Gahh...I re-wrote this like...a ZILLION times. You have no IDEA how many different endings this chapter had.

Yeah, there were a ton of ways to go with this. This is about the most cheerful ending I could manage! (Not implying that it is un-cheerful though)

Chapter 11: The Dreams Start

The door clicked shut. The window open—only a fraction though. It was cooler than normal, and the heat standing beside me was substantially warmer. Maybe that was only relative though.

"I told him I hate you so he'd stop talking about you. I just wanted some time to think for myself."

I didn't want to move away. Mello was right there, head just above mine. I was temped to look up. I wanted to. But, he had more to say—and it felt as if he'd be deterred if he were to look straight at me. I wouldn't be moving away either though. I was dealing with a wild animal. No sudden movements. Let them go about what they do naturally.

"I did think. And a lot of my thinking was about—how you are more than I thought you were. You're more than you let others know."

That's interesting, because only just recently I've only started feeling that I was anything at all.

"For the longest time, you were mocking me. With your indifference, and lifeless attitude whenever I was around... I hated that I couldn't get your attention." As Mello was speaking, I was questioning the fraction of a distance between us. Why was it there? Both of us, with this barrier between. When I was hated, we were always close. Always made contact. Now, there is this distance between us. It is something like a hole. Something that is meant to be filled in. I wanted to fill in this distance that Mello was creating. "Then I started obsessing over the whole thing and got angry with myself. Actually, I hated myself... Then I hurt you over something stupid. So stupid, I don't even remember why it made me angry—you thought I was going to hurt you. Of course you did! I was acting like a fucking lunatic."

I wasn't thinking he was going to hurt me. Even though he did end up hurting me. I stared straight into Mello's chest, still being cautious. Mello is so very human. So much more human than I might ever be. For me, I care about peoples thoughts. The actual words that are processed in their mind. But for someone such as Mello...he doesn't care so much about the thought, but the feeling behind it. I'm sure. And he cared about what I may or may not have felt about him. "Would it matter much if I said I did not think you would be hurting me?"

"You'd be lying if you said that." Mello pushed himself away into the the middle the the room, leaving an even wider space I wished to close. "And I don't want to hear you trying to comfort me. I hate comfort."

Comfort brings relief and cheer. I don't think he could have possibly experienced comfort, if it was a good thing he was disliking. Humans enjoy feeling good. "Hate comfort?"

"I don't want it, because I don't deserve it. I want to suffer."

"This is not meant to comfort you, but I did not fear you hurting me." I want him to know. Thinking that he was going to hurt me—it might have come across my mind as a fact of life, but I never worried over it. "If it makes you feel better, or worse, you can suffer over me sounding like I'm comforting you, which would make you suffer even more. Because that is what you wish. And you make it sound as if you'd suffer more under a comforting gesture than not. And I am helping you suffer. Or maybe this whole explanation is sufferable enough..."

I admit I don't really know what I'm saying. I find it all extremely...strained. Hard to breathe, quick palpitations, and of course there is that sort of heat burning all over. I feel like my own individual self right now. Not only a part of the scene, but something in it.

"Whatever you say," Mello turned back around, eyebrows together and wearing a humorless smile. "But, what I'm trying to say is that, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. Because I've been a hot-headed ass since the beginning, and I've realized why, and my reasons were...are stupid and childish."

"But, I asked to be friends. Why would I want you to leave me alone, Mello?" I hardly enjoy this distance we are maintaining now, let alone completely disregarding each other. That's exactly why I had approached in the first place. I wanted him to look at me again.

Mello was raking his hair, a look of pained concentration barely seen within the shadows of the dark room. He was speaking under his breath. "Excuse me?"

His words and arms fell still. Tense. Aware.

"Mello, I want for us to be friends..." I want for us to be something. Anything.

"I can't just be friends! So, stop suggesting it." Mello cursed, kicking the chair next to him before retreating as far as possible to look out the window. "I can't compromise. It has to be everything or nothing."

What? "I...don't understand. What else is there?" If he doesn't want friendship, what else is there? Mello seemed in conflict. Shaking his head. Deep breaths. Quiet swears whispered, audible but not distinguishable.

"I apologize, but I honestly don't understand what you are trying to tell me."

"Figure it out yourself."

"Are you jealous?"

There was a cold, bark of a laugh. "Jealous? This isn't about grades if that's what you're asking."

"Is it me acting indifferent still?"

"No."

I feel like I'm trying to walk through quicksand. I keep trying to move forward, but instead I'm sinking. What does he mean? We can't be friends. All or nothing... No compromise... I can not help but feel helpless. I don't have experience in social situations! I don't even know how to properly distinguish my own feelings yet! Mello. Please. Be patient with me if I make mistakes.

