A/N: Their both 10 in this chapter.

Matt

I passed out Mail Jeevas. And I woke up Matt. Matt with no last name worth mentioning.

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was better to just push all the pain away and start all over. Maybe that's how it worked in such a strange world.

"Matt, welcome to Wammys house. As you are aware, it's an orphanage for gifted children. The rules are posted on the door - there aren't many, and their usually easy to follow."I looked up, pulling my goggles away from my eyes to look up at the old man who sat beside me. His smile was very warm, his face wrinkled with age. He looked like he would have been attractive, had he been a great deal younger, or rather that he used to be attractive, and now he was just a smiling old man. After giving him a long look, I pulled my goggles back over my eyes, welcoming the familiar golden tint they gave me, and nodded. I could tell the old man had been hoping for some words from me, but to no such luck for him - I wasn't going to speak, not right now. I needed more time to think. After a few moments, he sighed and continued. "There are a few rules that aren't spoken or written, but as for your alias, you aren't to tell it to anyone - it could easily be used against you. Do you understand?"

I really didn't understand. Who did I really have to fear? I wasn't going to become number one, I knew right when he said 'competition' over the phone when referring to the title of L that I would be way too damn lazy to try for anything more than not failing. I was smart, but I was lazy.

"Your room is 665. Is that alright, Matt?" Wammy prodded me gently, resting his hand on my shoulder. I knew it was meant to be a kind touch, but I flinched away, remembering a similar touch that had been laid there only about 48 hours ago. Clenching my teeth I looked away, nodding hastily. "It's on the second floor, alright? Go on ahead then."

Eager to get away from the awkward place I was at in front of the giant orphanage before me, I hurried, trying to slow my pace to a walk to not appear too jumpy, but I was. This was all so weird. Maybe I'd watched too many cheesy movies, but I felt like I'd just jumped into some corny spy movie. What was next, hot leather-studded chicks? Creepy emotionless kids? Serial killers? Sudden unexpected explosions? High speed car chases? I laughed at the thought.

Later, though I had shrugged off the idea at the time, the answer would become clear very quickly.

All of the above.

Mello

"Please! Please! Stop! It hurts!"

The girl squirmed under my grip as I pulled her hair, glowering a death glare at her. Linda. God I hated this girl, so much I wanted to kill her. She had been the one to make the comment, she deserved this, I knew. And I hated her, so I pulled her hair harder, slapping her face. "TAKE IT BACK."Linda screeched and pushed at my chest, as if she could pull me off, which she couldn't. After a desperate squeal she went limp. "I take it back. Your not a fag, okay!? Your not a fag! Just let me go! Please!"I stared at her for a long moment, my gaze boring into her. My hatred seemed to only grow stronger, my fist clenching in her hair, but it was only fair - she had met the only demand I had given her in my blind fury, and Roger or one of the other caretakers would be here soon, and I tossed her to the ground, releasing my grip on her mousy brown hair, spinning on my heels and stalking away, feeling numerous pairs of eyes on me. That bastard Chad, who had surely been the one to make the rumor, that homophobe. Not that I was gay. But it still bothered me - I wasn't a phoebe or anything. Heather was watching me too - she was Linda's friend - and surely Near was watching, since he never seemed to miss anything around here, but I didn't look back to check. Because frankly I didn't care what the creepy little albino freaky did. So without a single glance over my shoulder I headed for my room, the satisfaction of having slapped that bitch still tingling on my hands. A purely evil, yet satisfactory feeling. So I smiled.

Matt

Turned out that Wammy's was extremely easy to get lost in. I hadn't seen anyone around. It dawned on me that classes must still be in session, and that this was a school for geniuses. I found myself hoping some of t hem would be friendly, but I shoved the thought away. Didn't matter - even if they were they wouldn't want to hang out with the antisocial redhead. And I didn't really want to hang out with them, either, I just didn't want to be bullied.

With a grumble I made my way down the empty hallways and finally found the stairs at the end of the hallway. I sighed with relief as I hurried up them. My room would be up here, I knew, and as I ran up the stairs I reached to adjust my goggles, still hurrying down the hallway.

