A/N: This has shota in it of the Matt and Mello style. I played with Matt a lot in this and had a lot of fun doing it. My first time with a bigass oneshot so, yeah, please enjoy. Oh, and I fucked with Matt and Mello's age difference a tad. Like I always do.

… Is an Alien.

When Matt knew Bree, she was a tiny thing among all of the older kids on the grounds just behind the orphanage. She couldn't have been more than seven at the time and Matt, a redheaded ten-year-old with ears growing too fast for the rest of him, felt out of place and awkward looking at her. She tumbled around in the grass as the boys played soccer and it was just getting to be autumn, the leaves on the trees fading from green to gold.

The sunlight reflected off of Matt's goggles and he kept his head down, his attention on his handheld game, and tried not to look at her too often. In the back of his mind, he wondered if the older girls were being too rough with Bree, if maybe she wasn't ready to do summersaults and cartwheels the way they did.

Arin, the girl Bree ran with the most, was taller than the other girls and awkward-looking herself. Her knees were slightly crooked and she always wore her hair in the same messy bun, day in and day out. Bree was different - small and pudgy, full of baby fat and not at all awkward. She rolled around with nearly boundless energy and the other girls ran around to keep up with her, their laughter trilling in the rising wind with the boys yelling about fouls.

Matt's wondering gaze caught Bree one day, as Arin held Bree's ankles while the little girl attempted a handstand by the big oak tree in the middle of the field. Matt nearly dropped the game he held in his hands as the hem of Bree's tan skirt fell to her belly button and tiny white and yellow panties were revealed. They hugged her plump hips tightly and her legs trembled with the new position, the skin so-

But, like a daydream, it was over and Bree was sitting in the grass, laughing.

It was one second, really, maybe two, but it changed him forever and he felt something inside himself tremble, the way her legs had. He stared at her as she rose up from the ground, dusting at her skirt and smoothing it down. Arin called her over towards the iron gate that locked Wammy's away from the rest of Winchester. The girls, five of them in all, stood with their sandals on the bottom bar of the gate and looked out. Bree, at least a foot shorter than any of them, stood beside Arin and looked up at her, mouth constantly moving.

Matt stared at her skirt, the thing he knew lay underneath, the oddity of her underwear. His game lay in his palms, forgotten, and he wondered how it was that Bree had no bulge between her legs. He thought to himself and replayed those two seconds - or was it three? - back in his head and saw the panties again, the flatness of her pelvis.

It was… different.

He looked over at Arin, her left foot out of her sandal and scratching at her right leg. She wore shorts and there was probably no way to see but Matt wondered if she was that way too, if all of them, Ji, Tory, Bend and Cham, were all like that - flat - different - all of their…

Bree jumped off the gate and started running and Arin ran after her, calling, "Hey, Bree!"

Matt looked back down at his game as they disappeared in the woods and called to her in his head, Hey, Bree?

The next day, Matt watched out of his window on the second floor of the orphanage, looked down into the backyard and saw Bree as she ran, her brown hair in two pigtails on either side of her head. She wore the same skirt, still wrinkled and dirty with grass stains and Matt wondered if she even had another one. He had never noticed before but he watched and waited to see if they would do handstands again, to see if he could maybe catch a glimpse.

As he stood there, hands sweating on the window sill they clutched, he wondered if she wore the same panties day after day, too.

He watched for some time, maybe a whole half an hour, and nothing happened, she just ran around and when Arin ignored her for the other girls, she lay in the grass by the big oak. Matt swallowed and it was loud with nothing but the fan going in his room and the clock ticking above his bed. After another five minutes of watching her lay there and the boys nearly trample her with their games, he walked away.

It was like that all week and Matt sometimes even came outside to watch her, to catch that secret glance at what she hid beneath her skirt. Some days she didn't even wear a skirt which shot down Matt's theory that maybe that was all she had. Arin let her hair down once, when all the girls were relaxing over by the fence and Matt watched her with mild distaste. It really was better that she keep her hair in that bun.

Eight days after he had seen Bree's underwear, he had gone into the bathroom on his hallway. It was sometime in the afternoon and most of the kids were either downstairs or outback but Matt locked the door behind him anyway.

He pulled down his pants and kept his socks on for the cold linoleum floor. The bathrooms were always spotless and smelled like lemons and Matt inhaled deeply as he pulled the little stepping stool up in front of the sink. That was mainly for the younger kids who couldn't see themselves in the bathroom mirror to brush their teeth. Matt's underwear was on the floor, kicked over by his jeans.

He examined himself in the mirror and thought he - it - wasn't all that special but he knew it was supposed to be there. He gripped his small penis and pulled it up to the mirror and thought of Gary. A few months ago, when it was really hot, they had gotten to go to the pool just down the road. All the kids were really excited as the director, Roger, had never let them do that before. Matt didn't see the big deal about the pool, would have rather been with his game, but was forced to go and even given swimming trunks for it.

They had all changed in the locker rooms there, the boys in one room and the girls in another room somewhere. Matt had taken off his shirt and was sitting on a bench in front of the lockers and was hating the smell of the room - it was like chlorine and urine and there were older men walking around. The other boys were talking and excited to see different adults, said hi to them and the men laughed and waved back.

Matt was next to Gary as he began to slide off his pants and fold them neatly beside him. Gary had taken off his pants a few minutes ago and stood there, staring at Matt. Matt looked up a little and saw the older boy's eyes, a sharp blue beneath his shiny black hair.

"Well?" he'd said, hands on his hips. "Put on your trunks, Matt, let's go."

Matt looked at him oddly, as Gary had never said a word to him before, and now all of a sudden he wanted Matt to hurry up. But he did, slid off his underwear and grabbed his light green swimming shorts as he did so. Before he could even get them over his ankles, Gary had bent over the bench and pushed his hand to Matt's groin, cupping him there with a deliberating look upon his face.

Matt gasped at the contact and it rang through the hollow room. They were alone somehow. Their gazes locked, electric blue against a sleepy green, and Matt mumbled, hand moving towards Gary's, "W-What're you-"

"It's small," he said. He took his hand away and rose up, pulling his purple trunks on as if nothing happened. He walked out and Matt was by himself, looking down at his groin. He had refused to get into the pool with Gary.

As Matt looked at himself in the mirror, the quiet thick around him, he thought to himself, It's small. And he wondered if that was the truth. Either way, there was a bulge in his underwear, he was different than Bree. He had to see just how small Bree was.

It was two more days until he was ready, until he had enough courage, something that Matt never had much of. It had been raining earlier in the day, rare lately, but the kids were out back anyway and Matt put on his shoes for a change so his socks wouldn't get wet. He went outside and, as it turned out, most of the girls had been inside the house, not many of them wanting to play out in the soggy backyard.

The boys were relentless and they slipped and fell, scrapped up their knees trying to get to that ball, to beat each other. Matt walked past them, were he saw Bree sitting underneath the oak tree by herself. He walked slowly, casually, and tried to make it seem like he wasn't wanting to go up to her. No one ever paid her much attention, she was probably the youngest one at Wammy's at the time, and was just the baby.

The ground was wet and her skirt was wet, her hands covered in damp leaves as she sat, gaze following the boys in the distance. Matt was beside her, her head level with his knees and he tilted his head, hoping to get some attention.

She paused and looked up at him, big brown eyes under damp locks of hair.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Matt paused, not counting on the fact that they had never spoken before. He found his voice, finally, looking into those eyes, and said, "I'm Matt. I… I don't come out here much."

"Oh," she said and continued to stare at him.

There was something in his throat, something lodged there that he had to swallow down. Maybe it was his pride. He put a hand on his stomach and slide it down a few inches to where it rested on his zipper. "Hey, Bree," he mumbled, green eyes fixed upon his hand, "did you know we're different?"

"Different," she echoed. "What's that mean?"

Matt glanced away for a second, towards the trees, as he said, "Down here," and patted his zipper.

Bree paused then and looked for the first time at Matt's hand. She then looked down at herself, her legs crossed Indian style and her tan skirt stretched over her young thighs. It took a moment for her to say anything and in that moment, Matt wanted to run away, he was losing his nerve, losing it to a seven-year-old and her eyes lit up.

