Matt

After about twenty minutes of dancing - or at least trying to - it changed to a slow song and we both left, declaring the club unawesometastic and we were never ever going there ever again until we got bored.

Somehow we ended up at the park. I wasn't much of an outdoorsy person, but having a picnic with Mello sounded nice, so we grabbed some food - which really was just some pizza and a few chocolate bars - and plopped outside.

Now like I said I'm not much of an outdoorsy person, but Mello leaning back on the park bench, the sun illuminating that golden hair of his in it's girly cut, sunshine lighting up his porcelain skin, I was immediately content. The park was mostly empty, since it was kind of chilly - not that I cared - so I pulled my goggles off, letting them rest on my forehead.

"I love going out on the town with you," I tell him honestly, stretching and leaning back in the chair. It was already starting to get late - that club had been so much fun, after that girl was gone - letting myself relax. Mello giggles and ruffles my hair again.

"You, sir, are easy to please," Mello tells me, and I stick out my half-glare, half-smile at him. He immediately fakes terror and covers his mouth, pretending to cower. "Oh no, Matty's angry, I'm going to be TICKLED TO DEATH!"

I grin and take that as a cue to start tickling him - also an excuse to touch his stomach - and Mello screeches, withering under me and laughing like a maniac, trying to shove me away. I grin and tickle him more, leaning over him. He's now pretty much completely under me, and I catch a few joggers give us weird looks, but I don't mind.

Suddenly Mello's eyes open and he looks at me, his eyes going from elated to mischievous and he grabs my hands sitting up and looks at me suspiciously. "Matty, are YOU ticklish?"Mello

He'd told me plenty of times before that he wasn't ticklish, and he shook his head no, his eyes returning to my stomach and obviously planning on tickling my again. But I wasn't going to just keep giggling my head off - it was embarrassing, not that I minded that much. "Oh come on. You have to be ticklish SOMEWHERE," I say teasingly, and move forward, hands moving to his neck fist, to no prevail. I get no giggles, only a choking noise and a shake of his head. "I told you, I'm NOT ticklish."I frown poutily, smiling inside as my fingers dance over his arms and down to his chest. "Ticklish yet?" I tease, but his face has gone stony - was he trying not to laugh? - but I got no reaction and I grinned wider, hands going under his shirt, searching for a ticklish spot. Matt's eyes widen and I tickle around his waistline, searching for a reaction, but he doesn't laugh, instead clenching his teeth.

I smirk. "Ticklish yet?" I ask mischievously, trying to get at least a chuckle, but suddenly Matt wasn't playing along anymore, and all at once his hands grabbed mine, pulling them away. I flinch, surprised - Matt almost never acted out against me, especially when we were playing around like this - but Matt's face is serious as he looks me in the eyes, goggle less, his emerald green wonders burning into mine.

"I'm not ticklish, Mello." he says stonily, almost harshly, almost sadly, almost gently, all at once, his fingers tightly wrapped around my wrist. I feel a chill down my spine, and I immediately know I have done something wrong.

"Matty?" I whisper. I hadn't mean to upset him, but his eyes were boring into mine, as if searching for something in my eyes. What was he searching for? I felt like he was sifting through my mind, invading me, almost. I twisted my wrists around, trying to free them, and Matt immediately let go, standing up and pulling his shirt further down. He was blushing now - I was so damn confused - and he turned away, giving me a cold shoulder.

"Come on Mells, it's getting late. Grab your chocolate and let's go home."

Matt

Mello was not a good tickler. He was, though, a very good at touching.

His hands on my neck was bad enough, I could tell that was suppose to be tickling, but as his hands inched down me, under my shirt now, I felt myself tense up. No. Must not get hard, I told myself. I could tell he was only trying to tease me, to make me laugh, but it wasn't working, his dancing hands trailing around on my chest, down to my stomach, my waistline, my pant line.

Just relax. Your not ticklish, just let him touch you. It feels good. My mind whispered to me. On one hand, that made sense, but I couldn't take what he was doing without moving. I wanted to moan, to yelp, to mewl, but I couldn't, that would be weird. That wasn't the reaction the smirking boy before me was looking for. I wanted to touch him back. I wanted to let him touch me all he wanted, I wanted to touch him back, and I wanted to jump him, right there, and rape him right on this bench.

But I wasn't going to.

I couldn't.

He had no feelings for me.

I had no right to take advantage of his unbeknownst turn ones.

And so I shook my head, grabbing his hands and moving them away. I could tell a blush was trying to spread on my face, and I immediately felt horrible when Mello's face fell to sadness and confusion and worry. "I'm not ticklish, Mello." I knew my voice sounded cold as I said this, but I had to be. Otherwise he would think I was joking, and keep doing it. I would enjoy that, but I had no right to enjoy it, because that wasn't what he was trying to do.

