HOME | DD

Description
“It’s… a comic book.”

Matt poked his head around the doorframe, his eyebrows knit in confusion as he searched out the figures at the far side of the room—L perched at the foot of Mello’s bed, his toes scrunching the bed sheets as he watched the blond boy turn the book over and over in his hands.

“It has also been published as a short story.”

“But… you gave me a comic book.”

The young detective’s pale lips stretched in a small, amused smile as Mello’s nose wrinkled in disdain. He brought his thumb to his mouth, nipping at the tip absently. “It is a good comic book.”

Mello bit back a scowl as he glanced up at his mentor, setting the comic on the bedside table delicately, as though it pained him to even touch it. “Thank you, I… guess… but, L… I—couldn’t you have gotten me something that… I dunno—helped my studies or something…?”

L’s lips pursed gently and he cocked his head to the side. “I have been told that a birthday present is something that one should receive a certain amount of pleasure from,” he replied simply, “With that said, I could hardly, in good conscience, give you a textbook or something in that vein.” The look on Mello’s face clearly stated that he certainly could have given him a textbook… maybe even one with explicit details on how to surpass one’s arch nemesis in five easy steps or less, and he would have enjoyed it quite immensely. L chuckled breathily. “Everyone must rest at some point, Mello. The mind requires time to relax in order to work in its full capacity. I would teach you to play the piano if I felt you had the patience for it—it used to calm me very efficiently.”

“But, L! I’ve been here for days! Don’t you think I’ve rested enough!?”

The dark-haired young man clambered to his feet, gazing down at his protégé appraisingly as he scratched at an ankle with his foot. “You have only been conscious for two of those days, Mello. Give yourself time to recuperate. You will have enough time for studying when you have recovered. Read the comic book. I think you will quite enjoy it—I did. I have left the rest of your presents with Madame Weir to give to you when you have finished.”

Mello huffed, glaring down at the comic as L shuffled from the room, but unwilling to truly scorn anything his idol had given him.

Clearing his throat lightly, Matt stepped around the door, smiling shyly up at the detective as he skirted past him on his way to the bedside. “Hey,” he greeted amiably, dropping into the vacant chair and propping his feet up on the mattress. Mello grunted, shoving the feet off his bed irritably as he sat up straighter, snatching L’s gift back into his lap and narrowing his eyes at it.

“It really is a great comic, Mel,” Matt forged on, unobtrusively sitting forward to set a chocolate bar down on the sheet an inch or so from Mello’s thigh, “I read it last year. You’ll like it. ‘s a murder mystery.” He smiled hopefully as Mello finally met his gaze incredulously.

“Yeah, I got that from the title,” the blond replied huffily, dropping the book back to the bedside table in favor of the chocolate, unwrapping it and gnawing at it more out of habit than any real desire for it.

Matt coughed in embarrassment, glancing down at the large, yellow Murder Mysteries splashed obviously across the front cover of the comic. “Anyway,” he diverted, clearing his throat as he inched forward on his chair and looked his friend up and down critically, “how’re you feeling?”

Mello tossed a glare at him, before wrenching open the book and staring pointedly down at the first panel, though it was questionable whether or not he was actually absorbing the content.

The redhead sat back, staring forlornly down at a rip in the knee of his jeans as Mello continued to act as though he had left the room… or maybe never even entered it in the first place. It had been this way since he woke up. He had totally disregarded Matt’s ecstatic, almost tear-filled greeting, choosing instead to act nearly as cold and aloof as he had when the two had first met. Matt had been crestfallen; while a larger part of himself than he would have wished insisted that it was nothing less than he deserved—what with it being his fault and all—he had been secretly hoping that maybe… just maybe Mello cared about him enough not to blame him, or if he did, to at least forgive him. That’s certainly what he would have done, had their roles been reversed.

But he had let it slide, just like he always had and always would. Mello was Mello after all, and though Matt would change some things about the other boy if he could… perhaps this was one of those things that made him who he was—those things that, just a few nights ago, Matt had begged whatever god chose to listen, not to take away. He couldn’t question it; that was how their friendship was—Mello was the indisputable leader. So, he had let it slide and Mello had shrugged it all off, informing him that he couldn’t care less that he had never showed up and left it at that. He allowed the younger boy to come and visit him, but clearly never took pleasure in his appearance at the infirmary door.

There was a long silence, in which Madame Weir appeared with a glass of water and several pills for Mello, and a pitying glance for Matt. Matt scuffed the toe of his trainer absently against a bed post, while Mello just-as-absently turned the page of his comic. The silence quickly became stifling.

“Mello,” Matt finally said, just short of an exasperated, betrayed explosion. The blond actually glanced up at the tone of his friend’s voice, narrowing his eyes menacingly as Matt’s face explained that their hierarchy was about to be challenged. “I’ve already apologized. Multiple times, in fact. What else do you want from me!?”