"Everything." Mello's expression contorted in confusion and disbelief. I had to continue. I had so much I wanted him to know. "Mello, I do not think you understand. I don't understand it, so I do not think you do either. Mello. If you just forget about me—I won't care if I live or die. I wont deny I once may have been less than concerned with that subject, but recently I've been going through a very confusing—what I hope is a—developmental process. I do not want to not care. It is twisting, and tearing, and empty, and crushing. I do not wish to feel that way. I wish to stay with you." I want him to accept me. There is an attachment I rely on. However arbitrary it is, it's there. And my heart is still beating fast. And I feel as if I've said something full. My cheeks sting because of it. I don't know where all of this has come from. I have changed. When did I change? "Do you understand any of that? Mello, I don't know what it means to feel these thing, but that is how you make me...feel."

He continued to stare out the window, and the stinging in my cheeks spread across my face. "Are...my feelings enough?" I'm desperate.

I hear a thunk of head against window. A hiss of breath. The call of a bird outside just before the window is slid shut. Mello was being very careful now. Slowly with precise and calculated movement. He looked to me. I can't see his expression anymore, but his eyes glow. I almost feel very vulnerable. He's walking and I can't move. It's as if my own words have wrapped themselves around me—rooting me in place.

"Near." He stood there now, with that same painfully small distance not breached. I looked up. Could he see what I was feeling? I feel as if it is all written out in plain sight. Still binding me in place. He's just standing there. Watching me. Reading me. I want to look away. But I don't. And I wait.

His hands came up, holding my face. I remember this touch and this skin. The same warmth and maybe the only thing that doesn't feel foreign in this rapidly anxiety-educing moment. I felt a little less tense than before. Less tense, but still unable to react. I've never seen such a smoldering blue as he gazed down at me— Suddenly, the color was neatly tucked behind closed eyelids. Why—

While I was definitely over-analyzing the situation, Mello was able to surprise me with a quick stoop and a bonding of lips.

...I was definitely overcome by the situation. As I could feel pleasant things blooming inside myself, Mello held my head whichever way he pleased as we remained joint. I've never been this close. His eyes were open now. Eyes that look to have touched the sky, and have seen the darkness beyond. No fear... How long had it been? Panic rose inside and I pulled away. Mello didn't react though, and I found myself staring at the floor. My cheeks hurt...burning. I have some sort of fever.

"I...might be contagious..." I said in a whisper.

"What?"

"I feel sick. Or...feverish..." I mumbled stupidly. "I..."

"What?"

"I..." my head fell into my hands. "I..."

I do not know. And...fear. Of the unknown. Maybe it would have been better if this... But—it's too late. And...I like—but. It's not...

"I...need to walk myself back to my room. Good night." I bowed deeply, suddenly the urge to escape was too much. I hope he didn't mind my exit. It must have looked bad. I just ran away... There had been no better comfort than my bed that night. How had it gotten that far? What has happened to me? I'm wired towards feeling now...I even had my first dream.

I'm not sure what dreams are supposed to be like. I've done light reading on the subject—but I really don't know that much on what dreams are actually like. It's hard to remember...and that's frustrating because it feels as if it happened only a second ago. I was in bed for hours after waking up. Trying to remember that dream. I remember parts. It was raining. And I was in that spot amongst the trees...the place from earlier. It was almost a memory—but that's where it ends. Creole wasn't there. Nor Matt. Mello... I want to say he was there. If he wasn't, I know I would have wanted him to be. But, I don't remember as I've said before. And I have tried to remember.

The blankets weren't even on the bed this morning. No nest. They were on the floor while I slept free of their warmth. I didn't like waking up like that. Cold. I leaned over and dragged the sheets back up, wrapping myself into a ball of white comfort. I considered doing my morning routine. No. I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to face anyone.

I didn't want to face anyone...but most of all, I really didn't feel like confronting myself. There is a heavy weight on me now, and it is absolutely a distress. I don't want to confront these...changes. I wish to fall asleep, and to have no dreams whatsoever. I want to go back. I'm not ready.

I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm not ready.

I wasn't ready. I had to first to my daily routine.

Begrudgingly, I got myself out of bed to face the new day. I turn the lights on, changed my clothes, and set the sheets straight. Done. Now, what? Maybe, I could visit the library. Take a stroll outside? Maybe—maybe I'm avoiding what I really kind of already wanted to do. Which is strange. I am trying to hide things from myself, kind of acting oblivious to what I am really thinking. And there isn't even really anyone around to act out for. Ugh. Also, since when have I become so uncertain? There really are a lot of "maybe"s in my vocabulary. I don't know anything, do I?

I pushed into the dark hallway, still acting like I didn't know what I wanted to do. I wouldn't allow myself to do what I wanted. I couldn't bring myself to. So...I sat down in front of my door, waiting. Waiting for what? I don't know... Oh. There I go acting to myself again. I am a natural theater performer with all the acting I have been participating in this morning.

