A/N: BRUAUHGHHG. This is such a long time coming, and I'm so, so very sorry. I've seriously owed Tao some BxMello since the start of December xD Yeah, it's a little (read: a LOT) late, but hopefully I can make it up to her by turning this into a multi-chaptered, unintelligible mess. xD YES.

Quote provided by Neal Stephenson.

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Talent was not rare; the ability to survive having it was.

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Looks could be deceiving with Mello; long before he had gotten himself a reputation in Wammy's House, there was nothing outwardly extraordinary about the child. He was blonde, thin, perhaps slightly more attractive than your average eleven year old– but beyond that, completely interchangeable with the scores of other children one would find in a schoolyard. When they brought Mello to Wammy's House, he had been quiet, reflective, with blue-bright eyes that glittered with keen interest—although this was nothing terribly unusual, considering the Institute. Mello, it initially seemed, was normal. Run-of-the-mill. Utterly unspectacular within the ranks of the prestigious Wammy school.

But unspectacular was precisely what Mello wasn't.

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Mello's arrival had coincided with A's suicide, and Beyond found himself immediately paired with a replacement roommate as a result. New playthings were nice, but Beyond seriously doubted that this buttery-haired newcomer's arrival could compare to the intrigue that came with watching someone waste away before his very eyes. Beyond had been able to see life spans for a very long time, longer than he could first remember - had watched people flit in and out of his life, like flickers on an old-timey reel of film. But never before had he had the opportunity to watch it happen, not like it had been with A. Beyond could not only observe the countdown by the days, but by the hours, by the minutes. A had been… exceptional.

When they had first informed him of his new living arrangement, Beyond had merely smiled in that crooked way that so unnerved the staff. All morning he had fantasized about what sort of person this Mello would be. His general appearance, what his real name was, how pretty those numbers would look, scrawled above his boyish head.

Will you be close to your end, like A was? Can I push you to your brink, too?

But later that afternoon, when Beyond first laid his eyes upon his new roommate, he knew it was futile. Mello still had nearly ten years left to go. A shame, really.

Introductions weren't made – Beyond already knew who Mello was, the moment that wiry child stepped foot in the cramped space of their bedroom. Mihael Keehl. Mello, meanwhile, refused to lift his gaze to meet Beyond's own as he made a beeline for their bunk beds. Others may have taken the deliberate lack of eye contact as an act of subservience, but Beyond knew instinctively that it was out of a complete lack of interest.

Pretentious little brat, are we?

(The other pieces of the story would come to him later. Mello's quiet acceptance into Wammy's House, it turned out, hadn't been so quiet at all – they had dragged him in here, kicking and screaming, and it had taken a good half an hour to get him to shut up and behave. Thereafter, Mello had retaliated by stubbornly giving them exactly what they had wanted: he remained despondent, mute, as though he had lost the ability to speak entirely, or had never had it to begin with. For days afterwards he had infuriated the staff with his silent temper tantrum. Mello, Beyond was quick to learn, was a monster.)

As Mello considered his options before him, Beyond said in an offhand voice, not looking up from the textbook he was poring over at the cramped desk in the corner.

"You can have the bottom one."

(Earlier that week he had learned that L had taken a keen interest in theology, back when he was a student at Wammy's House. All morning he had been trying to familiarize himself with the subject, striving to be on par with the super-genius in this particular area for the next time their paths crossed.)

I want to be indistinguishable, inside and out.

He heard it more than he actually saw it; the defiant smirk as Mello's hands caught hold of the railing, ready to vault himself over.

Oh no, that simply won't do. B swung himself free from the chair he had been perched upon so precariously mere moments before. Even in his slouched stance, he was still considerably taller than the younger child. Beyond sighed drearily, as though what was coming next was incredibly taxing on him. Mello's eyes glinted mischievously, as though challenging him. He smirked.

"I said bottom bunk, Mihael Keehl."

That had an immediate effect, although perhaps not the one that B had hoped for. He was so used to inspiring fear with such a tactic in the other children, but Mello was new here, and merely looked confused, and then curious.

"How do you know my name? I thought everyone went by aliases here."

His voice was deeper than B had imagined, but there were still traces of prepubescent whine.

"We do."

Mello narrowed his eyes. "Then how do you know?"

B smiled mischievously right on back at him, a perfect mimic of Mello's earlier expression. "It's a secret."

"I don't like secrets," the boy sniffed.

B shrugged and turned away. "Well that's too bad." He held the computer chair steady as he pulled himself back upon it. It was an awkward climb, and the chair wobbled threateningly beneath him, but B had done it so many times by now that he never once feared falling.

He didn't have to look behind him to know that Mello was annoyed. He could make out in his peripheral that the orphan had folded his arms, nose wrinkled slightly in disgust. "Why do you sit like that? You look dumb."

"I'm emulating L," B said, flipping the book open again to resume his reading. "You know that's why you're here, right? To become him."

"If he sits like that," Mello scoffed in a haughty voice, "why would anyone want to be him? You look ridiculous. I bet the other kids here make fun of you behind your back."

"They wouldn't dare," B said over his shoulder, with a leery smile.

Mello at last looked a little unsettled. B continued to watch him critically, delighting in the knitted eyebrows, the highly mistrustful look. He can practically hear Mello's gears working in his tiny little head, the evolutionary instincts kicking in.

Fight or flight?

"I just don't see what the big deal with this L guy is," Mello said at last, trying to put on a show of bravado that was quite clearly a façade. B was not convinced in the slightest. "So he's a detective. So what."

"Not interested?" B laughed, a hollow sound. "Don't worry. You will be."

Mello didn't have a reply for that.