A/N: Hi all! CV here with a new story. And it's co-authored with CheshireEffect. And I hope you all like it! Enjoy and you know, leave a review!

"Mihael!"

My gut clenched in anticipation. Shit, I really didn't want to face my parents.

But pardon me. I should start over, ne? My name is Mihael Keehl. People call me Mello unless they want black eyes courtesy of yours truly. I'm 16 years old and a junior in high school, which is stupid, considering I could be in college. I live with my parents, who are Bible-thumping, God-fearing folk.

Naturally, they got me. I dress in black leather. I have blonde, shoulder length hair. I'm androgynous. Much to my father's dismay, I didn't go out for the football, baseball or basketball teams. I did however, take a special guns and ammunition class and martial arts classes. Now I'm a certified gun expert and a second degree black belt.

Let's top it off. I'm gay. Something possessed me to come out to my parents yesterday, and I still don't know what demon that was. Oh well.

Quite obviously, it didn't go over well. I got a three-hour lecture about going to Hell, not being a man and disappointing my father. Because I'm nice, I'll spare you.

Now back to the situation at hand. It had been twenty-four tense hours and now my father wanted to talk to me.

I trudged downstairs with all the grace that my fatigued body could handle. I flopped down on the couch and fell into a naturally defensive position. I was reclined in a very relaxed looking stance, with my knees spread and my arms outstretched. Of course, this gave me lots of options on how to move fast and attack or defend.

I'm paranoid, so sue me.

"Your mother and I have had time to think over your… claim." My father spat the words with disgust and I had to hold back a scoff.

'My mother thought as well? Bullshit. You haven't let her think for herself since you met her…'

My rather vile train of thought was cut off by the words naturally flowing off of my tongue. "I'm gay, dad. That's all there is to it."

My father turned into a grape. I was tempted to lean forward and poke him with a pin needle to see if he'd pop or spew juice. I had to resist laughing at the image as he exploded verbally.

"How could you?!" he screeched. "Now, I've been lenient on you. I let you dress like a hooker. I let you wear your hair like a girl. I even was okay when you didn't go for the football team! But now you're a fucking fag?!"

I'll spare you the rest. Twenty minutes of the same. I didn't focus for much of it, instead starting a mental checklist. I'd done my chores, my homework, and I didn't think I had anything else to do…

"Pack your bags. You're moving in with your uncle L. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning."

Whoa. Back up. I looked up at my father in disbelief.

"Dad... you can't be serious."

"I'm damn serious. I ain't gonna raise a fag under this roof-get out."

I bit the inside of my lip and stood gracefully, fluidly making my way to the stairs. I sauntered up the staircase, adding an extra sway to my hips to piss my dad off. When I got to my room, I shut and locked to door. Going straight to my stereo, I put in a CD and played the music on full blast. That should do just fine…

Even though I'm on my own

I know I'm not alone

'Cause I know there's someone somewhere

Praying that I make it home

Ah, Asking Alexandria. They sing to my soul.

I fell to my knees and screamed, letting the floodgates break. Tears streamed down my face for what seemed like hours. I knew my father was vile and disgusting, but I didn't know he would go this far. But sure enough, he was kicking me out because I was gay. I silently began to curse him, before stopping.

I believe in God. I always have. And so I prayed.

'Father Almighty, please bless my father and show him the path to your kingdom and heart. Please try to lead him back to your path of righteousness.'

When my tears had dried and my throat was raw, I stood and grabbed a duffel bag. I threw everything into it, including things I knew I wouldn't keep. I didn't care. I was hurting and exhausted and the only thing I wanted was to collapse on those sheets and fall asleep in a bed I'd never been comfortable in.

...

This was stupid. I understood the need for security, I really did. But I don't think it justifies waking up at four o'clock to make an eight am flight. But then, no one asked me.

The car ride was awkward and silent, and somehow I managed to doze in the backseat. I was rather thankful for this. That is, until my father started bellowing from the front seat to tell me we were there.