"Show me," she said.

His heart was beating in his throat and suddenly the calls from the boys to the left of them didn't seem so loud. Her watched her get up, the wet leaves hanging onto her hands and legs and she seemed so little in comparison. Her cheeks were fat and her sandals were worn. Matt knew Arin would have never allowed this - when she was around Bree was like her baby doll and Matt was about to see what a baby doll was, he was lead like a man in a dream around the big oak tree.

It had a girth of two large men and the two of them, smaller than should be, were shielded from the eyes of the other children and even most of the windows on the orphanage. Matt stood with his back to the building and kept his eyes on little Bree as she appeared to him around the other side of the tree. Her hair slightly damp from the raindrops falling from the leaves in the trees. Matt probably seemed crazy, looked crazy, a random boy with wet red hair and goggles too big for his face who had come up and told a young girl about his genitals.

She's just too young to see crazy, he thought and waited.

She seemed to be waiting too, a little apprehensive but excited nonetheless. "You first," she said, nodding at him.

Matt faltered, his hands at his zipper, and slowly unzipped his pants, refusing to make eye-contact. If he did, he would probably see Gary's sharp blue eyes and in the back of his mind he heard Gary, heard him whispering in the hollowness of the locker room.

He fumbled his penis out and took his hands away from it. Unsure of what to do with thrm, he stuck them in his jean pockets and slowly raised his eyes to her, hesitant. She was wide-eyed, speechless really, and yet that look of childish excitement stayed.

"Wow," she whispered, a drop of water falling onto her cheek from above. She flinched at it and wiped it with the back of her hand. "We are different," she said finally, arms at her sides.

Matt's eyes flickered from her to the ground. "Okay," he said softly, "so let me see then."

"Huh… right…" she murmured and Matt was getting antsy, his pants unzipped and himself unveiled for the whole world to see if only they peeked around the bark of the tree. He looked over when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, her skirt fall to the ground, followed by a light pink pair of panties with lace as the trim. Matt raised his head and, for a second, forgot his insecurities.

She was half naked, her soft stomach leading down into a smooth fold of skin between her legs. She had absolutely nothing there, less than small, she was nothing, Matt realized, and for some inane reason he wished Gary were there with him to see that Bree was much smaller than he was.

It seemed completely alien and wrong to look that way and Matt felt a bit of disgust somewhere in all the wonder that rose up in him. Her legs shivered a little bit and she stared at him expectantly, not at all ashamed or embarrassed and Matt blurted out, "Do all girls look like you?"

"Sure," she said immediately. Then, "I-I mean, I think so. Arin does."

"Arin," Matt hummed and thought of her bare like that, just a tiny fold beneath her belly. He took a step towards her and Bree's eyes widened a bit as his hand moved from inside his pocket towards her groin. "Can I touch you?" he asked when his hand was a mere inch away.

She released her fists which had clinched at his approach and rubbed them nervously at her side. "Okay," she said.

Matt nodded in thanks and pushed his hand forward before she could change her mind and she gasped quickly at the feeling. No one had ever touched her there before and Matt cupped his hand as Gary had and felt something like a gap and before he could move his fingers around, Bree grabbed him by the wrist and forced his hand away.

"I gotta go," she said and pulled her panties back up in a hurry, her skirt following. Matt watched her and it caused a rising panic in him, he zipped himself up before they were caught and punished and looked up in enough time to see a flash of her hair around the tree.

His hands were sweating and he turned around quickly when he heard a rustling. The mansion, large and tall and imposing, faced him and he held his breath, searching the windows for prying eyes. There were none and the raindrops from the leaves continued to fall.

-

The snow was still falling when Matt turned eleven-years-old and somewhere amidst all of the snowflakes, Mello fell down to him. He was a ten-year-old and was given to Matt as a roommate but because of the timing, Matt had thought of him as a birthday gift, a very sour one. The director escorted the little blond in to meet Matt and instead of feeling like he was gaining a companion, Matt felt as if he were gaining a cell mate.

Mello looked down his nose to Matt the very first time they laid eyes on each other. Matt wasn't sure if he was wearing appalling clothing or if Mello was just a bastard but when Rodger left, the first words out of Mello's mouth were: "Just don't talk to me, okay?"

It wasn't like it was a big deal. Matt wasn't even used to talking to anyone; he and Bree hadn't spoken since the day he saw what lay beneath her panties and from that day on, Arin seemed to seek him out of the crowd and glare at him. He ate his food in his room and stayed inside with the new DS he had gotten as his actual birthday present. Some man with a letter for a name was far away and thinking about him, he determined as he held the game and played placidly.

Mello wasn't placid at all and sulked most of the day when not in classes. Matt didn't speak to him, just kept out of his way and watched from the back of the classroom as Mello competed with a white-haired boy for the attention of the professor. After a time, Mello began to make the entire lecture into a game show with the two of them answering all the questions and while professor smiled at the new boy's earnestness, it never seemed to be enough and each night when Mello came into their room, he had more and more books from the library.

They had separate sides of the room, each of them with a bed and a desk and dresser and Matt often mourned the amount of space he used to have. Matt's desk had a few discarded pieces of paper littered around it and from time to time he entertained the thought of giving his desk to Mello, allowing him to push the two together. Mello's desk, pushed against the corner by the window, was crowded with books upon books and a lamplight that seemed to illuminate the entire room.

Many nights, Matt lay in his bed, facing against the wall, trying desperately to get away from that damned light but there it was, there Mello was, in the shadow on the wall, in the shadow on the floor, everywhere Matt could look. Eventually, Matt turned and looked towards the boy hunched over at the desk and watched him write furiously and mutter under his breath. He was trying so hard. But for what?

To be better than the boy in the front row, Matt guessed. It seemed as plausible as anything but Matt still didn't really understand and while Mello kept his desk lamp burning bulb after bulb, Matt kept his head down, kept himself to his videogames.

A few days after a cosmology exam, Matt was already dressed for bed, his socks the last thing to be put on. He sat on his bed and tentatively slid them over his pale feet knowing that sometime in the night they would just be kicked off. His goggles were on the pillow beside him and he rolled under the covers, waiting for Mello to come in and destroy the peace with his light and his want.

It was a half hour later that Mello came inside, closing the door behind him and Matt woke up with the sound of the boy's shoes thumping against the wall. Mello turned on the light on his desk and when Matt opened his eyes, Mello was staring at him. There was a moment in which Matt wasn't sure wasn't going on, it was like some sort of dream and he sat up sleepily, rubbing at one eye.

"Y-Yeah?" he croaked, reaching for his goggles and clutching at the strap.

Mello seemed dangerous. His blue eyes, always focused and concentrated, were scanning Matt as he sat in his bed and he had funny rings around his eyes. He had been up for too long, too many nights under that light.

"You placed third," he said, the first words since: Just don't talk to me, okay?

Matt squinted. "What do you mean?"

"They posted the grades for cosmology and you placed third after Near and me," he explained and seemed to be waiting for some grand reaction, maybe for Matt to jump out of his bed and scream happily. But Matt did none of that and only continued to be confused.

"Okay," he drawled, "well, thanks for telling me..."

Mello cocked his head to the side. "What's that mean? You never study, how do you get third so easy, huh?"

Matt sighed. He was starting to understand. "Oh, well, I don't know… it just happens."

"Things don't just happen," Mello shot back at him.

"My things do, I guess."

Mello rolled his eyes and probably figured Matt was a little hopeless, which he might have been. He turned around and hopped up onto the small swivel chair in front of the desk, his blond hair lit up by the lamp and was slightly frizzed. He was in his normal posture, hunched over his notebooks and calculators and Matt watched him, still propped up by pillows.

"Oh, yeah, and stop watching me," Mello said, not bothering to look back at his roommate. "I know you do it every night and it's really annoying. Go to bed."

"I am in bed," Matt responded weakly. "Your light... It bothers me."

"Well, I can't study in the dark, now can I?"

Matt blinked down at his cover. "I know, but why do you study for so long? You don't get any sleep." His gaze flickered over to Mello's bed a few feet away from his - perfectly straightened, almost never slept on.

