A/N: Finally, chapter 10. Um, only warnings for this chapter would have to be a blowjob and half-lemon, I guess you could call it. Anyway… -ahem- If you don't like those, well, the first isn't really that important and it's kinda hard to not notice… I'm just rambling now so on with the chapter.

A few hours later, I had him, and myself, dressed, and we were curled up on my bed. Matt lay against my side, seemingly peacefully asleep, but I knew better. He was trembling slightly in his half sleep; he was blocking out not only the physical pain, but the mental and emotional pain as well. Life's not a video game, and video game knowledge rarely helps in life, but Matt always told me that when you start feeling safe, the enemy attacks. Fuck if that didn't describe this situation perfectly.

We spent practically a full week in my room, leaving only to eat and relieve ourselves. Near the end of the week, about noon, Matt was curled up with his head resting on my lap, napping. He hadn't slept well at all during the nights; he was constantly waking up or just wouldn't be able to get to sleep at all. Near had really fucked him up. I ran my fingers gently through his hair. He wouldn't eat at all, nor would he drink much, and it worried me because I knew after a week, he wouldn't be able to keep anything down. I'd managed to get him to drink a little water a couple of minutes ago and I was praying he'd be able to keep it down.

"Mello." His voice was quiet, and scratchy from disuse; he hadn't spoken all week.

"Yeah, what is it, Matt?" I murmured. "You okay?"

He didn't answer either question, but pushed himself up shakily into a sitting position and just stared blankly at a spot on the sheets.

I knew that look all too well. Fuck. I quickly grabbed the wastebasket and put it in front of him.

Matt made a weird noise in the back of his throat and coughed the water back up weakly.

I sighed and rubbed his back gently, setting the wastebasket down on the floor. "It's okay," I murmured softly. "I'm here."

Matt leaned against me, laying his head on my shoulder. He was so thin; he'd always been thin, though. When a group of bullies beat him up when we were six, I'd carried him all the way to the infirmary in my arms like you would a puppy. That was a different kind of thin, though. What I felt when he leaned against me was more the frail, sickly kind of thin, that I'd felt the first night I'd hugged him when we were little, the night he trusted me with his darkest pain and I'd held him through the night. He shifted a little and wound his left arm around my neck loosely, more clinging to the collar of my shirt than anything, really. "Mel…" There was his voice again, still as quiet as the first time.

"What is it, Mattie?" I murmured, wrapping my right arm gently around his waist.

Next thing I knew, he was in my lap, his lips pressing desperately against my own. "Matt…" I knew he was seeking comfort, but it was too soon for me to make love to him without running the risk of hurting him. I pulled his hand gently away from the zipper of my jeans. "Not yet, okay?"

To my dismay, he burst into tears, burying his head against my chest.

"Look, Matt. Damn. Mattie, look at me." I pushed his chin up gently so that we could see eye-to-eye. "I'll kiss you, and I'll hold you, but I don't want to risk hurting you, so let's wait a little while before we make love, okay?"

"But-"

"Shh," I said soothingly, wiping his tears away and kissing him gently on the lips. "It's alright." I brushed the back of my hand against his cheek softly. "Please don't cry."

Instead of answering, he wound his arms around my neck and kissed me, the same hungry, desperate passion still there.

I let myself fall back against the pillows, pulling him down with me gently before I began kissing the underside of his chin where, even after over ten years, the scars were still there.

He moaned softly as I licked a particularly deep one next the jawbone. "Mel…"

He was sitting on my stomach, leaning over, so while I could feel his arousal he couldn't feel mine, which was good because Matt was quick enough that he could have me out and be riding me before I could even register my zipper being pulled.

I pushed him back gently and sat up, trying to ignore the hurt look in his eyes. I pushed him off of me before I undid his belt and popped open the button of his jeans, undoing the zipper as well.

"Mel-ngha!"

I caught him off-guard, deepthroating him instantly. I'd given him no warning at all.

I felt his fingers tangle in my hair as the room filled with his pants, whimpers, and whines.

"Mel…Mel, I want you in me," he begged.

I sat up, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. "I don't want to hurt you," I whispered, zipping his pants back up.

He bit his lip, looking as if he were about to cry, before pushing away from me and running from the room.

I sighed heavily. He probably wouldn't talk to me after this.

Sure enough, for the next week he only spoke to me when absolutely necessary. We still walked to and from class together, but it was simply out of habit. Friday afternoon, nearly two weeks after the 'incident', I tried to talk to Matt.

"Hey, why does it seem like you're avoiding me?" I asked quietly.

He'd just barely started to turn towards the stairs to his room when I spoke, but when I did, he bolted up the stairs like a startled rabbit.

"Crap!" I charged after him, begging him to stop. He was fast when he wanted to be. I heard his door slam shut as I reached the third floor. I sprinted down the hall. His reader was unlocked, so I turned the knob and pushed.

It didn't budge.

I knew what he was doing; I'd seen it once before when some bullies were chasing him, although I'd seen it in action from the other side of the door. He was using his own body to lodge the door shut.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as my throat tightened. My books slipped from my hands and thudded to the floor as I slumped against the door and let myself slide to the floor. "Please, Mattie…" I pleaded, starting to cry.

I didn't know whether as little as a few minutes had passed, or a few hours, but I felt the door open and I almost fell over, so much of my weight was being supported by the door. I looked up to see Matt, his hand still resting on the knob.

