Note: I never thought it would take me that long, but the German dialog became a nightmare and would have taken a lot of back and forth with betaing so I tweaked things so I didn't have to include German except for a few words. This leaves me dealing with a new aspect of Mello's struggle: identity. As if I needed any more depth here but ah well... I guess that means you get more of TSFM :)
Anyway, now that I finally got done with this chapter, the following ones shouldn't be so long to come. Next time I am stuck with something, I'll just tweak it because it only means it's not supposed to be like that if it doesn't come to me.

edit: Lestatash corrected my awful German :)

Thank you for still being here with me :)

Short chapter but I couldn't leave you without a (small) cliffie ;)

Request: I'm actually making my website for professional purposes (as a writer of course). What would you like to see on such a website (except the list of my work, where to buy and such)? Do you think a biography is absolutely necessary? Your help is appreciated, thanks!

Mello
I was less than pleased to see my parents again, and it was obviously mutual, considering the annoyance in both their features and the impatient little twitches on my mother's mouth. I hated that. I had always hated that, the way she would bite her lower lip slightly then purse it, her nose scrunching nervously. I always tried to refrain the thought it gave me before, out of respect for her, but now, my respect for her wearing extremely thin, I openly huffed at the sight of her rat face. That's what it had always looked like to me, when she did that.

I had sent the lawyer outside, for some privacy, because I knew that my parents wouldn't speak freely otherwise. I wasn't even sure they'd tell me anything but at least I would have tried.
My mother still had no compassion for me in her eyes. I kept on searching for a hint that she, as any normal mother, worried for me, but nothing sparked in her eyes except disgust. I lost it.

When they both approached my bed, not even taking a seat, looking as if they were ready to leave anytime and unwilling to spend one minute more than necessary with me, I attacked.
But whereas my father just shrugged and sighed, my mother simply replied that she had more important things to worry for. It had the merit to shut me up, because there was nothing I could reply to that. And there was nothing I wanted to reply anyway. I knew where they stood, all my doubts were erased.
So I asked them why they wanted me so badly back to Berlin, if I wasn't important to them.
Better be over with that since it was obvious they rejected me completely.

But my father spoke this time, gesturing to my mother to keep silent.
"Du bist wichtig, Mihael, und deshalb sind wir hier." (You are important, Mihael, that's why we are here.)
I huffed, he sounded so convincing...

I felt an immense will of rejection myself all of a sudden, for my parents, my past life, my origins, and my native language. I replied in English, making it obvious I wouldn't be using German anymore with them. I couldn't say I felt American, I wasn't feeling like I belonged anywhere to tell the truth, although I knew I could count on Mail and his family, and that all my best days had been in California (well, minus the days with Mail in Berlin), the hurt my parents were subjecting me to made it impossible for me to stand any ground, there were too many questions, too many secrets I felt hidden behind their attitude and actions. I felt lost, and just wanted to reject anything that belonged to the source of pain.

"I'm not important as your son or even as a human being, so what is it that's so important about me for you? You want me even dead, so unless you explain, without bullshit, we do'nt have anything to say to each other anymore."
I tried to keep my voice steady, but such a long sentence, with all the emotions I was trying to keep at bay, was a difficult shot for me, and I almost hoped that would be it, that they'd go.
I was so tired of this, I don't even think I wanted to know anymore. What would it change anyway? Not their feelings toward me, for sure, and it didn't matter, I didn't need them, this I had realised long ago. Maybe it was the rejection talking, but my mind was slowly putting them away in the 'past to leave behind' drawer of my brain. And being so tired already didn't help.

My father at least caught my drift and replied in English as well.
"Your grandfather will soon...leave us." he started, but stopped, obviously trying to find his words. It wasn't out of sadness at all, there was none in his eyes, he was simply trying to find the words that were adequate for what he had to say, to get what he wanted from me. He was into politics, I knew how he worked. I had seen him in action, when my parents would still bring me along to their receptions and other boring events, before I became only trouble for their image.
"What does it have to do with me?" I sighed, averting my eyes from him, irritated by his calculating attitude.