Mello shrugged. "I'm not like you. I have to work for my grades. What'd you do, look over my shoulder on the test?"

"I wasn't even sitting near you," Matt responded, frowning.

"Yeah, sure."

Matt shook his head, decided not to give him any more energy. He rolled over and settled back into the covers and released his death-grip on his goggles. The light was still bright as ever and Mello's shadow was on the wall and before Matt went to sleep all he could think was that he'd never have to be scared of the dark.

In the next few weeks, Matt was beginning to find that Mello, for all his incessant studying and irate personality, was a pretty average person.

He did sleep, after all, and Matt found this out walking into the room one day after lunch to find the blond sagging in his swivel chair. His arms were folded as a pillow underneath his chin and his mouth was slightly open, a little pink tongue revealed to the world. Matt walked in, shutting the door behind himself, and went over to the desk. Mello was sagging so far that he might have forced the chair away from himself. Matt sighed and pushed the chair up to the desk, placing Mello back into normal position.

Matt also found out that Mello ate. Quite a lot. He would have never guessed that from just looking at him - he seemed too thin for his own good but Matt began to find chocolate bar wrappers around the room. One day as he sat on Mello's chair, watching the children outside and realizing that Bree was losing some of her baby fat, he turned and began to snoop through a few of the drawers. He hadn't expected to find more than calculators and unsharpened pencils but there were chocolate bars.

Stacked on top of one another and Matt moved them around a little, puzzled. He had never seen Mello each much of anything, let alone something so… childish. For someone so serious all the time, Matt would have probably expected Mello to bring in a plate full of broccoli and lecture him on how it was great for digestion.

Matt didn't question him on it, however, and ended up picking all of the wrappers off of the floor, throwing them away idly.

A few days after he found out about the chocolate, Matt was walking down the downstairs corridor and happened to see Mello standing in the middle of the foyer. He looked up and walked towards him, maybe in hopes of talking about more than grades. When he got closer, Mello was staring up at the board announcing the scores for the Latin exam. Mello stared up at it, at the top two spots and he was at number two while someone named Near was at number one. Matt looked at his own name, in that dusty spot called third.

"I don't understand," Mello whispered.

Matt perked up, looking at him. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or what but listened anyway.

He said, "Near doesn't do anything. But I kill myself studying. I absolutely put everything I have into it. So why can't I beat him? Why is he always mere points away from me?" Then he turned his head and looked straight at Matt and his eyes were red around the edges. He narrowed his brows at the redhead. "And you never study either but you're right behind me. So if I even lagged a little, you'd catch me easy."

"Huh?" Matt muttered, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think so. You're really smart, Mello."

"Oh, yeah? And what are you?"

Matt blinked. He shrugged and scratched at his goggle strap. "Good at Latin?"

Mello blinked back at him, seemingly at a loss for what to say. He shook his head, a bit of a smirk showing under his blond bangs and when he raised his head again, he was grinning full blast at Matt.

Matt couldn't help but grin back.

"You're really weird, you know that?" Mello asked, walking away from the board. He looked ahead, expecting Matt to follow him and he did, falling into step beside him.

"Um. I guess."

"I wonder if you'd be number one if you ever studied at all," Mello said, half to himself.

Matt shook his head. "It's not like I don't try… I listen in class. I just… go to sleep at night. I bet if you got a full night's sleep, you'd do better."

"Maybe," he said, and Matt almost believed he would but he never did and on the next test, he was back in his number two position.

-

The summer after Matt's twelfth birthday, he started to change. He began to dream at night, more vividly, and sometimes woke up screaming, angering Mello as he was trying to study. On the third night it happened, Matt sat up in bed, sweating a little around the neck and looked towards the wall, embarrassed for his screams. Mello watched him from his desk and sighed audibly, opening one of the drawers and pulling out two chocolate bars. He climbed down from the chair and walked over, sitting on Matt's bed, offering one to him.

Matt looked at him, startled.

"It's not poison," Mello told him, still quite annoyed. When Matt took it, Mello seemed satisfied and tore into his own bar, biting a large chunk off. Matt watched this with wonder, ignoring his candy in favor of watching Mello. The way he ate was almost feral, his small canines tearing into the dark chocolate. Matt watched for a few seconds until Mello stopped and shook him out of his trance.

"What kind of dreams are you having?" he asked, eyes tired but no less focused.

Matt looked down at his bar of chocolate and tentatively unwrapped it. "I'm not sure," he confessed, frowning a little at himself. "I mean... it's weird."

"Well, you're weird, so I'm not surprised," Mello said, biting into his bar again.

Matt rolled his eyes upwards. "It was about a girl. I think. I mean… Mello, have you ever seen a girl naked?"

Mello's eyes widened, startled. "What? Of course, there's pictures in our anatomy textbooks."

"I-I mean in real life."

"Oh… no. Why would I want to?"

"I don't know," Matt replied sheepishly. He looked to the side, the light on the wall. "Anyway. A girl… naked, she's got this fold of skin between her legs-"

"Oh, God."

"No, no, just listen… this fold. And it's really smooth. Well, in my dream, I saw it all opened up in front of me. And it was red inside, sort of like blood, it was just this sea of blood so I guess I got scared… I mean, wherever there's a sea, there's got to be sharks, right?"

Mello squinted one eye at him. "This is really weird, Matt, even for you."

"Yeah."

"Well," Mello groaned, sliding off of the bed. He threw his wrapper to the floor and Matt fought the urge to pick it up right then. "Try not to dream about girls anymore. And if you do, don't disturb me."

Matt sighed, and put his chocolate bar, uneaten, on his pillow. He slid back down into the covers, wet with his perspiration, and lay back down. "Goodnight," he said.

"I've got differential equations tonight. It won't be good."

The changes kept coming and soon his nightmares went away almost completely and were replaced by dreams of Mello, good dreams, so good Matt felt it, so good he could…

He didn't recognize it as Mello at first. All he dreamt of were his hands tangled and fisted in blond hair, the hair like silk between his fingers. He saw blue and was first afraid that it was Gary, Gary watching him and cupping him and telling him it was small. But it wasn't Gary because the hand he felt on his groin wasn't imposing or judging, it was soft and smooth. Those blue eyes weren't sharp and cynical, only tired from too many nights of studying and Mello was there, his hand on Matt, both of them in the locker room of the community pool.

Matt's voice echoed in the empty room and he felt hot, like the sweltering of the summer day was reaching him and burning inside his body. Mello's hand on his groin began to move, slightly, and Matt gasped in his dream, he gasped in real life, and he woke up, body tingling.

"Matt?"

It was dark for once and Matt heard his name. He looked across the room to find a lump in the shape of a boy on Mello's bed. A head was raised and Matt was amazed to see Mello in bed, having been asleep for the first time.

"Matt, you okay?" Mello persisted.

Matt nodded, a lump in his throat, and finally was able to croak out, "I'm fine," and he knew he wasn't fine because there was a hardness in his groin, a tightened feeling and he had never felt that before. He heard Mello mumble something like, "stop making racket then…" and the shadow that was Mello turned over in bed.

Matt sighed and lay his head down, a little afraid. He thought of calling Mello, asking him about this but was too embarrassed to do so. Instead, he reached one hand under the covers and slipped it inside his boxers. He touched himself, his penis that used to be soft all the time and gasped lightly when he gripped it and something like a lightening bolt shot down to his toes and curled them.

He continued to hold himself there and rubbed his thumb over the head, biting back a groan at the feeling and his hand flew away from his groin when the light came on and Mello was across the room, frowning at him.

"What's up with you? Why're you making so much noise?" Mello asked and Matt noticed that instead of his usual black pants and shirt, he was in white boxer shorts.

Matt scrunched his legs up, hoping to hide the bump under the covers. "Sorry," he said.

That didn't answer either of Mello's questions. The blond shook his head and turned off the light. Matt could see him heading back for his bed. "I never realized how noisy you were until I tried to get some sleep," he mumbled to himself, climbing back into bed.

"Sorry," Matt said again, unable to say anything else.

"Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep."

"Okay."