I couldn't just perv on my best friend. His eyes widened, his eyes searching my face desperately. "Matty..?" he whispered the question, worriedly, squirming. I stared into those big blue eyes, searching for something. Anything that might make me think he had intended to do that. Anything to make me think that maybe, just maybe he liked me too. That maybe he returned the feelings I had for him.

Mello had a look of panic in his eyes for a slight second, and his wrists twisted, trying to escape the grasp I hadn't realized I still on his hands. I released him and stood up, turning around.

There was nothing there.

Nothing more than friendship for him.

"Come on Mells. It's getting late. Grab your chocolate and let's go home." I murmured. I could tell Mello was shocked, staring at me with big blue eyes. I could tell he wanted to hit me. I could tell he wanted to question me. I could tell he wanted to pry.

He didn't do any of that. He simply went limp and stood up, his teeth clenched and he nodded. "Y-yeah. Okay." he smiled and gathered the two chocolate bars he hadn't eaten, abandoning the pizza on the bench - maybe some homeless person would eat it, I think - and walked to take the lead. Because he always led the way. He was in charge, I was only a puppy that followed him around. He owned every goddamn inch of me.

I wondered if he knew it.

But it was probably better. Better that he didn't feel anything for me. Probably better that I didn't even try to make him realize I liked him. Better that he didn't know.

But if I don't tell him, he'll keep doing weird things. My mind whispered. I figured it was probably true. And the more weird things he was allowed to do, the more angry he would be when he found out what I felt. But as soon as he found out… what would happen? Would or friendship just end?

I sighed angrily, conflicting emotions crashing in my brain like a train wreck as I followed him back home.

Mello

I'm watching you sleep? Can you feel me staring at you?

My thoughts are sending silent questions to the sleeping form beside me. He was laying there on the bed, his breath steady, his red hair messy against the pillow beside me. I don't really know why I'm watching him. There's really nothing else to stare at, though, and I can't sleep. Not with all the questions swimming through my head.

Why was he mad at me?I hadn't questioned him when we finally managed to sneak back into Wammys. Matt had smiled at me shakily, as if still afraid of something, and squeezed my hand, told me not to worry, told me not to care. "Really, Mells. I just had a weird moment. I'm just tired. Too much caffeine. I had a great time. Okay?"

I didn't believe him. I mean, I believe he had a great time, right up to the point with the tickling. Maybe I just wasn't a good tickler? I mean, I knew that already, but.. I stared at him, his shoulders moving slightly as he breathed. I had a stranger urge to run my fingers through his hair, but I didn't.

Why did I want to?I wasn't sure. Maybe because I was a huge flaming natural-born homosexual.

Fuck me if I'm starting to admit it. I mean, maybe I was. I didn't really know. It's not like I've looked at porn…. Okay, okay, I've looked at porn. But none of it was particularly appealing, the straight porn was all just girls with huge boobs, and that didn't really turn me on at all. I never dared even peeking at gay porn. The idea of it just… it made me grimace.

'Faggot.' 'Flamer.' 'Gay-wad.' 'Girly boy!'

I close my eyes, clutching my fists, remembers the accusations I had before coming to Wammys. At the orphanage, most people were open minded to anything and everything, we had brains, except maybe Chad and Heather, who really only bothered me about it because I got offended when they said it. But back when I was younger, at the regular school… I remembered that everyone always said I looked like a girl. Maybe because I kind of do. But I WASN'T a girl. And I wasn't a homosexual.

At least I always said so.

'Being gay is a sin, Mihael. You must understand - marriage is between a man and a woman. God will forgive you for being gay, all you have to do is repent, so you don't have to worry about your sister. She's at an institute to fix her now. She will be fine.'

'Are you sure, mother? That god will forgive such a sin?'

I close my eyes, trying to force the memories from my mind. My sister. Oh, god, Krista. Krista…

I look again at Matt. The question, now that I thought about it, wasn't weather or not I liked guys but if I liked Matt. But if I liked matt I liked guys, right? Unless matt was somehow secretly a girl, which he couldn't be. I'd seen him - all of him. I mean, it's bound to happen, since we live together in the same room…

"Matt, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.""I'm NAKEEEDD!" Matt called, his voice teasing. I thought for sure he was joking, since he never changed in his room, so I opened the door myself.

And hell, that boy was really naked. Completely, and utterly naked. His back was to me, but I could see him, all of him. His face turned about as red as a tomato, dropping the shirt he had been holding in shock. My face had turned hot and I slammed the door shut again, choking on my own breath. Sweet hot nakedness, I had thought, my panicked breathing nearly choking me, the space in my pants getting uncomfortably tight. I hissed in irritation and ignored it until it went away and Matt called me back in, fully clothed once more, and the moment was shoved to the back of my mind.

