A/N: In my recent stumblings across an old sketchbook, I re-found my love for both this series and especially these characters, and in effort to get back into the swing of writing fiction again, I decided to reboot this old fic I left unfinished so long ago.

Fall Into You

A Mello x Matt fanfiction

Chapter One: Mello

For most anyone, sickness and death are not a topic which should be quickly brought up; a dark burden that each person may hope and pray will be put upon the shoulders of anyone other than themselves. For some, said prayers are answered, but has any thought ever been given as to where it goes? Who the recipients are? In this dark world, it seems to always be the innocents—the ones it would do most harm to. In many cases, children.

A young blonde boy sat quietly in the front pew of an old church, head bowed and eyes squeezed shut, remnants of tears leaking out while he contemplated the very concept of religion. He had yet to take notice that his mother's casket had already been carried out some time ago; the few people that had bothered to attend the poor woman's funeral had already cleared out, not once giving any thought to her only son, left orphaned by her passing. All assuming someone else would take the responsibility; certainly the boy must have had someone bring him there, and someone to bring him home? They hadn't seen much of the boy, he was an afterthought in their lives, why take on any extra responsibility, then?

"What did I do God!?" The eight-year-old's voice finally sounded, "Why'd you have to take her away!? All I asked you to do was to make her better! I was a good boy! I did everything mother said, I came to church with her every Sunday and say my prayers...why wasn't it good enough for you!?" his voice growing louder, resonating through the empty church as he trembled uncontrollably as heavy sobs of sadness and anger rippled through his chest. "Mother said you were loving...she said you loved me, how can you leave me all alone like this then?"

For over a year he had prayed to the God his mother spoke of, begging he help his mother get better, yet day by day he was forced to watch as the cancer took its toll, destroying her a little at a time. He could only stand by and watch as she wasted away until she finally passed. As if that wasn't enough, he had never met his father, he didn't even know his name - mother never spoke of the man to him, only that he would be gone for a very long time. Young Mihael had learned at an early age what "prison" was, and did not bother to ask his mother why his father was sent there. He didn't need to know anyways.

"Mihael, is it?" A low voice came from the back, startling the child. "I'm very sorry for your loss." He tried to comfort him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Lemme go!" the boy known as Mihael retorted, pulling away. "I don't know you." The stranger held up a hand patiently, waiting until the boy settled before he spoke again.

"My name is Roger, I am the head of the Wammy's House Orphanage for Gifted Children, your mother contacted us a while ago when she knew her cancer had progressed. We've had our eye on you for quite a while."

"So you're a stalker then," he sneered.

"Mihael, it would be easier if you'd just cooperate." Roger replied sternly. "Your mother asked us to take care of you in the event she passed away. She knew how smart you were, and wanted to make sure someone else appreciated that as much as she did." The man was so patient, and his words sounded well-versed.

It was never easy bringing a new child to the Orphanage, Roger understood, especially when it wasn't a transfer from another orphanage. Wammy's house was for brilliant children and offered the best education opportunities for their talents, yes, but the circumstances that brought them under Roger's charge was always the part of the job that bothered him the most

"Don't call me Mihael. Only she called me Mihael." sharp blue eyes finally softened from their previous glare, the child finally understanding, perhaps, that Roger was not happy with the given circumstances either.

"Then what should I call you?" The grown man asked, taking the boy's arm.

"Mello. Just Mello."

"Alright then Mello, if you're ready, we should get going."

"o-okay," he pushed a few wisps of blonde hair out of his face.

"Do you need to get anything from your—"

"No, let's just go." The sudden change in his demeanor was almost startling; he was suddenly so blunt and apathetic, but his eyes contained a burning rage where vulnerability had been mere seconds ago, it was startling. The caretaker only nodded as he lead the child out the door, trying to shield them both from the rain as they finally reached a gray car idling by the front entrance.

Nothing more was said for the remainder of the drive, despite Roger making several attempts to speak to the grieving young boy, reminding him that if he needed anyone to talk to, he would always be available to listen. Mello only ignored the older man, arms crossed, staring out the window, looking rather unimpressed. Finally, quite a long drive, they had finally reached the other side of Winchester, the boy's eyes grew wide at the sight of the large mansion with elaborate gates and stained glass windows with a marble statue out front, a large group of children standing out on the lawn, curiously awaiting the orphanage's newest arrival.

"What is this place?" young Mello asked in awe.

"Your new home." Roger replied, offering him a warm, welcoming smile.

