(I do not own the characters or anime.)

Chapter 8

Late-night studying.

I had three difficult tests the next day, and my goal was to get higher scores than Near.

It had been about a month since Near moved out, and since then I've been trying more than ever to rise to the top and beat him. I've been putting in countless hours of studying, but to no avail. Our competition had escalated to outside of the classroom, everything we did was a contest to see who was number one. Still, the child beat me in everything we did whether it be schoolwork, sports, video games, anything.

Thinking these thoughts, I stopped reading my notes and rested my neck in my hands as if to strangle myself, though I was just resting my head. I took a deep breath and blinked slowly, deliberately.

I was currently studying for a Chemistry test. I was in the midst of memorizing a series of compounds and solutions that would not help me at all whatsoever, except to possibly beat Near. Or they would betray me and lead me to be second yet again.

I realized all of a sudden how incredibly pointless this studying was. I already knew all of it, and it's not like the extra studying was going to help me beat my rival. He would still beat me, and I would be that much more upset because I had sacrificed so many pointless hours of studying and memorizing.

I shoved my desk chair back so abruptly, it even surprised me. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, feeling slightly nautious. Taking another deep breath, I closed my eyes dizzily. Nothing felt real. Everything felt pointless. I would never beat Near, I would never be number one, and most importantly, I would never become the next L. All I would do in life was try and fail.

The truth of my thoughts hit me hard. It was all so cruel, the way the world was set up to smite me down.

I bit my lip as tears rolled down my pained face. I felt utterly worthless, like I didn't deserve anything I had. Maybe Matt was better off with someone smarter, someone better. I felt like a complete waste of space, and the hollow uselessness made me hate myself.

Not looking away, I dropped my utensil from my hand. My blue eyes were wide with shock. The object hit the ground, and I peered down at it. It's blade glistened in the bathroom light, red shimmering like the sunset. I fixed my gaze back at my arm, crimson liquid erupting from fresh wounds and dripping from my wrist. I blinked and shook my head in surprised disbelief.

I bent down and picked up my leather vest, putting it on and zipping it up slowly. I rolled my eyes at my own idiocy. I had made them low and it's not like I had sleeves to cover them up. I sighed, oh well. Picking up my razor, I washed it off. I then licked the blood off my wrist, it's coppery taste surprising delicious. When the wounds stopped bleeding, I shoved my razor in my pocket, turned off the bathroom light, and walked out the door.

That had been my first cutting session. I never thought it would make me feel any better. On the contrary, I'd always thought that was just some ridiculous tall tale teenagers told each other to see who was stupid enough to actually try it.

I was wrong.

I can't explain why, but the wounds I inflicted made me feel real again. They made me feel like I should keep trying and going for the top spot. It brought everything back into perspective.

"What's that?" Matt asked, gesturing to the two uneven slices on my right wrist when I entered the classroom.

I shrugged. "Nothing."

The redhead rose a brow, clearly not believing my response. Damn, he could be so perceptive sometimes.

"Really, it's nothing. I just cut myself in the bathroom is all." He couldn't comprehend the truth in my words.

"How'd you manage that?" He was laughing at me.

"Stupid haircut lady messed up my bangs, so I was fixing 'em." I shrugged again. "The scissors slipped."

This time the gamer shrugged and we began to actually pay attention in class.

I was much more careful after that. Since I wore a sleeveless vest day of my entire life, it was stupid to make the cuts on my wrists. Instead, I used my stomach and chest, but higher than the part that was seen as my vest shows a bit of stomach. When I wasn't feeling digging into my bare underbelly, I slashed at my legs instead. It was easier to hide this way. This way Matt wouldn't find out.

The start of a new semester.

I groaned angrily; I was being forced to take P.E.

Instead of happily sitting on my ass studying and pounding down chocolate, I'd be forced to sacrifice an hour or so of my day to physical activity. Not only that, I would have to change in front of all the other boys. Talk about creepy. Not to mention, this would give everyone a brilliant view of my scars.

