A/N: Hello, there, fellow MattMello fans. I am, as you probably can tell by my display name, Ayane. Late during the night, I got inspiration (such a nag) and then couldn't sleep. So, I wrote it all down (in green pen, no less) and decided to post it on FanFiction, which is stupid, considering I have about three other fics that need updating. Ah, well. On to the scary bold warnings!

You have been warned:

1- Yaoi, MattMello.

2- Profanity. Lost of it.

3- This will be very suggestive.

4- Implied lemons, but not much detail on them to protect my innocent mind (-scoff-)

5- Maybe some OOC?

6- Probably going to be a little dark. Anorexia/Bulimia, cutting, and man-tears. Fear the man-tears.

7- I won't be mentioning Kira. It's almost like he doesn't exist.

Summary: Mello's caught up in his misery, and no matter how hard Matt tries, he can't seem to pull him out of it. What will it take to get Mello to understand that when he hurts himself, it's Matt that really bleeds?

Two year. Matt had been separated from the leather-clad love of his life for two whole freakin' years.

And y'know what? Those had to have been the worst two years of Matt's life. The younger boy missed his explosive partner in crime...So he'd decided to follow in his footsteps, and left Wammy's house at sixteen to find him for himself. And he did find him

But the poor, naïve redhead had no idea that Mello had been infinitely worse off alone than the younger boy ever had. All the gamer could do was pick up the pieces of what had once been his best friend, and slowly, carefully try to put them back together. But it was like cutting the wires in a time bomb; you only have a certain amount of time before it all goes to hell, but you can't do it wrong, either. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. You'd have to be a genius to put up with the blonde.

Luckily, that's just what Matt was. He could only hope it would be enough to reconstruct the tattered mess his friend had become.

The violent tattered mess his friend hat become.

It wasn't easy, oh no. Quite the contrary, in fact; it was quite possibly the hardest thing Matt had ever had to do. Mello was angry, violent, cynical, hurt, broken, and a thousand other adjectives, each more depressing than the last. He wasn't moody, though. His main mood was angry, occasionally switching shifts with depression. These two emotions mad the older boy increasingly dangerous to be around. He was like a volcano, and Matt was the sacrifice to prevent eruption.

Mello hated sharing his feelings with Matt, even though the younger insisted he tried. It did make Mello feel better, even if only a little, to know that someone was listening. He was, nonetheless, frustrated by the fact that he was becoming codependent on someone who he didn't- or thought he didn't- need. Matt often wondered if he even bothered to recognize the things he felt most of the time, or if he truly hated talking about it. Mello said he found other ways to deal, refusing to say more. Not that he needed to, though. The glimpse Matt had seen of the slashes on the thin boy's arm were enough to tip him off. He almost wished he didn't know.

"It's like waves," Mello had said as a child. "A huge tsunami of liquid emotion I don't want to feel, crashing down on me, drowning me, pulling me deeper and deeper..."

Now Matt was being dragged down with them.

A/N: Short, I know. I just wanted to do a quick introduction. Reviews are encouraged, critique appreciated. Please tell me how you felt about it, and if I should continue or not!

Thanks for reading,

Ayane