My arms wrapped around shoulders, and I felt a hand being run through my hair. I was pulled forward into an awkward embrace, two lips passing over mine for only an instant; barely noticeable. But the feeling sent a shockwave through my body. I couldn't see their face, only darkness. I could only feel; I could feel their presence surrounding me, the warmth from their body. The lips returned to mine, this time more sure of themselves than before. The kiss lasted longer, but only for a second. I was saddened by the loss of contact. I didn't know where I was, but I felt eternally peaceful. I wanted to stay right here with this person forever. I felt light… airy. I was happy.

I curled my hands tighter around the shoulders, and leaned my face in for a more direct, more forward approach to the kiss. This time, it could definitely be felt. I felt warm lips embrace my own, and the space between us was shortened by several inches as we tried to get as close to each other as possible without rousing anything potentially awkward. Suddenly, I felt something strange in the back of my head. Like a black void. My senses began to numb, my head to throb. The lips, hands, and the warmth receded, and I blindly reached out for the form. No… wait. Don't go; I don't want to be alone. I don't like being in the dark. No, wait… please… don't leave me…

I murmured a few words, the sounds barely escaping my mouth and not audible to those with an untrained ear. My eyes met the pale blue ceiling of the room I was in, and it took me a moment to realize where I was. I was in Wammy's House Orphanage for the Gifted, and I had been dreaming. And a very odd dream at that to be having during my first night at an orphanage.

I didn't know who the mysterious figure had been in the dream, but I knew that I dearly wished to know who it was. They had an interesting scent, unique and exotic; enchanting. It seemed like they were around my age; 12; but I thought it would be odd if I smelled everyone in my grade level.

I thought it was strange that we were classified into grades. Whereas at normal schools, when you move up to a different grade, you learn whatever has been planned into the curriculum, at our school, everyone was on a different level. Not the sort of level like the 'dumb' group and the 'smart' group. We were all smart; we knew that simply because we were there. We had an order of intelligence, ranging from 'first smartest', who would be the successor of a mysterious; and apparently genius; figure simply referred to as 'L', all the way down to the dregs of those who simply happened to have IQ's a mere few points above average. I just happened to be second in line. That much had been decided when I had come here not more than a day ago.

They had tested me, and I solved the problems with ease. Only then did I realize they were placing me on a scale of aptitude. I felt proud of myself that I was at a high rank, but apparently being second just wasn't good enough. I was still looked upon as though I was about as inferior to the one first in line as a mouse is to a lion.

So we had no 'grades'. We were sorted into classes depending on your level on the 'successor scale'. Numbers 1 through 10 were in one class, 11-20 in another, so on and so on. I was in Room 101, and my teacher was Mr. Roger. It made me feel at least a little better that I was in a higher class than some much older than me, up to 17.

I didn't know anyone in the class, due to only arriving and gaining my own personal room yesterday, so I was eager to get to class and meet my fellow geniuses. I was unsure as to whether or not I would get along with them; but eager to meet them just the same. I looked at the clock. I had been told the bell for breakfast run at 7:30, and the bell for class rung at 8:00, and right now it was 7:15. They didn't have to tell anyone much more, they knew we could take care of ourselves. I got out of my bed, 

and began to get dressed. I wore a simple black long sleeve shirt, and some black pants. Might as well try not to make an impression with my clothes. Labels were bad enough these days.

I combed my blond hair for a moment, then slipped on some shoes and headed towards the dining hall. I had been shown yesterday where it was, along with my classroom, and jogged down the steps, my stomach twisting slightly in hunger. I hadn't eaten in two days; and Mr. Roger had apparently neglected that fact when I was brought here after the sudden death of my parents.

I walked into the room; which was about as big as a school cafeteria, and looked around. Different ages were mingling with each other; apparently they were on the same level of intellectual ability; and were talking quietly as they ate. Everyone else had gotten down here earlier than I had, and my sudden intrusion upon their breakfast had caused a few of the students to glare warily at me.

As I walked towards the cafeteria line; where I would get my food; I continued to scan the tables. Suddenly, I felt my muscles tighten, and I began to sweat. Sitting alone in one corner of the cafeteria, tapping away at the keys of what appeared to be a GameBoy, was the one I had seen in my dream. At least, that's who I thought it was. As soon as I laid eyes on him, I realized it.