“And I’ve already told you, multiple times, that I don’t give a flying fuck that you weren’t there. You got a detention.” Mello growled, accidentally crumpling the corner of a page in his irritation. Damnit. He had bigger things to worry about than Matt’s need for atonement--there were character flaws, both old and new, to work out and come to terms with.

The building explosion finally came. Matt was suddenly on his feet, his chair crashing to the ground in a spectacular accompaniment. “Then what the hell is wrong with you!?” he yelled, his arms unable to keep still and gesturing furiously at the blond, “Why are you acting this way!? I’m your best friend! Not some… random suck-up, here just because I’m afraid of you! If you’re mad at me, fine! Be mad, but have a reason! Otherwise, get over yourself and at least act like it matters to you that I care!”

They glared at each other, bristling. It was a testament to how well Matt knew the blond that he caught the exact moment Mello gave in—the barely noticeable weakening of the mouth, his shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly, the fire of defiance in emerald eyes dwindling into a tiny spark. Mello sighed, averting his gaze as he slumped back into the pillow bonelessly. “It’s not… you. I’m not mad at you.”

Matt deflated, easily slipping back into the role of worried best friend as the possessing fury drained slowly out of him as he righted his chair. “Then who, Mel?”

The boy in the hospital bed shrugged noncommittally. “Myself… those guys… the world, in general, I guess.”

“While that’s delightfully emo-tastic of you, Mello,” Matt snarked, scooting closer to the bed in a supportive manner to take the bite from his words, “I think you have a couple years to go before the teenage angst phase kicks in. So, why?”

“Because—“ Mello grit his teeth, twisting his fists in the bed sheets as he searched for the right words to explain what he could barely stomach admitting to himself, “because, I’m not good enough. Because I’m always second. In everything! Near kicks my ass in grades and those bastards kicked my literal ass. I can’t—I just… no matter what I do, it’s not good enough. I'm not strong enough. I don't deserve—“

“Mello!” Matt yelled, completely flabbergasted, jerking forward to rest his weight on his arms and shove his face a mere inch or so away from his friend’s, “What the hell, man!? You think those thugs are better than you!?” Mello blinked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Matt mouthed wordlessly for a second before flailing into another rant, lunging to his feet and pacing back and forth in front of the bed. “L found them, Mello. He tracked them down, and when he did—Mel, you kicked their asses! You—don’t scoff at me! For it being five to one, and all of them being bigger than you, it—shut up. Just ‘cause you don’t like how scrawny you are, doesn’t make it untrue—you won. In context, they lost! And Near—well… who the hell cares!? Mel, you were chosen to succeed the best detective in the world. You think you’re worthless just because one guy happens to retain information better than you? If anything, you’re better simply because you’re willing to get off your ass and do things to get what you need. You’re one of the smartest people in the world. Not for your age group, not in England, in the world. You think me, An, or Justin are gonna get it before you? Yeah, right! You’re not worthless, Mello. You’re more than good enough. You—you’re my best friend and… I love you and… you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.” He trailed off lamely, a light blush painting his cheeks at his anticlimactic ending.

Mello rolled the rant over his mind, staring out the window to give Matt time to recover from his less-than-manly confession. “L… went after them…?” he murmured after a minute, turning back to the redhead as he reclaimed his chair.

“Yeah,” Matt replied just as quietly, glancing up to meet Mello’s steady gaze, “He went all hardcore-super-detective about it. Some of their blood was mixed in with yours on your clothes… he tracked down their DNA and…” He swallowed. “It was kinda scary, Mel. I mean… I’ve never seen him that mad. And it wasn’t the yelling or hitting type of mad, it was… silent, you could just feel it. We thought he was gonna bring them in and use them for a torture lesson or something….” They were quiet for a moment, the silence creeping up their spines like a physical chill. “Think about that for a second, Mello,” Matt finally said, as deadly serious as Mello had ever seen him, “Near may have better grades, but L almost tortured someone over you. L. Y’know… totally-devoid-of-emotion-robot-whose-sole-fuel-is-sugar guy? People love you, Mel. You think all those people sat in here while you were unconscious just because? You think they didn’t have things they needed to do?”

Mello stared at the shiny gold Triforce Eagle emblazoned on the front of Matt’s shirt silently, unsure of how to respond. He was saved by Madame Weir poking her head around the door of her office. “Matt, it’s nearly time for dinner,” she said simply, her face completely devoid of any indication that she may have heard Matt’s heartfelt ranting.