We entered the terminal and my parents affirmed that there was someone waiting for me and that I had consent to be going, which made me bark out harsh laughter. Before he left, my father gave me one last sneer of disgust. My mother stayed behind, which was strange.

She took the red and black rosary from around her neck and slipped it around mine. She hugged me and kissed my cheek before pressing her lips to my ear. "The path to God is your own, Mihael. I love you." With that, she scampered away.

I stared after her and raised my hand to my cheek. I probably looked like a moron, but I stood there until they called my flight to board. Then I turned and left behind everything I've ever known.

...

My iPod died about half way through the flight. The in-flight movie they were showing was some piece of crap work, so I was forced to spend that time thinking.

Hmm. I was moving in with uncle L. I'd heard a great deal of choice words about uncle L, and all in all I could deduce that my dad didn't like him. Sadly, the only thing I can make of that is that maybe living there wouldn't be so bad.

Despite all my dad's colorful words, my parents respected L. He was brilliant, somehow managing to survive even though he was a "freak of nature." They despised him, but I couldn't help but think that they owed him something big time. They always grew sad when they communicated with him. I didn't understand it, but I was smart enough not to question it.

When the plane landed and I managed to fight my way through the crowds, I found myself outside the airport with not a clue where to go. Wasn't that fucking peachy? Wait a minute, what about the people who hold those signs… I looked around at all those people and saw a friendly looking old man with a white mustache. He was dressed in a suit, with half-moon spectacles and a fedora. He was also standing right behind me.

"Whoa, total invasion of personal space old man!" I screeched, drawing stares from passersby. I didn't care.

The old man just stood there, smiling slightly. Like he was amused. "Excuse me, young master. Are you Mr. Mihael Keehl?"

Oh. Well, that was certainly awkward. I nodded.

"My name is Quillish Whammy, and I am Master L's butler. I will also be your driver. Right this way," he said politely, making me feel like utter crap. He led me to the line of cars, and naturally, I found myself crawling into the back of a black limo.

"So, uh, uncle L is rich?" I asked awkwardly.

"Between myself and L, yes. We have acquired a great amount of wealth."

I felt myself becoming more and more intimidated by this old man. Holy shit, he was formal. I really hoped that L wasn't like this.

"Uh… What is L like?" I asked timidly. Whammy smiled in the mirror.

"He's certainly… different. If you're worried about being judged, believe me. He has no room to judge you."

I worried my lip and mulled the words over in my head. The car ride was silent, but not tense. I didn't mind the silence.

And then we got there. Naturally, it wasn't a house. Nor was it an apartment.

It was a mansion. A Victorian style mansion, if I might add.

It had gothic spires and grey stone walls. The entrance consisted of huge double doors, which looked like ash wood. The windows were enormous and stained glass, depicting Biblical scenes. As we approached and the doors swung open, the interior of the place made my breath hitch. The floor was much like the windows, marble with murals of Biblical scenes. The entrance hall had a soaring ceiling and staircases on either side. A chandelier swung from the second story ceiling and sparkled from the sunlight that streamed through the windows, casting different colored lights everywhere.

Whammy let me stand there and gape for a few moments. Rightfully so, too. I couldn't imagine what the rest of the house was like, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to. The parts I could see alone were incredible.

When I snapped myself out of my daze, Whammy was smiling at me and waiting patiently. I nodded as a sign that I was ready to continue. He led me to a silver and chrome kitchen that made me gape. The equipment was state of the art, and the kitchen was huge. A counter island sat in the middle with a stainless steel top and stools around it. On one of the stools, a red-head sat with his back to me.

Whammy smiled brightly and addressed the redhead.

"Matt, how nice to see you. This is Mihael, and I expect you to be welcoming and kind to him. Would you please show him to his room when he's ready?"

The redhead turned. "Sure thing, Whammy."

Holy hell, he was pretty. He had pale, slightly freckled skin and sharp, accented features. He was lean and tall, wearing a green shirt with something called "Zelda" on it and a pair of grey basketball shorts. His hair was deep, striking auburn, tousled and sleep ridden. His eyes were… blue. The purest blue I had ever seen. They were almost royal blue, sparkling with flecks of silver.