He had messy red hair, and had a pair of goggles with orange lenses perched upon his eyes. He had on a black and pink striped shirt, some jeans, and what looked like combat boots. His eyes were fixed upon the GameBoy's screen, ignoring the blatant display of breakfast in front of him. I shook the image of my dream out of my head, and advanced ever so slowly down the empty line.

I couldn't believe it. That boy was the one in my dream? A boy? But… I was a boy as well… wasn't that considered… forbidden in modern society? At least it was only a dream; not like it actually happened… this thought ran through my head, and apparently radiated out of my flushed cheeks. I grabbed my food; some oatmeal and toast; and found my feet unwillingly carrying me over to his little corner of the cafeteria.

No, no… God… what am I doing? I'm going to act awkward, and he probably won't say anything… God, what is wrong with me? First a dream about kissing a boy; and enjoying it; and now I'm sitting next to him?! I must be sick… maybe I should be in a hospital instead of a gifted orphanage. Maybe an asylum or-

My thoughts were cut off as I sat down across from the boy and a word emerged from my mouth. "Hey." Hey? Was I insane? Just suddenly coming over, sitting next to a random boy that I didn't even know, and apparently liked, and simply saying 'hey'? Sometimes I doubted my own articulacy. But that was beside the point. What was I doing?!

I gained no response for a couple of moments, until the redhead apparently noticed my presence, glanced up for a split second, then returned his gaze to his GameBoy and murmured, "Hey."

This was worse than I had imagined. He had replied back; and he had even said something remotely kind. I had expected either no reply, or something to the effect of 'Go fuck yourself'. Maybe I was overestimating the explicitness of the people at this school. Maybe not everyone had had that much of a messed up life. Sure, everyone's parents and relatives were dead; but some had it worse than others. At least mine had died peacefully… well, if you think a car wreck is peaceful.

"So, what number are you?" The redhead suddenly asked. His attention was still fixed onto the GameBoy.

"Umm… I'm second. What are you; if I may ask?" I questioned, taking a bite of my toast. It did nothing to help my aching stomach.

"Third." He said simply, before cursing under his breath as, apparently, some 'bitch' had made him 'lose a life'. He flicked the switch to the GameBoy off, and looked up for the first time; unless you count a glance as looking up.

"What's your name?" He asked, his eyes obviously cross-examining me from beneath their orange coverings.

"Err… Mihael Keehl…" I said nervously. I slowly and shakily held out a hand for him to shake, and he grabbed it with his right hand and shook it gently. I could feel him loosen as he held my hand, and for a split second, I felt all my muscles relax as our fingers first made contact. But that little jolt of happiness was quickly lost as he spoke again.

"That won't do. No one goes by their real names here. Take L for instance. No one knows whether or not that's his true name, but no one calls him otherwise. Just kind of something everyone's used to and never questions." He said.

"So… everyone has a nickname?" I asked tentatively, raising an eyebrow. "You mean like… Ass-Kisser or Gaywad or something?" I had gained those two nicknames from my years of schooling; the first because the lessons were insanely easy (I could have answered those questions at age 3) and the other due to my appearance. I don't usually use appearances to judge personality, but this redheaded, bespectacled (be-goggled?) boy seemed alright. Well, if you ignored the pink and black stripes he seemed alright.

"No. Though I'm sure some of the 'lesser' students give those names to those higher up… do those morons really have anything better to do?" He complained, leaning back in his chair. "Really… can you believe some of these people; some even at age 17; only have an IQ of 119?" I attempted to joke; and surprisingly the boy laughed.

"It's a bit sad actually… what I knew at age 3 they knew at age 5… pathetic, right?" He said, grinning. It made my thoughts flutter to see him smile. Was I really in love with this boy? This boy that I didn't even know? I didn't even know his name, for God's sakes.

"So, what's your nickname?" I said, after our quiet laughs had died down.

"Matt." He said simply.

"Matt? But that sounds like a normal name."

"Well it is, compared to my real name. Mail Jeevas. I swear, my god-damned parents were high on something when they named me. And guess how it's spelled? M-A-I-L. Can you believe it?" He said, giving a sigh.

"I like that name… it's unique." I said, smiling at him. Wait- what was I doing? Was this some sort of attempt at flirting?? I had just learned his name, and now I felt as though I had to flirt with him?! What was the world; and my mind, at that matter; coming to?! At least we seemed to be getting along fine.

