For you who doesn't like yaoi, shounen ai, gays, boyxboy, or whatever you wanna call it, don't read. Sure, it's in later chapters, but there will still be some.
And, you can find it on DeviantArt, if you're interested, just tell me.

This, my ladies (and gentlemen), is beta-ed by Dlvvanzor, who also is an awesome writer. Check out her profile!

And, oh yeah! I noticed just now that I had written "chapter three" in last chapter, which is actually chapter two. I was like "WTF?", but, well. It's fixed now ^^

Dislaimer: Don't own, don't want.

Chapter Three:

The next morning, the poor redhead hadn't slept a wink.
What if Mello would wake up in the middle of the night, or if he somehow stopped breathing?
Also, even if he had tried to sleep, he surely wouldn't be able to; because even though he was exhausted, his worries would keep him awake. Worries about the possible death of the chocolate addict lying in his bed.
So, there he sat, on a not-so-comfortable wooden chair beside the bed, looking at the peaceful face of his best friend. What he called his best friend, anyway, he wasn't sure about Mello.
Now and then Matt would check on the other, just to satisfy his needs of knowing that the unconscious man hadn't died during the few minutes he had allowed himself a moment's peace. Talk about being paranoid.

The blonde man was still out cold a few days later, and his auburn-haired friend hadn't slept for more than a small number of hours during those days.
Beside the wooden chair, a half-full cup of now cold coffee stood, along with countless cigarette packs, all lacking the original contents.
The striped-clad young man could laugh for happiness that he got instant coffee in his almost-empty kitchen. For the kitchen drawers and cabinets were at a loss of food, and he didn't want to take a fast trip to the gas station some blocks away to fill up his stock of nicotine and get some real food, food other than the instant cup-o-noodles he had found lying forgotten in the very back of one of the cabinets.
So, because of the lack of food in the apartment, Matt had hardly eaten since the day he got the call.

Now and then Matt would doze off, just to, not much later, wake up and scold himself for being so irresponsible; just how could he sleep when there was a person that might need his help?
He looked tiredly at the peaceful form of the pale man, then he made a quick trip to the kitchen to get a new and warm cup of coffee. Without that addictive drink he would have passed out on the floor long ago, seeing as how he hadn't gotten much sleep the last days either.
He got back with a cup filled to the brim of black – totally disgusting – coffee in his hand; a cup he almost dropped when he noticed that one of the other male's eyes was open.

The goggle-clad man quickly put down the coffee and rushed to the other's side.
"How are you feeling?" he then said, relieved that the blue-eyed man had woken up. His voice was raspy by not using it for some time. He cleared his throat, and when Mello didn't say anything he pointed at the bedside table. "You've got some painkillers and a glass of water over there, and if you want me anything, I'll be around." He smiled softly and stretched before walking into the kitchen, the cup full of gross liquid in his hand, to raid the cabinets once more for edible things; as if checking again would prove differently.

When he got back, victoriously holding a piece of hardened bread in his hand, Mello was sitting up with an empty glass in his hand and the painkiller nowhere in sight. Good thing.
Matt sat down on the stiff chair and begun to nibble on the bread, staring out in the air. Sometimes he would take a sip of the yucky black drink or adjust the goggles hanging around his neck, as he often did when nervous.

At last, Mello's voice broke the silence, "So. What've you been up to?"
With that question, memories of a past event fluttered past the ginger's sight.
He was once again a poor little boy; a boy whose only wish in life was to his friend to return; the one and only friend he had had; the one that abandoned him for revenging his dead role model.

The chair fell on the floor with a clattering sound, his feet dangling just above it.
Soon, he wouldn't have to endure anything anymore; no crying himself to sleep every night; never again getting the exited feeling every time he caught a sight of yellowish hair and then, when he realized that it wasn't him, feeling the lump in his stomach growing heavier. No more days hiding in the shade, trying to forget about the happy moments they had shared. Because they hurt. They hurt so much.
But then, just when his lungs begun to ache, craving air, he heard footsteps hurrying their way towards his room. But instead of walking past it, the door burst open and someone rushed to his aid. All he saw and felt before he blacked out was a blurry figure, lifting him up and slipping the rope off of his head.

Matt shook his head to get those memories from his mind, "nothing much" he said as nonchalantly as he could, lifting one hand to his throat, where the rope had been gnawing many years ago. He hadn't been able to talk properly for some weeks.
Once again, his mind showed him an earlier episode from his life, this one sometime after he had left the protective walls of Whammy's.

"You feel good, don't you? As the slut you are." one of the men surrounding him, where he was lying on the table, wrists and ankles each tied to its legs, said while thrusting into the poor boy.
He had screamed, cried, and been trying, in vain, to get out from there. Away from the men and all the things they made him do.
The man plunged into the young boy again, encouraged by the others standing there, doing nothing but watching the auburn-haired boy's penetration; just standing there with hungry, lustful eyes, waiting for their turn.
And the knife. Yes, the knife. How could he forget? He still wore the scars that he'd been marked with that knife – by those men.

"You're lying." It wasn't a question, but a statement. The blonde young man glared daggers at the room's other occupant, waiting. Waiting for an answer for his first question that he knew he wouldn't get.

"So what?" Matt snapped, "What is it to you?" The glare he gave etched itself forever into Mello's mind.
His goggles, that usually never let anyone look into his eyes, that betrayed the feelings of his, hung around his neck.
God, how he missed them. He felt naked without them protecting his eyes; protecting his soul from being looked upon.
When the slightly older man didn't answer, he kept going. "It's not like you would care, right? After all, you left me, and didn't even give me a message, a hint, that you were alive. No 'hey, I'm not dead, so don't worry'. During all these years I fucking though you were dead! So don't fucking give me the shit about you actually caring!"
His eyes were dry, though he felt the urge to cry. He didn't want to be there and he didn't want to scream at Mello, for he surely didn't want Mello to leave him. Again.
The chocolate lover narrowed his eyes, he had never been one to know when to shut up, and he certainly didn't know now. "Have you ever thought about that it actually was your own fault that I left you behind, have you?!" he said, his voice increasing for each word he said, his eyes like raging fire. "Have you ever considered the thought about you being so fucking annoying all the fucking time made me go by myself, huh?!"
When an intense pain flickered past the redhead's eyes, all the blonde wanted to do was to beg for forgiveness, but as usual, his pride wouldn't let him.
The emotion was gone from Matt's eyes as sudden as it had appeared. Hidden by the usual mask of his.
"â€ĶI-I'm going out" he said quietly and walked off before his so-called friend was able to say anything more.

If truth to be told, I based these flashbacks on a novel, not fanfiction, I'm writing for my english class. So, I think 'bout one sentence is almost exactly the same. Shame on me .

Special thanks to last chapter's reviewers:
ShinigamiMailJeevas
Miss Hal Gibson
Dlvvanzor
YaoiFreak-0ww0
Mia-Gabriella

Please, do review! I get so happy (pathetically happy, actually) whenever I see that someone's written me one! ^w^