there aren't many people with my name," I murmur.

"It wasn't hard to find out who you were, but tracking you down was a whole other story. And you should keep those."

"Right." I slip them in my pocket and open my mouth to say something, when Mello cuts in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but what the Hell is going on, Matty?" he snaps. I glance at him, just now remembering that Near, Mello, and L haven't the slightest clue as to what's going on.

"Sorry. This is the sister of someone I knew, Aaron, before coming to Wammy's. About a year and… three months ago? Four? Something like that. Anyway, about that time he sort of disappeared. I would have looked for him, but I was… unable to at the time."

Sheila glances from me to the others and back, obviously catching on to my wish to tell only half the truth. "He told me, both of us, apparently, that he had to go for a while. He didn't say if he'd be back, or why, or where he was going. I waited a bit, but after a few months I started looking for him. All I knew was that he knew someone named Mai- Matt," she corrects herself. "Shortly after I started looking for him, I managed to find out who he was and started trying to find him."

"I'm surprised you couldn't," I mutter.

"It's not as easy as it sounds," she informs me. "Anyway, I had hoped that Matt here might know the whereabouts of my brother, but apparently not."

Mello glares at her. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

Sheila shakes her head, not faltering under his glowering gaze. "No."

If Aaron had cared he would have told us more. Why is she looking for him? I would have if I could have too, but not for this long. I've tried to forget about all of this, why is it still following me?

I don't like remembering being left alone, with absolutely no one to light up my darkness. That made my Hell so much harder.

Sheila looks over Near, Mello, and L for a few moments then returns her attention to me.

"I'm sorry, but I had to know," she says quietly.

I shake my head. "I would have done the same."

"If I do find out where he is, do you want me to contact you?"

I think about this for a second. 'Yeah, I suppose I would really love to know where he went… why he thought he had to do what he did," I murmur. She nods and slips a hand into her pocket. She hands me a slip of folded paper and then addresses the others.

"Again, I apologize for this. I should go now. I do have one other idea…" she bows her head politely, and turns to leave.

"Are you sure you wish to leave now? It's very late," L glances at the clock.

She shakes her head. "Thank you, but I really must be going."

"Very well."

Right now, I'm a little numb. I watch her blankly as she heads out of the building

"Matt?" Mello asks when the door closes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie. "Why?"

"Because you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Oh." I can't think of anything else to say.

L puts his thumb to his mouth. "Hmm."

I rub my eyes. I need to think. "I'm tired, Mels. I'm going to sleep."

"Okay…" He follows me to the elevator.

"Goodnight," L calls, then says something to Near that I don't catch.

"Night," I mutter, staring blankly at the floor. In the elevator, I can feel Mello's eyes burning into me, but I ignore it until we're in our room, away from the cameras.

"What?" I ask him.

Mello looks at me for a second before wrapping his arms around me. "You don't want to tell me everything, I know, but I wish you'd at least explain a little more," he grumbles.

"I know. But I need to think, okay?" I mutter. He nods, and lets me go. I slip into the bathroom with my pajamas and lock the door. I need a minute.

I stare at myself in the mirror, and pull the pictures from my pocket. I glance through them again, before stuffing them back in my pocket and throwing off my clothes and picking up my sweats. I shiver; it really is cold in this building.

After picking up my clothes, I unlock the door and step out. Mello is sitting on his bed, already changed, an untouched chocolate bar in his hand.

I drop my clothes in the corner by my bed and pull my goggles off my head, setting them on the bedside table. I try to stifle a yawn, but fail miserably. Although I have a lot on my mind, I'm exhausted. It's almost midnight.

I pull the blanket over my shoulders and flop my head on my pillow.

"I'm going' to sleep," I murmur, reaching up to turn my light off. The room is dark, and I shut my eyes. Less than a minute later, though, I hear the mattress across from me rustle. I open my eyes, and in the dim light coming from behind the window blinds, I make out the shape of Mello bending over me.

"Mels? Is something wrong?" I mumble.

"No," he whispers, and suddenly his hand is under my chin, turning my head so his mouth meets mine. For a few seconds, he stays there, and I can feel my heart pounding.

"Night, Matty," he murmurs before returning to his bed.

I think I'm lying on air, the taste of Mello's chocolate breath lingering on my tongue.

Mello POV

It doesn't take long for Matt's breathing to slow, letting me know he's asleep. I wait a few minuets more before turning on my light. Matt doesn't move, except for the light rise and fall of the blanket across his chest. I could probably watch him sleep all night, but I have something to do.

I don't like that Sheila girl. Something's not right about all this. Matt isn't telling us everything. Whoever Aaron is, there's more to his story than either of them let on, and I want to find out. This may not do much, but I'm sure that it will at least explain something.

I quietly slip off of my bed and reach for Matt's jeans lying in a crumpled heap on the floor by his bed. Matt probably has a reason for not showing me the papers Sheila gave him, but I have to know.

It's still all in his pocket, so I pull them out. It's a small stack of photos; about ten or fifteen I would guess. I shuffle through them. It takes me a second to realize what I'm seeing.