He nodded, quietly getting to his feet and standing over Mello for a hesitant moment. The blond glanced up at him, clearing his throat as that familiar sneer—a third irritated, a third exasperated, and a third affectionate—he reserved only for Matt settled back over his features. Matt bit back a grin, half reaching out to his friend. “Mel—“

“Hug me, and I’ll bitchslap you.”

Matt laughed suddenly, the absurdity of the situation and of their relationship in general suddenly sinking into his conscious. He leaned down, grinning as Mello raised a threatening fist as he neared, and gently butted his forehead against the other boy’s, carefully avoiding the bandaged stitches on his right temple.

Mello blinked in surprise, opening his mouth uncertainly. “Matt, I—“

“I’ll come back later, yeah? Want half of my dessert? I think it’s cheesecake or something.”

“Matt, why does it look like your backpack exploded in my room?” Mello asked with a cocked eyebrow, glancing back at the redhead still trailing down the corridor from the direction of the infirmary.

“’s not your room,” Matt replied, skirting around Mello to wander inside and flop onto his bed, “’s our room.” He picked up his Gameboy and flicked the power switch with no real intention of playing. Pretending to pay attention to the actually blank screen, he watched Mello out of the corner of his eye as the blond finally followed him into the room, squinting at him suspiciously.

“Since when?” he finally asked, kicking a shirt out of his way as he crossed to stand in front of the partially dismantled TV in the middle of the floor, scowling at it.

“Since I moved in,” Matt said cryptically.

Mello pursed his lips in the other boy’s direction, but didn’t have the energy to drill Matt on his vague answers—just the trek from the infirmary to his bedroom had kicked his arse… he didn’t even want to think about what a full day of classes tomorrow was going to be like. He sat gingerly down in his desk chair, careful not to show any signs of weakness while Matt was watching him—discreetly, or so he thought. Resting his elbow on the edge of the desk, he eased himself back into the chair, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his squatter.

Matt had been acting strange for as long as he had been conscious. Granted, he had expected the redhead to be at his side for a large quantity of his free time, but certainly not all of it; after all, there was the other best friend to factor in. But that was just it, wasn’t it? Matt hadn’t even mentioned Near, except for in his tangent about Mello’s worth, and his commentary on the boy then certainly hadn’t been very flattering. And now this? Suddenly, he was sharing Mello’s room? And permanently, it would seem. He’d even hauled in that bloody Smash Brothers poster—that meant he was serious. Not that he was complaining, of course. This just meant that he was somehow, inexplicably more important than Near. As it should be. Whatever had happened between Matt and the other boy… he would work it out. Just not right now… right now he was better, and that was all that was important.

“I suppose it’s alright,” Mello said casually, glancing around the formerly empty half of the room, “We’ll have to set some ground rules, of course.” Matt cocked an eyebrow at him, hiding his grin as Mello made a show of acting the alpha, having to approve his subordinate’s every move. “One: the Gameboy is always on mute. Always. Two: fucking clean up after yourself. I won’t go tripping over your stupid Pokemon plushies in the middle of the night on the way to the loo—“

“I got rid of those years ago, Mel!” Matt protested, his cheeks flaming.

“Three,” Mello continued, not even bothering to acknowledge his new roommate’s words, “don’t bother me when I’m studying. Four—“

“I get it, Mello. These are all the same rules from before for me just being in your room. I think I know them by now.” Matt rolled his eyes.

Mello bristled at the interruption, but couldn’t quite find it in himself to correct the younger boy. He stifled a yawn instead, rising from the chair and staggering over to his bed. “Wake me up and I shank you,” he warned, before burrowing himself into his pillow as Matt grinned at his back in a satisfied manner.

Matt waved absently as Justin vanished around the doorframe, before glancing up at Mello through the fringe of his bangs. The blond sat on the edge of his bed, the medication the older boy had just dropped off forgotten at his side as he stared fixedly at the point where Justin’s black curls had disappeared around the doorframe.

The redhead frowned, pausing his game as he turned his full attention to his distracted roommate. Mello had often been distracted in the past week. And Matt had recently noted that it was at its most obvious around the eldest of L’s heirs. Even during one of the detective’s lectures, he had often glanced over at his friend to find the blond staring off into space, his eyes usually focused somewhere beyond Justin’s right ear. Most likely, the older boy owed him money or something, but maybe... it was something else.

He shifted, setting the handheld down as he settled himself into a more comfortable position directly facing the other boy across the room. “Hey, Mel?” he tried cautiously.

“Mm?” was the absent reply.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Mello glanced at him in confusion, “What? Oh… my wrist was hurting a bit this morning… so Madame Weir…” he trailed off, groping for the small plastic bag of meds at his side and jangling it in Matt’s direction emphatically.

“Not that, ya nit,” Matt said exasperatedly, drawing his legs up to his chest as Mello shifted uncomfortably, “Best mate, remember? My Spidey senses are tingling. And by ‘Spidey,’ I mean… oh, you get it. What’s up with you, man?”

