Author's Note: I had decided the story wouldn't be fair from only Mello's POV, so they'll be switching off. Usually, they will not recall the same events from different perspectives as that bores me to tears. If they do have to go over the same events for whatever reasons, the second one will gloss over a lot of the dialogue and such to speed things along, or the first might, depending on who thinks the dialogue is more important. This is one of those times. But you will also gain a shitton more information, including clues as to Mello's job, etc. and more!

I will also like to say that I'm still forming most of the plot for the story, but the basic plot is there. This will not just be a love story between the two men—yes, it's romance, as the genre says—but a really cool story in itself. A thriller, if you will. It has really gained a lot of story of its own that sets it apart from its original inspiration. That is a good thing, trust me!

Warnings: Again, only name dropping and swearing, though Mello curses and Matty doesn't seem to unless really provoked. Oh, and Matt might curse religious people. I mean nothing by it; a character is saying it. I don't believe half the things I have my characters say, and you should know that by now. Anyway, everyone is entitled to their own beliefs.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. I own this story idea.

Chapter 2 – Matt

When I first pulled up to the Company building, I thought I had followed my boss's directions incorrectly. He wasn't a native English speaker, after all. But there weren't too many humongous, top secret facilities in the middle of nowhere, like this one.

There was no address, but he had described the structure and hinted at some security, so I knew I had to be in the right place. I didn't expect the armed guards at the large gated entrance that was topped with barbed wire, but I didn't really know what to expect. I was only told the precise directions of how to get here, what I was supposed to say, and to whom, though no names were given, as per the regulations of my company, TCS.

The thought that this was one huge joke ran through my mind. I was new to the country, having just been transferred here from my old desk job. A promotion, they called it. Bullshit. This was my first client, so it could easily be a joke. I just hoped, if this was a hoax set up by my new coworkers, that the guns the guards had in plain sight were not real.

One of them stalked to my car and I couldn't help but compare his movements to those of some of the video game characters I killed, who tried to show off their power and muscle and did a fantastic job at intimidating. But I didn't have a gun on me, so I had a strong feeling I wouldn't be doing any killing today—at least, not without a guarantee that my one life would be taken without any redo. I nervously rolled down my window.

"Who are you? What is your purpose?" the guard asked curtly, his accent thick. He could probably tell I was American by my license plate, my car being one of my few precious possessions I couldn't leave behind—my games, consoles, and computers being the others.

I answered with my rehearsed words, "I am from TCS. I am here to work on a new computer." I handed him my company ID.

The guard stared at me curiously, not believing me, before calling out to one of his buddies in their native tongue—a tongue-twister-like language I was still only beginning to learn. The other shrugged and looked at my ID before giving some sort of answer. My guard looked at me again and said in halted English, "You may enter."

I was handed back my ID and was able to roll up my window with a sigh of relief. I proceeded through the slowly opening gates, letting my air conditioning cool off my sweating body before knowing I would need to exit my car again. Just my window down had almost killed me. Well, first level of entry won. Onto level two.

There seemed to be no parking lot or even any spaces, so I pulled up close to the building and parked anyway, hoping I wouldn't be towed. There weren't even any meters and I felt good I didn't have to pay for parking for once. It was apparently not a company expense and came from my own pocket when I parked at the office building. Every day.

As I glanced around, I had a feeling there was some secret underground parking for employees. Guests were obviously not very welcomed.

I tentatively made my way across the dirt road to the intimidating front entrance, my backpack feeling like a lead weight in the heat. One glance at my watch told me I was just a little early, which was pretty good for me. One look into the building and I knew I was going to be more than a little late.

I went through so many levels of security, I lost count. They checked my license and my company ID numerous times, took fingerprint and retina scans, weighed my backpack and took everything I had in it out to examine further. At least it wasn't organized to begin with. My bag and I went through multiple X-rays and I hoped to god I didn't become sterile because of that. With all the pat-downs and measurements taken, I felt like I was both at an airport and my old doctor's office. Finally, after handing me a nice laminated ID I had to clip to my shirt collar, I was led to my destination, an office on the third floor. We had to walk up stairs and man was it painful. Just because I wasn't as fat as I once was didn't mean I was in shape. Far from it, in fact. Hello, computer nerd and gamer!