A slightly younger looking Matt looks back at me, with the same striped shirt, orange goggles, and gloves, but I can see purple and yellowish marks along his shoulders, peeking out from his collar.

Whoever took these photos obviously surprised him. In the first one, he's still looking at his Gameboy, but as they progress he looks up and tries to block the camera's view of him. He looks annoyed, embarrassed, and amused all at the same time. And then I see the last one.

A dark-haired boy, a bit older than Matt, has his arm draped over Matt's neck. He has to be Aaron. The similarity between him and Sheila is undeniable. The only difference is that his eyes are bright, pale green and hers are dark. His arm is stretched out, apparently holding the camera, and he's laughing. Matt's goggles are askew, and he looks somewhat sheepishly at the camera, fighting a smile.

I stare at it for a long time, my mind whirring.

It's all starting to make sense now; Matt's seemingly constant worry that I'm going to leave, the holes left in his and Sheila's story, and just who this Aaron was.

I flip the picture over slowly. There's writing on the back of this one, written messily. Matt-Cat (You like that better than Mail, don't you?)

There's no doubt in my mind.

This Aaron was not just someone Matt knew. This Aaron left Matt, without giving him any answers or reasons. This Aaron left Matt alone to deal with his fucked up family.

Matt loved this Aaron.

I slip the pictures back into the pocket and put his jeans back. I return to my bed, glaring at my chocolate.

Should I ask Matt about him? Knowing Matt, he probably wouldn't tell me much. He'd probably say that it wasn't important, or just repeat what he said earlier tonight.

But why didn't he tell me about him? I don't care if he's had other relationships, he should know that. Did Matt deem him unimportant? No, that's not what he thinks. He seems too eager not to talk about him…

I think this Aaron hurt my Matty more than he'd ever admit. But he's gone now. He shouldn't be haunting Matt anymore. Suddenly I'm angry with Sheila for coming, even though I know she just want's to find her brother. But if he really did leave without a good reason, then does he deserve to be found? If he left people who care about him without telling them when, if, he'd be back, does he deserve to have people that care about him?

Then again, he must be, or have been if he's dead, a good person if he still has someone looking for him. But I can't forget the look on Matt's face when he heard his name, or his expression when he found out I was planning to leave soon. This boy left Matt, alone.

I will not do that.

I'll admit I still feel like a complete bastard. I'm still beating myself up for not realizing what I was really feeling, and then treating Matt like I don't want him around.

I don't know how long Matt has actually had feelings for me, but I would assume he's been hiding them for a while. I honestly don't know how long ago I started liking Matt, but I don't think it was very long, because I would have figured it out.

I look over at Matt again. He probably hoped to sleep peacefully tonight, but I can't tell his sleep isn't very restful. He twitches a few times, and he whimpers quietly. How many nightmares can one kid have?

Matt's always had nightmares, since the night day at Wammy's. Now that I know about his past, I really can't blame him. That bastard of a father he had probably scarred him for life, top that off with all the other bull he's gone through.

I don't want to hurt Matt, but I'm scared that no matter what I do, I'm going to end up doing so. I can only escape my past for so long. At some point, I'll end up back where I started. At some point, I'll go back to the people I hate most, just to get what I want. I can't escape it; I can't run from it forever. And I fear that when my past catches up to me, Matt will either leave me, or I'll hurt him. One or both of those happening is likely… too likely.

Matt whimpers again, and I walk over to him. He might look innocent and peaceful in his undisturbed sleep, but when he has nightmares he tends to curl up into a little ball and looks so defenseless it's heart wrenching, really.

"…Knew you'd leave," he mumbles, his hand clenching into a fist. "…Not like anyone wants me…" I freeze at his words, my hand partially outstretched to wake him. I remember what he said just over a week ago.

"…I'm just the person that everyone disposes of! I should know better by now, but I guess I don't!"

Does he really think that? Has he really been treated that way his whole life? I can't help but picture a younger Matt, younger than the one in the pictures, sitting alone with no one but his pixellated characters for company while the only other people in his life, his parents, fight. While his twisted dad hurts him and his Mother for things that aren't their fault.

"Things I couldn't control…"

The true meaning to his words hits me like a slap in the face.

"There's no way you're serious," I growl quietly at his sleeping form.

"…Everything typical of an abusive person; racist, sexist, homophobic…"

"…Go on, go already…" Matt breathes in his sleep. Fuck this. I shake his shoulder trying to wake him. He mumbles something again, and his eyes flutter half-open.

"Matty, wake up." I shake his shoulder again, and suddenly his hands grab fistfuls of my shirt and his eyes open wide.

"Ah!" I gasp as his sudden movement jerks me forward. I grab one of his wrists in my left hand and steady myself with the other.

Matt blinks a few times, slowly loosening his grip. "Mello…" he mutters. His hands fall down onto his chest and he looks up at me, still confused.

"Sorry, Matt. I was trying to wake you up. You were talking in your sleep again."

"Oh…" he's still staring at me, realization slowly coming to his eyes.

I straighten up. "What's wrong?" I ask, worried by his expression.

"I'm fine, nothing's wrong." He shifts under his blanket. "Fucking nightmares, will they ever leave me alone?" he grumbles, mostly to himself.

