(A/N) Hopefully this chapter is better than the last... Matt and Mello at Wammy's! Tis fluffy! :3

Mello was numb.

He couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.

He was on the edge of his seat, eyes wide and staring, dumbstruck, as he desperately tried to convince himself he'd fallen asleep on the chair, this was just a very weird dream and Matt was still a safe distance away on the couch opposite, playing games and maybe smoking a cigarette as he concentrated. Good old, practical Matt.

But it wasn't a dream, it was all too real, and Mello realised with a slight panic that the gentle lips that had met his own with such a light, feathery touch were locking on with more confidence, until Mello's mouth was completely enclosed by the warmth.

Matt closed his eyes, feeling the intensity of Mello's gaze scorching the dark, shiny surface of his goggles. They hid everything Matt had buried deep in his soul. That was why he wore them, after all...

would he ever have made it this far if people had been able to tell what he was thinking? Mello had exploited his emotions on many occasions, but he was different – Matt was too afraid. He could lie so well, and pretend everything was normal to the point where even the most perceptive person could be fooled by his stoic demeanour. But his eyes gave everything away.

Therefore, the goggles created an invisible barrier – one that barred others from seeing more than necessary – and resulted in no-one trusting him.

Except for Mello...

Just like Mello.

Matt had always harboured a secret attraction for him, and he'd always squashed down his own feelings. Mello couldn't know, because Matt's biggest fear was that Mello would reject him, and abandon him, and then he'd be alone again.

Matt couldn't bear that thought.

Before he came to Wammy's, aged 12 – love was an emotion Matt had never experienced.

His parents had been highly-sought criminals, caught up in drugs and burglaries. The secret to their success had been their kid, and Matt was only valuable to them on 'missions', where they'd abuse his ability to crack codes and hack computers for their own gain. Every time, that was all it was – money, money, money. They never needed Matt for anything else.

Even when their hoard was successful, the only significant hint of appreciation shown was that moment when a large hand would reach out and clap him on the head, for about a second... an offhand gesture he supposed belonged to the man he named 'Father'.

But then he'd be ignored.

He remembered sitting in their dump of an apartment, worse than the one he was in now. Hunched in the corner, knees up to his chin, his wide green eyes burning as he watched the dancing figures swaying precariously and giggling and slurping from long-necked bottles in front of him. They were drunk again. The notion made his stomach turn, and the back of his neck would prickle from the cold sensation creeping up on him... frightening memories. Matt would wait with dread, every night those people got drunk... wait for the shouting to start. Then the beatings and screaming that would follow through until dawn.

It was always Matt who ended up screaming.

After his ordeals, they'd leave him there, with an almost satisfied smirk shared as they left.

Bruised, bloody, and shaking... Matt would lie in the dark, sobbing tears of anguish and pain. Did they enjoy it? Did they feel big and important when they laid into him? Did they even care that he was their only son...?

'You were an accident, you little swine, and nothing more,' the woman he called 'Mother' hissed at him in cold blood as she had him pinned to the ground, his skinny elbow wrenched up by the side of his head – his mouth forcefully silenced by a single slender, feminine (yet lethal) hand – but his eyes clearly shrieked with the agony. They only tortured him more if he cried, calling him weak... he felt weak. 'Did you think we wanted you? That you were... NECESSARY...?' The sneering would continue as she raked her nails over one pallid cheek...

'I NEVER ASKED TO BE BORN!' Matt seethed to himself, his head splitting in two with rage at the unfairness of it all. And there he'd remain on the dirty floor, rendered unable to move... all alone until the early rays of daybreak crept across his tearstained face...

It was that one morning, however, when they didn't return.

The same morning Matt had heaved his limp body out of the position in which he'd cried himself to sleep.

The same morning he'd packed a small bag containing his essentials, including a miniature DS that he'd slipped into his pocket that one secret time during another raid and his parents had never noticed, and he'd kept safe in fear of it being taken away.

The same morning he'd decoded the lock on the safe he'd pretended never to know about, stolen several hundred spare dollars and stuffed them into his bag.

The same morning he made a call and told them he was ready to leave.

In other words, the same morning he escaped.

Less than a week later, the services dropped him at Wammy's House, Winchester, England.

Matt was in total awe of the place: it was huge, and surrounded by beautiful green gardens and gravelled paths... the building was larger than what he'd imagined a mansion to be, with ornately sculpted, patterned walls, and so many windows looking out at the landscape... it was a life filled with more light than Matt had ever experienced.

