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Edit 2017.01.26 - I'd like to thank everyone that has ever read or just clicked this fic. This one has the highest number of views of all my writings, given the post date/genre. However, the writing of this is very low quality, and I don't intend to ever rewrite it. If you want to read a Mello fic written by me, with what I consider slightly improved writing, invite you to read '26' instead. That's the last story on Mello I intend to write.

Thank you. It's been 7 years since I finished 'Mello's Life'.

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CHAPTER 1:

MIHAEL KEEHL

Author's Note: This will be a fic about Mello's life, from childhood to death, and from Mello's POV. It'll feature the main characters in Mello's life, being Near, L, Rod Ross & Mafia, Halle, Matt, and finally the bitch that kills him, Takada (with Kira in general represented).

Each chapter can be read as one-shots, since there is no literal connection between them - they just follow the years.

This first chapter is clearly an introduction one, with a 5-year-old Mello and how he entered Wammy's House.

Warning: A LOT of description and FEW dialogue.

Update: Corrected all the typos and grammar mistakes I could find.

DISCLAIMER: Fanfiction is done by fans such as I am, so no, I own absolutely nothing regarding Death Note, to my great regret.

December, 1994

Mihael Keehl.

Born in December 13th, 1989. Blood type A. Mother and father deceased in car accident along with younger brother. Single survivor.

Mihael Keehl a.k.a. Mello. Now he was Mello. In that orphanage institution, called Wammy's House, that wasn't even near his birthplace. It was in an island called England.

He couldn't remember things clearly, since it had all been so fast. His parents arguing and shouting about something, as they always did, in the front seats of the car. His baby brother crying and yelling in the back seat next to him. Himself desiring a bit of silence among all those screams.

The streets they past by were all desert, filled with the Christmas brightly lights. It was pretty peaceful, snow was falling, and the other families were at their homes enjoying the Christmas day as anyone but them would do.

Outside was silent, but inside, it was only screams and noise. And then the noise only got worse, when a big thing crushed against their car all of a sudden. It had been so scary, because he got hurt, there was screams of pain all around him, he remember he was bleeding and that his body hurt a lot and that he felt very cold for the snow on the floor, but everything finally fell silent for a while. He thought for a moment that he was dead, but dead people couldn't feel pain nor cold as he did.

Then noise returned when the ambulances and the police showed up, and he was discovered covered in blood, but fortunately only with his arm and head broken. All he could hear about his family was that he was the "sole survivor". That must have meant they were dead. All of them? So he was alone?

He couldn't even remember if it was in the precise crash scene or in the hospital or somewhere else that he came, that kind old man with a funny white mustache and who spoke with a funny accent. He said his name, but the only thing Mihael memorized was 'Watari'.

And so, there he was. United Kingdom, England, Winchester, Wammy's House. It was snowing there as well.

A big frightening gate, cross-shaped in the top, a big field, a big mansion and a big church-like room, full of painted glass. The place resembled a church or a catholic institution in many ways, he thought. He had seen churches, so he knew how they were like. But it wasn't really a church, it was that kind-of-catholic-orphanage with a lot of children with all colors and ages and nationalities. And they all called him Mello. The old man Watari told him to introduce himself as Mello instead of Mihael. Was it because it was a Slovenian name? He couldn't even speak English - what kind of foreign child would know how to speak English at age 5? - and he felt really scared because of that. He was alone in a strange place where he couldn't even understand what people said. If there was any other Slovenian, or Ukrainian or Polish, kids around there (the other languages he could understand a little), he couldn't seem to find them. Watari seemed to be the only one who spoke his language, and though he was with him in an office for a long time, he wouldn't be around to translate things for him.

Besides, he had his blond head bandaged, as well as his arm, so everyone stared at him. Still, they all seemed nice with their unknown words to him, and seemed quite welcoming, with a typical very lively Christmas spirit in their voices. The adult people only, though; the children basically looked at him without many words.

He was given a bed in one of the boys' dormitories, and a little desk to store his things (he didn't had any clothes besides the ones he carried, but Watari assured he would receive new ones). The dormitories were very unlike his old bedroom, naturally. There were more than three different dormitories around the enormous orphanage, all displayed in the same way to both boys and girls: it was like a corridor which had various entrances from both sides that led to rooms with six beds. The 'rooms' were separated by thin plastic-like walls, which had windows in them, so they didn't have enough privacy to be called real 'rooms'. They were like chambers with six beds and six small desks next to them, all linked to each other through the windows and the entrances that linked to a huge main corridor. So it really gave the inevitable look of an orphanage, instead of a fine hotel or country house.