Mello averted his gaze, drilling holes into the back of Matt’s nearly repaired TV set as he contemplated his roommate’s query. What’s up, indeed. Except how, exactly, do you go about telling your best friend that you think you might actually be a flaming gay? He sighed. He hadn’t quite come to terms with it, yet. Acknowledged the truth of it, accepted the fact…? Yeah, sure. Didn’t mean he had to like it. Uneasy, he wrenched open the drawer of his bedside table and snatched out a chocolate bar.

“Mel…?” Matt pressed, worried as the older boy displayed obvious signs of disquiet.

“What’re your thoughts on homosexuality?”

The redhead blinked, taken aback at Mello’s sudden determination as the blond head whipped up to stare him straight in the eye. “Um… huh?” he replied eloquently.

“How do you feel about gays?” Mello pressed, obviously annoyed at his lack of comprehension.

“Well, uh…” Matt rubbed at his ear uncomfortably, trying to decide whether his friend was serious or just using a rather effective diversionary tactic… very efficient, indeed… he was certainly thrown for a loop. “I… dunno?”

“It’s weird, right?” Mello insisted, clambering suddenly to his feet and pacing the length of their room in irritation, “I mean… it’s even a bit narcissistic, being attracted to the same gender. Like taking your own body and pasting a new head on. It’s just—“

“Whoa, whoa!” Matt yelped, holding up his hands in surrender, “Hold on, Mel. Dude. Calm down. What brought this on? You tryin’ to distract me, or something? I wanna know why you’ve been acting weird around Just—oh. Oh!” Cerulean eyes widened as Mello paused, staring at him with that ‘you really are a flaming imbecile, aren’t you?’ look. “Oh.” Matt swallowed. “So… you, ah… erm… you—Justin…?” he tried weakly.

“See?” Mello sighed, collapsing thoughtlessly back onto the bed and wincing as the movement jostled his healing sternum, “It’s weird. It’s wrong. I’m… wrong.” He buried his face in his hands, looking more distraught than Matt had seen him in—well, ever.

“No, no!” Matt cried, scurrying over to perch next to the blond, his hand hovering awkwardly over his friend’s shoulder, “It’s… um… there’s nothing wrong with it—you! There’s nothing wrong with you, Mel. Er…” He glanced about the room desperately, searching for a way to console the other boy. “I mean… it’s Justin, right!? He’s… dude, he’s hot. I mean, even I can see that. Maybe, it’s just a phase… right? He’d make anyone quest—“

“It’s not just a phase, Matt!” Mello snarled, glaring up at him furiously, “My first crush ever was fucking L!”

Matt couldn’t help the clipped snort of amusement that broke past his serious listening face at that. “L? Well, that’s not saying much, Mel. I mean, L…” He waggled his hand uncertainly, trying to communicate his thoughts without words, “L doesn’t count. I have this theory that he has mutant pheromones. They’re impossible to resist. Seriously, everyone and their caretaker’ve had a crush on L. It’s L.”

Mello blinked at him, hardly able to understand the redhead’s humor in the midst of such a serious problem. He turned back to studying his hands now that the hysteria had subsided somewhat. At least Matt hadn’t bolted from the room screaming bloody murder about him being a fag or anything. That was a definite step in the right direction.

“Um…” Mello glanced up as Matt scratched at his jaw awkwardly. “You’ve… never had a crush on me, have you?”

The blond scowled, elbowing his friend forcefully in the side.

“Ow! Cripes, it was just a question! Youch….” He rubbed at his ribs gingerly, glaring balefully at the older boy. “And besides, I’m off limits right now. Stella asked me out, and we’re… going—well, I guess we’re doing something on Saturday. I mean, we can’t really go anywhere ‘cause—“

“Matt.”

“Oh, right. Justin.” Matt pursed his lips pityingly. “Mel, I don’t think he’s—“

“I know he’s not gay, Matt.” Mello rolled his eyes.

“Okay, good,” the redhead sighed in relief, slouching back into the wall, “’cause I think he and Anya have… a thing…”

Mello flopped more carefully back onto his pillow, reflecting Matt’s ease gratefully. “Well, not yet, anyway. But I bet you they’ll stop mucking about within the month. So—“

“Wanna?”

Mello’s brows furrowed in confusion and he glanced at the redhead down the length of his chest. “What?”

“Wanna bet? I’ve got five quid says they’re together in two weeks.”

“Matt!”

Matt recoiled. “Sorry! Sorry! You’re a poof! It’s fine, whatever! I like you anyway, you’re a friggin’ idiot for even thinking it’d affect our friendship. So, don’t inflict bodily harm to me or any of my games!”