Matt and I were walking leisurely to the locker room. He didn't seem to mind having to take P.E. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be looking forward to it. His good mood did not rub off on me.

Our lockers were right next to each other in the far corner of the room, secluded from everyone else, and much to my enjoyment. Until, that is, I had stripped down to my boxers.

"Dude, Mello! What happened to you?" Matt questioned with wide jade eyes that were tracing the lines of scars on my legs and chest.

I looked away, embarrassed and almost ashamed, hurrying to get my gym uniform on. I was just glad Matt's loud and obnoxious question hadn't alerted anyone else.

"It's nothing, Matt. Shut up," I said in a quiet tone.

The younger boy blinked, not understanding my response. I sighed, but said nothing else about it.

Gym class was torture. First, we were forced to run five laps around the track ring. Then we had to work out doing push-ups and crunches till our arms and stomachs were about to break from strain. After that, we had to do one hundred jumping jacks and finish the day off with another lap around the ring.

Matt practically had to drag me back to the locker room. I didn't think my arms would work long enough for me to change back into my leather, but they held out. When my clothes were off again, save my boxers, the gamer stared intently at the scars tracing my body, but he said nothing, which pleased me.

Every day onward, Matt would stare and stare at the marks when we'd change. I wondered if he noticed if the number increased as the days went by. He never said anything, but he seemed to be calculating something. I knew he'd bring it up again eventually, but I wished he wouldn't.

"Mello?"

"Yes, Matt?" I replied as I was putting my gym clothes right-side out. I was standing vulnerably in boxers, a bad decision.

"Last week you had seventeen scars. Now you have thirty-four. Why do you keep getting all cut up? Is someone beating up on you?" the redhead asked concernedly.

I bit my lip. So he'd caught on. Damn, what would I tell him? I was much too cowardly to outright tell him I was cutting myself. Maybe if he guessed it I would be able to admit it to him. Until then, though….

"It's nothing, Matt, honest. I'm just clumsy." I tried to laugh it off.

The younger boy didn't respond. I thought maybe he'd accepted my answer and I'd hear nothing more about it. I was wrong.

Nighttime. Our dorm.

I was studying and reviewing some homework, and Matt was playing video games. Or so I thought.

"Mello, get undressed."

I blushed and turned to look at the gamer.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"Get undressed," he repeated, "let me see your body."

As perverted as it sounded, not that I really minded, I knew what he meant. I sighed. So he hadn't forgotten or let it go as I had hoped.

"I'm not gonna be able to change your mind, am I?" As powerful as my powers of persuasion were, there were some things I couldn't win on. Not against Matt.

Matt shook his head.

I unzipped my vest and allowed it to fall to the floor.

"Well?" I asked, staring at the redhead's face for his reaction.

"Take your pants off, too," was all he said.

I sighed, but obeyed. There I stood, in my short boxers, scars lining my skin. There were fresh marks, too. Ones that I'd made earlier that day.

Matt set his gameboy down and approached my slowly, cautiously, as if he thought I might not let him. His hand shook as he extended it out to touch a disgustingly deep gash right over my heart. I winced slightly as he touched it, not out of pain. Keeping his hand there, Matt concluded, "You did all this yourself."

I didn't answer. There was no need to. He'd figured it out. He knew the truth. Still he voiced it.

"You did all this by yourself to yourself, didn't you?" He looked up at me with sad eyes.

I bit my lip. I nodded slowly.

Matt's emerald eyes ran all over my scarred and broken body. It was like he couldn't take it in, like he didn't understand how or why.

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Well, this is all I have written right off hand. No, I have about one line of chapter nine typed, but I basically know how it's going to start off and it's all smooth sailing from there. I am debating some things, though. Like, I don't know if Matt should mad at Mello or not. Also, I'm debating whether Matt should get mad and end up going with Near for awhile. Then again, that almost seems like too much hopping around between boys for all of them. Ugh, I can't decide, which might halt my writing for a bit. Sorry in advance. Any ideas are always appreciated, as are other kinds of reviews.
-Bloodmuffins