I sat against my door as time forged onwards, not taking any pity on someone with troubles and who needs time to think. I did get a few peculiar looks from the boys passing, but I realize that their confusion and curiosity stems from my own peculiar position against my door. Do you see that? There was no need to analyze the situation. I just knew. I only wish that that same power would come to me as I try to figure myself out.

"What are you doing?"

Matt crouched down next to me, eyes much to fresh and bright for this morning. I nodded in greeting though, more grateful at his appearance than disgruntled about his cheery wide-eyed stare on a day where it was not cheery.

"Matt..."

"Near?" He arched his bow.

Can I talk with you? "..."

"Hm? I didn't hear that."

Can you help me just a bit? I don't know what to do. "..."

Matt huffed, taking a seat next to me. "I can't hear you, Near. Speak up!" He grinned and nudged my shoulder while I cringed at his chipper tone. I looked around the hallway. Not out here.

"Inside..."

I brought my arm back and twisted the door handle. Scooting inside, I waited for Matt to follow. I'm glad he did. He shut the door.

"What's up?" Matt remained on the floor, watching half-amusedly.

"We are friends."

His eyebrows rose again. "Yeah?"

"Was that in conformation or questioningly?"

"Both?"

"Um, would you then say we could talk to each other? If I had to talk to you?"

"Sure."

"I had to ask, because I really don't know how to utilize "friendship". I am not even sure I know what it is. Though I do know friends are defined as: a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. Though I do not know how that translates into real interaction, which led to this very dilemma. ...And also to this very pointless explanation. I apologize. I really am in a state of apprehension right now, and it is hard to wrap my head around the things I seem to be doing."

"I see... What's wrong then?"

"What is wrong?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah. What's wrong?"

"I didn't say anything was wrong." I quickly revisited our conversation. No. I didn't say anything was wrong.

"Are you saying there isn't?"

"Well. Not necessarily. I simply am having some...inner turmoil. Nothing exactly wrong."

"Inner...turmoil..." he said each word as if he must sound it out before understanding. I wish he would just get to saying something to make me feel better. "What...is causing that?"

What is causing it? "I don't know. Suddenly, I am feeling, and it is terrible. I don't have any idea what I am doing anymore. The things I've done...like...last night. Yesterday...the day before. And even before that..."

Suddenly there wasn't enough air to finish the sentence. I allowed it to pitter off, not feeling healthy enough to finish the thought. Matt frowned.

"...yesterday?"

I nodded. Yesterday. What happened yesterday was all because of these feelings that I can't control. Even my very own mannerisms have been affected. I am no longer the me I used to know.

"What happened yesterday?"

"I don't want to talk about it..." But I do. "I'm just..." Scared. "I don't want to be alone. Excuse me. I've been rude for keeping you..."

"No, no, no..." Matt sat more definitely, crossing his legs. "I can see you're feeling...something. Um, let me help you though it. I'm no counselor, but sometimes you can just talk it off your chest."

What? "How did you know it felt like something was on my chest? Have you felt it too?"

"Uh..." Matt smiled awkwardly. "No. Sorry. I was just saying that..."

Oh.

"So. Tell me what's wrong then."

"I don't understand. I'm feeling things... and I don't understand."

"Which is the bad part, the feeling or the not understanding?"

"Well, if I could only understand the feeling..."

Matt shook his head. "Sorry. Not gonna happen."

I looked up in confusion. Was he serious? Matt shook his head, still half-amused yet also grim. What was this? So, there was...

"What do you mean?"

He messaged his feet, shrugging. "Noone ever understands."

"Why?"

"You can't understand something so ambiguous..."

"Why not?"

"Too many exceptions."

"So? There are exceptions in subjects like science, and arithmetic and they still have some sort of rules."

"It's not the same."

There came the sinking feeling again. "But, why not?"

"We're human. Each and every one of us is a walking exception."

No. But it wasn't that way before. I never was this way before...

I absently played with my shirt hem as I felt the swell of emotions inside, writhing around like snakes.

"How do you live this way? How can you stand to not understand?"

Matt shrugged, standing up and opening the door. "I guess...I just accept that I don't understand. I do whatever I think is right, and I try to be the happiest that I can manage."

"How?"

"I do what I like. Play games. Hang with friends. Read a book. Whatever I feel like doing." Matt gave a sympathetic smile. "That's probably what you should do too. So, what you feel like doing?"

"I...haven't figured that out." More acting. At the least, I have an audience this time.

"Near...I'm sorry if I couldn't give you the answers you wanted. Um, but I'm okay with it if you still have things you want to talk to me about. I have to leave for now. I can be back after I'm done talking with a teacher about a recent assignment..."

"No. Thank you. I won't bother you anymore today. I have things to do as well..."

I HAD to end it here. In my document, I had exactly 16666 characters. I couldn't BEAR to make any changes.

Yeah. So all that happened. More to come?

Yeah, probably. Review PLEASE~