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Me: HAI THERE :D Misseh here, and this is my.....*counts fingers* FIFTH fanfic, and my second with an original OC. For those of you who read my other story, Artificial, this is the long awaited fanfic I promised, and I hope the transition from stories won't be too hard ^^' Please be kind and generous with reviews, and constructive criticism is always welcome. Also, for those who read my other stories, I have brought with me special guests to help me do my disclaimers....*smirk*
Mello and Matt: GTFO.
Me: OH COME ON GUYS. It's been five stories, and for each one, I make you do the disclaimer. GET USED TO IT BY NOW.
Mello: HELL NO. You're nothing but a slave driver, AND YOU KNOW IT.
Matt: IT'S NOT RAEP IF YOU LIKE IT.
Me and Mello: ...............WUT?
Matt: I love you, too :D
Mello: He's probably just acting weird because he's overexcited he has his own story. Took long enough, too.
Me: YES, Matt needs some lovin' too xD In case anyone has not noticed, this will be a MattxOC fanfic, meaning if you're looking for MattxMello fanfics then-
Mello: YOU ARE ALL MONSTORS WITH TWISTED LITTLE MINDS.
Me: --then you came to the wrong place. AND DON'T BE MEAN, MELLO -_-
Matt: Misseh does not own Death Note or its characters, but she does own the OC.
Me: THE-OC-WHOSE-NAME-SHALL-NOT-BE-SPOKEN-BECAUSE-I-DON'T-LIKE-SPOILERS-SO-BE-QUIET-MATT.
Mello: Many thanks also to Mayu_Koizumi, previously known as Broken_Glass_Walker, for letting Misseh use the whole Story Playlist idea. A more complete playlist is in the works as things go along, and will be available on Misseh's profile for those who are interested.
Me: FINAL NOTES- When I say the OC has short hair, think Haruhi Fujioka from Ouran High School Host Club. ^^ Enjoy the first chapter of Blank Canvas, and thank you :D
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One: Strange
"What a weirdo!"
"He won't talk to anyone…his only friends are those stupid games of his."
"Just an ugly little moron…what is he even doing in Wammy's anyway?"
"Loser!"
"Failure!"
"He's worthless."
Matt huddled as far as his body would let him into a corner, separated from the rest of the children in the foyer of the orphanage. He shook as silent sobs overcame him; nickel-sized tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. He wiped them away on the sleeve of his striped shirt, using his free hand to pick up his DS. Flipping the device open, he buried his nose into the game, zoning out the cruel and harsh world around him.
They don't care…no one does. Mom never did, and that's 'cause Dad beat her and me senseless until her heart just went stone cold. Now that they're gone, everyone here just finishes what he started; the hurting never stops.
Ignoring the redhead's presence in the corner, the children continued to spread gossip and slander, much to Mail's distress. He heaved a heavy sigh in frustration, breathing shaky as he stood up and dashed for the front door. Caretakers demanded to know where he was running to, but he only answered the maid dress-clad women with silence.
Once outside, he stomped the grounds, kicking up the colored leaves of fall from their neat piles on the grass. Anything that had a solid form felt his wrath; he kicked trees, the outer fence, and finally, he marched up to a bush near the corner of the orphanage; his final victim. Rearing his leg back, he gave a hard kick to the defenseless shrub, releasing his anger and frustration.
"Ouch!" the bush shrieked, making the boy jump back in complete shock.
"Y-You….talked!" he yelled accusingly, pointing a shaky finger at the bush. It rustled for a moment before a head of blue hair peeked out from the bush; two narrowed and cerulean eyes staring at the redheaded boy.
"I did not appreciate the kick, and neither did the bush," the person said, reaching a hand up and petting one of the plant's branches. Mail quirked an eyebrow, unsure of exactly how to respond.
"….S-Sorry for kicking you…I didn't know that these bushes were occupied by people."
"I don't live in a bush, dummy," the person retorted, getting up from a crouching position. Now standing, Mail could see the person to have very short and spiky blue hair, matching his eyes…or at least he thought the person looked like a he.
Well, he sure dresses like a boy, Mail observed as his new acquaintance brushed off his clothes. He wore a baggy sweater that revealed his collarbone with its boat-neck style. His shorts ended just above his knees, marking where what looked like knee-high stockings began. On his feet were blue rain boots that seemed two sizes too big.
"Ahem," the boy interrupted, snapping Mail's attention back to his face. "If you're done judging my fashion sense, please go away so I can go back to hiding in peace."