I stared at Matt, wishing the memory away. That should have been proof enough for me, but….

"Dammit, your gay," I hissed, flopping on the bed, face in pillow. No. No. I wasn't gay. I couldn't be gay. Mother had raised me so I wouldn't be. I kept telling myself it wasn't possible, I had done everything to prevent it…

'Being gay isn't a disease, Mihael! Don't turn closed minded like our mother. Just admit it - I'm gay. It's just how it is. I'm not going to get fixed, because they can't fix me - I was born that way. God made me this way, don't you understand? They'll only try to brainwash me!'

I close my eyes. Krista's voice was in my mind again, and I remembered, remembered her fighting and kicking and screaming that she hated my mother. That she hated my dad for sitting back and doing nothing as they led her away to the institute, where they would supposedly rid her of her homosexuality. The fact that she was a lesbian. I remembered her best friend - or who I had originally perceived her to be her friend - screaming from her own yard, chasing the car she was down, waving her arms, shouting that they'd never tear them apart. Krista promising she'd never let them fix her.

At the time I didn't understand. Didn't Krista want to be fixed? Didn't her friend want to be fixed, so they would be able to have a normal relationship?

Now I wasn't so sure.

Looking back now was too painful though. Remembering the face of my dead parents, of the sister I had adored… all dead. All torn from my clutches. All leading up to me being here, at Wammys, without any family. My parents had been paranoid, homophobic, probably racist for all I knew, but they had been loving parents. They loved me. They loved Krista, though they hated certain parts of her. They didn't realize how hard it was for her. For me. They thought they were helping us.

And then I felt the need to pull my fingers through his hair again, and I curled myself up on the bed, letting my body cry. The tears ran down my cheeks, panted up memories and emotions spilling along with them.

'Don't listen to them, Mihael. You know who you are. We know your not a fag, okay? Your parents know you.'

Did they know me? I didn't even know anymore. I pressed my face in the pillow, breathing in the familiar, combined scent of my own and Matt's smell. Why did that comfort me so much?

'Don't cry for her, stupid boy. She's going to get fixed. You don't have to worry about her, she'll come back free of sin. You don't have to worry.' The kind voice, the comforting hand taking mine as I sobbed for my sister, my horribly, mentally abused sister that had collapsed, screaming that she didn't want to go to any institute, that she didn't want anyone to try to fix her, that there was nothing wrong with her. When I looked at her that day, I believed her. I knew that she truly knew what she was talking about. That somehow she really did love that girl that father had caught her kissing.

More painful memories caught in my mind, my fingers clenching and unclenching as I curled deeper into the blankets, trying to subdue my sobs to be noiseless, choking on the tears and sobs.

I was sitting on the rug, happy little boy that I used to be, my sister Krista and her friend, Lauren, sitting side by side, Lauren painting my nails a pretty dark red, Krista snuggling against Lauren as she did this. I didn't question the way they touched and hugged. I didn't see what was so abnormal - they seemed so happy. Mother had requested that they stopped hanging out, but Lauren had snuck in through the neighbor, the pretty chocolate-skinned beauty slipping through the window. I remembered both of them so clearly, how Krista had squealed happily when Lauren came in, gathering her up in her arms and kissing her lips. I didn't question it. It was all just happiness to me, and I just wanted to h ave my nails painted.

Mother didn't think so. She saw them when he came on. Accusations. Screaming. Yelling. Pointing. Father only standing in the doorway, never moving to help either side of the argument. My sister hugging Lauren, crying and yelling in her own defense. It was horrible. I didn't understand. Didn't understand what she meant. Why did she keep calling them sinners? Why did she accuse them of being such horrible people? Tell them that they were a horrid influence on me, that they were teaching me to be gay. I didn't understand. I tried to defend them, clinging to my mother's arm. 'They aren't trying to teach me gay, mommy, their trying to teach me to do my own nails!' That didn't help. It only caused more yelling. More yelling. So much yelling.

I close my eyes tighter, letting more tears come. It felt good, to cry. I hated crying, but it had been so long since I cried… it felt good to just let it out. It was like laughing, only it was much, much more painful.

I didn't want it to, but another memory crashed through the barriers of my mind like a hurricane, swirling in my mind.