Description
“It’s… a comic book.”

Matt poked his head around the doorframe, his eyebrows knit in confusion as he searched out the figures at the far side of the room—L perched at the foot of Mello’s bed, his toes scrunching the bed sheets as he watched the blond boy turn the book over and over in his hands.

“It has also been published as a short story.”

“But… you gave me a comic book.”

The young detective’s pale lips stretched in a small, amused smile as Mello’s nose wrinkled in disdain. He brought his thumb to his mouth, nipping at the tip absently. “It is a good comic book.”

Mello bit back a scowl as he glanced up at his mentor, setting the comic on the bedside table delicately, as though it pained him to even touch it. “Thank you, I… guess… but, L… I—couldn’t you have gotten me something that… I dunno—helped my studies or something…?”

L’s lips pursed gently and he cocked his head to the side. “I have been told that a birthday present is something that one should receive a certain amount of pleasure from,” he replied simply, “With that said, I could hardly, in good conscience, give you a textbook or something in that vein.” The look on Mello’s face clearly stated that he certainly could have given him a textbook… maybe even one with explicit details on how to surpass one’s arch nemesis in five easy steps or less, and he would have enjoyed it quite immensely. L chuckled breathily. “Everyone must rest at some point, Mello. The mind requires time to relax in order to work in its full capacity. I would teach you to play the piano if I felt you had the patience for it—it used to calm me very efficiently.”

“But, L! I’ve been here for days! Don’t you think I’ve rested enough!?”

The dark-haired young man clambered to his feet, gazing down at his protégé appraisingly as he scratched at an ankle with his foot. “You have only been conscious for two of those days, Mello. Give yourself time to recuperate. You will have enough time for studying when you have recovered. Read the comic book. I think you will quite enjoy it—I did. I have left the rest of your presents with Madame Weir to give to you when you have finished.”

Mello huffed, glaring down at the comic as L shuffled from the room, but unwilling to truly scorn anything his idol had given him.

Clearing his throat lightly, Matt stepped around the door, smiling shyly up at the detective as he skirted past him on his way to the bedside. “Hey,” he greeted amiably, dropping into the vacant chair and propping his feet up on the mattress. Mello grunted, shoving the feet off his bed irritably as he sat up straighter, snatching L’s gift back into his lap and narrowing his eyes at it.

“It really is a great comic, Mel,” Matt forged on, unobtrusively sitting forward to set a chocolate bar down on the sheet an inch or so from Mello’s thigh, “I read it last year. You’ll like it. ‘s a murder mystery.” He smiled hopefully as Mello finally met his gaze incredulously.

“Yeah, I got that from the title,” the blond replied huffily, dropping the book back to the bedside table in favor of the chocolate, unwrapping it and gnawing at it more out of habit than any real desire for it.

Matt coughed in embarrassment, glancing down at the large, yellow Murder Mysteries splashed obviously across the front cover of the comic. “Anyway,” he diverted, clearing his throat as he inched forward on his chair and looked his friend up and down critically, “how’re you feeling?”

Mello tossed a glare at him, before wrenching open the book and staring pointedly down at the first panel, though it was questionable whether or not he was actually absorbing the content.

The redhead sat back, staring forlornly down at a rip in the knee of his jeans as Mello continued to act as though he had left the room… or maybe never even entered it in the first place. It had been this way since he woke up. He had totally disregarded Matt’s ecstatic, almost tear-filled greeting, choosing instead to act nearly as cold and aloof as he had when the two had first met. Matt had been crestfallen; while a larger part of himself than he would have wished insisted that it was nothing less than he deserved—what with it being his fault and all—he had been secretly hoping that maybe… just maybe Mello cared about him enough not to blame him, or if he did, to at least forgive him. That’s certainly what he would have done, had their roles been reversed.

But he had let it slide, just like he always had and always would. Mello was Mello after all, and though Matt would change some things about the other boy if he could… perhaps this was one of those things that made him who he was—those things that, just a few nights ago, Matt had begged whatever god chose to listen, not to take away. He couldn’t question it; that was how their friendship was—Mello was the indisputable leader. So, he had let it slide and Mello had shrugged it all off, informing him that he couldn’t care less that he had never showed up and left it at that. He allowed the younger boy to come and visit him, but clearly never took pleasure in his appearance at the infirmary door.

There was a long silence, in which Madame Weir appeared with a glass of water and several pills for Mello, and a pitying glance for Matt. Matt scuffed the toe of his trainer absently against a bed post, while Mello just-as-absently turned the page of his comic. The silence quickly became stifling.

“Mello,” Matt finally said, just short of an exasperated, betrayed explosion. The blond actually glanced up at the tone of his friend’s voice, narrowing his eyes menacingly as Matt’s face explained that their hierarchy was about to be challenged. “I’ve already apologized. Multiple times, in fact. What else do you want from me!?”

