(Fic) Feeling - Chapter 1
Title: Feeling
Author: Snow Tigra
Fandom: Death Note Pairings (expected at this time, this may change): Mello/Matt, L/Light, Matt/Near, Mello/Near and possibly more
Warnings: YAOI, that should be obvious. But this is also an AU story that doesn't follow the events of Death Note. Summary:

Chapter 1

"Morning Matt! Matsuuuuuuda!"

The high pitched and cheerful voice of the teenage grocery delivery girl echoed into the house as Matt opened the door. True to her call, Matsuda, a younger but taller boy, scrawny and willowy in build stood behind Matt, jumping at her voice and blushing just a bit. Matt stepped aside as he took the clipboard from her and looked over the list. As he scanned the list of groceries being delivered, Matsuda followed the girl to the truck and opened the back, starting to unload the numerous bags.

Cereal. Milk. Fruit. Pasta. Sauce.

Matt leaned back against the house, flipping through the preprinted pages. Each page was a different section of the grocery store and he easily checked off what he knew they'd need in the next delivery, two weeks from now.

Chocolate bars. Matsuda had requested marshmallows and hot chocolate. Saya wanted jelly beans and pretzels.

Matt flipped the page and checked off the last of the boxes, finally reaching the signature space at the end. A long credit card number and the familiar name 'Quillish Wammy' were already printed automatically by the computer and all Matt had to do was sign the paper like every delivery and they'd receive groceries. He never had to bother with money or credit card numbers, because all that information was given to the store previously. They were on a retainer, always receiving groceries and it was just charged to their account. He remember originally thinking how cool it was to not worry about things like money and hunger. Now it was just common and expected.

Matt signed the space next to the highlighted 'X' and capped the pen. He crossed the well kept yard and placed the clipboard in the front seat of the van by reaching through the open driver's side window. Misa Amane's ID card was attached to the dashboard with an old piece of gum while numerous kiddy cell phone charms hung from the rearview mirror and when Matt tapped it with his finger they sparkled in the early morning sunlight. A pink pillow sat on the driver's side seat, the face of some famous pop star by the name of Rem nearly worn into a blurry white blob from the constant use and driving. Matt's eyes traveled over the driver's area as he waited for Misa to come back from carrying the bags in.

Besides, he told himself, Matsuda wanted time with her to himself.

Matt smiled just a little and closed his eyes, waiting and enjoying the sunlight on his face as he leaned back against the white and monogram covered van.

The yard was well kept, taken care of by a hired landscaping company, who's monthly bills he signed just like the grocery bill. Electricity, water, gas, television... all the utilities in the house were automatically billed to some account under the same name and never really passed through Matt's hands. The only reason the groceries and the yard did was so he could mark any changes they wanted. Other then that, the upkeep of nearly everything seemed self handling, never causing Matt to even really blink or think about it.

Once, back when he'd first come to this place, he'd been annoyed by the control and order of the place. Everything was taken care of and, being a normal teenage boy, he'd rebelled and used things to his advantage. He remembered one year signing the papers to have them build an elaborate water-sandbox creation in the back yard just to see if the extra expense would cause an uproar. Instead Matsuda had smiled and given him a discrete thumbs up and the quiet Saya had actually smiled. Now Saya used it as a place for her sketches and no one even thought twice about it.

Matt had grown up since then, and now accepted the responsibility of signing the papers when needed and keeping track of food when they were running low. Now he was comfortable with the control and content with the order. It all just felt right and it was part of the reason he liked this place so much.

Leaving, even when he was rebellious, had never crossed his mind.

Cigarette smoke met his nose and Matt opened his eyes to glance across the line to the gate surrounding the property. Leaning against the painted white metal was a boy a little taller then himself, but not nearly Matsuda's height. His body was decked in black leather, from his pants to his vest to the light jacket he wore hanging from one shoulder. Nearly unlaced army boots covered his feet and blond hair that barely reached his shoulders shaded his face from view as he smoked a cigarette in silence.

Matt wasn't surprised to see the boy there, in fact, he expected it. Not that boy in particular, but teenagers in general randomly showed up at this house, occasionally gaining the confidence to wander inside and look around. Then they would stay the night. In the morning they'd decide to live there and that was that.

Over the years he'd been at this place, he'd seen quite a few teens come in. Only one or two ever left.

"All done!" Misa came bounding out of the house and jumped up to catch the rope on the back of the van and pull the door shut. She landed with a little twirl that rustled the plaid skirt under her typical black apron her job required her to wear. Popping her gum she turned and waved to Matsuda. "See you in two weeks, cutey!"

Matt didn't have to look back to know that Matsuda was blushing and coughing to hide it.

"So we got a new list for next time." Misa opened her door and glanced over the newly checked list, then leaned over and smiled at Matt. "So when do I get to meet this rich rich uncle of yours?"