Peaceful sleep was hard to come by. Matt saw Mello behind his eyelids and when he did, somehow knew he would wake up hard. It became a problem and Matt longed to explore it, to touch himself when he woke up and feel that electricity again but Mello was in the room, either awake or asleep. Matt couldn't understand why it was Mello he dreamt of but then again, Mello was the only person he ever talked to so it made some sort of sense.

Maybe two years ago, it would have been Bree there in his dreams, her plump little hands wrapped around his penis. Her hazel eyes staring up at him. But she was still rolling around in the grass and they hadn't made eye contact since the day under the tree. Mello was his roommate and even ate with him at meals in the dining hall. Mello told him he was weird and grinned as he said it. It wasn't too much of a surprise that he dreamed of blond hair.

One night Matt was laying in bed with an erection and Mello had just gone to sleep. He waited for the rhythmic breathing and soon it came and Matt turned on his side towards the wall where his goggles usually rested. He took the strap in his mouth and bit down on it and pushed his face into the pillow beside him as his hand slid down into his boxers once more.

He gripped himself and tried his best to stifle his oncoming moan when his fingers ghosted along the underside. He closed his eyes tightly and breathed out through his nose slowly, beginning to move his hand up and down his length. His legs shifted and his toes curled and crunched the sheets beneath him. Anything he could grab was taken up or wrapped around his legs and he thought he might even bite through the goggle strap if it kept feeling so good.

He continued his ministrations and found himself thinking about his earlier un-finished dream. For some unknown reason, his wet dreams usually took place in that old locker room but the one he had just fallen out of was in the backyard of Wammy's. There was no one outside but the two of them and Matt was leaned up against the trunk of the large oak tree, watching with faded green eyes as Mello touched him and teased his groin. Matt was much larger when erect but for some reason, he didn't want Gary to see, didn't want anyone else but Mello to see.

His zipper was undone and Mello was leaning into him, whispering things that hadn't made any sense at the time, things about beating a boy named Near and becoming a letter, for God's sake. But Matt took it all with a grain of salt and nodded, added in a few "uh huh"s and "I see"s just so Mello would keep busy and keep talking.

"Someday," Mello said in the fantasy, "I'll be number one and you'll be number two."

"Y-Yeah," Matt breathed, holding onto Mello's shoulders.

"Near will be absolutely nothing. Won't it be great to see him study endlessly and never reach his goal?"

Matt nodded. "Sure," he groaned and his legs trembled.

"God, Matt, I can almost taste it."

"Ahh… God…"

He suddenly felt empty and full all at the same time and shuddered violently as he came. There was a growing wet spot between his legs and his hand felt sticky and suddenly he wasn't leaning on the tree anymore, he was back in bed, his goggle strap in his mouth and his forehead wet with sweat. He lay panting and looked up at the darkened ceiling. Mello's breathing was calm and soothing across the room.

That summer was scorching and, in a week, Rodger finally saw fit to take all the orphans on a daytrip to the community pool. Mello came into the room and told Matt this with a look of excitement and it was really the first time Matt had ever seen Mello happy about anything. But Matt sat on his bed and looked out of the window, his hands pressed together between his thighs.

Mello looked up from his ramblings and narrowed an eye at Matt. "What's wrong? You don't like the pool?"

"It's not that," Matt murmured.

"What is it?"

Matt looked away slightly, blushing a little in the cheeks and Mello watched him with confusion. "That pool, you know, the locker room… um, well, a few summers ago, something… weird happened. I don't know, there was this guy…"

Mello tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

"Well, this guy, Gary…" Matt sighed and shrugged. "He made me feel really uncomfortable. Like, he touched me."

"What? He touched you," Mello said, thinking it over. Finally, "Where?"

"Here," Matt said, placing his hand on his crotch. For some reason, touching himself while Mello watched was exhilarating, those blue eyes on him like in his dreams. Now, however, Mello looked at him with apprehension and some other emotion Matt couldn't place.

"Agh, God, he's fucking sick," Mello spat. Matt blinked at him, startled. He had never heard Mello curse like that. "Did you punch him or something?"

"Mm… no, I was a lot younger. He was maybe thirteen at the time."

"Where is he? We're going to beat him up," Mello declared and looked serious about it, his fists clenched at his sides and he glared at the door like Gary was just outside.

Matt shook his head. "No, Mello, he's not here anymore. He left when he was fifteen last year."

"Aw, and you didn't tell me?"

Matt pursed his lips. "It didn't really come up in conversa-"

"You're weak, Matt. If someone had put their hand on me, they'd have pulled back a nub." Mello unclenched his fists and turned away. Matt watched him walk over to his dresser and thought it was pretty cute the way Mello had wanted to help defend him. Matt wasn't so sure what the outcome would have been but Mello sure seemed like he had a lot of energy. Maybe he could have beat up Gary after all.

Mello turned back around with a pair of black swimming trunks held up in one hand. "Come on," he said, "let's go."

In a hour's time, they were at the pool and the boys and girls were lead into separate locker rooms and Matt felt a little sick going inside. Mello seemed to notice this and walked by his side as the sounds from the pool surrounded them, splashing and someone distantly calling out, "Marco!"

The locker room was even more dingy than Matt remembered. The paint was peeling on the walls and there was a distinct urine smell that Mello wrinkled his nose at. All the other boys hurried to get their trunks on and Matt followed Mello into one of the corners and sat on the bench. Mello began to take his shirt off, his back to Matt, and Matt sat there and watched him, his spine stretching beneath his skin. Mello's hair was longer than it was the day they met, he rarely ever had it cut and it fell to his shoulders after his shirt was gone.

Matt sighed and looked down at himself, his flip-flops having landed in a small puddle of water. He took his shirt off as if it were a huge chore and folded it next to himself on the bench and when he looked up, Mello was looking at him, his boxers lowered to reveal one smooth hip.

"You're such an old woman, Matt," he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Matt raised an eyebrow carefully. "What's that mean?"

"Nothing. Come on," he urged. He pulled his boxer shorts down and they pooled at his ankles and Matt felt an immediate ache in his groin, something so sweet it hurt. Mello's body right in front of him, and it was the same. He wasn't like Bree with her pink panties and skirts and little fold. His body wasn't something weird and foreign, it was tawny and thin and familiar. Matt caught himself from staring too long and tried to look Mello in the eye when he spoke.

"Hey, Mello…" Matt said casually, pulling at his jeans, "you've got… did you know you've got hair?"

Mello rolled his eyes over his shoulder. He had turned around to grab his shorts and Matt was trying to pull off his boxers while staring at Mello's rear, so round and tan-looking in the late-afternoon sun coming through the windows just over the lockers. In this light, Mello seemed like he just spent all day on beaches.

"I know that. I bet you do too, right?"

Matt nodded, mouth a little dry. He was fighting the feeling in his groin and it was rising, heating, and he would be damned if he let Mello see what he did to him. He finally managed to get his shorts off and they slid like silk down his legs. Mello looked at Matt, keeping his distance of a few feet and said, looking away, "You're pretty big."

Matt just laughed and for whatever reason, he was able to control the feeling in his groin.

-

Mello was still twelve when Matt turned thirteen. Even through the age difference, Mello had gone through the same things Matt had, or though he had surmised, after seeing Mello's pubic hair at the pool. He was a little more than astounding, the way he had shown himself and was not at all afraid to know that Matt could have very well been judging him. It made the redhead feel slightly inferior, even, to be so concerned about what others thought.

He tried to forget Gary.

Mello had told Matt how weird he felt when he started growing and had at first thought that touching himself seemed unimaginably disgusting. Matt flinched at Mello's description of it but relaxed when he found out Mello didn't feel that way anymore and his smirk was enough to send shivers down Matt's spine.

He spent his days wondering what things he could ask Mello. They were the same, right?

What do you dream of when you touch yourself, Mello?

Do you dream of me when you touch yourself, Mello?

Because I…

Unfortunately, Matt never even got as far as "What…" when he talked to his roommate. It would be too weird, he thought. Mello would think he was a freak. Mello probably spent his nights thinking of girls and had no idea that his roommate spent his nights thinking of blond hair and blue eyes. Matt often wondered what it would be like to cup Mello between the legs, to move his fingers around just like he couldn't with Bree.