And then a forced crashed into me, sending me - and the force, it seemed, which happened to be a person - tumbling to the ground. I gasped in surprise, my goggles sliding awkwardly to block my vision, landing uncomfortably with my legs tangled with the other persons. I blushed, angry with myself for not seeing the only person coming, and adjusted my goggles over my eyes as I looked up.

And I came face to face with the most attractive person I had ever seen. A leather-decked beauty, sprawled right beside me, wide blue eyes that glittered, with shoulder-length straight cut blonde hair that contrasted perfectly with the perfect, tight leather outfit she had on. An angel, almost, an angel with a devils glower that was aimed right at me, but I found I didn't really mind. And all at once, I felt myself completely falling for this person. And I could hardly believe it - I could check leather-decked chick off my list.

Then I realized that this person, apron quick inspection as my eyes quickly scanned her, was not a her but a he. An outstandingly attractive male, but a male none the less. Dammit.

Then I realized we'd been sitting there, staring at each other for at least two full minutes, and I blushed, untangling my legs from his. "Sorry," I muttered, getting to my feet and reaching out my hand to help him to do the same. The blonde stared at my hand for a few seconds before taking it, letting me pull him to his feet, and looked at me with a somehow unsatisfied look on his face. "Sorry," I repeated, "for running into you I mean. Uh.. I'm Ma…Matt." (I almost said my real name, oops. Sorry Wammy.) I offered my hand to shake, giving him my best smile, which admittedly is extremely crooked and awkward, more like a grimace at this point. I couldn't fake smiles to save my life.

Suddenly, without any warning, Mello's hand snapped out and grabbed my goggles, pulling the them away from my face and snapping them onto my forehead. It hurt and I flinched, shocked and a little freaked out, but the other boy only smirked at me. "Mello."

Mello

I'm really not sure what came over me at that moment, as I was sent tumbling to the ground. It was actually my fault I'd ran into the redhead - I hadn't been expecting anyone else in t he hallway at this hour, so I wasn't on the lookout as I sped my way to my room. I had to get there soon, Charlie in the Chocolate Factory was coming on TV, and…

Anyway I ran into him.

My first reaction was to be angry, and I hissed under my breath, my legs tangled painfully with his, a blush trying to make it's way to the surface as I looked up to glare at him and shove him away. But I didn't. I could not shove him away. I simply glowered at him, unable to move my body, struck by some force I wasn't familiar with. The boy before me was looking at me, wide eyed, a blush spread over his cheeks, messy red hair fluffing out in all directions, some weird things that I at first took to be glasses turned out to be goggled over his eyes. Was he going for steam punk or something? He had a really… well, attractive look about him, honestly. Not in a gay way. Don't give me that look, do you WANT to be slapped like Linda was? But the outfit was tasteful, the black and white striped shirt and tight, fitted jeans and converse. It wasn't really stylish, but this kid pulled it off easily.

Then it occurred to me that I couldn't see his eyes.

I hated that. Hated that I couldn't tell what he was portraying as he looked at me with wide eyes. I could see emotions flicker through them as he seemed to take me in, all of me, with a single glance. Somehow all the fight simply drained out of me. I didn't want to hit him or shove him or tell him to fuck off. Not sure why, really. He just didn't seem to be the kind of person to do that to, and I took this strange chance to stare at him. I wonder if he realized how awkward our position was right now. (I did, even though I was only 10 at the time.) I wondered if he realized what Heather - not that he knew any of the kids here - would assume if he saw us like this. I wondered if he cared. I hoped nobody would walk in at that moment.

I wondered how hard I would have to work to make this boy mine.

(Not like that. Pervert. Don't think I can't read your mind, because I can!)

Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn't notice that the boy had gotten to his feet and was now looking down on me with those goggle-tinted eyes, hand outstretched in my direction. And I still felt annoyed. I couldn't see those damn eyes thanks to those stupid goggles. Did he wear them every day? As I was wondering this I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. My ankle hurt, but I ignored it, not looking away from the new child. "Sorry," he said awkwardly, and I'm not sure if he noticed the way he kept shuffling his feet or not, but it was kind of cu-- weird. Weird. Kind of weird the way he kept making awkward, embarrassed movements like that. "For running into you, I mean." After a few seconds, he reached out his hand, offering me a name, "I'm Ma…" - he paused, obviously remembering that he had an alias, proving he was new - "..Matt." And then he smiled. A forced, probably fake smile, but for some reason it almost made me shiver. His fake smile was so… beautiful. Kind. Hopeful. Even in forced smiles, you could tell he was trying to be friendly.

That was when I knew. I had to know.

And, ignoring his outstretched hand, I reached out and pulled the goggles from his eyes. I hadn't meant for them to snap back on his forehead like that, but it was kind of pleasing to see him flinch, in a sadistic way, and his face twist up in confusion and surprise, eyes squeezing shut, probably out of embarrassment, fear, or reaction to the light. Probably both. I smirked, holding back a giggle - yes, bitch, a giggle. I can't help it, okay? I have a girly laugh.

And then his eyes opened. It as all in a split second, but it seemed like a flash of nearly everything for a moment. They were beautiful. They were glittering with confusion, fear, and, though I doubted he knew it, they gave off the friendliest warmth. Quite the opposite of my icy blue ones, if I do say so myself. Beautiful. Staring. They were staring right at me. And I had to remind myself that he was a guy. Or rather, that I was a guy. A straight guy. And I was not attracted to him and his sexy eyes, because I was a guy, and not gay. Not gay. Not gay. Not gay.

They were green.

And then the goggles were back on his face, and the moment was gone.

"Mello? Really?" Matt - I liked that name, Matt, it suited him somehow - asked questioningly, but it wasn't in an insulting way somehow (I would have punched him if had been) and he blinked. "Mello. Got it."

I suddenly realized I was grinning like an idiot and immediately stopped, clenching my teeth. "Where are you going in such a hurry, anyway?" he asked, doing that thing where he shuffled his feet again, "there are no classes down this way, right?"

I resisted the urges to put my hands on my hips, remembering the comment that ass Linda had made about it before. Her, Heather, Chad, and Near were the only ones who ever dared to bother me a second time, since most people seemed to be smart enough to avoid self-harm at this point. "I'm skipping class, we're only presenting projects and I already presented mine," I explained, though I left out the fact that I probably would have skipped anyway, just to avoid hearing Near drone on about his project in that annoying monotone voice of his.

Matt tilted his head to one side, and then suddenly I was engulfed in about a million questions. "Are the classes like regular ones here? Do you know where I would find room 667? How many kids are here? Do we ever get to leave? Are there computers here?"

I flinched at the questions and shoved my hand upwards, covering his mouth, almost in an automatic motion, used to getting what I want from people by force at this point, though at least I hadn't slapped him. Matt stared, cross-eyed, at my hand as I pulled it away, but it shut him up at least. "One question at a time, kid," I hissed, hands going to my hips automatically now, blowing the hair from my eyes. "The classes are pretty much the same, except there are no regular teachers, there are lots of kids here, we can't leave often unless we sneak, and there are computers in the room though you can get a laptop in various ways." I felt Matt relax a little bit as I continued, "And I can show you to room 667, since my rooms right beside yours."

I flinched. Whoa. Had I just said something… nice? To a complete stranger?

I glowered inwardly and spun on my heel, breaking away from the redhead's bewildered stare. "Now come on and keep up, I won't wait for you. And don't think you can knock on my door for questions and whatever, just because you know where I'm sleeping, got that?""Wouldn't think of it," Matt replied in a wistful voice, and somehow I just knew he was grinning like an idiot.

Matt

I was most certainly grinning like an idiot.

Not really sure why, exactly. Maybe it was because this angel - devil? - was being so odd that it was hard not to grin. Maybe it was because this was feeling more and more like some lame spy movie - except not so lame, because, you know, I was actually in it - or because I had found what could possibly my first friend. Like, ever. Oh, that and I was finally to my room, and for some reason I felt completely exhausted, even though I had slept most of the trip from America to here.

