Note: Sorry for the lack of update last week end, but I was unfortunately way too busy to write. Not that I like it, it's killing me. But maybe I can come up with chapter 14 today or in the next two days to make up for it.
I dedicate this chapter to Dlvvanzor because she and I chatted on MSN a few minutes ago and since we came up with something to stir our joint fic Psyche out of its torpor, it helped to kickstart my brain for TSFMS too. Thank you sis!
There's a lot of POV change at the end of this chapter, but it was necessary.

Matt
The diner, surprisingly, was sometimes on the verge of putting me to shame, but pleasant. I discovered a side of Mihael I wouldn't have expected: he was polite and friendly with my parents, and acted totally normally. His stupid hitting on me jokes aside. But I realised that I was even getting used to that.
Part of me was still horrified by the gayness he was wrapping all around me because first it made me feel like his prey (the look he had sometimes... he made me think of a feline that wasn't even hungry but would eat me anyway, by pure sadism) and second, I still didn't want to be assimilated to that sexual orientation, but another part of me was relieved. I was more relaxed in his presence, and I could appreciate the person he was more and more. I don't even know why I wanted to know him more, but oh well, I don't have to analyse myself all the time, my mother does that very well for me. And she's always right. Parents are that annoying, always hitting straight home when they scrutinize your soul and mind... or maybe I'm not very complicated.

But as soon as my mother warned him, just before we went to sleep, the glimmer in his eyes told me I wouldn't like what was next. I could see by the light twist of Mihael's lips that my mother's warning felt threatening to him (she had made a cop shake in his shoes once, when she had been arrested along the pavement long ago, because she hadn't stopped to a red light out of worry as she was driving like crazy to pick me up to school when I was a kid and had fallen from a tree in the schoolyard), but also fueled something in him, something I had learnt to recognise since I met him for the first time.
Don't threaten him, don't provoke him, and don't challenge him, it'll only result in a back fire.
Unfortunately, the fire wouldn't be directed toward my mother but me. Fucking fuck.

I closed the door of my bedroom and gulped. No, there was no reason to be afraid, he wouldn't be stupid enough to do anything of that nature while I was asleep, would he? I mean, he was more than certainly aware that I wasn't even close to respond to his behaviour, and that it was useless. And what if he didn't care? I was sure he didn't care... I was only fooling myself, you could not apply a rational way of thinking to Mihael.
When he looked at me though, I felt stupid, since I had been staring at him all along my reasoning process. In any other circumstances, he could have thought I was waiting for him to do something. Damn, I should control myself.

He simply sat on my bed, looking really tired, so I picked up a long sleeved tee shirt in one of my drawers and handed it to him.
"No stripes." I smiled to him, and he laughed back softly. I was once again surprised at how manly his laughter sounded. I don't exactly know why I always expected him to act girly, probably because of some misconception of my mind concerning gays.
I usually slept in boxers and nothing else, but it was time for an exception, so I picked my own night shirt in the same drawer and headed to the bathroom. I thought about adding sweat pants but it was way too hot in California and I didn't even have one. Before I reached the door, I turned around and asked him:
"Do you want to use the bathroom first?"
After all, he was my guest, I should at least be polite in return.
"I'll go after you, nevermind." he replied, so I isolated myself, changed myself, brushed my teeth and came back in the bedroom. I almost squeaked at the sight my eyes met.

He was standing half naked, his leather pooled on the floor, trying to put his injured arm inside of the sleeve without hurting himself too much. Shit. I should have given him a longer shirt, I totally forgot he was going commando.
He turned to me when he heard the bathroom door, and scowled at me.
I wasn't responsible of his injury, nor was I for the fact he was entangled in the sleeve, so why was his look so dark?

"Something's wrong?" I asked, a little taken aback by his expression and trying not to look there (it's weird that even if you don't want it, your eyes are always drawn to such things against your will...).
I didn't catch what he said, because he mumbled in the opposite direction, and then suddenly the shirt was over his head and hung to his wrist by the sleeve. From where I was standing, I couldn't see what the problem was, but I could sense he needed help (and I mean, help like getting something to cover himself before my eyes burnt).

I walked to him, and the mumbling became clearer. Well, clearer in the way I could hear it was german, and to the tone he was using, he was more than likely cursing, although since I didn't speak a word of german, I wouldn't really know. And then I saw that a string of the fabric had entangled in the bandage around his wrist and that he couldn't detangle it with one hand.
To my utter horror, I found myself closer than I wanted to cut the string and free his damaged wrist. I couldn't help the view on his crotch in the corner of my eye while I tried to stay focused on the string. I stupidly wondered if he shaved himself there since he was almost hairless in that area. Scratch that, I never thought about that. Never.

But he tried to get away from me brutally as I was trying to help. It resulted in the string breaking and freeing his wrist, but he was still scowling at me.
"I don't need help." he growled.
I was surprised at the change. A few minutes ago, he was in a teasing mood and now he seemed angry.
I didn't even know what to reply, I was just standing there, not understanding his attitude, staring at his face.
He didn't even get the shirt back, he just looked away, standing where he was as well. Awkward. I wish he had hurt his dick instead of his wrist, so at least he would wear the bandage there, because it was the only garment on him right now.