However, he still remembered Mello's declaration, the one about pulling back a nub and he would rather not offend Mello that way. He would have to settle with touching himself under the covers and listening to Mello's sighing in his sleep and moving his hips to that rhythm. And Matt had become expert at it, at being quiet and biting his pillow as he came. He would think of more than just leaning against a tree and imagined Mello's mouth, his thighs, his backside, everything he had ever seen.

Sometimes he would hear Mello's soft breathing in the dark and it would almost be too much. He could go crazy quite easily, he thought, he could just loose it one day and crawl into Mello's bed and touch him all over.

But Matt kept his sanity quietly.

In April when it started to get warmer, Mello coaxed Matt into going outside for the first time in a long time. Even though they had become quite close, friends even, Matt hadn't told Mello that the girl he had seen naked was little Bree who spent her time in the yard. The light was almost blinding when Matt was lead outside by the wrist. After the screen door shut behind them, Matt heard the familiar noise of the boys and their eternal game of soccer.

"You melting yet? Vampire," Mello teased, smirking at him as they stood on the porch.

Matt smirked back at him and sat down on the lowest step, turning to Mello as he sat down beside him. "Why did you want to come out here so badly? Aren't you worried your rival will get even further ahead?"

"A little break every now and then won't kill me," Mello resolved, looking out towards the girls as they sat by the fence.

Matt nodded and smiled. "Good," he said. He surveyed the yard as well and it felt good for the wind to blow through his hair. He searched the fence group and squinted but could not find Bree amongst them. Arin was there, sitting in the grass with one knee raised and leaning against the bars of the fence. She was getting closer and closer to the age when she would soon have to leave and Matt thought she would be in bad shape as she never got any prettier.

He sighed and was startled when the screen door opened again and slammed shut behind them. He looked up and saw legs walking down the stairs quickly and they belonged to Bree, a new tan skirt wrapped around her hips. She wore a tank top and her hair was in two braids on either side of her head. Matt saw that the baby fat he used to see on her had turned to a bit of chubbiness, in her cheeks and thighs and midsection. She saw him, out of the corner of her eye, and he raised a hand to her, half a smile on his face

She stopped and blinked, her head tilted. Then, without a word, walked off towards the fence and Arin stood up, called, "Hey, Bree!"

Matt looked away, a little red in the face.

Mello raised an eyebrow. "What was that all about?" he asked, jerking a thumb in her direction.

"Oh… nothing. I just used to know her, that's all."

"Like a girlfriend?"

Matt looked up. That was the first time either of them had said girlfriend, though it must've been on their minds for a while. Matt wondered if it would be shocking to ever say boyfriend.

He shook his head. "No, not like that… I… she's the one I saw naked like three years ago."

Mello wrinkled his nose.

"What?" Matt asked.

"She's kind of fat… plus, well… God, Matt, how old could she have been then?"

"Seven."

Mello gave Matt a faintly scandalized look and shook the hair out of his face. He asked casually, "So you were always horny?"

Matt turned a bright red then and balled his fists. "What's that mean? I'm not-"

"Not what? Don't try to lie to me; I can hear you at night. I know what you're doing in your bed, okay? So just drop the act," and Mello said it all as if he were talking about the day being warm. Before Matt could make a fool out of himself by trying to deny it, Mello continued, "And it's okay. To be honest, I actually wanted to try some stuff."

Try… try some… stuff? Matt wondered dimly, too humiliated to say anything just then. It felt like it was twenty degrees hotter outside and he kept his hands fisting the hem of his shirt, sweating into it. He thought of all the things he had been wanting to try and wondered if Mello could possibly mean the same things and, also, he wondered if Mello was in his bed at night touching himself to the rhythm of Matt's own breathing.

It was like the sun coming up over the horizon.

"What, are you not going to talk to me now because I called you horny?" Mello asked offhandedly, looking back at the screen door.

"N-No, that's not it… um… what kind of stuff do you want to try?" he asked, trying to be as cool about it as Mello but he didn't feel very cool, he felt completely tongue-tied and stupid.

Mello raised an eyebrow to him and grinned smoothly. He stood up, dusting off his pants and started up the stairs. "Come on," he said, waving at Matt. He followed Mello into the orphanage and past a few kids who ran around inside. When they were heading to the second floor and more than likely, their room, Matt felt all of the wanting he had ever experienced for Mello well up in his groin and he didn't even feel like hiding the erection.

Mello opened their door and when Matt walked in, he closed it and locked it behind them. When he looked up, his breathing shallow and quick, he saw Mello over at his desk, rummaging through one of the drawers. Matt wondered vaguely what they would need chocolate bars for but his thoughts stopped when Mello pulled out a magazine.

"W-What…" Matt stopped and cleared his throat to the sound of Mello laughing. "What's that?" he asked.

Mello walked over and handed it to him. Matt looked down at it and was surprised to see a naked woman on the front cover. Her lips were cherry-red and she held her hands over her large breasts. Everything on her was oiled up and shiny and she seemed to be looking at Matt with her big bright eyes. Matt blinked and looked up at Mello for an explanation.

"It's from Mist. He's in our Number Theory class," Mello said and sat on Matt's best. He scooted back until his back was flat against the wall.

Matt climbed up on the bed, more than a little disappointed. He hadn't wanted to see pornography but if this was what Mello wanted to look at, he guessed it wouldn't be so bad. He sat next to Mello and tried to remember who Mist was and then realized he was the boy Mello sometimes talked to in the hallways after classes. He was a little older and maybe half a foot taller than Mello. He sweated all the time and was always after Cham, one of Arin's dear friends.

"Ah, why do you hang around him, Mello?" Matt asked, feeling the coolness of the wall on his back.

"What's wrong with him?" Mello asked.

"He stinks."

"You stink!"

Matt snorted a bit of laughter and Mello groaned loudly, pulling the magazine up to the two of them. "I'd say bad things about your friends, too," Mello said, "if you had any friends other than me, that is. So, anyway, what page do you want to look at first?"

Matt shrugged a little. "I don't know… I've never done this before."

"Well, me either. We'll just see," he said and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Matt watched the gesture and it was so feminine and odd-looking that he regained his erection. His eyes widened slightly when Mello began to unzip his pants and pull out his soft penis, holding it in his hand and around it there were a few strands of ocher hair curling from the base. He turned the page with his free hand and Matt, staring openly at Mello, looked to the side out of the corner of his eye and saw a girl laying on her back, her legs spread wide.

Mello began to stroke himself, his legs apart and tangled in the sheets of Matt's unmade bed. Matt looked at his hand and his crotch as if he were seeing something forbidden and was startled when Mello looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

"Can I help you?" he asked, slightly annoyed. Matt seemed unsure of what to do with himself and, seeing this, Mello stopped and sighed. "You're not going to watch me, genius. This is for us, so you can do it too."

"Huh… so…" Matt hummed distractedly, still wanting to watch Mello. But he decided it would be best to do as he did, even though it felt a little strange. He unzipped and grabbed himself, sort of proud as he remembered Mello's shy compliment in the locker room a while ago.

Mello smirked at his erection and said, "That was kind of quick. You really like these types of girls, huh?"

Matt wasn't sure what to say and blushed a little, turning his attention to the magazine. Mello did so as well, putting his hand back on himself. It was quiet then, just the humming of the ceiling fan going round and round and Matt lowered his head so that his hair would fall over his eyes and Mello wouldn't notice when Matt snuck glances at him. It was the only thing that could keep his erection up.

With things like that magazine around, that girl with her legs open, he felt that if he looked at it for too long, it would wilt him. It looked horrible, like some kind of wound between her legs and it almost was sickening to know that his fingers had once been so close to that scar on Bree.

Mello let out a little sigh and leant his head back on the wall, his bangs falling from his eyes. Matt tightened his grip on himself and moved his hand a little faster - how could a kid be so… adult? Mello was a thousand times better than those still-life photos of girls trying to be sexy. Mello was just enjoying himself and his blue eyes were cloudy and his coral lips parted. Matt attempted to pace himself, it would be a little shameful to come so quickly, but Mello was moving his feet in the sheets and he raked his free hand through his hair.