The policemen at the door. Telling the babysitter what had happened. Telling her about the car accident. It had been storming outside, and Lauren and Krista had snuck out to be together. The 'fixing' obviously hadn't worked. Mother had grabbed Father and him along to go and pick them up, leaving me with the babysitter. I didn't know how to react. I was simply left behind, dragged off to fetch my sister. I didn't think anything of it at the time, didn't even say goodbye to them. I just hoped that sister would forgive me for not defending her. For not trying to stop them. But I was only eight. What was I suppose to do? How was I suppose to know that the car that they shoved the two lovers in would crash into a semi? A semi that, by cruel fate, held gasoline that burned them all alive, an explosion so horrible that they all died a horrible, fiery death. Telling the babysitter. I was sitting there on the rug. Listening. I d idn't understand. Where had mother and father gone? Why weren't they coming back? Why was the babysitter crying? Why couldn't I see them?

They were all dead. All of them. Beautiful, wonderful Krista that painted my nails and hugged me when I cried, who was such a sinner in my mothers eyes, who loved with all of her heart, everyone, everything, who never judged anyone who hadn't harmed her. Lauren, who loved Krista right back, who never meant any harm, whose chocolate-brown skin I had loved, whose messy black hair she had always let me play with. My mother, my closed minded mother, who prayed and repented every sin she made, who watched us all carefully, for any sign of something going wrong. Judging nobody more than my sister. And my dad, too. He was so weak. Weaker than me. I was strong. He let everyone step on him, especially my mother. He tried to be kind, but he failed miserably at any kind of argument. With a anyone. So much that eventually he simply faded into the background, blending in and hiding behind his beliefs, never reaching out to help his children as they were judged so harshly.

I closed my eyes, my sobs becoming more audible before I could stop them. I couldn't help it. I was a fucking fag. I was born that way, that's what my sister always said. I couldn't bring myself to believe my mother, that my sister was flawed or sinning. She was beautiful. I looked up to her, even now that I am her age. Still envied her ability to be kind to everyone. Even my mother. When mother got sick and frail, she was always the one to take care of her, despite the fact that she was constantly judged by her, she couldn't ever bring herself to hate her, despite her judgmental ways.

The judgmental ways that, in the end, made them meet t heir demise.

I closed my eyes, ready to start sobbing harder before I felt an arm go around me, pulling me in. Matt. He was suddenly hugging me against him, his lips resting on my head, his arms pulling me into him. His strength was surprising, but I welcomed his comfort without thinking, turning to face him. His eyes were sad and green. I knew he couldn't understand the reason for my sobs, since I hadn't ever told him my past and he hadn't ever told me his, but he looked so pitying. He was the only one I ever wanted to pity me. Even him, it hurt to see the pity in his eyes, but I allowed it this once, pressing my nose into his shirt, letting him stroke my back with his fingers. "Oh, Mells.." he whispered, rubbing my back. The way he did it reminded me of my sister, and I nuzzled closer to him, crying muffled by the cloth on his striped shirt. "You're okay… go on and cry… let it all out, I'm not judging you," he whispered, sweet reassurances echoing in my mind as he said them, repeating hem softly. I broke down as he whispered this, letting my crying go to it's full extent, tears streaming down my face. I felt Matt's hands piece through my hair, his whisperings not subsiding. "I've got you, Mells…. I've got you… I won't leave you…"

I let myself believe him. I did believe him. Everything he'd done at Wammys, every threat and rant I'd thrown his way, he'd taken it and put it to heart, never once leaving my side. I doubted even if I hit him or abused him he would leave me. I doubt it. He was that loyal. I suddenly felt that I didn't deserve him. Did he know I was such a jerk? Surely he did. Did he know I was gay? I doubted it.

I mean, I barely even knew I was gay. How should he?

Finally my sobs started to stop, but the pain in my chest was still there, not stopping its silent stampede on my heart. I felt like such a chick-flick character, nuzzling into his chest and clinging to him like he was my life source or something. As if I were the clingy one and not the other way around.

There was a long silence, him still piecing through my hair silently, me simply breathing him in, listening to his heartbeat. Well, it was official - doesn't get more gay than this. Of course, it was only me being gay. Matt was just following what he knew I wanted, which was comfort. He wasn't the one snuggling, that was me.

Suddenly, Matt broke the silence, his voice shaking a little. "Hey, Mello…?"

I shifted a little to look up at him. He was looking at me seriously, his green eyes searching mine. I don't try to force emotion onto my face, I simply let myself stay blank to keep from crying again. "Yeah?"

Matt stared at me for a few seconds, then laid his head back down again. I followed suit, letting my head nuzzle back into his shirt on instinct. He sighed and whispered, "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

I sigh and wriggle away from him. "You, sir, are a cheese head," I tell him, smiling teasingly. He smiles half-heartedly, and it occurs to me he was being serious so I sigh, nodding and getting situated in the covers again, carefully distancing myself from Matt, awkwardness in my gut threatening to take over. "Yeah, I know, Matt. I know."