I quickly changed the sheets, the silence growing unbearable. Fuck, this guy was bipolar.
I finally addressed to him, wanting to go to sleep as fast as possible so I wouldn't have to deal with his naked self anymore: "Take the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."
I grabbed a pillow from the bed and a comforter in a cupboard, and I unsuccessfully tried to make myself comfortable on the carpet. The night would be long...
He didn't say a word and slid under the sheets naked. I would have to burn them tomorrow...

I tossed and turned a lot, the floor breaking my back and making it impossible for me to sleep. Not long after the lights went off, I heard his even breathing, he had fallen asleep. Probably the painkillers.

Staring at the ceiling in the dark, still wide awake, I started when I heard his voice.
"Not sleeping?" he asked.
"No." I simply replied. I watched at the digital clock on my bed table, it was almost 3am. I hadn't noticed so many hours had passed. I'd be tired the next day...
"Why don't you get in the bed, you'd be more comfortable." His voice wasn't flirty or whatever, it seemed genuine, but I didn't want to take the risk of sleeping next to him anyway.
"No."
"That wasn't an invitation for kinky stuff, jerk." he spat.
"I won't take the chance." I yawned, turning my back to him, but damn, the floor dug in my shoulder and hip painfully.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me and felt an arm slide around my waist, and... ACK! Mihael was moulding himself against me, from behind, and since he was naked, my brain sizzled. NO! He couldn't do that!
My body jerked away from him and I heard him chuckle.
"See? If I had wanted anything like this, I wouldn't have waited for you to climb in bed."
"Did you need to do that to prove your point?" I fulminated, glaring at his form in the dark although he couldn't see my expression.
"Did you have male friends when you were younger?" he asked all of a sudden, and from the shuffling sound of sheets, I knew he was back in the bed.
"Huh... I had one, but I don't see what it has to do with you groping me?" I wondered where he was going with such a question, he could be so desultory that it destabilised me.

I am someone very rational, always going through long thinking processes until I understand something, and Mihael had this ability to cut into this and mess my mind up. Thus I had to be careful because in those cases, I could say things I didn't want to, and I was pretty sure that it was what he was trying to make me do.
I wouldn't call that being manipulative though. It didn't fit him. I felt it more like he was really trying to understand my reticence, to find reasons not to hate me for being a homophobe. Not that he would admit it, like usual.
Like usual. I was talking like if we had settled a routine, but we weren't even friends. I should stop thinking sometimes. But you can't expect me, with the mother I have, not to have inherited of some of her traits, and I was myself pretty good at analysing people.

"Were you uncomfortable in their presence? Have you never slept in the same room or even shared a tent or something?" he went on.
So that's where he was going.
"No, I did, and I did too." I replied methodically, pulling myself in a sat position, since I sensed that the conversation wouldn't stop here.
He was silent for a few seconds then headed to where I was waiting for him.
"So what's the difference now? And no, me being gay isn't a difference." he began.
"I... it is! You..." I stuttered, of course it made a difference!
"No, it isn't." he cut me, "If you hadn't known, you wouldn't act so retarded and..."
I was the one to cut him this time: "If I hadn't known? Come on! It's written all other you that you're gay! No one can miss that, and moreover, it makes a difference not because you're gay, but because you blatantly stated that you would get me. THAT makes a difference, because I don't know what to expect!"
"You're saying it like if I made myself look gay on purpose."
"Don't you?" I was slightly surprised by the sudden softening of his voice, which told me I had hit a sensitive string.
He stayed silent this time.
"I'm sorry..." I said after a while. For once, I wished I could see him because then I would probably understand what was the matter by the expression on his face...
"What are you sorry for?" he asked. It was genuine, soft, almost uttered in a breath. Had I hurt him that much?

Mello
I was falling asleep, the conversation annoying the hell out of me. There was nothing that could be done about this guy, he was a jerk and would always be. End of the story.
"I'm sorry..." he said after a few seconds, stirring me out of my sleepy state.
"What are you sorry for?" I yawned, my voice barely coming out.
"I probably hurt you with what I said, so I'm sorry." he stated.
"You didn't hurt me, I'm just falling asleep. But go on, since you think you could have hurt me, what in what you said could possibly hurt me? I'm curious now." I wasn't as sleepy now, smirking in the dark. It was getting amusing.

Matt
The bastard! He was only sleeping! So much for worrying for him!
"Forget it." I pouted, unnerved by the fact I had misunderstood his silence.
"Come ooooon Mail, tell me!" he poked me in the shoulder, which told me he was leaning over the border of the bed.
"People at uni usually call me Matt." I corrected him, realising he had always called me Mail since he had known my name in the security chief's office.
"Why Matt?"
"It's just a nickname because people used to make fun of Mail when I was younger."
"I didn't make fun of your real name." he said flatly.
"You made fun of all the rest though..."

Mello
He had the point. I was expecting him to accept me as I was, and had clearly made fun of his rabbit attitude with girls, and probably of all the rest too.
"Ok, you win, I'm the bad guy." I sighed heavily.
"It's not a question of being bad or good... I guess."
A car went down the street, front lights briefly illuminating the room. Long enough for me to see his apologetic look.
It held a lot. It held the fact that his last statement was directed more at himself than at me, it held the will to understand me, the effort of leaving his beliefs behind, the strange interest he had for me that echoed with the one I felt for his personality. It held the step we made forward, and for some reason, I knew he would never be Matt for me. Just like I didn't want to be Mello for him, but Mihael. He didn't know I had that nickname, but he had seen Mello until now nonetheless.