"Thanks. But you still need a nickname, too. I just picked mine. Just something right off the bat." He said, and bit his lip in thought.

"Hmm… you seem like a cool guy; calm, you know; so how about Chill?"

I scrunched my nose up a bit. "Nah… sounds too much like 'chili'."

"Yeah, that's true…" Matt said, and we both began to ponder some more. Suddenly, Matt snapped his fingers, and gave a smile.

"I got it!" He cried. "What, what is it?" I asked, grinning. He pointed his finger at me, and said:

"Mellow!"

"Yeah, that sounds cool! Let's drop the 'w' though, that will make it look better." I said enthusiastically, and smiled.

"Fits ya well; you're calm and… well, mellow!" Matt said, and we laughed again. His laugh sounded like music; so calming and perfect. To most it would just sound like a teenager having a good time, but to me it was like liquid poetry. So soft and wonderful.

He held up his hand for me to give him a high-five, and as I did so, he curled his fingers at the last moment, so we were holding hands again for a second. He then pulled down suddenly, and freed his hand from the grip.

"Nice to meet'cha, Mello. Welcome to the club."

--

Throughout the days that followed, Matt and I spent all of our time together. Turns out that he was in the room next to mine, and that we sat next to each other in room 101. He introduced me to my first taste of chocolate, and I was hooked. I had never tasted anything so sweet and delicious in my life. It was addicting. He then gave me my very own bar. I asked him where he got it, but all he did was grin and say, "I have my ways. Just keep it a secret, 'k?"

We also sat at the same table in the dining hall, we sat in the same tree outside when we had break, and we spent all of our free time in our rooms in either my room or Matt's. We became best friends; and I was introduced to a thing called, as Matt put it, 'style'.

Matt had a very interesting variety of clothes. He had many striped shirts, of all different colors, but he said that his pink and black was his favorite. He also had jeans, various shoes, and many jackets. How he loved those jackets. His personal favorite was a tan, soft vest with a fur lining. It felt soft, like a blanket. But one thing he could never be without was his pair of orange goggles. He even wore them sleeping; although that in itself was rare.

Another thing about Matt, he stayed up all night playing on his GameBoy, yet managed to wake up for class, and still maintain third place without even trying. It almost scared me at how smart he was. He could hack into the school's intercom and start playing the Mario theme through it during classes with ease. He was also very, very skinny. He almost never ate, the most being maybe a few forkfuls of scrambled eggs and a sip of milk. I asked him once if he was anorexic, which then gained me a face full of smelly Matt-boots.

But the best thing about Matt was that he was able to help me come out of my shell. My nickname didn't suit me anymore; but it stuck. I was much quicker to react, and spoke less articulately than before. My sense of style changed dramatically when a week after arriving, Roger took me (and Matt, after an argument about it being 'a free country' and how he would 'go wherever I went') shopping. Much to his annoyance, I bought myself a black leather vest, some shirts, a black leather jacket (with fur trimming around the hood, which delighted Matt greatly), and shoes, which included boots (also to Matt's delight).

But, although on the outside I was the outgoing, loudmouthed Mello; faithful companion of Matt's; on the inside I was still the sensitive, rational Mihael Keehl, always remembering that dream on the first night. At some points, I desperately wanted to tell Matt (or just anyone) about it, but I couldn't bring myself up to it. Sometimes, we would have the occasional contact other than what was normal; such as brushing thighs or hands when we sat down. But they didn't seem to bother us (I for one, enjoyed it; I couldn't speak for Matt, of course) like it would normal people, who would sense the awkwardness of the situation and move away.

Eventually, Matt and I were able to snag a shared room with a bunk bed. Me on the bottom bunk, Matt on the top bunk. And so it remained. Never changing, although there was the weekly changing of our linens.

And then, the 'second nicknames' came along. We already had nicknames for each other; but they had come to feel more like normal names by now. I mean, everyone had one. So; due to the closeness of our friendship, we improvised.

It started one day when we were outside, sitting in our favorite tree (a large, old oak with wide, big branches; good for sitting and lying on) and I dropped a pebble on Matt's head. I had picked it up from the ground due to its interesting shape, and had simply let gravity do its thing in the direction of Matt's red hair.