“And I’ve already told you, multiple times, that I don’t give a flying fuck that you weren’t there. You got a detention.” Mello growled, accidentally crumpling the corner of a page in his irritation. Damnit. He had bigger things to worry about than Matt’s need for atonement--there were character flaws, both old and new, to work out and come to terms with.

The building explosion finally came. Matt was suddenly on his feet, his chair crashing to the ground in a spectacular accompaniment. “Then what the hell is wrong with you!?” he yelled, his arms unable to keep still and gesturing furiously at the blond, “Why are you acting this way!? I’m your best friend! Not some… random suck-up, here just because I’m afraid of you! If you’re mad at me, fine! Be mad, but have a reason! Otherwise, get over yourself and at least act like it matters to you that I care!”

They glared at each other, bristling. It was a testament to how well Matt knew the blond that he caught the exact moment Mello gave in—the barely noticeable weakening of the mouth, his shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly, the fire of defiance in emerald eyes dwindling into a tiny spark. Mello sighed, averting his gaze as he slumped back into the pillow bonelessly. “It’s not… you. I’m not mad at you.”

Matt deflated, easily slipping back into the role of worried best friend as the possessing fury drained slowly out of him as he righted his chair. “Then who, Mel?”

The boy in the hospital bed shrugged noncommittally. “Myself… those guys… the world, in general, I guess.”

“While that’s delightfully emo-tastic of you, Mello,” Matt snarked, scooting closer to the bed in a supportive manner to take the bite from his words, “I think you have a couple years to go before the teenage angst phase kicks in. So, why?”

“Because—“ Mello grit his teeth, twisting his fists in the bed sheets as he searched for the right words to explain what he could barely stomach admitting to himself, “because, I’m not good enough. Because I’m always second. In everything! Near kicks my ass in grades and those bastards kicked my literal ass. I can’t—I just… no matter what I do, it’s not good enough. I'm not strong enough. I don't deserve—“

“Mello!” Matt yelled, completely flabbergasted, jerking forward to rest his weight on his arms and shove his face a mere inch or so away from his friend’s, “What the hell, man!? You think those thugs are better than you!?” Mello blinked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Matt mouthed wordlessly for a second before flailing into another rant, lunging to his feet and pacing back and forth in front of the bed. “L found them, Mello. He tracked them down, and when he did—Mel, you kicked their asses! You—don’t scoff at me! For it being five to one, and all of them being bigger than you, it—shut up. Just ‘cause you don’t like how scrawny you are, doesn’t make it untrue—you won. In context, they lost! And Near—well… who the hell cares!? Mel, you were chosen to succeed the best detective in the world. You think you’re worthless just because one guy happens to retain information better than you? If anything, you’re better simply because you’re willing to get off your ass and do things to get what you need. You’re one of the smartest people in the world. Not for your age group, not in England, in the world. You think me, An, or Justin are gonna get it before you? Yeah, right! You’re not worthless, Mello. You’re more than good enough. You—you’re my best friend and… I love you and… you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.” He trailed off lamely, a light blush painting his cheeks at his anticlimactic ending.

Mello rolled the rant over his mind, staring out the window to give Matt time to recover from his less-than-manly confession. “L… went after them…?” he murmured after a minute, turning back to the redhead as he reclaimed his chair.

“Yeah,” Matt replied just as quietly, glancing up to meet Mello’s steady gaze, “He went all hardcore-super-detective about it. Some of their blood was mixed in with yours on your clothes… he tracked down their DNA and…” He swallowed. “It was kinda scary, Mel. I mean… I’ve never seen him that mad. And it wasn’t the yelling or hitting type of mad, it was… silent, you could just feel it. We thought he was gonna bring them in and use them for a torture lesson or something….” They were quiet for a moment, the silence creeping up their spines like a physical chill. “Think about that for a second, Mello,” Matt finally said, as deadly serious as Mello had ever seen him, “Near may have better grades, but L almost tortured someone over you. L. Y’know… totally-devoid-of-emotion-robot-whose-sole-fuel-is-sugar guy? People love you, Mel. You think all those people sat in here while you were unconscious just because? You think they didn’t have things they needed to do?”

Mello stared at the shiny gold Triforce Eagle emblazoned on the front of Matt’s shirt silently, unsure of how to respond. He was saved by Madame Weir poking her head around the door of her office. “Matt, it’s nearly time for dinner,” she said simply, her face completely devoid of any indication that she may have heard Matt’s heartfelt ranting.