Matt shrugged like he did every time.

Misa pouted, then gave a shrug herself. "All right! See you in two weeks." She jumped up into the car and turned the keys, loud and bubbly pop music jumping out of the speakers like it'd just been jolted from sleep. Matt stepped back and watched the car drive off, the gates closing automatically behind it. His eyes wandered to the gate and he found the blond boy smirking at him as he dropped his cigarette and crushed it on the side walk. Matt only returned the gaze for a moment, then turned and went into the house, closing the door.

He didn't have to react, he knew he'd see the blond boy again.

"What do you think of her?"

Matt looked up from where he was putting away thing in the cupboard to Matusda. The younger, thinner boy was seated in front of the fridge, attempting to solve the weekly problem of trying to fit enough food for six people on a measly four shelves. Maybe he should have requested a second fridge┘

"Come on, Matt, about Misa? I mean, you've known her longer."

"Ordering groceries hardly qualifies as knowing someone."

"Yeah, I know. But you get what I mean. I mean you've talked to her, you've seen her more... you have more of a chance with her." Matsuda tossed the apples bag he was holding into the fridge and just sat there, masking his depression with pretending to find space on the shelves. Matt glanced over at him for a moment, then mentally crossed the second fridge off his list. Matsuda liked being able to do things where he didn't have to face people. One fridge in the house for six people allowed him plenty of time to regain his composure and sanity.

Matt closed the last cupboard and folded the last bag, tucking it with the others under the sink. He didn't say anything to disturb Matsuda's thoughts and really didn't do much else. He could hear the tv on in the living room, one of their housemates watching tv, and upstairs there was light steps and movement. The place was easily large enough to lose six people. But then, Matt didn't really pay attention to the others, he liked to keep to himself.

"Where's the number to the grocery store? I want to call and talk to her."

Matt smiled at Matsuda's uncharacteristic burst of braveness and slid the receipt over to him. He watched as Matsuda stood up and took it, walking over toward the phone.

Halfway, during midstep, Matsuda stopped. His back was to Matt, so he couldn't see the expression on his face, but he recognized the signs. The grocery receipt slipped to the floor, sliding out of his hand and Matsuda half turned, leaving Matt alone in the kitchen as the piece of paper slowly floated to the floor. Matsuda even closed the door behind him, silently shutting Matt in as if he'd forgotten he was in the room.

Matt turned to regard the familiar shape now standing in the doorway to the basement.

He was short. Smaller then most boys who appeared to be the same age, he had a habit of hunching over just enough to look like a child, or something not quite human but damn close. White hair that was baby soft grew unevenly off his head, curling around his ears and his golden tinted eyes. Over his thin frame he wore a simple set of white pajamas, almost large enough for him to drown in.

"You didn't have to do that to him."

The boy walked up to Matt, his hand reaching up in some mocking fashion, like a child asking for candy. Matt shivered and found himself kneeling before the boy, so now the boy was taller then him, even when he was hunched.

"He wasn't going to leave."

"He wasn't really going to call, so what does it matter?" His voice was quiet, but not nearly as young as his body. There was an oldness and a hint of a scratch in his voice, as if something were out of place. Matt's vision blurred at hearing the boy's voice and he let his eyes close a little, breathing in slowly.

"I was going to come down, I just finished putting everything away."

As quickly as it was there, the deep heady feeling was gone and Matt blinked, finding himself alone in the kitchen. The fridge was closed and the receipt was back on the counter, as if Matsuda had never picked it up. Above him he could still hear light steps and he now recognized it as Saya and Naomi in the bathroom, probably chatting while sharing their morning shower. The tv was playing some annoying cartoon and the door to the basement creaked ever so slightly, reminding Matt to not be more distracted then normal.

Picking himself up off the floor he opened the fridge and grabbed one of the apples. Matt walked into the living room and tossed it at the thin pale boy crouching on the couch, watching some animated show that had far too much color for anyone's good. The boy caught it and smirked, his eyes never seeming to leave the show.

"I'm going downstairs, Ryuk. Don't be a pest."

Ryuk rolled his eyes away from the tv to look at Matt with a snicker, then bit into his apple, the mischievous grin never leaving his face. "Don't worry, I only teased 'suda a little. He'll get over it." He took another bite to emphasize himself, looking back to the cartoon.

If he'd wanted more attention Matt didn't give it to him. Instead he went back into the kitchen and opened the worn door, stepping down the solid concrete stairs.

For all the well kept, cleanliness of the house, the basement was a different world entirely. Solid concrete stairs and thick, soundproof walls lined the area, with no windows or other doors in sight. Upon stepping down there stairs there was no light, and Matt had long since memorized the number of stairs to reach the bottom.

The large room below was the entire length and width of the house above, dotted with pillars that made sure the house didn't cave in on itself. Tiny toys of every age dotted the floor, while deep red light shone from all the light sockets, making it hard for one to see more then a couple feet in front of them. It made the room seem misty and endless in every direction, easy for someone to get lost in the blink of an eye.

