Hello, this is the prologue to my first Matt/Mello fan fiction. I hope it doesn't suck too much. It is full of good old angst and (of course) yaoi! If you do not like graphic male/male sex, swearing, violence or depressive writing, this story is not for you.

Set- when Matt and Mello are living together working on the Kira case.

Couple – Matt/Mello

Warning - Spoilers throughout

Summary – Matt and Mello are living together and sleeping together. Mello is the narrator of the story and describes how the relationship is damaging the love-struck Matt.

There IS a plot and there IS a lot of yaoi, just not so much in this prologue.

Reviews are adored and constructive criticism accepted. The more you review the faster I update.

/\\\\\\\\\\\\\

I watch him whilst he is playing his video games. Strangely, it is during this particular activity when I take most interest in him. It should be during sex, when his eyes are pleading me for some form of affection; some gentle caress or kiss. It should be when he is sleeping, curling up to me, desperate for the closeness that I refuse him when he is conscious. I should take notice during our daily arguments, when he's ferocious and his anger finally is let loose like a beast; when his eyes reveal the hurt that his face is trying to disguise. Yet…it isn't then when I take notice. I take notice at times like now, whilst he is playing his video games. He is always too absorbed in the game to notice my probing eyes. I spent years not knowing why he playing his video games intrigued me so much. Now I know. Matt is so innocent when playing his game – so normal. This obsession of his predates his obsession for me. Video games are a part of Matt, not part of Matt that I created. He is intelligent – extremely so. I reckon that the only reason L was not considering him as his successor was because Matt does not have the passion that little bastard Near or I have. Matt's passion is me… and video games.

Matt lets out a cough and smoke pillows out of his lungs as he stubs his cigarette out, eyes never leaving the screen of his gaming console. Yes, the reason why I love to watch him whilst he is playing games is because he is so normal then. He is Mail. Not Matt who is in love with Mello. He is so carefree and at ease. Playing games is the one activity that distracts him from loving me. I watch Matt like this as it is at times like this that I can really see what I am doing to him. I am stealing away any chance he has of a normal life. I am destroying him. One day will come when he stops enjoying his games because he is too miserable with loving me. I could prevent this of course, but I don't. I am too selfish. I want Matt because although I never show him any affection or treat him as an equal; I love having him around. I love having someone that completely devoted to me; someone who will not leave.

"Shit!" Matt exclaims as he is killed in his game. I am startled out of my reverie.

"Why do you play that shit when it gets you so angry?" I drawl and roll my eyes as if the sound of the music is annoying me. Truth be told: it is. Every time I hear the jaunty tune of Mario Land, I feel guilt wash over me. I feel guilty that I am preventing him from being happy.

"Why do you eat chocolate when it makes you fat?" he replies clearly pissed. It is hard to tell if he is pissed at the game or pissed at me.

"Matt, I am quite clearly not fat. Now, are you done? Let's get on with the case," I reply, rolling my eyes.

/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Matt and I have been living together for months now. I left for a bit. Watching Matt play video games had upset me too much. I had decided that I would be kind – for once – and do what was best for him; leave him alone. We had been fucking for about a month. This intimate relationship was hurting him, so I left. Then that fucking explosion tore half of my face off. I couldn't stand to look at myself. I am vain, I will admit that and seeing myself all disfigured and scarred; I could not stand it. So I came back here to Matt. I knew here I would find someone who would still love me despite the scarring. The Kira case is moving at a painfully slow pace and it feels like days and weeks drift by unnoticed. Days filled with arguing, researching, infuriating news from Near and – of course – fucking. However, there is not just fucking. When I come home from another failed task Matt kisses and hugs me and reassures me that I am beautiful and better than Near. I never return the favour. I take every inch of what Matt offers me (and he offers me the universe and his soul) whilst giving virtually nothing back.

Thump! I hear something slump to the floor and muffled sobs echo, half hidden by a depressingly emo song playing in the next room. I stand up, almost in a trance. I have been thinking and analysing things too much recently. It is bringing me down. I tug up my leather trousers which have fallen low on my skinny hips and walk slowly towards to source of the music.

"Love of mine,

Someday you will die

But I'll be close behind

And I'll follow you into the dark"

The familiar lyrics become louder. Matt has been listening to this song most days for a week now. I grasp the door handle – which is loose from the many times I have slammed this door too hard or wrenched it open in lust – and turn it. The door opens with ease to reveal Matt slouched on the floor. His striped shirt is hanging of one of his shoulders and he has wrapped the vest around himself tighter. His goggles are off – a rare sight – and his eyes are puffy and red. I hover in the door way. I could go over to him and comfort him. Tell him the three words he is so desperate to hear. Tell him how much I appreciate – no, need – him. I could turn and leave, save him from myself. Stop being the drug that entices him until it kills him. There are many things I could do. A better person would do them. I don't. I sigh and shake my head in confusion? Hopelessness? I smash my fist against the CD player and the music stops. I leave the room and fall into a restless, dream filled sleep. When I wake up, Matt already has made me a cup of steaming coffee and a bar of chocolate is on my bedside table. His goggles are on again, covering his green, pained eyes and he has pasted a smile on his face.