"What was it about this time?" I ask tentatively, sitting down on his bed.

"…It's not important, it was just a dream," he says after a moment, although he sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than me. He doesn't meet my eyes, and he seems very focused on staring at a spot somewhere off in space.

I sigh, exasperated, but I do not want to pry into his nightly horrors. I just wish I could stop them.

He still won't look at me, but I don't take my eyes from him. He gets a look in his eyes when he wakes up from one of his hellish dreams. It's kind of a haunted, miserable look that he manages to only half-mask, and it honestly worries me to pieces. I like the snarky gamer-Matt, not the depressed ghost left from a childhood of abuse.

I don't really know what compels me to do it, but suddenly I reach forward and pull Matt up into my arms, holding his now stiff with surprise body close to mine. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lower my head slightly to whisper in his ear,

"I know you don't want to, but don't you think telling someone will help stop the nightmares?" He doesn't answer, but I feel him melt into my chest. I wrap my arms tighter around him, and feel his hands twining with mine.

"I'll listen, Matty."

He just shudders, still refusing to tell me anything. Just when I give up, he mumbles something.

"It always changes… More or less the same concept, but it always changes."

"What do you mean?" I prompt him. He doesn't seem eager to share, but I want to know.

"I lose someone, or I'm hurt again, or someone I actually care or card about is hurt… something like that."

I let my finger trace circles on his side. "Loose someone?"

He hesitates for a long time. "Sometimes it's Mother, sometimes it's you," he pauses again. "Sometimes it is all flashbacks. But many times… it's my fault. Most of the time I'm the one who ruined everything. I suppose it's because it's true. I ruin everything. I always have. I always fuck things up…" he laughs once, absolutely no humor in his tone. "Maybe that's why I like technology. Real people are difficult, demanding… cruel even. They'll take your heart and act like they're keeping it safe, but then they'll take it and break it right before your eyes. Then they leave, because they don't want to stick around and watch you fall apart…" His bitter voice trails off. I think I want to shoot someone, particularly his "friend" Aaron. It's obvious to me that he's talking about him.

"Sorry," he mutters, hesitantly lifting his weight off of me, but before he can move away I tug him back.

"I told you," I growl, "that I'd listen, did I not?"

He leans his head back into me, pulling his knees up close to his chest, stifling a small yawn.

"You don't really want to hear me rambling on like a pathetic-"

"Yes I do," I snap, glaring down at him. "What exactly happened in your nightmare you just had?" I ask in a gentler tone.

"It's doesn't matter. You're here. It's unimportant," he sighs quietly, almost too softly for me to hear despite my closeness to him. "You're here."

And now I get what his nightmare was about.

"Yeah, and I'm not leaving. Not without you."

Matt cuts off another yawn and mumbles something that sounds like, "He said that too" but I don't know exactly what I heard.

I narrow my eyes and slip my hand under Matt's chin, turning his head. His eyes meet mine. I hate that I see unhappiness in them. Whoever hurt him before is still hurting him now. If I ever meet that bastard he is going to get a bullet up his ass.

"Matty, I mean it, I'm not fucking leaving without you," I insist, and when he opens his mouth to respond I cut him off with a kiss. It takes only a few moments for him to melt, and I feel him twist so he can wrap his arms around me. I pull away and he rests his head on my shoulder again.

"I believe you, Mels. Please don't make me regret that," he whispers into my shirt, his hands gently holding the sides of my shirt, almost as if he's trying to keep me from going anywhere. Not that I'm going to.

"I won't." I keep tracing small circles on his back now, and it isn't long before he turns his head and lets out a half-muffled yawn. I push him back on his pillow, but instead of returning to my bed I lie next to him, hoping that my presence will keep him from dwelling on his memories.

It seems to work, because it only takes a minute or two for Matt to snuggle closer to me, and another short expanse of time for his breathing to slow.

"Thanks, Mels," he murmurs sleepily.

"For what?" I ask, but he's already halfway to sleep. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and I let out a yawn of my own.

It's weird the feeling Matt gives me. He almost completely breaches the tough wall I have up, and he is the only person who has access to my soft side. Especially when I see him like how he was a few minuets ago. I feel like I have to protect him from his own past, from his worst fears.

I wish I could protect myself from mine.

Well with Halloween and crap I was busy, but now this is out. Listening to sad songs by Backstreet Boys really inspires angst, but you guys want fluff… Well, this sad side to Matt brings out the very rarely seen teddy bear side of Mello. It's so rare it probably doesn't REALLY exist. It's just a mirage… (OH PWETTY!)

ANYWAY about Aaron... YES he's important! You'll see! Kyah kyah kyah! (Creepy Ryuk laugh). There's a PLOT now for Matt and Mello! OH SNAP!

I was listening to Shattered by BSB when writing the last part of this chapter, which is where I got Matt's somewhat uncharacteristic thing about people leaving because they don't want to watch you fall apart, et cetera stuff.

By the way Shattered and Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely are like, AMAZING. I recommend all of their songs, but those two are my favorite sad ones.

Okay, no one cares, Cloudy.