Author- Got the idea today, ended it today. Tell me about typos, because I finished this in an hour, lol.

PLEASE READ. If you love angst, or fan fictions about our pretty boys attempting suicide, doing drugs, and loving each other, then here it is! XD.

As always, the first chapter is an insight to the situation.

But I think you'll like how it all wraps out here.

PLEASE, again, READ!

"Matt…."

I didn't look up, I could care less. All I had to do was sit here for an hour, right? Answer questions from this person as if I was being interviewed.

At the moment I cared about the nauseating smell of my clothing, the cigarette smoke of the new brand I smoked before I got here.

Smoking on an empty stomach, not a wise habit.

"Matt…" They called again, urging me to pay attention or answer. But in a soft tone, therapists never snap.

God, I hate Mello so much right now.

I looked up to them, wondering where I left my goggles. Quickly I looked away, and towards the window outside, watching as the clouds dimmed to a dark gray as the sky turned crimson with paints of orange.

I cocked my head towards the window, my therapist turned to it too, wondering what I was trying to point out.

She just turned to me, her lips pressed as she adjusted herself in the seat she didn't seem comfortable in.

"Matt, I know it's late. But I need you to be honest. I was ordered by many hospital doctors, centers, the court, and even your friend to help you."

I huffed out a small laugh. "So you're doing this," I looked to her, my eyes towards her dark chocolate ones. A small smirk played on my lips. "Because you were ordered to?" My brows rose.

Her face sank, but instead of looking like a deer before head lights, facing it's obvious doom, she frowned, brows furrowed. She seemed angry.

"No, Matt, I am not doing this because I was ordered to, or because it's my job. The reason why I'm a therapist, is because I am deeply concerned about people and their emotions. Therapists, psychologists don't do their duty just because they had no other career choice. Matt, I'm doing this for you."

I couldn't look away from this young women. She seemed as old as me, but from what she and Mello told me, she was around her late 20's. My eyes flickered with what I think was guilt. But I covered up the truth with my own belief, that she wasn't concerned, that she was just doing her job to win the money.

"Fine," I sighed loudly, slumping in my seat, nearly laying on the seat, my arms crossed over my chest as I looked to the roof. "What do you want to know this time?"

She seemed off guard, blinking a few times to look to her clip board. "Well, we are behind today. Hm, let's see here," She read through her scribbling, containing what we had talked over through out my sessions. "Well, last week you mentioned thoughts on suicide?" She looked up at me, glanced over my expression, then looked back to her notes. "We prescribed some medications, anti-depressants. How are those working for you?" She looked up, slowly setting the clip board onto her lap.

I squirmed against the leather seat, pushing against the arm rests to sit up. "They're working just fine, thanks." I sighed again, resting an elbow against the arm rest, balling my hand, and propping my chin against it, my other hand scratching against my scalp.

"But you don't seem it. You actually look, well, dare I say, worse, then last time." She sighed. "Are you lying to me, Matt?"

I glared towards her. "Look, I haven't been sleeping well, k? Those medications help, sure, but they keep me up as if I drank down a 12oz cup of sugar, so lay off."

She only nodded, looking slightly suspicious. I growled under my breathe. I think she knew certain things at this point, so being harsh wasn't a problem.

"Look here, mam…" I sat up straight, ready to take my stand after my insulting comment. "As I'm sure many of the people who ordered you to do this for me have told you other things then that incident a month ago. So I'm gonna be straight forward. I am 18, a detective, a tech genius, a graduated smart ass orphan from Wammy's in England. My intelligence can outrun your career if I actually cared to learn how to tolerate patients. It would take me a month to major your job, so please don't act like I have no idea what I'm saying, thinking, or explaining. If I say the medications are keeping me awake, check up the god damn ingredients, and you'll find your answers there, lady."

With that, I stood quickly, grabbing my coat, pacing towards the door.

"And what makes you so sure you're right?"

I stopped, turning to her, my expression baffled. Why ask such a stupid question? I already gave her the answer to that one too.

She sighed, tossing her clip board aside, the sound of it impacting against the wall loud. "Look, kid, I may be older, and my brain may not function as fast as yours. But you can't say that you can actually gain more knowledge then me when it comes to this career…" She placed an elbow against the arm rest, balling her hand into a fist, pressing her chin against it. Closing her eyes softly, she exhaled, seemingly trying to hold her temper.

I chuckled softly, turning my body towards her, crossing my arms against my chest. "Oh yeah?" A brow rose. "Why's that?" Really, women, tell me.

"C'mon, Mail Jeevas," She looked up from her face down tilted head, her expression smug. "You're a genius? Why can't you answer that?"

I winced. "You bitc-"

"Besides," She crossed her legs, sitting up, placing both hands against her lap, holding each other. "You already answered my question."

I winced again, taken aback. For once, I had no idea what she was trying to imply, and had no idea how I answered such a question. I turned towards the door, opening it quickly. "Tell Mello I decided to fuck off." I paced out, into the hallway, and ran out the building, avoiding anyone that bitch might call to take me back to her office.

When I got home, I expected the worst. In these situations, where I act 'rebellious', I await the peeved little blond chocolate obsessed boy pacing across the room, waiting to knock me out cold. Something he hasn't done in awhile now. I guess the incident a month ago really bothered him.

Being careful now, is he? Feeding me the kindness, hoping it drives me to sanity, huh? Heh, right.

But when I entered, I met a calm blond, sitting in the couch, watching TV while munching at a chocolate bar imported from his birth country, Germany.

"I'm…" One of my eyes narrowed in suspicion. "…Home." I closed the door behind me slowly, locking it.

