Characters: Matt, Mello, random teachers
Genre: Humor

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Matt was running around the track behind Wammy's whilst the faculty and students looked upon him with awe.

"How long has he been at it?" Ms. Wéi, the Bio instructor, asked the P.E. coach.

"They were only supposed to run a mile," he muttered, voice laced with astonishment. "But once he finished the fourth lap, he just kept going. I don't know what his deal is."

Coach Roche would have been more impressed if Matt's form wasn't absolutely atrocious.

Mello, hearing Matt's name spoken like some sort of siren call, materialized in between his two teachers.

With crossed arms and attitude as abrasive as ever he questioned, "Well did anyone tell him to stop running?"

They both glanced at the small preteen. "Why would I tell him to stop?" Coach Roche grinned. "This is the most effort I've ever seen him put into anything."

Mello smirked at him. "If you think Matt is putting any effort into this whatsoever, you're severely mistaken." Pointing his thumb over in Matt's general direction, Mello continued. "That's Matt final form right there. That is him giving absolutely zero fucks."

"Hey, watch your mouth," Ms. Wéi admonished.

Ignoring her, he elaborated, "He tuned out the world the moment you told us to start running. That kid is like a zombie right now and he'll keep running until he's physically stopped."

The coach didn't look like he believed a word of it. "Mello, no one runs five miles just because they can't be bothered to stop."

"Oh yeah?" Mello challenged. "Well Matt can. And I bet you he'll run five more at that pace too if we don't stop him."

Coach could barely get Matt off his butt for the class. There was no way the kid wasn't about to drop.

Looking down at Mello with smug certainty, he stated, "Well, Boy Genius, I'm willing to make a wager."

Ms. Wéi didn't bother to get between the two. Normally she couldn't condone teachers making bets with their students, but if one was dumb enough to think they'd outsmarted one of the top students at Wammy's… well they would get what was coming to them.

Mello was just about laughing in his face. "If Matt can run five more miles without interference you have to exempt the whole class from laps for the rest of the week." Laying his terms, Mello stuck out his hand.

"If he can run as long as you say, he'll have knocked out everyone's laps anyway. You've got yourself a deal," he affirmed. It was implicitly known that if Mello was wrong, that would be a win in and of itself.

With smug expression of his own, Coach Roche took Mello's hand with a binding shake.

Sixty minutes from that moment, he was eating his words when Matt indeed finished a further twenty laps.

And Matt, roused from his stupor by the cheers of his classmates, couldn't figure out why running a mile was such a big deal to them.