There were audible shouts of the kids downstairs, no one would be locked up inside on such a nice day, but Matt felt above them as he continued his movements. In that moment, he didn't feel like such a kid. He was with Mello and they were doing adult things together, two people with similar interests, and in the moment that Mello let out a thin groan, Matt inhaled sharply and felt like they were one. He wanted to touch him-

"Mm…"

-almost needed to-

"A-Ahh…"

-but Mello's foot was moving in some random direction and he kicked the magazine off the bed. It thumped on the floor somewhere and Mello finally came, his white liquid spilling down his hand. Some of it slid down his hand and made a small spot on Matt's bed sheet and he thought how from now on at night, he would be sleeping with a bit of Mello and it sent him over the edge and he bit his lower lip so he wouldn't call Mello's name.

There was a moment of quiet breathing and the small sound of Mello zipping up his pants. Matt was leaning his head against the wall, turned away from Mello, eyes closed and denying himself the pleasure of reaching over to touch the boy's hand.

"Sorry, Matt," Mello breathed and the bed bounced with the loss of his weight. "I got everywhere."

Don't worry about it, I like it, Matt thought but wouldn't say. "I'll get it later," he croaked softly.

Another minute of silence and Matt felt ready to open his eyes. Mello was sitting in his swivel chair, looking out at the yard, his chin propped up on one palm. The fan was swooping gently overhead.

"Did you have fun?" Mello asked.

Matt was still in his candy-coated atmosphere and nodded. "Yeah. Did you?"

"… I guess I don't like that type of magazine very much. I should give it back to Mist today."

Matt considered this and zipped his pants up finally. "I guess," he drawled, "her breasts were sort of too big."

Mello groaned loudly; he swiveled around with a frustrated scowl on his face. "You're such an old woman! Jesus, Matt. What thirteen-year-old guy says 'breasts'?"

"W-What am I supposed to say?" Matt stuttered, highly confused.

"Say boobs! Tits, something! Be normal for once," he growled and jumped off the chair. He snatched the magazine and headed for the door, ignoring Matt as he tried to say boobs. The door slammed shut and Mello left his roommate alone with his mess and, for Matt, it was good enough.

-

When Mello turned thirteen, he seemed to take the whole 'becoming a teenager' a lot more seriously than Matt had. Mello found time to study his brains out and run around outside at the same time. He joined the game of soccer in the backyard and went out even on rainy days in early autumn. Mist was on the same team as Mello and for some reason they had changed the rules a bit: no longer were they mixed up teams everyday but now set teams, the shirts and the skins.

Mello was skin.

Matt sat on the porch sometimes to watch and one day when it was pouring down rain and the backyard was a muddy mess, he witnessed Mello, now tan from being outside so often, dive for the ball and slip in the mud. It wasn't a tag-game at all but Mist jumped on Mello and splashed mud everywhere and Mello lay beneath him, blond hair sticking to his face and dirt all over his finely-toned torso. Mist was grinning like a Cheshire cat, his black eyes focused and his brown hair matted to his cheeks. Matt thought that Mist must have been imagining Cham beneath him.

When Mello came into their room later on that day, all he could talk about was how fast Mist was and how funny Mist was when he made jokes about Near. Obviously they were bonding over a mutual hatred and Matt thought that he could hate Near too if he had any energy left from hating Mist.

Matt watched the two of them from the back of the classrooms and his green eyes burned holes into the back of Mist's head. Sometimes he even had to eat alone because Mello said that Mist needed to talk to him about something, wanted something, and Matt found himself wanting Mist to stop breathing.

He and Mello rarely had the chance to do anything together and Matt mourned never finding out what other things Mello 'wanted to try'. It was a sick feeling in the pit of his gut when Mello walked out of the bedroom in the middle of the night, leaving his studies and leaving Matt. He often wondered if Mello and Mist were in another room with one of the magazines, girls with boobs (see, Mello, I'm trying) a lot smaller than the ones they had seen.

They never spoke of that day with the magazine, though Matt had thought it was amazing, and wanted to feel so close to Mello again. But Mello was out in the yard, shirtless, being chased by the other boys. Too busy for Matt.

It was just before sunset on a Saturday and Mello was down the hall in the bathroom, washing the dirt off. Matt had been sitting in their room with his videogame and trying to ignore the thoughts racing in his mind. Mist's handprints all over Mello. His arms, his thighs, his shoulders…

He shut the game off and shut the door behind him as he left. The bathroom was just a few doors down and he knocked lightly on the wood, hearing the shower running.

"Mello?"

Nothing.

"Mello, I'm going to come in," he said and tried the doorknob and it was unlocked. The room was warm and steamy, the mirror coated over with fog. The shower curtain was closed but Matt could make out a silhouette. He brushed the hair out of his eyes in an attempt to look presentable when he called, "Hey, Mello."

There was a pause and then, "Matt?" The shower curtain opened a little and Mello's hair was shiny and gorgeous looking as it clung to his cheeks and neck. His blue eyes were bright and alert. "Good grief, what are you in here for?"

"I, uh… I had to use the bathroom," he said.

"…Uh huh. Well, use it, I won't watch." The curtain closed then.

Matt blinked and looked about himself. He hadn't really had to use the bathroom but he couldn't just say 'Stop hanging around Mist,' as he stood there, looking half crazy. But he wanted to. He sighed and looked over at the toilet that was right next to the tub and he unzipped his fly and forced himself to use the bathroom. A few drops hit the water and he rolled his eyes at himself.

"How was your game?" he asked, needing to start conversation.

"Fine."

"Were you a skin again?"

"I'm always a skin."

Matt mumbled ruefully, "Yeah, I know."

Mello must have heard it because he replied, "Then why'd you ask?"

"I didn't go outside to see it today… just figured I'd ask… you know, Mello, it's not like I'd care if you watched me going to the bathroom. I mean, we… well, we've seen each other naked before, right? And doing things… things-"

"Yeah, I guess," Mello interrupted and he sounded sort of angry.

Matt zipped his pants up distractedly and waited for Mello to say something else. He didn't and Matt just wanted to hit something, maybe even Mello. He said, "Have you ever done those things with Mist? Masturbating and stuff?"

"That's not any of your business! What're you even doing in here, Matt? You're not using the bathroom!"

Matt frowned heavily and slammed the toilet seat down. There was a loud clank from porcelain hitting porcelain and Matt turned on his heel and stomped out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He was speed walking down the hallway and he felt his heart somewhere up in his throat. He couldn't cry. Not over Mello. Not over someone who didn't give a damn about their friendship.

The stairs were creaking under his footsteps as he hurried down into the foyer. There were voices floating in from the common room and Matt could recognize them as the boys from outside. It had started to rain again and Matt could hear it pouring down around the orphanage and on the roof and he turned in that direction, the tiled floor wet with footprints.

It was laughter and Matt could hear Mist's voice as he approached the open doorway, his laughter, the same sound he had heard when Mist was on top of Mello in the mud. When he walked in, about ten boys were soaking wet in their clothes and Mist's shirt was on the floor somewhere. He looked up through dark bangs to see Matt in the doorway and called to him, "Hey, Matt, have you seen Mello?"

Matt walked up to him and said, "Hey, Mist," and kicked him in the groin. There was a loud hush across the room as Mist's eyes widened and he fell to his knees. Matt grabbed his neck and fell over with him, squeezing, squeezing, and gazed into the older boy's eyes as he looked around frantically.

"Mist, you fucking asshole. You're killing me," he said.

It took three boys to pull the two of them apart but not before Mist had gotten free of Matt's grip and punched him in the face. Matt's goggles had slid down his face before the hit and because of that, it wasn't as bad as it might have been, or so he was told. Rodger gave him a long lecture in his office and told him he should have been ashamed for what he did. Matt didn't feel ashamed. He stood there with his ripped shirt, his black eye and could still feel Mist's skin beneath his nails.

When Rodger finally looked at him and asked him why he did it, Matt shrugged and said, "He almost made me cry."