Matt walked slowly, stepping around the toys as he crossed the room, soon coming up to a large bed that looked more like a gigantic pillow covered with smaller pillows of its own. Spread out across the back of the bed was a large ornate curtain, creating a wall that cut off the rest of the room. The curtain had always been there and it never moved whenever Matt came down here. He knew it wasn't just a wall ornament though, because sometimes - when the boy was touching him - he could hear someone behind the curtain breathing.

The young boy he'd seen in the kitchen was now sitting on the large pillow bed, his head tilted to one side as he waited patiently. He wore the same white pajamas that swallowed his entire body and looked completely out of place in the dim red lights and dark maroon sheets. Matt didn't smile or really react as he sat down on the edge of the bed, listening to the soft whispers of fabric behind him as the boy moved.

Small hands.

Small hands moved over Matt's shirt, beckoning him to take it off. Matt shivered and removed the shirt, dropping it to the floor and went back to sitting silently. Seconds passed before those same small hands began to slide over his skin, dancing over his thin body, tickling at the edge of his torn jeans. Matt swallowed and removed those as well, sitting naked in the bed.

That was when the real experience started.

It always started with a soft sound, like television static crackling just out barely in earshot and rolling toward him across the air. The crackling sound flowed through his ears and he felt his body growing numb, sliding back onto the bed and sinking deep into the covers. He could feel himself falling and nearly drowning in the roaring silence.

Hands moved across his body and Matt moaned, feeling the white haired boy slide on top of him. The boy wasted almost no time, moving down his body and pressing his legs apart. A long time ago, it seemed, Matt had been embarrassed by this and spent the time covering his face to hide his blush. By now he really should have been used to it, but he found his hands raising to his face and covering his mouth out of habit as he felt the boy's mouth wrap around him and begin moving quickly without any warning.

Matt tried, but couldn't resist the urge to scream into his hand as he felt those small hands scratch up and down his legs, touching him in all the right places with practiced ease. He found himself squirming under the smaller boy, not able to stop moving with him, trying to urge him to go even faster. As he moved and squirmed the static grew louder, nearly screaming into his ears until he couldn't even hear himself anymore. All he could hear was static and all he could fell was the boy's hands and mouth on him.

Matt screamed, feeling everything around him building and building until it could only spill and roll over him again. The static snapped out and his own scream echoed in his ears, accompanied by multiple moans of pleasure. He could hear a moan from behind the curtain and for a moment Matt craned his neck to try and see what was there and if it was moving, but the boy caught his cheek and made him face him.

Glowing gold eyes. Matt shuddered, feeling the heat in his body from the sex immediately freeze over. He hated those eyes. No matter how many years he'd lived in this house, and how many times he'd done this, he always hated those eyes. They were old, deep and completely disarming.

In spite of lying in the bed naked, Matt felt those eyes strip himself, tearing away the skin and years of life that encased who and what he was. He felt needles burrowing into his mind, causing him to bleed the long buried memories in his mind. Smiles, frowns, laughs and cries. Walking, tripping, falling, crying. Child hood hands grasping at brightly colored toys and familiar grown faces. Matt groaned loudly as he felt it all sliced over and exposed to see.

Those eyes reduced him to nothing, tearing him to shreds and lapping up every minute of it until he lay in the bed, trembling and whimpering from the experience. He was now very sure he was hearing labored breathing and moaning from behind the curtain, but he couldn't concentrate on it. All he could think about was how those eyes were slicing into him.

"Near stop... please," he whispered, his voice cracking in the strain and his eyes begging and pleading.

The young boy simply smirked and licked his lips, as if he could actually taste the memories he'd laid bare. He even licked off his fingers, as if the simple act of touching Matt's body was enough to drink the memories away.

Matt whimpered more at the sight and rolled away, curling up as his body trembled more. The room around him was spinning and his head began to spin with it, the memories flowing back into him like water down a drain. The sensation was nauseating, causing Matt to cough harshly and be very happy he hadn't eaten much before the grocery delivery of the day. Spinning and swirling they flooded back into his mind with a force that left him not able to do anything but experience it. His years and mind slammed shut over the memories, locking them away with an intensity that it left Matt's ears ringing and his body throbbing from the after sensations. He was barely able to whimper as he felt Near slide over to him and lightly kiss his lips.

"Still my favorite."

Matt didn't have the strength to stop the tear that escaped down his cheek in fear, and Near happily leaned forward, slowly licking it away. Matt could only lay there and tremble, consciousness ebbing away into darkness.

And somewhere in his mind something else closed, the fear fading away, leaving him with a blurry memory of simply going into the basement┘.

And waking up in his own bedroom as if it were just a dream that he could barely remember on the edge of his consciousness.