To tell the truth, I wasn't shocked to hear that. I had seen my grandfather (from my father's side, both my mother's parents were dead long before I was born) twice in all my life.
The first time, I was five, and he made a duty of telling me that Santa didn't exist and that my parents were the ones to buy me presents, and he showed me the packages hidden in a cupboard as a proof. I cried for days after that. Little boys have to know the hard truth about life as soon as possible, he told me, especially the ones in my position. I was too young to understand, and later had put that on account of my father being in politics.
The second time was when I turned sixteen, and he came to my parents' house to pay a visit, and when he saw me, he only sighed and went to my father's office. I remember hearing him say through the door (yes, I listened) that it was lucky I hadn't taken any of my mother's physical traits but that unfortunately, I didn't look like I would be intimidating enough to take up the family business when it would be time. I only recall telling myself that there was no way I'd end up in politics like my father or grandfather, but that was about all.
So no, I wasn't shocked, the man was as despicable as can be, and to me, he wouldn't be a loss. Hell, I barely knew him anyway...

"He wanted you to take up on the family business, when I'm gone." my father explained, and I could tell something annoyed him in that statement.
"And?" I asked, not really understanding where he was going since before me, well, there was him, in line for said business, I mean. And unless my father was dying...
"And he saw your little whore on television, with the fuss he made in front of the hospital."
"I didn't know he was interested in US channels." I simply replied, understanding now how far what Mail had done had gone, if it had been relayed on national television, since there was no way that my grandfather had seen the local area channel in Germany, dismissing the insult, because I was getting informations and didn't want to divert now that I was finally about to understand. "What is the problem exactly?"
"When he learnt that you had an accident, he wanted to speak personally to the doctors. He wanted to know if you would still be capable of taking the business over."
"So? Why didn't he come?"
"He didn't know that you are gay."
"Oh ... That's why you tried to bring me back to Berlin, so he wouldn't learn. Better possibly dead than gay... Then why have you insisted on bringing me back again? Why have you insisted only two days ago still? Why won't you leave me and Mail alone? I don't want to go back to Germany."
"Because now that he knows that you're gay, he's changed his testament, and has disowned me, and you as well, of any right over the family business."

Now that was confused.
My father was into politics, how could my grandfather disown him, and me?
And what would bringing me back to Germany change now?
"Care to explain how he could do that considering he has no say in your carrier? Not mentioning that I'm not taking the same path as you, and never will, but I suspect that only your own position being threatened matters to you...
And what would my presence in Berlin change? He won't unknow that I'm gay, and I'm not going to change that, so what's going on for fuck's sake?!" I could feel my heart thump in my temples, bringing a headache along, but I didn't want to ask for water or a painkiller to them, I didn't want to have to thank them, even for the smallest thing.

"We also run a business, even if you've never been aware of it, and that was actually becoming my main activity when you left for the United States, since your grandfather was becoming too old to take care of it." He replied, obviously unwilling to say too much. But he would have to, because there was no point in continuing this conversation otherwise.

"What kind of business?"
"It's not important Mihael... I-"
"Then we're done. Leave." I cut him. All of this was so pointless...
"Mihael, come back with us in Berlin, at least until your grandfather changes his mind. Your mother and me will try not to be hard on you, we'll act as a family and tell your grandfather that you being gay was just a phase, and then when everything is back as it was, you can come back here after your grandfather's funerals."

Wow. That was brutal. All at once ready to fake things and not even ashamed to admit that they had been hard on me, eager to see my grandfather die, and totally focused on not losing his position whatever it was, to the detriment of truth or people around him. My father was a monster.

"You will try?" I chuckled sadly, the irony killing me, "The answer is no. Not that you expected anything else, right? Why would I do you this favour, when you're such a piece of thrash, both of you, that I can't even call you my parents anymore?" I was past trying to be respectful or polite myself, I didn't want to be related to them, and they weren't my parents anymore from that moment.
"Don't you understand Mihael that I will lose everything?!" My father's face was suddenly really pale, "Alles! (everything!).

My mother looked at him, and I was shocked at the expression in her eyes. I had never seen her look at my father, or even me, like that. She was furious and so, so disappointed, no, a better word would be acid. She would have burnt holes into him if she could have.
I could understand that if my father lost everything, as he said, she was less than pleased, because she was a sucker for appearances and everything that came with a life as the wife of someone important, but what would it change to their way of life? They still had a huge amount of money, and a secure income from my father's political carrier so what was the deal? Something was still left unsaid, but I wasn't sure they would tell me absolutely everything...