My fingers were tapping buttons when the door opened, so I didn't look up at first. I presumed it was just a lost little kid, or a maybe lost newbie. So of course I jumped out my skin when he spoke.

"Matt?" It was my name, so I looked up, but it was also a question, so I pushed all thoughts of gaming from my mind and tried to formulate an answer, jumping up and heaving open the heavy wooden door, wincing when it creaked.

"What?" And what an answer it was... I gaped at the stranger standing in front of me, my sleep-deprived brain registering nothing but the fact that it was a boy, and he was blonde, and I'd never seen him before. Oh, and he was cute.

He didn't answer, merely stepping into my now dark room – it was almost two in the morning and my Gameboy had been my only source of light. But when another, significantly taller, person stepped in behind him, I leapt to my feet, realising it wasn't the blonde boy that had asked the question at all.

"L!" He was smiling. Smiling. Something was up, but I couldn't tell whether it was a good or bad thing. As good as I was at reading people, L was still a mystery.

"Matt." It was a 'hello', an 'it's been too long' and a 'how are you?', yet it was only one word. I gave him a look back, a good look, answering him in kind; nonverbally. When it came to people like me and L, we didn't need words.

"I'm second!" I didn't know why I was telling him; I didn't particularly care and I was positive he knew already. "Oh, and I beat Pokémon Red in under twelve hours." He smiled at that; that smile with his eyes, which only he could do.

"I do not know which should surprise me more." He paused, completed the sentence with his eyes; 'but I was surprised by neither', before speaking again. "This is Mello. Is it okay if he rooms with you?"

I looked back over to the blonde, who I could now name, taking in his appearance. How... broken he looked. Turning back to L, I nodded, adding silently that I would try my best to fix him. We didn't often have these silent conversations, but with a stranger present, it was almost necessary. Almost.

"Mello, you shall be rooming with Matt then, unless you should prefer to have a room to yourself." Mello shook his head, walking over and dumping his small shoulder bag on what was now his bed, unzipping it and pulling out the few clothes. He was unpacking already...

L nodded, seemingly satisfied, before tipping his invisible hat at me then padding out the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. I swallowed nervously, sitting on my bed again. I picked up my Gameboy, took one look at it and deemed it inappropriate for my post-L mood. I leant against the wall with a near-silent sigh, pulling open the drawer of my bedside table; fumbling around inside before my fingers wrapped around one of many bars of chocolate I wasn't supposed to have.

Withdrawing my hand and closing the draw, I unwrapped the chocolate bar, bit off a piece and placed my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it.

I stayed like that for a few minutes, subconsciously listening to Mello unpack, before I finally felt his eyes on me. I turned to look at him.

"What?" He was staring right at me, a look of disguised longing on his face. I stared back at him for a second, and then saw he was in fact staring at the chocolate bar I was still clutching. Looking at it, and then counting how many I had left in my head, I shrugged and threw it to him.

He caught it almost on reflex, and then stared at it for a few seconds, a strange expression on his face that made me wonder if he hadn't had chocolate before. I knew I had, but then I'd been at Wammy's for a lot longer.

"Thanks..." It was a whisper, unwillingly given, but given anyway. I looked up quick enough to see the grateful look on his face, before he went back to unpacking, his hair hiding his face from view.

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, letting my eyes unfocus, so the world became just an orange blur. And then I let myself dream, if you could call it dreaming.

I weaved stories inside my head, committing them to memory, editing and perfecting them. I didn't need to write them down; this way, no one I didn't want to read them, read them, for there was nothing to read.

My tales were usually of war, death and destruction, but today, for some reason, I wrote a happy ending.

A/N: Short, sadly. But I couldn't think where else to end this... And I promise a much longer second chapter. It's almost twice as long, and only half written.

And I realise I'm happily writing Death Note whilst casually ignoring Letters To No One. Trust me, I know it's there, I'm trying to write more, but it's not working right now...

Every time I sit down to write, out comes either another Death Note drabble, or another poem. .

So yes, read this whilst I try my hardest, and consult my muse (Hannah, I know you're there, and I'd quite like your opinion, ideas, and ninja-what-not.) Bear with me, please!

(Oh, and do review. It makes me happy, and believe me, write now I need happy. So howabout dropping a little review, eh?)

Disclaimer: Death Note owns my soul, but I don't own Death Note. Fate hates me like that.