"So, you're Mihael?" he asked as a girl walked in. The first thing I could find myself thinking about her was that she looked a lot like me.

Her hair was waist length, golden with low lights of sandy blonde. Her eyes were almost scary blue, light and translucent. Her face was pale and she had long, gangly limbs. She wore a pair of black shorts that might as well have been underwear with a long, white tee-shirt over it.

"Stasia!" he scolded. It was pronounced "Stacy", but where the "c" should have been, there was a sh" sound and the "y" was pronounced "a" That was strange. "Have some fucking modesty!"

As she walked by, her hand met the back of his head with an audible thunk. "Shut up Matt," she muttered. "Not like it matters to you anyway. You're gay."

My stomach fluttered a moment at that. That gorgeous ginger was gay? Jackpot.

She turned her eyes to me. I swear, that blue was unnatural and haunting. I felt my jaw drop, but I didn't register it until she chuckled. "Do my eyes frighten you? That's a normal reaction. So, do you have any aliases, nicknames or the like you want to go by?"

I snapped my lips shut and blinked. "Uh… Mello."

"Alright, your name is now Mello," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Stasia, this is Matt. L will be down soon.

"Wait, L won't care? And, Matt, do you live here?" The redhead in question nodded. "And he doesn't care that you're gay?"

The two exchanged a glance. Stasia looked over at me.

"What do you know about L?" she asked slowly. I thought hard over all the colorful words that had spewed from my father's lips before.

"Most of what I know probably isn't true," I finally said. She nodded.

"That's probable. Why were you sent here?"

"My parents kicked me out and sent me to live here. Because I'm gay."

This made both teens in my presence laugh aloud. "Oh, dear, define irony," Matt finally managed to gasp out. Around that time, a man walked in.

He was, without a doubt, the weirdest man I've ever seen. He walked with a defined slouch that probably took four inches off his height. That didn't matter, because his jet black, unruly hair made up the difference. He was pale as a sheet, wearing a white long sleeve shirt that only served to make him look sickly. He was barefoot and wore baggy, faded jeans. But his eyes… his eyes were captivating. They were sparkling black, seeming to have no end to their depth. But they were blank. They betrayed no emotion or thought. It was unnerving. To top it all off, he had deep, black circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in months.

Another man with the exact same appearance walked in after him. The only difference was that his shirt was black and his eyes were red. Not auburn or brown. They were blood-red and shone with intelligence and borderline insanity.

"Morning L," Matt said through a yawn, addressing the black-eyed one. I found my eyes widening almost comically. That was L? That was my uncle?

Then, the red-eyed one (who I assumed was the evil twin I'd never heard of) waltzed straight up to L and kissed him on the mouth.

My mind froze.

Back up a second. My uncle L, who I was sent to live with because my parents wanted me to go straight, was gay? I had to bite back laughter as pale blue eyes locked on mine again.

"Ironic, right?" Stasia asked while laughing. L looked on with confusion written in his face.

"What is ironic?"

Stasia pointed at me. "Mello here was sent to live with us because he's gay, uncle L." L's eyes rolled back in his head in exasperation.

"Of all the idiotic things my brother does…" he said bitterly. I would have laughed, but my mind was stuck.

Stasia had called L her uncle. That meant she was related to me, but I didn't think I had any cousins on my dad's side.

"Wait, you're my cousin or something?" I asked her.

Her eyes darkened. Matt's body went rigid and all eyes locked on me. I felt very uncomfortable as sadness grew on the young woman's face. She pursued her lips and shook her head sadly.

"So… That means…"

"Stasia, I'm sorry. I should have told you that he didn't know…" L looked apologetic and Matt looked ready to jump up and intervene should she try anything violent.

"No, L," she said softly. "I should have expected this." With that, she looked up at me with a forced smile. "Welcome home, little brother."