The other children didn't seem to find those dormitories as strange as Mihael, since they were around there for a longer time than he was. And anyway, they were strange. Even if he might not understand their main language, he could see that they were strange. All of them were smart, all of them seemed to be able to speak more than five languages (except his own), and all of them had weird names. So he wasn't the only one whose name had been changed. Apparently, none of them kept their original name, and he later even heard about an older boy whose name was L; he guessed he was lucky then, since at least his new name had more than a single letter.

On the New Year's evening, Mihael was sitting on his new bed, alone. Because of the linked bed-chambers through the windows, there could be seen the lights of few other boys who were reading or studying, but Mihael had his lights off. He was simply staring at the dark floor, trying to ignore the loud noises outside from the celebrations while holding a rosary in his good hand. His beautiful and young face had such a deep expression that he seemed to be praying. But he was just thinking. Remembering.

The only thing he could remember clearly of the crash memories where his family died was the crucifix his parents used to hang in the car's mirror, and that he used to look at when they were arguing. And that was actually the only thing beside his body clothes that he had bring to Wammy's House; a rosary his mother had given him quite recently, that was amazingly kept intact through all the accident. Actually, it hadn't even been over a week since he received it, both a late birthday gift and an early Christmas one. He had always liked crucifixes, and although he hadn't really been catholic, neither his parents, his mother bought it to him. Even if it was too longer for a child to use, Mihael never took it off. Now, it was everything he had left as a memory of his mother and his father, and of his little brother as well. They might have not been the best parents in the world, but still, they were his family. And he didn't have anyone left anymore.

Suddenly, he felt a warm drop fall from his blue eyes. And another one. They reached his chin before he tried to dry them, but when he was going to do that, he noticed that a girl, a couple of years older than him, was staring next to the entrance to his bed-chamber.

"Hi," she said, with a tender but sad smile as she saw his tears.

Mihael knew that English word, and lifted his head to her. Though that was one of the boy's bedrooms, girls were allowed to enter during the day (and night, in that case).

"My name is Linda," she introduced herself. She didn't seem to wonder if he could fully understand her or not, so she continued. "You are... Mello, right?"

The blond boy stared at her for some seconds without any reaction. He thought he understood what the girl had said. That's right. He wasn't Mihael anymore, so he ought to stop calling himself that. He was Mello now.

"...Yes," he replied. He was able to memorize simple words like that.

"Why are you here alone?" Linda asked him kindly, and those words Mello couldn't comprehend. "Why are you crying?"

The child's empty yet questioning gaze might have been enough for Linda to see that he didn't understand her language, so she tried with another approach.

"You..." she pointed at Mello, "...want to see the fireworks..." she now imitated the explosion of a firework with her hands and made a similar sound as they did, pointing to the distant windows where the flashes of colorful lights appeared every now and then, "with me?"

That was clear enough to Mello, and though he wanted to remain there, in silence with his tears, something made him lift himself up and dry his tears, following the girl out of the boy's bedroom. They walked the corridors leading to the main hall where tons of children and adults were hanging, watching the fireworks show with happy and excited looks. Before Mello could notice, Linda had grab his good hand so they wouldn't get separated, and she guided him outside where could have a better perspective of the beautiful lights that exploded in the night sky, greeting the new year.

Mello's sadness vanished during the few minutes the show lasted, as if nothing had change dramatically in his life. He simply stared at those colorful explosions until they died out, and he then realized Linda was still holding his hand.

"Linda," he said simply, and the young girl seemed very happy that he remembered and could say her name.

"Mello," she said in return, with that kind smile of hers.

Nothing else was really said that night.

It was very clear that Linda was his first friend in Wammy's House, or at least, the very first person to talk to him like that, without any type of judging. That was why Mello always kept treating her nicely and kept smiling to her, even as he grew up and his aggressive personality developed.

- End of Chapter 1 –

Author's Notes: My ending SUCKS.

I wanted to describe how Wammy's dormitories were, because they are inspired in a real institution that I know. That place is a lot smaller than their orphanage, but whatever. I don't know how orphanages and institutions around other countries are, but one with this type of dorms was one I could see with my own eyes. I hope the description was clear enough for you to try to make a mind picture.

And yes, I think that the timeline I made for Death Note made it look like Mello and L might have been some time together in Wammy's House, if Mello was 5 when entering. Since they have 10 years of difference, that would place L at age of 15 - and since he says that he lived 5 years in England, the timeline may coincide. He was leaving the institute when Mello came in, more or less.

...And, I've always wondered why Linda, the real manga character, would draw Mello with a smile and Near with a lot more angrier expression, when it is supposed to be Mello the angry one. So I've always assumed that she had met him at the House, and she was probably treated nicely by him, therefore she saw him with a smile. Near doesn't smile that often, anyways.

This is my very first fic, and yes I know I suck at it, but I wanted to give it a shot.

I would be very grateful if you could review with good criticism. Thanks for reading.

If you want, continue to the next chapters. I promise there'll be more dialogue.