He nodded, quietly getting to his feet and standing over Mello for a hesitant moment. The blond glanced up at him, clearing his throat as that familiar sneer—a third irritated, a third exasperated, and a third affectionate—he reserved only for Matt settled back over his features. Matt bit back a grin, half reaching out to his friend. “Mel—“

“Hug me, and I’ll bitchslap you.”

Matt laughed suddenly, the absurdity of the situation and of their relationship in general suddenly sinking into his conscious. He leaned down, grinning as Mello raised a threatening fist as he neared, and gently butted his forehead against the other boy’s, carefully avoiding the bandaged stitches on his right temple.

Mello blinked in surprise, opening his mouth uncertainly. “Matt, I—“

“I’ll come back later, yeah? Want half of my dessert? I think it’s cheesecake or something.”

“Matt, why does it look like your backpack exploded in my room?” Mello asked with a cocked eyebrow, glancing back at the redhead still trailing down the corridor from the direction of the infirmary.

“’s not your room,” Matt replied, skirting around Mello to wander inside and flop onto his bed, “’s our room.” He picked up his Gameboy and flicked the power switch with no real intention of playing. Pretending to pay attention to the actually blank screen, he watched Mello out of the corner of his eye as the blond finally followed him into the room, squinting at him suspiciously.

“Since when?” he finally asked, kicking a shirt out of his way as he crossed to stand in front of the partially dismantled TV in the middle of the floor, scowling at it.

“Since I moved in,” Matt said cryptically.

Mello pursed his lips in the other boy’s direction, but didn’t have the energy to drill Matt on his vague answers—just the trek from the infirmary to his bedroom had kicked his arse… he didn’t even want to think about what a full day of classes tomorrow was going to be like. He sat gingerly down in his desk chair, careful not to show any signs of weakness while Matt was watching him—discreetly, or so he thought. Resting his elbow on the edge of the desk, he eased himself back into the chair, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his squatter.

Matt had been acting strange for as long as he had been conscious. Granted, he had expected the redhead to be at his side for a large quantity of his free time, but certainly not all of it; after all, there was the other best friend to factor in. But that was just it, wasn’t it? Matt hadn’t even mentioned Near, except for in his tangent about Mello’s worth, and his commentary on the boy then certainly hadn’t been very flattering. And now this? Suddenly, he was sharing Mello’s room? And permanently, it would seem. He’d even hauled in that bloody Smash Brothers poster—that meant he was serious. Not that he was complaining, of course. This just meant that he was somehow, inexplicably more important than Near. As it should be. Whatever had happened between Matt and the other boy… he would work it out. Just not right now… right now he was better, and that was all that was important.

“I suppose it’s alright,” Mello said casually, glancing around the formerly empty half of the room, “We’ll have to set some ground rules, of course.” Matt cocked an eyebrow at him, hiding his grin as Mello made a show of acting the alpha, having to approve his subordinate’s every move. “One: the Gameboy is always on mute. Always. Two: fucking clean up after yourself. I won’t go tripping over your stupid Pokemon plushies in the middle of the night on the way to the loo—“

“I got rid of those years ago, Mel!” Matt protested, his cheeks flaming.

“Three,” Mello continued, not even bothering to acknowledge his new roommate’s words, “don’t bother me when I’m studying. Four—“

“I get it, Mello. These are all the same rules from before for me just being in your room. I think I know them by now.” Matt rolled his eyes.

Mello bristled at the interruption, but couldn’t quite find it in himself to correct the younger boy. He stifled a yawn instead, rising from the chair and staggering over to his bed. “Wake me up and I shank you,” he warned, before burrowing himself into his pillow as Matt grinned at his back in a satisfied manner.

Matt waved absently as Justin vanished around the doorframe, before glancing up at Mello through the fringe of his bangs. The blond sat on the edge of his bed, the medication the older boy had just dropped off forgotten at his side as he stared fixedly at the point where Justin’s black curls had disappeared around the doorframe.

The redhead frowned, pausing his game as he turned his full attention to his distracted roommate. Mello had often been distracted in the past week. And Matt had recently noted that it was at its most obvious around the eldest of L’s heirs. Even during one of the detective’s lectures, he had often glanced over at his friend to find the blond staring off into space, his eyes usually focused somewhere beyond Justin’s right ear. Most likely, the older boy owed him money or something, but maybe... it was something else.

He shifted, setting the handheld down as he settled himself into a more comfortable position directly facing the other boy across the room. “Hey, Mel?” he tried cautiously.

“Mm?” was the absent reply.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Mello glanced at him in confusion, “What? Oh… my wrist was hurting a bit this morning… so Madame Weir…” he trailed off, groping for the small plastic bag of meds at his side and jangling it in Matt’s direction emphatically.

“Not that, ya nit,” Matt said exasperatedly, drawing his legs up to his chest as Mello shifted uncomfortably, “Best mate, remember? My Spidey senses are tingling. And by ‘Spidey,’ I mean… oh, you get it. What’s up with you, man?”

