Well, I didn't really see this chapter as the end until I finished writing it. I've always been bad at ending things, but this seems complete to me, and I don't think I could write more. So, enjoy this last chapter.

He spoke the words hesitantly, confirming my thoughts—he was extremely nervous. And, now that he spoke the words I'd been waiting for, so was I.

Now that I was faced with his answer, I wasn't sure if I really wanted to know what he thought about me. Obviously he could tolerate my presence again, but even if I got a negative response, he would have forced himself to talk to me. He didn't automatically love be just because he could talk to me—in fact, the odds were probably greater that he loathed me in the same way I loathed Near, rather than love me.

So, even though my heart raced and my stomach churned—I'd definitely avoid eating lunch—I had to find out for sure, and get rid of my false hope once and for all.

And of course, from the sound of his voice—quiet, almost apologetic…Or was it barely restrained anger, as he forced himself to speak to me?—what choice did I have but to follow him?

"All right, then."

I hoped he couldn't tell how nervous, yet excited, I was. But he probably knew anyway—I told him how I felt about him, after all. How couldn't he know?

Rather than his naturally confident stance, or the sullen lurk I'd noticed lately, he just seemed to be shy and embarrassed for once. It wasn't noticeable purely from his walk, but more prominent in his actions—how he went out of his way to assure privacy for us, when he could have told me a simple answer in the classroom—it had been mostly empty anyway.

It gave me more hope that he had positive feelings for me—if I disgusted him, he probably wouldn't have a problem saying it. After all, if he embarrassed me, it would be funny to him.

Unless it would embarrass him, too. He probably doesn't want everyone to know the gay kid has a crush on him.

Sadly, that was a possibility. Even here, some of the kids aren't always tolerant or understanding. It just isn't something you can escape. I had always been able to forget or ignore the names I had been called, but if Matt started insulting me, the words would be with me forever.

Maybe he wants to be alone so he can insult me more harshly than he would around others.

Without knowing it, lost in my nervous, racing thoughts, I had followed Matt all the way to his room. I hadn't even realized where we were for a few moments; my body was practically on autopilot.

It was the first time I was actually inside Matt's room, so I couldn't resist looking around. It looked like he'd made a conscious attempt to clean up the mess I'd seen last time, which I wouldn't expect from someone appearing to barely keep their emotions in. His bed was made, his dirty clothes were in a basket, and most of his games were on a stand near the TV, rather than scattered on the floor.

He expected me. He planned this.

I wasn't sure how that made me feel—nervous, or glad he cared enough to clean up his room for me.

…He cared?

His room was about the same size as mine, but rather than books, games and their consoles dominated the room. If he turned out not to hate me, I'd have to ask him to play sometime.

On the nightstand rested a pair of orange goggles—I wondered why he didn't wear them. He'd probably look good in them, I thought, biting back a grin. I had to be serious now, even with my heart racing.

Aside from that, though, the room was mainly empty, excluding his bed and a TV. He'd just moved in a month ago, but without any real personal touch, the room felt empty and cold. There weren't even any posters on the wall.

Matt shut and locked the door, the noise startling me slightly, enough to pull me out of my thoughts. It confused me—he wanted to be completely alone with me, to ensure nobody would walk in by chance.

What was he planning? The thought made me nervous. Did he love me, or did I repulse him?

Matt had seemed happier today—or, at least, in a better mood than he'd been in lately. His hair wasn't tangled, his clothes were clean, and he didn't yell at anybody in the class for looking at him. But as the clock counted down to the end of class, he seemed more anxious than ever.

Probably because he planned to take me here.

But why? I didn't know if I should feel this nervous.

Matt took a deep breath and sat on his bed. He started to make a gesture for me to join him, while I stood awkwardly by the door, but stopped, choosing to rest his hands in his lap instead, giving the appearance of shyness.

It made me curious—and now I doubted he would be this quiet, or as nervous as I was, if he would only give a negative response.

"I just have this to say."

My heart pounded as he began to speak. I didn't know what to expect, and I didn't want to think he loved me. What if he didn't?

He was as nervous as I was—he took another deep breath before continuing.

"I think… I do have feelings for you."

He seemed relieved to get those words out, and now that they were, he spoke more confidently while I remained in a state of shock.

He…Really did?

"But…I'm not entirely sure how strong they are. I keep thinking about you, and… It's been that way since we met, but it confused me so much, because I've never had feelings for a guy… Not like this. I thought they would go away, so I forced them down and surrounded myself with girls; maybe I'd have feelings for one of them, but that didn't work."

He gave a harsh chuckle, then continued before I could even reply, giving his "speech" a practiced air, despite his nervousness and hesitance to say certain words.

"But it just confused me more. There was this blonde girl, and she reminded me of you, and… I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to think of you. And when you told me you wanted to date me, well… It made this whole thing real, which caught me off guard."

I was shocked. He really returned my feelings?

"But… Why did you ignore me? If you felt the same, you could have just told me. It sounds like you had a hard time, and if you didn't have to go through that… Why would you?"

Matt shook his head. "That would have been worse. I didn't want to know what I was, so I forced those thoughts down. I forced myself to avoid it."

I was about to point out that that was worse, but he shook his head, silencing me.

"I didn't want to come to terms with it, and if I told you, that would have forced me to. But then you told me you felt the same, and I cried—cried because I thought we couldn't be together. So I still forced it down."