His eyes were puffy from crying and his goggles were shoved up on his head with none of the usual careful nonchalance they usually were, rather, looking like they had been shoved up hastily, simply to get them out of the way, which caused only a few strands of hair to fall back over his forehead. His cheeks were still wet with tears and he was biting his lip and looking as if he were struggling not to cry again, though his eyes were still brimming with tears.

I knew my legs would never be able to support both of our weights, considering that I'd been sitting on my legs so long that they were practically asleep. I held my arms up instead.

Matt collapsed against me, fresh sobs pouring from him. "I've missed you…so much," he managed. "I just want…"

"I know," I murmured against his neck softly. "I know."

He didn't have to speak it, because I knew full well what his heart was going through.

I just want you to hold me, to love me. I want you to tell me that I'm yours and nothing in the world, in existence, will ever change that. I want you to tell me how much I mean to you, to tell me my worth.

"Matt…" I mumbled softly against his neck.

Faster than my brain could register, he had my zipper down and was easing himself down onto me, his pants lying beside where we were sitting.

I put my left hand a little behind me to support our weight as Matt fully seated himself on my lap and I wrapped my right arm under his, his arms being wound tightly around my neck, pulling him closer to me so that I could assault his neck and collarbone with my teeth and tongue.

His face was buried against my shoulder and he was moaning softly.

I knew if he hit an orgasm how we were our clothes would be ruined, but I didn't care. It wouldn't matter as long as Matt got what he needed.

Over Matt's breathy moans against my ear, I heard footsteps on the stairs and realization dawned on me. We were having sex in the middle of the third floor hallway of the boys' dorm. Roger would kill us; knowing our luck, that was Roger on the stairs. Shit. I moved my right hand to support Matt's ass and started to stand up.

Thankfully, Matt took the hint and wrapped his legs around my waist.

We didn't need to leave our stuff in the hall, so I hooked my foot in Matt's jeans, which luckily had his boxers in them, and flung them through the doorway before kicking my books into the room as well. I carried Matt into the room and attempted to kick the door shut, but failing, and laid him carefully on his bed. His bed was unmade, as always.

I had to pull out of him to get my clothes off, but I pulled his shirt off and pulled the covers over us.

Matt knew it would take a little to get me hard, so he started stroking me while he sucked on my collarbone.

Unfortunately, thanks to my loud moans of pleasure and Matt's door being open, Roger heard us and stormed into the room, yelling about how he'd told us to keep "such acts" quiet.

"There's not even anyone in the hall yet," I countered angrily. Matt needed this and yet Roger… I don't think anyone will ever know how hard it is to get hard, let alone stay hard, with Roger Ruvie standing in the doorway of the room.

Matt whined, sensing the issue, and pressed our bodies closer together, arching against me and trying to distract me from thinking about Roger.

"And quit that when I'm obviously standing right here," Roger bellowed.

I snapped then, snatching the nearest blunt object, which happened to be an approximately ten centimetre thick history textbook that had been sitting on Matt's nightstand from when he'd been working on an essay, and flinging it at Roger. Now, as far as I knew, the only person in Wammy's with reflexes fast enough to avoid something I had flung at them would be Matt. I'd found that out accidentally when I'd gotten frustrated by something about a year ago and grabbed my literature book, which was seven or eight centimetres thick, and flung it over my shoulder.

Matt yelped, ducking just in time, and dropped his game on the bed before coming over and wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling against my side, trying to calm me down.

As I thought, Roger barely had time to duck and the book slammed it into the wall, denting it a good three or four centimetres.

"For fuck's sake," I yelled. "I'm trying to comfort him and you're not helping!"

"How the hell is that comforting him?" Roger yelled back.

I simply glared at him in response.

"Whatever. Just don't leave this textbook in the hall." He didn't comment on the dent, but he'd given up on that a while ago when I'd told him that it was either the wall or Near's head.

"Well…" I said, sitting up so that the sheet fell into a crumpled pile around my waist. The way I was turned only allowed Roger a view of Matt from the waist up, luckily. "Guess I'll have to get up…" I smirked.

Roger blanched visibly and tossed the book back into the room, where it skidded to a stop against the nightstand, and slammed the door.

Matt whimpered softly, pulling my attention back to him, as he leaned up to kiss me.

I tried, I really did, but Roger had pissed me off so badly that I couldn't enjoy it. That was how it worked with me when I was pissed off. I either fucked Matt so hard that I ended up hurting him (that had only happened once, and I promised him it would never happen again), or I couldn't enjoy any of it. This happened to be one of those times. I sighed, pulling away from him and starting to get dressed.

Matt let out a soft whine, but didn't complain.

Once we were both dressed, I sat down on the floor, leaning back against the bed. "Sorry, Matt," I mumbled dejectedly.

He curled up beside me and laid his head on my shoulder. "S'okay," he murmured. "It's not your fault Roger's a prick that doesn't know how to sod off when he's not wanted." In an undertone, he mumbled, "Which is all the time…"

I still felt bad that I couldn't give him what he needed. I sighed and looped my arms around him gently, resting my chin on top of his head as he slipped his arms around my waist.

He squeezed me to him a little and sighed. "This is enough," he murmured softly, "to keep me from going crazy."