Mello averted his gaze, drilling holes into the back of Matt’s nearly repaired TV set as he contemplated his roommate’s query. What’s up, indeed. Except how, exactly, do you go about telling your best friend that you think you might actually be a flaming gay? He sighed. He hadn’t quite come to terms with it, yet. Acknowledged the truth of it, accepted the fact…? Yeah, sure. Didn’t mean he had to like it. Uneasy, he wrenched open the drawer of his bedside table and snatched out a chocolate bar.

“Mel…?” Matt pressed, worried as the older boy displayed obvious signs of disquiet.

“What’re your thoughts on homosexuality?”

The redhead blinked, taken aback at Mello’s sudden determination as the blond head whipped up to stare him straight in the eye. “Um… huh?” he replied eloquently.

“How do you feel about gays?” Mello pressed, obviously annoyed at his lack of comprehension.

“Well, uh…” Matt rubbed at his ear uncomfortably, trying to decide whether his friend was serious or just using a rather effective diversionary tactic… very efficient, indeed… he was certainly thrown for a loop. “I… dunno?”

“It’s weird, right?” Mello insisted, clambering suddenly to his feet and pacing the length of their room in irritation, “I mean… it’s even a bit narcissistic, being attracted to the same gender. Like taking your own body and pasting a new head on. It’s just—“

“Whoa, whoa!” Matt yelped, holding up his hands in surrender, “Hold on, Mel. Dude. Calm down. What brought this on? You tryin’ to distract me, or something? I wanna know why you’ve been acting weird around Just—oh. Oh!” Cerulean eyes widened as Mello paused, staring at him with that ‘you really are a flaming imbecile, aren’t you?’ look. “Oh.” Matt swallowed. “So… you, ah… erm… you—Justin…?” he tried weakly.

“See?” Mello sighed, collapsing thoughtlessly back onto the bed and wincing as the movement jostled his healing sternum, “It’s weird. It’s wrong. I’m… wrong.” He buried his face in his hands, looking more distraught than Matt had seen him in—well, ever.

“No, no!” Matt cried, scurrying over to perch next to the blond, his hand hovering awkwardly over his friend’s shoulder, “It’s… um… there’s nothing wrong with it—you! There’s nothing wrong with you, Mel. Er…” He glanced about the room desperately, searching for a way to console the other boy. “I mean… it’s Justin, right!? He’s… dude, he’s hot. I mean, even I can see that. Maybe, it’s just a phase… right? He’d make anyone quest—“

“It’s not just a phase, Matt!” Mello snarled, glaring up at him furiously, “My first crush ever was fucking L!”

Matt couldn’t help the clipped snort of amusement that broke past his serious listening face at that. “L? Well, that’s not saying much, Mel. I mean, L…” He waggled his hand uncertainly, trying to communicate his thoughts without words, “L doesn’t count. I have this theory that he has mutant pheromones. They’re impossible to resist. Seriously, everyone and their caretaker’ve had a crush on L. It’s L.”

Mello blinked at him, hardly able to understand the redhead’s humor in the midst of such a serious problem. He turned back to studying his hands now that the hysteria had subsided somewhat. At least Matt hadn’t bolted from the room screaming bloody murder about him being a fag or anything. That was a definite step in the right direction.

“Um…” Mello glanced up as Matt scratched at his jaw awkwardly. “You’ve… never had a crush on me, have you?”

The blond scowled, elbowing his friend forcefully in the side.

“Ow! Cripes, it was just a question! Youch….” He rubbed at his ribs gingerly, glaring balefully at the older boy. “And besides, I’m off limits right now. Stella asked me out, and we’re… going—well, I guess we’re doing something on Saturday. I mean, we can’t really go anywhere ‘cause—“

“Matt.”

“Oh, right. Justin.” Matt pursed his lips pityingly. “Mel, I don’t think he’s—“

“I know he’s not gay, Matt.” Mello rolled his eyes.

“Okay, good,” the redhead sighed in relief, slouching back into the wall, “’cause I think he and Anya have… a thing…”

Mello flopped more carefully back onto his pillow, reflecting Matt’s ease gratefully. “Well, not yet, anyway. But I bet you they’ll stop mucking about within the month. So—“

“Wanna?”

Mello’s brows furrowed in confusion and he glanced at the redhead down the length of his chest. “What?”

“Wanna bet? I’ve got five quid says they’re together in two weeks.”

“Matt!”

Matt recoiled. “Sorry! Sorry! You’re a poof! It’s fine, whatever! I like you anyway, you’re a friggin’ idiot for even thinking it’d affect our friendship. So, don’t inflict bodily harm to me or any of my games!”