Uhm. I wrote this in about thirty minutes. I think after this one, i'm just going to start writing little drabbles and such.. Anyways, this one's centered around Mello, actually. Hope you like it, i'm sure there's something wrong with it, because i flew through it. The idea just kinda whacked me over the head. Rated for language.

Thud thud thud thud..

The sound of his own footsteps was satisfying, each one slammed down harder than necessary as he started down the hall simply walking, soon trotting, and finally, antsy and angry, blown out sprinting through the corridors. Children, faces he barely recognized but all recognized him, pressed into each other and against the walls to avoid the crazed youth, terrified as he was determined, enraged, full of emotions finally bursting their way out. He shoved past the unfortunate ones who did not see him coming, slipping deftly around corner after well known corner, not taking the time to memorize what he was leaving behind.

"Mello?"

The inquiry came the moment the red head got over the shock of the bang resulting from mentioned boy throwing the door open, flinging himself past it and attacking the closet without answering. Matt blinked, looking down and pausing his handheld game as he sat straighter from his sprawled out position on the bed. "Mello?" he tried again, his voice stronger. "Mello, what..?" What happened? Nothing, Mello would snarl. So that wouldn't do. What are you doing? That would receive just as graceful a response.

The blonde wasn't listening, rage in his eyes, roaring in his ears as he tossed clothes into a bag he had found in the closet, seeking out the little money he had managed to obtain and shoving it messily into the bag before more clothes were piled on top of it.

"Mello!"

Now Matt was there, frustration on his face as he grabbed Mello's shoulder, whirling him around to stop him from his work. Gasps were dragging through grit teeth, the blonde's eyes wild and reckless, and Matt knew this couldn't be good. Mello yanked out from under the grip. The frustration was still there, written all over Matt's face, begging silently to understand, covering up the concern they as boys had agreed and shook hands on to never display. Weakness could not be afforded. Mello knew that.

"I'm leaving, Matt."

Goggles came to hang loosely around his neck as Matt blinked his green eyes, widening them and breaking past his frustration for despair for only one moment.

"Now?"

"Now."

He turned back to his work, making sure he had all he needed, feeling the guilt try and well up inside him as he felt Matt's disbelieving stare boring into his back, keeping his back still to him as he slung the strap over his shoulder. He needed to get out of there before Roger decided to come looking for him. He needed to get out before he went insane.

He stopped for a moment, gathering his breath together. "I'm sorry, Matt." There was no response. He waited, and then sighed, turning around and making a bee-line for the door, unable to take whatever he would have to face if he looked at his best mate's face.

But then he was there, and Mello feels something being curled into his hand as he simultaneously halts in his tracks. He looked down. Clenched in his fist was a wad of green bills. Blue eyes looked up, full of protest, but Matt stopped him with a wave of his hand. Mello wondered how he could be so casual when he could see the turmoil in his eyes. "Take it," Matt said. "Don't worry about paying me back."

There was a pause as Mello hesitated, a drop in his gut as Matt carefully averted his eyes. "I'll find you, you know. When I can." Mello's train of thought slowed suddenly to a stop, and he wished Matt would look him in the face. He waits, teetering on the edge, before he slipped over.

Mello only gave a small nod he wasn't sure Matt saw and ran out the door.

….

He was running, running, running—thud thud thud—the door just there, only there—

And swore loudly.

He paused only for a moment to absorb it all, all the hate he felt rolling off him in waves as his heated gaze found the all too noticeable white hair, the pale skin, the dark eyes that gazed back at him now. And Mello snapped.

Near hit the wall, hard, as the blonde pinned him up against it, angry, angry, oh so fucking angry, satisfied at the dull thud of the albino's head hitting the wall. It was almost as satisfying as the sound of his own feet.

What was not satisfying was the void of surprised, fear, or even anger as Near stared up at Mello with dark, empty eyes. Of course. Mello should've come to expect it by now. Emotionless freak.

A snarl, vicious and inhumane, worked its way up his throat as his grip on the tiny wrists grew tighter, forcing the boy he despised against the wall, almost willing him to die right then and there.

"Look at me, freak."

The black eyes had somehow closed; at the demand, they managed to crack open again, gazing down at the floor.

"I said look at me!" he raged, shoving the albino harshly against the wall again. Near winced. Mello's eyes danced with joy.

But the gaze did its bidding, snapping up to meet Mello's.

"I hate you, Near."

He said it with passion, contempt dripping from every word as he drawled, his face mere inches from his enemy's, his rival's. His face was twisted with the hate he had just confessed, his teeth clenched together, and oh, if only he had a gun, a gun, just the bang would make him laugh—

And then there was change, and the dark eyes were no longer empty and Mello froze as he watched the blackness fill itself with something he could not decipher.

"I know," Near whispered.

Temper flared, grip tightened and he pulled back one fist slightly, his knuckles white, drawing back and Near knew Mello was going to hit him and it should hurt but he does not so much as flinch.

Mello stopped, his breath coming in ragged gasps, dropping the albino and slowly taking a step back, gazing at him in disbelief. He opened his mouth, a question on his lips, but stopped and his face once more became stone.

He turned and fled, and was gone.

"I'll miss you," Near murmured, far too late.

Mello did not look back at the place that had raised him. He did not turn around, did not give himself one fleeting glance back at all he was leaving behind as he hit the streets. He did not want to remind himself of the hurt that had twisted Matt's face, or the first glimpse of sadness he had ever witness in Near's empty eyes.