"Ow! Mel, that hurt!" Matt said, turning his head up and giving a grin. He had never called me 'Mel' before, just Mello; or Mihael on rare occasions.

"Aw, poor little Matty. Did mean ol' Mello hurt you?" I teased, giving him a slight tap in the back of the head with the toe of my shoe.

"You asked for it, man!" Matt said. He jumped down from the limb he had been sitting on, and I followed. Matt took off across the school yard, running as fast as he could towards the doors of the building. I followed, my hands clenched tightly into fists (not in anger, simply in endurance) as I ran after him.

Right before we got to the door; about 10 feet away from it; I got close enough to tackle him. I lunged, and grabbed at him. We fell onto the dirt in a laughing heap. I found myself pinned beneath him; he was supporting himself over me with his elbows, and was practically lying on top of me like a sofa.

We caught our breath, and looked at each other. I found my face flushing as I noticed he was mere centimeters (centimeters, people!) away from my face. I took a breath, and inhaled some of his unique cent. He smelled, oddly enough, like copper and cinnamon, like a warm breeze and fresh dew. My mind kept reverting from the situation at hand to my dream. The person in the dream had smelled exactly like this. Well, it wasn't as though I had never smelled Matt before (believe me, I have. Once, he 

went 2 days without taking a shower, the lazy ass, and it would be impossible to lie and say I didn't smell him, because I DID.). But this seemed different. Better, almost.

We then finally both realized the situation at hand, snapped back into reality (well, I'm not sure about Matt; he naturally has that 'spaced out' sort of look) and noticed we were getting a few stares, the occasional odd glance, and a single "Sick! Get a room!" from one particularly rude 14 year old. Both of our faces were red. Matt pushed himself off of me, brushed himself off, and walked inside; not saying a word to me to prevent further making the situation worse. I caught his drift and followed him inside; praying that the crowd would simply dissipate.

I followed him all the way to our room, and found him sitting on our bed, looking down. His cheeks were slightly pink. I wasn't sure whether it was because of the sun or our little 'incident'.

"Mail… you okay?" I asked, using his real name, due to the fact that I sensed the tenseness in the situation.

"What? Yeah, sure…" He said half-heartedly, not looking up. I tilted my head to the side slightly, a look of worry plastered to my face.

"Mihael…" Matt said after a silence of about 15 seconds or so. "Did you feel… anything back there?" He asked quietly, tucking his head in a bit to remain focused on the floor.

"Well… yeah. I felt you crushing me." I said, and gave a tiny smile. Apparently, my attempt at humor didn't work.

"Well, yeah, that, but… you know… anything… out of the ordinary? Like… like you would feel if a girl suddenly came up and kissed you or something?" He said, looking up suddenly so quickly it nearly scared me.

"Well, not exactly…" As I said this, I noticed he looked almost completely crestfallen. "Well, yeah… I guess so…" I said, aware of the apparent blush on my face. "I felt… happy." I said, looking worriedly at him. His gaze was a perfect mirror of mine, I was sure of that.

"M-me too…" He said quietly, his voice sounding forced, with the tone you get when you feel sick to your stomach. A single tear rolled down his right cheek.

"Mihael, what's wrong with me? I mean, we happen to land like that, and I now I feel happy about it? Am I sick or something? Am I…?" I could tell what he was going to say, and I looked down to confirm that he didn't need to go on.

"I understand what you're trying to explain… and no, it's okay… it was just… an abnormal fluctuation of the standard level of teenage hormones due to a situation one would normally find arousing if one of the males was replaced by a female…" I said, giving a tiny smile; hoping the official (and I thought reassuring) scientific explanation helped at all.

Matt suddenly turned to me. "Mihael…" He said, his voice very serious. "I… I think…" He murmured, edging closer and closer to me as he spoke. I soon found myself underneath him like before, only this time it felt much more comfortable due to our privacy and the significance of the situation. When our lips were barely touching, he whispered, "I think I love you…"

And then there was the kiss. Our lips made contact for an awkward few seconds, before we instantly recoiled, and returned to our former seats on the bed. My face was about as red as a burning coal; I presumed. That kiss felt exactly like the one in the dream I had had. It was almost scary. Matt really had been the one in my dream. I loved Matt?