Seven-year-old Mail Jeevas gazed out the window half-heartedly at all of the children crowded out on the front lawn, who watched as Roger opened the car door for the newest addition to the household, watching the children converge on the newcomer. He wondered if the kid liked it, if not, he almost felt sorry for them. For the young redhead, the interest of this new face had died away the very moment he was told he would have to share his room with the newcomer, not that it had amounted to very much beforehand. He'd never had to share a bedroom with anyone before, and he was certainly not excited to start.

He wasn't one for people, not at all. Nearly a year had passed since he had been taken in by the orphanage, and he still had yet to make one friend, or say more than two words to anyone other than the caretakers. Mail noted that the other children had cleared from the lawn, the last few that trailed behind shuffled into the main entrance. It wasn't long before the new boy had found his way to the bedroom with Roger in tow.

"Mello, this is your room, and this is Mail, he is going to be your roommate." Roger began.

"Matt," The redhead corrected him quietly, turning his attention back to the Gameboy resting in his hands, his brow furrowed in his regained concentration as he bit his lip, almost glaring at the screen.

"I'll leave you to get acquainted then." Roger sighed, patting Mello on the shoulder before disappearing out into the hall. The blonde stared at his new roommate, a small grimace of displeasure tugged at the corners of his mouth. Matt only looked up at him, and stared at him for a moment, saying nothing.

"What are you looking at?" Mello nearly sneered, not seeing much to take interest to in his new roommate.

"I'm not happy about this either, so let's just get this over with," Matt began. "This side of the room is mine. Don't touch anything on my side. We'll get along just fine as long as you leave me alone, Got it?"

"Whatever." Mello rolled his eyes at the smaller boy, as if he was in a position to bark orders.

"Good," the younger grunted, not looking up from his game.

"What is your problem?" Mello piped up, he never let the kids in school push him around, and he wasn't about to start.

"Oh nothing, except that I'm stuck here in this place where they groom us to be like some guy they call L, my parents are dead, and now I have to share my room with some kid I don't know, and on top of it, I get the one that looks like a girl."

Mello's dark eyes seemed to flash with rage as he snatched the handheld from the younger boy's hands. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not gonna pity you. I'm stuck here too, everyone here is here because their parents are dead, and I'm stuck sharing a room with you; you're just a self-centered prick that thinks he's better than everyone else, when really he's the only one still wallowing in his self-pity."

Matt pondered his words for a moment, his features flat. He seemed to shrug and reached for his handheld again. "Whatever makes you feel better." he muttered.

"You better watch yourself, I'll make you wish you'd never been born!" Mello roared, his temper finally reaching its boiling point.

"I'm not afraid of you!" Matt defied him, the blonde lunged at him in response, only for the redhead to side-step away from the attack. Mello couldn't stop his momentum in time, and slammed into the wall. He trembled with rage as he turned once again to the scrawny younger child. Before long the two were rolling on the floor, punching, biting, kicking, hair-pulling, whatever they could think of that would inflict pain on the other. Matt pinned Mello to the floor, about to deliver a blow that would more than likely break the child's nose when the door swung open.

"BOYS! Enough!" Roger exclaimed, stepping in to pull the two apart. "Opposite corners. Now." He ordered, raising his voice even more, the two startled children quickly obeying. "You're going to stay there until you learn to get along."

"He started it!" Mello argued.

"I don't care who started it, I'm going to finish it. Now stay there until you can be civil to each other."

"Well…We're going to be here until we're eighty…" Matt huffed.

"Any more smart remarks and you'll be washing the dishes for a week." Roger warned. The redhead only grunted in reply. "Now stay there until you're called down for supper. We will discuss further punishment later." He said. "And I mean it. Stay there. Or you'll regret it." He added, leaving.

"Like you're gonna know..." Mello muttered after he had left the room.

"Oh trust me. He will, I don't know how, but we can't get away with anything around here. I guess they thought of everything since it's a "gifted" orphanage." Matt said, plopping onto the ground. As the minutes ticked by slowly, both children began to squirm, trying to find anything that could occupy their minds. Never in his life had Mello paid such attention to the amount of detail in a wall. Matt began to regret not grabbing his Gameboy upon being ordered into the corner, with nothing but a wall to stare at and a carpet to pick at, time seemed to stand still only to torment him more.

"Look…if we have to live together, let's not fight." Mello finally said. "I'm not being sappy. But if we agree to disagree, it'll keep us out of the corner…next time if you wanna fight, find a lookout first."

Matt tried to hold back a laugh. "Y'know, I have to hand it to ya, you're kinda funny."