He started to sweat a little though as he entered through the shiny black gates, approaching the main door closer and closer. He knew this was a place that specialized in above-average kids, kids with special talents – though he'd never really considered what he had a talent at the time – but that didn't mean they would be nice, or even understanding.

The refined exterior of the residence now only made him feel more and more uncomfortable... perhaps they'd all be really posh, pampered and brilliant, like how he imagined a genius to be. They'd all look down on him here for being scruffy, he was sure of it... he burned with humiliation under his loose t-shirt, white with large black stripes and long sleeves and open neck, covered with crusty stains.

He made an attempt to brush away some of the crumbs from his lunch off his front... his very first British fish and chips, scarfed down and swallowed in about two minutes flat, it was that delicious. He'd been starving at the time, literally – he'd had to fend for himself whenever his parents abandoned him, and there'd only ever been a few scraps lying around... he'd never had a proper meal, which explained why he was so painfully stick-thin.

It had only been an hour ago or so that they'd stopped at the gas station and fed him in the café, but now his stomach felt horribly empty, and squeezed with apprehension.

'Why am I here again?' he asked himself.

His knees buckled as they finally arrived at the door... polished mahogany, with a brass handle... but that's not the first thing he noticed.

It was the lock.

It didn't look very complex, despite the model... the smooth rectangular screen with touch screen pads didn't change the fact it was a simple number lock with a code required to open it.

It suddenly occurred to Matt he was being watched closely by the old man beside him, who'd stopped on the front step, metal briefcase still in hand. He glanced at Matt curiously through his half-moon spectacles, his dark eyes twinkling under the brim of his hat, a smile shining through his white moustache.

'Would you care to do the honours?'

Matt was shocked: how had he guessed? He glanced down at his bare hands... his fingers were trembling. It was obvious Matt was itching to reach up to the lock, he enjoyed a challenge. He knew it would be a cinch though, despite getting all excited.

When he'd done the same thing for THEM on numerous occasions...

No, Matt thought firmly. He squashed the two people to the back of his mind. He was never going to see them again... and that thought instantly calmed him, allowing his arms to move the hands up to the lock. As soon as his fingers touched the pads, he began typing at breakneck speed. He concentrated fiercely, enjoying the speed, sensing the wires inside the device whirring at his command.

With a short beep and a click of the door unlocking, Matt confirmed his victory. He let out a sigh of contentment, and looked up at the man beside him, who chuckled.

'I see I was right in choosing you,' he said softly, scanning Matt's flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and beamed encouragement before striding into the hallway. Face glowing with pleasure, Matt trailed after him like a puppy, feeling more hopeful about life here. Maybe he could feel like he belonged, for once in his life...

The happy thought entertained him for about five seconds, when unexpectedly he vaguely saw a flash of black and yellow before all the wind was knocked out of him and he crashed to the ground, an elbow nudging painfully into his stomach.

'Uwaaaaagh... what the hell?' an irritable voice groaned, really close to Matt's ear. The weight of a body was pressed up against his lungs, rendering him unable to breathe... they weren't heavy, but their presence was uncomfortable.

'Ooof,' Matt gasped, struggling underneath them.

'Huh? Hey, watch where you're going next time, dumbass! That really hurt!' the voice hissed, annoyance radiating from them in waves. Matt felt a chill as they released him from their grip, the sudden warm weight lifting.

Not just that... had he already ruined whatever chance he had of making friends? He drooped visibly, hanging his head as he sat up slowly, to hide his face with his bangs. It hadn't even been his fault...

'Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you!' the voice snarled, further away now. Matt decided it was safe to look up, and when he peeked cautiously from under his hair, he got a shock.

It was the slender form of a girl, with fair skin, slim hips and chin-length, feathery blonde hair that hung over her bluey-green eyes.

Her eyes were kind of cold, and rather dead-looking, but apart from that... she was smaller than Matt, but her presence was intimidating in a way that Matt couldn't really explain. It was clear her body was delicate, but it was masked by her choice of bold black clothing.

One word Matt would use to describe her was... cute. Really cute... and there was something about the way she held herself, and looked Matt defiantly in the eye with no hint of guilt that enthralled him. To his intense surprise, he felt his cheeks heating up... he was embarrassed. That thought alone was enough to increase his blush, and he couldn't do anything about it... why? Why was he blushing?

Matt didn't understand. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He tried to calm down and rationally think his way through this, to analyse the circumstances. He was embarrassed... why? He'd found himself staring at a pretty girl, and checking her out, then feeling crushed as he remembered he'd crashed into her and made her mad at him... he probably looked like such an idiot... but why did he care what the girl thought of him, anyway...?