I was left alone, though I knew cameras were watching my every move. I knocked on the door; there was no answer. So, I waited outside the office door. It was really awkward, just standing there in the hallway, worrying if some random person would walk by and question my very existence.

After what seemed like an hour, though my digital watch said it was only three minutes, I heard voices around the corner. There was something about computers and a techie in the conversation, as well as lateness, so I knew it had to be my client and someone else. As the two men rounded the corner, I took in a very riled up blond whose long hair seemed utterly inappropriate in an office situation like this and a black-haired man who seemed to have slept in his suit…if the bags under his eyes hadn't given away that he had not slept in days, possibly weeks.

I couldn't hear anything the latter said, but he left the blond with me as soon as they got close enough. As I took in the blond, something inside me jolted. He was beyond familiar. It was like I had never left.

All I could think of to say was, "You've got quite a bit of security here." Yeah, that was such a great observation, Captain Obvious.

He angrily led me into his office. It definitely reflected his character—neat, orderly, clean, almost harsh so, nothing personal on display, and with a touch of wealth showing in the nice desk and chair. I had no idea what kind of company this was or why it had to be so secretive, but I had a feeling it had something to do with biology. There were diagrams and 3D models of cells—some from animals, others from plants, and a few I couldn't recognize. Seemed like something he would do, seeing as he always did love science.

What confused me were the world maps he had as well. He never really liked social studies or geography. But then again, a lot could have changed over the years.

Seeing him again after all this time caught me off guard, especially since it seemed beyond coincidental and more like fate was playing a cruel joke. Ah, so it wasn't my coworkers, but fate playing a joke on me, huh? Seeing as I could never forget him, his feminine ways that just screamed gay, though he was probably only metrosexual, his angry face, his icy eyes…he was just an adult version of his old self. I would be utterly stunned if he remembered me.

I was so nervous, I started rambling, saying and asking way too much than what was appropriate—even in a normal social situation, not that I had any social skills to begin with.

And that's when it slipped out. I was trying to get back into professional mode, trying to remember my job and how to act at my job. So, I answered professionally. "Yes, Mr. Keehl." Just not my job's kid of professional.

But, oh, the recognition that dawned on his face as I turned away revealed so much. He finally remembered me. Oh, Mello, you truly hadn't changed a bit.

Approximately twenty years previously

Mello's basement was always my safe haven. I practically lived at his house anyway, but that basement was my real home. And it wasn't just because of the multiple gaming systems, infinite amount of games—purchased and pirated—computer that was always the newest model, and all the other amazing technological things. It was because Mello was always there, next to me on the couch, behind me as he watched me on his computer, or even off in the corner at the desk he had his parents put down there just so he could work while I played.

His presence was just a constant in that basement. At school, we weren't always together. At my house…he wasn't very welcomed. My parents sort of hated how great his life was. They couldn't keep any stable jobs, couldn't have a kid on their own, and had been emotionally abused by a few of their past foster kids.

I was their last chance. If I turned out an okay child, they could consider themselves good parents. If not…they were already on the verge of divorce. I would have hated to see that actually happen, though.

But that's why I loved Mello's basement. There was no connection to the outside world, the one of pain and suffering. The only pain and suffering was on a two-dimensional screen, a plate of glass separating "us" from "them" instead of thin wood walls, where I'm as much a "them" as any other.

That's also why I wore my goggles—another defense mechanism against seeing reality. They tinted the world a shade of happy orange—nothing negative about the sun, right?

Another reason for my goggles emerged that day, though. Not only did they block reality for me, but they blocked my emotions from others. Mello would probably never know why I had acted the way I did that day.