He was sent to his room for the rest of the day, denied dinner as punishment. Matt lay on his bed, his feet up on his pillow and his head down by the spot that Mello's semen, now dried and absorbed, once was. Matt tried to breathe steadily and, slowly, let his tongue out to lick the spot. He couldn't taste anything and it only made things worse.

The door opened suddenly and Matt knew it was Mello. He didn't turn around, let him think what he wanted.

"Matt."

"What?" Matt mumbled, voice muffled against the bedspread.

The door shut softly and something was placed on the bed beside Matt. He turned his head lazily and looked at the plate of food that Mello set there.

"You've got to be hungry," he said and Matt felt his stomach rumble at the sight of the food. He sighed and sat up, pulling the plate towards him.

He looked away as he ate and murmured, "Thanks," and refused to look Mello in the eye. Suddenly, for some reason, he felt shame.

"So, why'd you hit Mist?" Mello asked, climbing up onto Matt's bed.

"No reason. He just stinks."

"You hit him because he smells bad. Come on, Matt," Mello groaned, looking away. "I don't know why you insist on bullshitting. You're jealous. You think I like him more than you."

"Don't you?"

"No. But I can have friends other than you, you know."

Matt shook his head, setting the fork down on the plate. "I know," he whispered and Mello leaned over to hear, "but you're my only friend, Mello. I just get… upset. Defensive. I don't know. I like you a lot." Matt held his breath and wondered how Mello would take that, if he would think of it as just friendship liking or…

Mello seemed to mull this over. He looked up towards the ceiling fan and kicked his feet off the edge of the bed. "Eh. He does kind of smell funny," he said.

Matt looked over at the blond, an eyebrow raised. "That's all you've got to say?"

"Yeah." He hopped off the bed and turned to look back at Matt. He smirked. "I like the black eye. Maybe you're not so weak after all."

Mello touched the doorknob and before he could leave, Matt asked him, "Where're you going?"

"To play outside. It's stopped raining."

"Oh. Okay," he said and was only so complacent about it because he knew he had hurt Mist too badly to play with Mello.

Mello was at the threshold and looked back over his shoulder at Matt. "I don't know why you'd care but I never did anything with him. And you're dumb for asking," he said and shut the door.

Matt grinned widely, not caring about being dumb.

-

Matt was fifteen in February and was in Rodger's office once again, forced to fight to stay at Wammy's. It was time for him to leave, like Gary had left, like Arin had left, like Mist had left a few months ago. But Mello wouldn't be of age for another ten months and Matt told Rodger he didn't want to leave without him. He didn't want to be without him.

It was already apparent, Rodger told him, that he wouldn't be the next something-or-other and Matt didn't care, he didn't want to be a famous member of the alphabet. All he wanted was to leave with Mello, not before and not after. He had no clue what he thought they would do once out there alone but he wanted it and told Rodger so, and couldn't stop himself from telling Rodger everything.

He'd had it welled up in him for so long, almost since Mello arrived, and he didn't register the astonished look on Rodger's face as he rambled, he worried, he said, "-all the time, it's insane how much I think about him and I think he might be actually sad if I left without him, I think he likes me a lot, if he becomes a detective, I wanna be next to him, he told me once that I'd be his number two and I can't imagine not being here for him, I know I beat up Mist and I'm sorry but it's only because I didn't want to hit Mello, I couldn't hurt him, he'd be safe with me, let me go with him on his birthday, I want to go out and do things with him that we can't here, I feel like a kid here, and I want to do more adult things with him, I just want Mello."

Rodger had seemed at a bit of a loss at what to do with Matt but let him go, told him he didn't have to leave just yet. Matt walked out of the office on quivering legs and Mello was standing at the staircase, looking the opposite way and tucking his hair behind his ear. Matt could have repeated his entire spiel just then but Mello caught sight of him and Matt felt weak beneath that stare.

"Hey, are you leaving?" Mello asked, walking up to him. He seemed concerned, upset, or that may have been wishful thinking on Matt's part.

Matt smirked, hands in his pockets. "No, I'm not. He said I could stay until you left."

Mello nodded, satisfied. "You know, when I met you, I never dreamed I was meeting my life-long butler."

"Butler?"

"I'm kidding."

"Oh…"

Mello snickered as they walked up the stairs and Matt didn't seem to mind the joke too much. He thought it over for a second, saw Mello younger and about half a foot shorter when he first walked into Matt's room and told him that they would never talk. He looked at Mello now, and asked, "Hey, so… Mello, when you first saw me, what'd you think?"

There was a pause and Mello tilted his head as they approached the second floor. He still hadn't said anything when their bedroom door was right in front of them and Matt said, almost offended, "You didn't think anything?"

"I thought your goggles looked funny."

Matt frowned and took his goggles off his eyes but before he could take them from around his neck, Mello put his hand on Matt's. "I don't think that anymore," he insisted, "they're… unusual. Like kaleidoscopes, sort of. I used to play with those a long time ago." Mello gestured towards his own eyes as he walked into the room. "I sort of wish I could see things in different colors. Then maybe Near would look halfway interesting."

It had been years since Mello had started talking about Near, competing with Near, thinking and maybe even dreaming of Near but Matt had only seen him from behind and slowly walking down the corridors by himself. He wanted to see what was so horrible about the boy other than the fact that he was smart and, like Matt, never seemed to study. He didn't even think about it until the commotion of the fourth of July came about.

"England is not America," Mello complained but a staggering amount of the orphans were from America, Matt included, although he never thought of those things. Some of the orphans coaxed Rodger into letting them shoot off small fireworks in the backyard and he caved. Matt didn't tell Mello, but he sort of wanted to try a sparkler.

It was around eight o' clock when they were getting the fireworks set up in the backyard. Matt was sitting on the last stair in the foyer and waiting for Mello who sat in their room, getting last-minute studying in. Most of the kids were outside; Matt had seen two boys run past a few minutes prior with a box loaded with small-time fireworks. He turned his head towards the small hallway that lead to the backdoor and heard voices, most of them the children and then, distantly, Rodger telling everyone to settle down.

Watching with him, a few feet away, was a small boy, dressed in white pajamas. He stood on socked feet on the hard wooden floor. Matt noticed him after five minutes of him standing there and recognized his white hair from the classrooms, the way he tugged on a lock of it that curled by his ear. Mello had once mimicked him during one of his 'Near is a dirty bastard' monologues. Matt never made his comment about Mello's delicate fiddling with his own hair sometimes.

Matt thought he should say something. Near stood there as if debating going outside and Matt had never seen him out there, but if he was going to go, he would have gone already. Maybe he wanted to say something to Matt.

Matt could have attempted to show his loyalty to Mello by saying something profoundly mean but couldn't find anything to say. He could have played the nice guy and asked the boy if he would like to join everyone outside but couldn't care enough. In the end, he said nothing and watched as Near turned around, revealing an unlit sparker in his other hand. He seemed to look at Matt, those luminescent eyes ghosting over him, and he finally walked away, rolling the sparkler between two fingers.

"He never goes outside."

Matt looked up, startled, and found Mello standing on the fourth step up. He walked down to join Matt as he stood and continued, "It's why he's so pale probably."

"You know, there was a time when you hardly went outside, too," Matt remarked, smiling.

"Well, maybe so," Mello said, walking towards the backdoor with Matt in tow, "but I never looked like that."

The air outside was light and breezy and there were points of light all over the backyard where sparks were lit and cherry bombs were going off. The older kids were watching over the younger ones and lighting the fuses for them. Matt looked over towards the crate and said casually, "I actually wanted to go say hi to him. Or something."

Mello whirled around, his brow furrowed deeply. "What? Why?"

"I don't know. He looked kind of lonely. Sad."

"He's not sad," Mello scolded. Then, he stopped and looked towards the ground thoughtfully. "He's just plain cruel."

"Cruel," Matt echoed softly.

"That's right." Mello jumped off the porch and headed away, through the crowd of kids.

Matt sensed with some immature intuition that he wasn't getting the whole story and wondered how such a young-looking boy could be intentionally cruel. But trying to push it further might only upset Mello and he didn't want to get into anything right then. He thought of the sparkler Near had in his hand and went over to the large crate, fishing around for some like it and got a match from Rodger after promising not to hurt anyone with it.