I stood still, waiting, but nothing happened. Shrugging I removed my shoes, and walking farther into the living room.

At that moment, the phone rang. I flinched, and froze for a second.

"Um," I brought up a hand, in the form of a frozen wave, and looked to Mello as my body faced the stairs. "I'm going to my room now. Kind of tired."

He only returned my stare, his blue eyes seeming confused, ignoring the constant ringing. I guess he figured out the situation, the one I hope wasn't going to happen.

Slowly, he stood from the couch, turning away from me as I calmly up the stairs, holding the urge to full out run.

I hurried as I reached my door, and nearly jumped in, as if running from a killer chasing me.

From my room, as I leaned against the door, locking the knob from turning, I could hear Mello picking up the phone from its charger, could hear him press the 'talk' button, and his calm voice ask who was calling without a greeting.

"Who is this?…. Oh, hello…. Yes Matt's here… I don't know if he's up for talking, he said he wanted to catch some rest… Why?…"

My heart froze.

"Is that right?"

I could hear is tone get deeper, progressively darker.

"Thank you for telling me, bye."

He pressed the talk button again, and as if waiting for her to hang up, he took his rage out, and chucked the phone across the kitchen. I could hear it hit the wall, his heaving, his pacing as he head towards the stair, his stomps as he head towards my room.

The sound of shaking metal sent my emerald green eyes towards the knob. And I watched, my breathe hitched from fear, as the golden hold shook violently.

Knowing this would result to no avail, he gave up, and instead began knocking the door, hard.

"Mail! Open this fucking door!!"

I didn't respond, just shook my head, closed my eyes tightly, and slid down the door, my body already becoming warm, already sweating.

"MATT!!"

Please stop…

"MATT!!! I SAID OPEN THE DOOR!"

Please, no more.

I cringe, my hands flying towards my head, pressing against the sides of my skull.

"I SAID," The door pulsed greatly as a huge impact from the other side hit it. "OPEN," Another. "THIS," Another. "DOOR!!" Another, followed by another, and another.

I scrambled to a crawl, moving towards the bathroom in my room. If he managed to break down that door, then I could securely lock myself in there.

Rushing in, I stood up, nearly falling over and slammed the door shut, locking it.

Mello's shouts could be heard, along with his foul language, as he demanded I leave the bathroom and unlock the room door.

But I remained silent. He was mad because I was talking for myself, because, as a human being, I was giving myself my own rights and privileges, and because, like an adult, was doing as I pleased, and left.

At the moment, his mind was probably so clouded with rage, that he only though about lecturing me rather than thinking of any possibilities I could act upon in a locked room.

So, due to the fact, I slowly clicked the medicine cabinet open, swinging the door against my palm to not provoke noise, and slowly searched through the bottles of medications for something not as lethal is I used it more than once.

As the saying goes, take too many pills, OD, then death comes knocking at your door with IV's and scornful doctors.

I held the small blade, usually used for more heavy duty cutting, a razor, sharp at that.

Holding my breath, I brought my arm up, holding it over the sink, ignoring the other cuts that already vacated the area of my pale skin.

The blade slowly pressed against my flesh, my cowardice holding me back from daring to go further.

But I kept breathing, trying to convince my self that a few inches in, or centimeters, would be too much trouble.

Nodding, feeling convinced, ready, and ridiculous to still be afraid after doing this so many times, I pressed in.

Now all I had to do was bring it across my wrist.

A loud bang shook me, tensed me, as I heard hinges explode.

The shock was immense, I was surprised, taken way off guard, and the blade, it flinched along with me.

My grab, it tensed the grip.

And my arm was draining me of my blood.

I hissed and dropped the razor into the sink, my hand gripping my bleeding forearm.

If I could run the sink without stirring suspicion, I could clean this. So holding my arm against my chest and staining my vest with blood was no an option.

Opening my eyes I looked to the cut, shocked, a pang of dizziness hitting me as I looked to it.

I coughed a gag, and gripped tighter.

This is bad, I realized, I need to tend to it immediately, I figured.

But I started to loose myself in the waste of blood. My body was fragile. I had not eaten for days, had not slept for days, I was weak, too weak for this.

I came to a stand, my legs moving, taking steps on their own as I shook in a spin of exhuastion and pain.

My head tilted back, my back slightly arched, and my arm was pressing against my chest, my grip slipping as the blood became it's oil and lotion.

My eyes narrowed as I stared towards the ceiling, my cheeks grew warm.

If I looked at my state, I'm sure I would have looked like a heated tease of some twisted sort.

The sound around me began to pound against my ears along with my heart pace.

The sound of Mello's voice was starting to fade behind the bass like pulses.

I couldn't feel, but heard my back hit against the door as I began to faint.

I didn't know how, but knew that I was sitting on the floor.

I didn't realize that I let go of my tight grip, and that both of my arms lays at each side, relaxing themselves.

The door was loud. The smacks didn't phase me, since I felt nothing put sleep tugging at me.

Mello's yelling voice became muffled along with the sound of the shaking knob.

My green eyes started to watch the corners of my eyes darken as they stared towards the pool of my blood below me.

I knew, I'm fucked.

My head began to fall lower, lower, lower, as I became more tired, too tired.

The whimpers on the other side began to fade, the yelling sounded soft, concerned. The voice distanced, and foot steps ran the other way.

"Mello?" I asked. But no one responded. "Mello…" I whispered, closing my eyes. "Don't call them. Leave me alone. Leave me here…" My eyes fully closed, and my ability to speak became harder, I was whispering too softly for ears. "Please, leave me… K?….."

Author- I love cliff hangers, but you don't.

OHHHH what happens NOW?!

Please review, and you'll find out.

Or I QUIT.