However, Mello - who most certainly was not mellow, so I wasn't sure why I felt the name fit him so well - didn't stop to show me my room, or even to say a quick goodbye. He simply opened his own room, 666, and slammed the door shut behind him as he made his way in.

Room 666. Oh, the irony, that my "angel" lived in the room that held the number to hell on it's door. I really wasn't a superstitious person, but I had a feeling that it really wasn't a good omen.

I stood outside his door for a good four minutes before turning to my own, staring at it suspiciously, my old fears coming back to me as I tried to black them out.

I hated it.

I opened the door, and it made a long creaking noise as I did. The room was bare, and nobody was inside to greet me. Only one bed, with white blankets and sheets, a wardrobe, a desk, and my bags, piled in the middle of the room containing my few belongings. Nothing else. The entire room felt bare.

I hated it.

I gathered myself up and shut the door behind me. There was a window, but there were blinds blocking the outside world. Not that I liked the outside world, but this room felt so… I don't know, threatening almost. I was so alone in here. It wasn't so bad now, but I knew it would be bad at night, when the memories came flooding back, and….

I turned abruptly to the door and tore the rules off the door, flopping on my white bed, reading them quickly. They were easy rules, obvious ones. No bullying. Respect the teachers. Don't wear sluttish crap. No weapons. Obvious things that everyone probably followed anyway.

Except for the first one, anyway.

I sighed and kicked off my shoes, preparing for a night alone in this bare room.

I hated it.

I hated being alone.

Mello

As soon as I came into my room I flopped on my bed, staring at the white ceiling above my head. The entirety of the Wammy rooms were white, and though you were allowed to decorate it in any fashion you wanted, you weren't allowed to paint the walls. I knew that some people covered their walls with posters and shit, but I certainly didn't - I liked things to look clean.

I yawned and grabbed a chocolate bar from my stash, snapping off a piece before reaching for my book, hoping that Matt didn't have a thing for music. Or talking to himself. Or partying really loudly in the middle of the night. Or dancing. Or making noise. At all.

Okay, let me explain. The walls in Wammy's house are obnoxiously thin. Really, really obnoxiously. Not that it ever bothered me before really - I had Near beside me and obviously before Matt moved in that room had been empty.

But I didn't hear anything on the other side of the wall for the twenty minutes that I read, so I guess that he didn't have an emo music fetish - thank god - but the weird thing was I didn't hear any movement at all. Was he even going to unpack?

I sighed and turned off the lamp above my head, putting the book down and tossing the empty chocolate wrapper onto the floor - I would get it later - before flopping on the bed. Maybe I should catch some shut-eye so that tomorrow for the test I would have plenty of rest. Beat near, maybe. And if I didn't, I would need rest to beat the shit out of Chad, probably. And so I let my eyes shut.

I got about four minutes of "shut eye" before I heard the sobs.

From the other side of the room there were painful moans and whimpers, sniffling and crying. It was the most pathetic sound, pained and hopeless. Whimpering, too, like a puppy or something. I tensed up and my fingernails dug into the mattress. Oh god. Oh god, please, let him shut up, I begged inwardly. I didn't want to hear this child cry. It wasn't the kind of sobbing that I enjoyed, those cries of pain that I relished, the kind of sobs that were because I was finally taking my revenge, the ones of physical pain. These were cries. These were helpless, innocent, begging cries, similar to what I imagine would be the human equivalent to an abandoned puppy.

And then he started making WORDS in his sobs, and it shook me, inwardly. As if somebody had just kicked my dog or something, that was how it felt.

"Please…. No…. I'm sorry….. I hate it… I can't…. save you…. Please… go away…."

I clenched my teeth and pulled my pillow over my head. Call me a sap if you want, but I hated it, I hated every single part of it. It was torcher. But what was I suppose to do, rush in to rescue him, to wake him from his nightmare? He wouldn't even thank me, probably he'd just punch me in the nose or something, and then I'd loose all pity for him.

And so I squeezed my eyes shut and tried, desperately, to block out the desperate whispers of the boy on the other side of the door.