"It's okay, Mail… I-I think I feel the same way, too…" I whispered, looking down. I noticed with my peripheral vision that a few tears were rolling down Matt's cheeks. I brushed them away with my thumb, and wrapped him in a hug. I didn't care if it seemed awkward, Matt was my best friend, and I couldn't stand to see him cry; especially if I was the cause of it.

"But, I mean… I'm sure it's okay… we're close friends, we're just 12 years old after all… there was sure to be some form of… 'experimentation' in the future anyways… I guess we were just more mature than that." I said, smiling slightly. Matt returned my smile, and my spirits lifted.

"Yeah… I guess so…" He said, and gave me a tight hug.

I inhaled his scent, that wonderful, foreign scent of cinnamon, fresh dew, copper, and a fresh breeze. "I…I…" I whispered, unsure of what to say. The words felt gauche on my tongue.

"It's okay; you don't need to say anything…" Matt said comfortingly. And I knew that by that he meant 'I love you, too.'

--

After the whole 'confession' deal, Matt and I were closer than ever. We called each other 'Mel' and 'Matty' without feeling embarrassed, and openly held hands when one of us pulled the other down the hallway to class or elsewhere. When we could, without being seen, we kissed each other quickly and gently during our break, leaning in quickly as though we were about to whisper a secret to the other, then softly brush lips and press against each other before returning to what we were doing before. We kissed each other when we woke the other up in the morning and when we went to sleep at night. We began to share a bed, cradling the other in our arms until morning. I would place my head in the crook of his neck, and listen to his soft breathing until I fell asleep.

Around that time, I was taken shopping again because I had outgrown all my clothes. Well, most of them. I hadn't outgrown my boots or my jacket, but everything else, I had begun to realize, was tighter than normal.

I was taken shopping again, but Matt stayed home this time. And Roger wasn't worried that I wouldn't be able to pick out my own clothes. He simply gave me a budget, and left. He told me when he would return to pick me up, and that was that. I bought my clothes with a smile on my face. Matt would be ecstatic, I knew it. He had always admired my taste in clothing, but since the boy barely grew due to his 'anorexia' (which I still teased him about; he was 12 years old and weighed only around 85 pounds, (And they say males were supposed to be the heavier sex…) he never outgrew any of his clothes, and was thus never able to shop for more.

When I came home, Matt practically attacked me to see what I had gotten. "What'dja get, what'dja get, what'dja get??" He demanded, acting like a hyper squirrel who had just found a lifetime supply of acorns.

"You'll see. Just let me go change real quick." I said, grinning. I stepped into the bathroom, and quickly changed into my new purposes. Even though I couldn't see through the wood, I could tell that 

Matt was standing right outside the 'whacking range' where he could get hit by the door. I changed as quickly as possible, and then stepped outside. I think something in Matt's head exploded.

I was wearing a leather vest, along with a pair of leather pants with a skull buckle, and my old boots and jacket. My pants had many buckles and straps on them; some for actually holding the pants up and for storage, but some also for decoration.

"M-Mihael… you look…" Was all Matt could stutter. I gave a sly grin, and walked up to him.

"So, you like it?" I asked, giving a little twirl on one of my toes.

"Like it?? I'm jealous of it!" He said, and I laughed.

"Well, maybe if you got over your anorexia problem, you could shop for new clothes!" I teased, which rightfully earned me a pillow in the face.

Albeit the excitement of my new clothes, about the only positive reaction they got was from Matt and I. Everyone else took it the wrong way. As we walked down the hallway, I could hear snide whispers from the small clusters of people on the sides, catching snitches of names like 'gaytard' and 'whore'. I just chose to shrug it off and ignore it, and preferred to think of myself as having a sense of fashion above that of everyone else's. But, no... Matt had to butt in with a little of his retribution.

He grabbed the collar of one of the boys who had just called me 'gaywad' at the time, slammed his back against the wall, and snarled at him, "If you fucking ever call him that again; I swear, I will break your god damn leg, then beat you within an inch of your worthless life with it. So shut up, bitch, unless you want to get killed." Matt then proceeded in tossing the boy to the ground roughly, grabbing my hand, and leading me swiftly out of the room.

"Mail, what the hell was that all about? Do you think maybe you overreacted just a bit?" I asked as we sat down in one of the common rooms they had. There were couches, chairs, tables, books, and a TV. We sat down on one of the couches in the corner. Well, I sat and Matt sort of flung himself onto it.