I don't even know how it happened. One minute, we were playing a video game; the next, I was sitting atop him on the floor. We'd wrestled many times before, nothing different. He was actually the better wrestler because he was physically fit, unlike me. But he was also very small compared to me and he always lost if I was able to get on top of him. He always got pissed if I won, but that's just because he needed to win at everything. He never got mad at me for my weight and because of that, I never really noticed it when around him. The school nurse said it was all just baby fat and I would grow into it, now that I was beginning puberty.

After that day…that's when I started caring.

I had used my weight against him, holding him down, as I leaned down and kissed him on the lips. At the moment and for days, weeks, months afterward, I had no idea why. Eventually I figured it out, though: I was in love with him. I wanted to be with him always because he actually cared about me and made me feel…special…and yet normal, not someone to outcast. And for some reason, those feelings never went away, even though I despised him and I figured he would easily forget about me.

See, I kissed him full on the lips. We were young, inexperienced, and so it was short and odd, but felt…magical. I hate using that word because I know there is really no such thing as magic. But I felt some sort of connection that for that one second meant that he would be there for me to feel forever, would protect me forever.

Boy, was I wrong.

I think being called a lardass when you're already concerned about your weight by the one you thought didn't care at all is probably the worst that could happen…That, and being called a fag, a homo, among other colorful words that ultimately got me kicked out of his house.

He said he never wanted to see me again.

I can still remember his face throughout that entire exchange. He liked the kiss, I know it. And that's why he reacted the way he did. God damn religious parents, drilling lies into their poor son's head. So, he reacted out of shock and fear. The fear and anger on his face…oh, man…it was painful to watch.

But, I followed his wishes. I left.

I didn't want to stay in the same town as him, so I decided to do the easiest thing to move—I called my social worker, the one who had been working on my case for most of my life, since I was first taken away from my mother. Just time for another foster family, nothing new. The only difference was that whatever community I moved to wouldn't have Mello in it. I knew I hurt my foster parents; I ruined their lives for good. I just couldn't face my best friend ever again…and I couldn't tell anyone that. But I think my foster mother picked up on it somehow, like all good mothers should.

I hated myself for hurting Mello like that, for making him doubt himself. I hated myself for being unwanted by him. No, I never wanted to be a girl; I was happy in my own body…Well, partially. I never thought I would see him again, so I knew I wasn't doing it for him. I was doing it for myself, I constantly told myself. All the times I went days without eating and puked up anything that did make it to my stomach, and the hours spent in the gym instead of in front of the television or computer…I swear they were for me, for my health, for my self-image.

They had nothing to do with my desire, no matter how buried inside me it was, to see Mello again.

Author's Note: I actually didn't make up a lot of those security measures. I know somebody who's family member ((not saying who in any way, shape, or form)) who had governmental access to secret-ish stuff as an internship. The person used a backpack every day and it was weighed coming in and out of the place the person worked so as to make sure nothing was stolen or anything. A lie detector was one of the ways the person was interviewed for the internship. It sounded both scary and awesome. But this is actually proof that I'm trying to write what I know as much as possible. I'm drawing from prior knowledge and trying not to make things up. I've sorta gotten in trouble with that before. But I also want to keep things interesting, so...

Now, as for the difference in Matt and Mello's chapters...You can pretty much tell that Mello is a lot more blunt and less in-touch with his feelings. Matt rambles, but I did that on purpose. His character in this is one who rambles, aloud and in his head.

For future chapters, expect more in the present time instead of in flashback. But there will be flashbacks randomly from now on, about how they grew up without each other and the effects that had. You only had glimpses so far—of how Mello cut himself off from any other relationships and Matt got an eating disorder. And yes, men can have eating disorders too. In America, they're less common than women/don't admit them as much. And that is also why he mentions his weight to the point of okay, we get it, you're chubby.

So, I hope you've enjoyed the introduction into this very odd story. I hope you enjoy the rest too! And review if you could be so kind. They really do inspire me so much...

PS: Physics doesn't exist. It's all magic.
((Saying that is the easiest way to piss of my bf, btw. He's an engineer...XD))