I know I haven't written in a while, but when I realized it was Mello's birthday today, a went back to my list of prompts and found the word 'Lullaby'...
This is rather poorly written, by my standards, but I have an exam to complete tonight for AP Chem...So...I tried.

Rest In Peace, Mello. If I'd had my way, you'd still be kicking.

I own nothing.

Matt sat at the headboard, cradling his boyfriend gently in his lap.

He hummed a quiet lullaby and let himself think back to the night he realized he'd love this man forever.

Mello sobbed.

Matt looked on in awe.

You see, Mello was Matt's definition of emotion. He could be cheerful, furious, sly, gracious…and downright crazy.

But in the year that Matt had known him, he'd never once seen him cry.

It had started at 11:58 PM. They'd been laying in their respective beds, waiting for sleep, when Mello started humming, softly.

To Matt the tune sounded like a soft lullaby. It made him want to close his eyes and drift off with a smile on his face.

But then came the first sniffle.

It wasn't loud. It was hardly obvious…But it was there. A quiet sniff in the dark room.

The tune continued, though it was shakier. Soon it halted entirely, without a cadence, without completion, fading to hushed gasps and labored breathing.

Matt heard shifting on the bed across from his, as though Mello rolled over or sat up.

"Mello?" he asked quietly.

The movement ceased, the sniffs ceased, the breathing evened slightly.

Matt flicked on the light.

"Mello?"

There he was. Perched against his headboard, with his face in his knees.

"Mello, what's wrong?"

Matt had never seen Mello seem sad, let alone devastated.

When Mello continued to try to keep silent, Matt shifted, before crawling from his bed, shivering slightly in the cool air and freezing from the shock of the cool floor against his bare feet.

"Mello. I'm coming over."

No response.

"Mello, look at me."

Nothing.

So Matt made a split second decision, lifting the other boys angular chin, tilting his face up.

And gasping at the pure sadness he saw painted there.

"Mello, what's wrong?"

This seemed to be a catalyst, as Mello straightened up, running the back of his hand beneath his eyes and under his nose.

He stepped around Matt and out of bed, looking frighteningly pale and horribly alone, so small and insecure, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were two sizes too big, bare feet scrunching against the cool tile of the floor.

The light from the lamp on Matt's bedside cast dark shadows over the blond's features, making him look like the image of lonliness.

So Matt did the only thing that made sense.

He began to hum.

He hummed that same tune he'd been listening to, coming from Mello, mere minutes before.

And he watched as Mello curled in on himself and broke down.

"Matt," he whispered, "it's my birthday."

Matt straightened, surprised.

"Happy Birthday, Melly."

"My mother was murdered a year ago today, going to buy a cake from the bakery."

Matt had nothing to say to that.

Mello had never mentioned his parents.

"She used to hum me that song. I can't remember the rest, it seems so distant."

Tears ran silently down his pale cheeks.

"Every year, on my birthday, she'd hum that song."

His blue eyes looked brighter when the red from his tears contrasted them.

"She said it would bring me luck for the coming year."

He choked down a loud sob and broke down.

And so now Mello was sobbing, and Matt was thinking he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

It was 12:10 AM when Matt stood and embraced his best friend tightly, feeling Mello's now nine year old frame shaking against his own.

It was 12:13 AM when Matt dragged him back into the bed, curling around him like a best friend should.

It was 12:27 AM when Mello finished crying himself to sleep.

It was 12:32 AM when Matt finished humming the segment of the lullaby.

It was 12:33 AM, right after Matt wiped the tears from his friend's damp cheeks, that Mail Jeevas realized that he was in love with Mihael Keehl.

Matt smiled fondly, thinking of the birthday four years later, when he'd confessed, and found his feelings returned.

He thought of how despite the fact that Mello still cried himself to sleep on December thirteenth every year, he'd still managed to say 'Fuck Yes' several hours ago, in a restaurant, when Matt had dropped to one knee.

Matt curled himself around the love of his life, like a best friend should, and finished humming Mello's lullaby.

I've missed you all.

Review?