It was no use, Matt couldn't think about this logically at all... his head felt like it was in a blender, thoughts whizzing round and round and round, faster and faster, mixing everything up inside...

'Hello?' the girl demanded, waving a hand in front of Matt's face. Her fingers brushed Matt's flushed face, and Matt's chest throbbed suddenly. He panicked, this wasn't good... he didn't feel right...

'H-huh,' he stuttered, real intelligently. He mentally cursed himself.

The girl's expression dulled from annoyed to resigned, and she leant back from Matt, sighing carelessly. 'Great. Another hopeless case.'

'Th-that's kinda harsh...' Matt mumbled half-heartedly, not sure if he wanted her to hear or not.

'Well.'

Matt jumped – he'd forgotten about the old man. His eyes quickly swivelled towards him, trying to meet his gaze over the girl's blonde hair, which was distracting him no end. It just sort of hung choppily over one eye, ever so slightly... Matt's fingers were itching to brush it out the way, and that thought scared him. Her presence filled the room until it seemed there was nothing left...

'Matt –' (Oh, that was right. He'd been told he wouldn't use his real name while he was here.) '–your things have already been deposited in your room. I'll leave it to Mello to show you the way...'

Mello... was that the girl's name? Eccentric choice for a name... though he supposed it was only a nickname... Matt tried mouthing it to himself.

'Me...llo...' he whispered absent-mindedly, not realising he was perfectly audible to the girl in front of him, only inches away. She turned to look at him witheringly, which made Matt shrink back against the wall. He was kind of afraid of her glare... it made him feel really small and worthless, somehow. He spun his head to look at the old man for help, and got a surprise to learn he'd mysteriously melted away from the scene...

'Matt... that's your name?'

The one named turned back towards the girl, who was looking him up and down with that intense gaze of hers. Matt could feel himself burning with humiliation under his stained t-shirt and grimy jeans and scuffed boots... why hadn't he thought to change at the service station...

The girl, Mello, suddenly smiled – a catlike sort of smile, that made Matt's heart leap for a second, only to swoop downwards again when she uttered, 'You don't talk much, do you?'

'Um... well...' Matt swallowed. 'I-I guess...' He laughed in an attempt to break the tension. 'I guess I get really nervous, around a pretty girl...'

There was a small silence, which Matt didn't comprehend until he suddenly felt fingers at his throat and the force of being slammed against the wall behind him.

'Aaahhh...!' Matt choked, gasping. So painful... what had caused it? He looked into the seething eyes of the girl, who was red in the face, and her bangs were sticking slightly to her forehead, and she was breathing heavily on to Matt's face, in rage, he realised. Whoa... she was strong! Matt hadn't seen that coming... what could he have possibly done wrong?

'Bastard...' the girl hissed, practically spitting at him. Her dead eyes were ablaze, piercing him from the inside. Matt's heart was banging in his chest, so loud and fast and hard he was sure it would splurt out at any second and make even more of a mess of his t-shirt. He gulped, struggling to breathe as her cold, slender fingers tightened around his neck...

She leaned up against him, practically crawling on top of him as she pressed Matt harder against the wall. Matt was being tortured, but he endured it. He looked directly into Mello's face, still flushed with anger.

...Her thigh brushed against Matt's inner leg, and he felt a really strange sensation below his stomach, like his pants were getting tighter...

'Y-you...' Mello whispered, venom radiating from her tongue. It was a beautiful sound... Matt strained his ears, trying to suppress the blood that pumped loudly inside his head, to listen to that voice.

'I'll have you know that I'm – I'm – I'm a boy, goddit?' Mello snapped out in a rush, cheeks darkening even more. 'Pretty girl... are you a fucking moron? Who the hell d'you think you're talking to?'

Matt's head suddenly felt cold. Everything inside him deflated.

A boy... oh God. This was too mortifying for words. Both boys were blushing furiously, heads turned away from each other deliberately. Mello released Matt quickly, like he was red-hot (which he just about was at this point).

'Call me a girl again and I'll knock you into the twenty-second century,' Mello muttered dangerously, in an attempt to sound threatening.

'S-sure...' Matt murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.

'Get up,' Mello said brusquely. 'I'll show you to your room.'

Matt obeyed, keeping his eyes on the floor, and followed Mello's lead. As soon as he thought it safe to look again, he glanced at the back of Mello's head as they ventured up the staircase.

Too delicate... too feminine... she – no, he – was a guy? The world had gone insane.

That was how Matt had met Mello. And soon after, various events followed.

d'awww, Matt's so adorable and geeky, and Mello's just... adorable and badass. XD Review plz? :c *pleads with eyes*