I resisted the urge to walk over to the other side of the room and wrap my arms around him, to comfort him.

"But… I saw how it affected you, and I didn't think I could bear to see you like that, especially because of my actions."

It made sense—I felt the exact same way. I thought he was depressed because of what I said. And while that was technically true, so was the opposite. But it might work out yet; he was telling me this. And that meant there was hope.

"So, I decided to tell you that…I'm sorry for how I acted, and… I do love you."

He finally looked at me, blushing, instead of looking at the ground as he had throughout his monologue. I suspected if he looked at me, he wouldn't have been able to say half of those things—it would have been too embarrassing.

But I was sure I was blushing, too—what he said had caught me by surprise. He loved me? I didn't know what to say, what to do, so I found myself doing the most natural thing: I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around him, and gently pushed him below me onto the bed, pressing my lips against his. Wondrously, he didn't force me away. And even more miraculously, he kissed me back after letting out a small moan. He even wrapped his arms around me to pull me as close as he possibly could.

He really did love me!

I'd been trying, much like him, to force the thoughts of what couldbe between us, even as he'd talked—just because he didn't hate me didn't mean he felt the same way. But finally, with him underneath me and my lips against his, it finally clicked.

He loves me.

While we held each other, it seemed both like an incredibly short moment—albeit one I never wanted to end—and an impossibly short one. How could so much happen in just one moment? How could he hate me an hour ago and be kissing me, holding me, now? How could my world change so drastically in such a short span of time?

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that I had him and I was willing to give my whole being to him—my heart, mind, and body. Everything.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless—both from the shock of realizing we could be together at last and from the kiss itself—he looked at me with such intense love and adoration that I couldn't help but smile. Now that he didn't have to force down his feelings, I suspected things would be like this for a while—he would be overly affectionate like this to "make up for lost time." Even though we had all the time in the world, I couldn't complain—I felt the same way he did. Now that he was finally mine, I wanted to hold him in my arms and keep him there as long as he would let me.

So, I did.

It was silent for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable—we were both content to stay there, laying on the bed, in the other's arms. But soon after—or, not so soon; I couldn't feel time passing when I was with him—we began talking about everything. It surprised me how much I didn't know about hi, and how much I told him about he that he didn't know—we really were making up for lost time. I'd known him for only a month or two; realizing it had been that long shocked me. It didn't seem like it had been that long—a few days, at the most!

He told me about his family life; he'd had a younger brother, but because of the nature of Wammy's House, accepting only the most gifted kids, they'd been split up.

"It really made me sad, because I didn't want to even come here—it doesn't interest me, becoming L."

"Well, here, you have me, from now on," I said, pulling him closer so he could rest his head on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I do."

He gave a small smile, then he told me how he knew where his brother was—a family in LA had adopted him.

"I'll tell you what," I said, running my hand up and down his back soothingly (I hoped). "As soon as we're old enough, we'll go find him."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Of course."

Seeing the hopeful expression filled my heart with warmth. I couldn't help but smile—he brought out my gentler side, the best of me.

I heard him murmur, "Markus Jeevas…" under his breath, solemnly. I was shocked to see his serious side. I guess under all of his charisma and aloof attitude, he really was suffering sometimes. It made him feel more…Human.

Still, I didn't like seeing him like this. I stroked his head, fingers tangling in his vibrant red hair.

"That's his name?"

"Yeah… Unless they…Changed it…" His voice wavered a bit, in a way that made my heart ache. He shouldn't have to feel this way.

I kept him close, to comfort him, making "shh…" noises, hoping it would relax him. "They wouldn't have, I'm sure."

"Yeah…" He didn't sound entirely convinced, but his voice sounded stronger and more confident than before.

"Can I…Tell you my name?"

The question caught me off guard—he'd been doing that a lot lately. It was forbidden here, and even telling me his brother's name (his last name in particular) was against the strict rules, which he definitely knew. But it had become the ultimate sign of trust between two Wammy's kida, one of the most significant bonds possible to forge between us, to link us together. A bond that could never be broken.

"If you want to. I won't tell anybody."

"Okay. My real name is… Mail Jeevas," he said quietly, as if afraid of being overheard.

It was an extraordinary thing, knowing his real name.

"It suits you," I said. "Mine's… Mihael. Mihael Keehl."

And with those words, we were bonded for life, regardless of what happened to us. We had a mutual secret, and even if we came to detest each other later on, we would not risk telling anybody the other's true name, as ours would be revealed as well.

But I doubted Matt would betray me—and I knew I could never betray him. We would take each other's name to the grave, along with our own.

But for now, I just held him in my arms, glad to finally have him as mine.

I hoped you liked the ending! It's really sad to finish a story, and I hope I did a good job with this one. I think I did; I don't have any other ideas to end this. Sorry if it seems a bit rushed, but since the point of this was Mello wanting to be with Matt, continuing would feel repetitive or redundant—there wouldn't be any plot.

Also, I'm really proud of myself for not making them have sex on the bed. XD

I'm glad you all liked this; thank you all for reading it, and especially thank you to all the people that reviewed it (even the anons that I can't really thank personally)!

I have another two chapter story pretty much done, and a lot of other chapter fics that should be about this length planned, so if any of you actually like my mediocre writing skills, you might be interested in that.

But I'd really like to thank you all, again, for reading this. :]