It seemed that since his fight with Mist, he had been labeled somewhat of a bad boy while Mello, pristine and immaculate, remained an ivory princess involved with him. Matt thought it was too mixed up for words and wanted to tell everyone he hit Mist because he was causing trouble. He hit Mist because he had tried to take his princess away. Even Bree, who was then a budding teenager herself and hadn't spoken to Matt in close to five years, eyed him warily after the incident.

He was wandering through the other children and looking for Mello. He felt some sort of… maturity while wading through them. The younger ones, they cried and laughed and ran around without purpose, but the ones he had grown up with, those who were reaching the age of dismissal, were quiet and patient. Trained geniuses that were going to be let out of their cages and forced into the real world. Even Mello, although coltish as ever, was starting to become calmer in his movements.

Matt often entertained thoughts of Mello as a grown-up. Blond and never short on a word. His body tan from wandering around in the sun and slick from sweat. Somehow, with Mello, his sweat never smelled stale or off-putting, just sharp and heady like the sheets after prolonged jacking off.

Mello would probably be a bit of a wonder when he grew up.

Matt had been wondering how a wonder would taste lately.

"Here," he said, holding up one of the sparklers to Mello as he leant up against the big oak tree. He had seen Mello's leg sticking out from behind it.

The blond tilted his head towards the sparkler and watched as Matt lit his with the match and then his own. Mello took it and held it away from himself.

"What do I do with it?" he asked.

"I don't know. Just watch, I guess," Matt said, enraptured with his. He sat down on the ground and held his by the end, watching it blaze in the nighttime. Mello sat down next to him with a huff and held his next to Matt's and it was quiet except for the shouts in the yard and an occasional bang from a larger firecracker.

Mello's mouth was muffled by his hand when he said, "Hey, Matt."

"Huh?"

"When I was upstairs, I, uh, I saw your old girlfriend. She was kissing this guy." Mello's eyes reflected the sparks and his was dwindling down to the end.

Matt rolled his eyes. "I keep telling you she wasn't my girlfriend. I never liked her. She's weird."

"Really?" he intoned.

Matt glanced over at Mello and his eyes seemed to glaze over with his sparkler's dying brilliance. The color changed from orange to hot pink. "W-Well, yeah."

"She's like a slut. I bet she would have kissed you when she was little. Did she?"

Matt blinked. "No."

"So, you've never kissed a girl before?"

"Um… no, I… I haven't." All of a sudden, Matt felt ashamed, like being fifteen, he should have, but he never thought about kissing a girl, not even Bree. The only mouth he could remember being on his was Mello's, in his daydreams, in his nightmares, when things felt like his body was liquid. He looked over at Mello then, at his mouth, and both sparklers died, leaving them in the dark under the tree.

Someone shouted in the distance, "It's my turn!" and then Matt went deaf when he felt Mello's hand on his shoulder, smooth and supple. He could see the boy's outline as his eyes adjusted and Mello seemed to be looking downward, maybe too shy to say anything but shy didn't sound like Mello, he-

"Listen… Matt," he said and reached up, pulling Matt's goggles off his face and down to his chest. Matt could see better and they were face to face but he wanted to just lay down and die because the prospect was Heaven and the ache was Hell.

What's the matter? Matt wanted to ask but couldn't risk missing a single word from Mello's lips.

"If you… I just wanted to try something."

Try anything. Anything. His breath went away, his voice, why couldn't he speak? He nodded slowly and, wanting to feel Mello, touched his cheek and sighed when Mello pushed into the touch. It felt like peach fuzz and Matt wondered dimly if Mello was shaving already. But that didn't feel like such a great thing to ask just then and Mello kept rubbing his cheek against Matt's hand so he thought if he could…

"M-Mel-"

"Matt," he said, almost like a cry, a helpless little thing caught up in something and he leaned in. He must have not been as adjusted to the dark as he thought because he caught Matt's chin, his lips on the side, and Matt was too stunned to move, to take it before it was gone and suddenly it wasn't dark anymore; there was the light of another sparkler.

"Guys?" The two of them looked up and it was Bend, one of Bree's friends. She scratched at the back of her head with her free hand and said, "Rodger wants you two to help with the big one. We're about to set it off soon. It'll be really fun."

She had some sort of nervous twitch going on and in that second looking at her, her strawberry-blonde hair curled around her cheeks, Matt could have hit her. Mello stood up and walked around the trunk of the tree without a word and Matt couldn't scream after him, couldn't say it, because he was a coward.

Matt stood up as well, laboriously, and sent a half a glare towards Bend. She didn't register it. Rodger was coming out of the back door with a large rocket in his arms and kids swarmed him while he attempted to bat them away. Mello, Matt, Bend and Cham help set it up in the center of the backyard, facing east over the fence. In ten minutes, the children were ordered to stand back and Matt stood next to Mello, watching as it was lit.

The fence that they would one day go over together.

Matt glanced over at the blond and their hands, centimeters apart, lolled at their sides.

Go on, he told himself.

He wants it.

He does.

But the rocket went off and lit up their faces in blue and Mello's tears were in blue.

On a random Tuesday in November, Matt looked up and Mello was gone. The redhead had walked into their room and the closet was opened and some of Mello's clothes were gone. Everything was wild and fractured, the lamplight broken on the floor, no longer a thing to keep Matt up at night. Papers on the floor. Mello's bed sheets were taken from the bed and some even touching Matt's bed. Sliding down his mattress like the rain sliding down the windowpane.

Matt scrambled around, trying to find some sort of evidence that he wasn't really gone, that he was still here-

A note on his bed.

Later, Matt, it said. Matt longed to rip it up but only ended up pushing it to his nose, to find any scent of Mello, that heady scent to his sweat. There was none and he tore down the hallway for Rodger's office and he was silently crying but it wasn't silent at all, it was screaming heartache and-

"Where is he?" Matt shouted, bursting into Rodger's office and he was meeting with Cham, her bright eyes startled at his entrance. It must have been her final birthday today.

"Matt, listen," Rodger said calmly, "Mello has gone off-"

"No," Matt protested, vision blurry and goggles knocked off in the hallway somewhere, "How could you let him leave without me? Where'd he go? He's probably waiting for me!"

Rodger came from around his desk and walked towards Matt and Matt didn't notice, just shook his head, "Did he leave just now? He can't have gotten very far. We were going to leave together so he can't have-"

"Matt-"

"I have to be there for him-"

"I'm sorry."

Matt sobbed into his hands and Rodger placed a hand onto the boy's shoulder lightly. Matt couldn't remember how long he stayed in the office or if Cham watched the entire time but when he walked out, somehow convinced that he would stay here for a few more days, he looked down and the tears were still pattering softly to the carpet.

The walk back to his room was long.

He heard the laughter surrounding him, kids distant and happy playing in the backyard and that eternal game of soccer went on. Matt watched from the window, a bar of chocolate in his hand, they went on as shirts and skins and there was never a pause or a mourning cry for Mello. There hadn't been one for Gary or Mist, either and soon there wouldn't be one for Matt.

The girls rested by the fence, the youngest ones were new to him and Arin was gone and Cham had followed her but Bree still remained, no longer a baby doll. Bree lay in the wet grass, the rain had since stopped falling, and Matt hated himself. His reflection in the window. The lips that had never touched Mello.

Until he left, Matt slept in Mello's bed. It smelled of stale soap and shampoo and he rolled in the covers to feign forgiveness.

And he did forgive Mello.

He did.

In his dreams, as Mello lay beside him underneath the big oak tree, he kissed Mello all over. It was the only place his inhibitions wouldn't bother him and Mello finally looked over at him, his big blue eyes opening like butterflies and he gave him a sarcastic grin. Something like 'you're weird,' must have been ready to follow. Then, maybe Matt didn't know Mello as well as he thought he did, because for some odd reason, he said, "Welcome home."

End.

A/N: Thanks for reading. If you're here, please review. I'm just asking for some feedback. Oh, and, this is a oneshot. It will not, under any circumstance, be updated. I always have like five people asking me to update oneshots…

Anyway, what'd you think?