Mail sniffed, tilting his head to the side. "You're hiding in a bush? Why? From who?"
"You ask too many questions. If you'll excuse me, I have to go or I'm going to get caught by-"
"There you are!!" one of the caretakers yelled from the orphanage's porch. Mail recoiled as his companion dove face-first into the bush in a last ditch attempt to save himself. The caretaker stampeded her way towards the two children, reaching into the bush and pulling out the stowaway by the arm.
"You little brat; you're going inside right now to clean up that mess of yours," she commanded, yanking the writhing misfit out from the bush and towards the orphanage. Glancing back a final time, Mail's newfound companion pouted, but managed a defeated wave goodbye. The redhead stared back in shock for a few moments, disbelieving that he had been shown some act of kindness since he'd first arrived in Wammy's.
"……W-Wait! You can call me Matt, by the way!" he yelled out, waving his arms in the air frantically just as the caretaker and her unwilling cargo entered the orphanage.
Suddenly, Mail Jeevas—Matt—found himself in a better mood.
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Blue hair…blue hair…short blue hair…
Matt wandered the hallways of Wammy's, ignoring the stares and whispers best he could. It was two days after his awkward encounter with who he liked to call his "first friend", and it was this exact meeting that had been clouding his mind. He hadn't been able to concentrate; he needed to put a name to a face.
"Looking for someone?"
Matt spun on his heels, turning to face who had addressed him. Before him stood a girl in pigtails; one who he'd recognized was Wammy's famous artist Linda. Besides himself and other new arrivals, Linda was also a main topic of the Wammy grape vine.
Yeah…but they only say good things about her…
"Um…Hello? Do you need help, or are you just walking around all spaced out for no reason?"
"Sorry, I tend to do that a lot. Yeah, I could use help. I'm looking for someone."
Linda smiled brightly, her pigtails bouncing as she nodded eagerly. "Of course! I know practically everyone around here, so I could lead you to whoever you're looking for!"
"Thanks…Um, do you know anyone with short blue hair…with rain boots?"
Linda's smile faltered, bending downwards into a slight frown. "Yes…sadly."
Taking his wrist, Linda led Matt down the halls to an isolated part of the orphanage, deep within the South Wing. She stopped in front of one of the doors to a dorm; one completely different from the others. It looked as though paint was splattered against the wood, creating a rainbow of color amongst small scrawls and doodles etched into the frame.
Without bothering to knock, Linda turned the knob of the door, revealing just who they were searching for sprawled out on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. Cerulean eyes wandered to stare at the intruders in the room, and narrowed when they landed on Linda.
"….Piggy."
"Ice."
Matt's eyes darted from Linda to where his friend lay on the floor, confused at how they addressed each other. "Do you two have history or something?"
Linda shook her head, rolling her eyes at the notion. "Of course not! I have no problem; it's just that she's jealous because I'm a better artist than she could ever hope to be."
"Don't believe her lies! I'm better and she knows it. The only difference is that I just don't get as much recognition since I don't draw on paper, like Miss Boring over here!"
As the two began going at it, Matt held up his palms, motioning for silence. "W-Wait…I just have one thing to say…"
He turned away from Linda, inhaled deeply, and pointed a finger down at his blue-haired companion. "You're a girl?!"
Linda burst out laughing while the addressed girl blinked. Linda snorted, clutching her sides. "This is just priceless! He thought you were a boy, for God's sake!"
After finishing her laughter, Linda turned around, half-skipping out the doorway. "I'll leave you alone now. Bye, Matt," she cooed, slipping around the corner and out of sight. The air in the room grew tense as no one dared to speak. Nervously, after some time passed, Matt took a seat on the floor, shuffling his feet.
"…My name is Matt."
"Yeah, I know."
"Uh….I like games, and I'm pretty good at them, I guess…"
"You also kick bushes, and I must say from what I felt, you're pretty good at that, too."
Matt chuckled, giving a lopsided smile. "What about you?"
"Well…You went from thinking I was a talking plant to a boy, and now you found out I'm a girl, so…let's just say I'm a strange little creature; seven years into existence, just as you are. I draw on the walls, and you know you're jealous."
Matt managed a smile, picking at the frayed ends of his striped shirt. "W-When I first came here, I had to use an alias. What do I call you? Is your name Ice?"
"Nope…" The blue haired girl gave a Cheshire cat grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she held out her hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, stranger. Call me Fee."
"I'd like to make myself believe that planet earth turns slowly. It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep, 'cause everything is never as it seems..." -"Fireflies" by Owl City.