"I can't stand it when people make fun of you, Mihael… just because they know you're better than them they think that by trying to put you down they can feel better about themselves. It makes no sense." He growled, biting his lip hard in angry thought.

"Well, you don't have to do anything about it. It's me their talking about, and I can handle it in my own way. I can fend for myself, you know." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you can, Mihael… it's just… I guess I'm a little overprotective…" Matt said sadly, looking down with his arms folded across his chest. I pulled him into a tight hug, and gave him the gentlest of kisses on the neck.

"It's alright… I'm sure I would have done the same thing if I were you… just maybe I wouldn't have threatened to kill him." I said, giving a small smile. I could feel Matt loosen up as he smiled too.

"Good old Mello… always knows how to cheer me up."

--

The next day, as we walked down the hallway, we noticed that as we passed, everyone suddenly became quiet. I absentmindedly found my hand slipping into Matt's, and our fingers intertwined as we 

walked towards the dining hall. I glanced over my shoulder once or twice, but Matt barely looked to me to signify 'don't do that'. I stopped, and we turned a corner. I could instantly hear everyone else relax and move on with whatever they were doing.

As we were about to pass Room 101, Mr. Roger stepped out from the doorway, blocking our path. The sudden shock made us release hands, and we stood, staring at our teacher and second-in-command to the orphanage.

"Mail, come in here, please. We need to talk." He said simply, his hands folded politely in front of him. Matt walked solemnly to the door, looking down as strands of hair hid his face. I followed him, but was barred at the door by Roger.

"Mihael, you stay. I need to talk to Mail alone. Go to the dining hall. He will be with you shortly." Roger commanded, and I glanced over at Matt for a fleeting second before going down the hallway. His face was cloaked with worry, and I could tell it was because he was sure Roger was going to talk about yesterday's little fiasco.

I sat down at our regular table in the dining hall, and folded my hands similar to Roger's. I was worried about Matt. Would he get kicked out of the orphanage? Or would it be one of those things grown-ups did when they acted like something was so incredibly serious; but in reality they treated it like it was minor.

My thoughts were clouded, and I sat there in deep thought. What would I do if Matt was kicked out? I had no other friends. Would I just go with him, and we could run away and fend for ourselves? It was a very stupid idea, I thought, but at least neither of us would have to be without the other.

While I was thinking, I didn't notice Matt trudge over to our table and sit down next to me with a 'thump'. He placed his arms on the table, and his head in his arms.

"Matt… are you alright?" I asked, gently touching his shoulder. He was shaking beneath my touch. He was crying.

"Shh… Matt… it's okay… what happened? Shh… just tell me what he said to you." I whispered, giving him a gentle hug. We were getting a few stares; mostly from the people around us. I wasn't sure whether it was because he was crying, or because I had hugged him. I didn't care which. I just cared about Matt.

"He-he said that someone had told him what I did yesterday… a-and he said that I was a danger to the s-student populace of Wammy's…" He said between quiet, shaky sobs.

"A-and…" He gulped, his eyes boring holes in the table. "He said I would have to leave…" His eyes squeezed shut as some final tears rolled out onto his cheeks, and his fists clenched tightly. I felt my heart stop for a few beats.

Matt… leaving? Forever?

"Mail… no… you can't leave… you're lying… he was lying… just tell me this is some sort of sick joke… please?" I begged, my grip on his shoulder tightening, the fabric becoming curled up in my palm.

"No… he told me to pack up my things and leave… as soon as possible." Matt whispered, placing his head back into his arms.

I could feel tears pressing against my own eyes. I squeezed them shut to prevent them from spilling over the edge.

"No… no!" I cried, getting up with a clatter of chairs and running blindly. I ran out the door, across the grounds, and soon found myself sitting up at the highest point in our oak tree. I buried my face in my hands as I leaned against the tree, and began to sob. I sobbed my heart out, not caring whether someone saw or heard me. I only wished all my troubles would leave me as easily as the tears and cries were.

I felt a presence next to me. It was Matt. He wrapped his arms around me in a hug, and held me close. I sobbed into his chest, clutching desperately at the fabric of his shirt, as though I were hanging off a cliff and he was the cliffside that would prevent me from falling. After my sobs had died down a bit, he grabbed my chin and kissed me. It was unlike any kiss we had ever shared before. I could feel everything in it; every emotion, every thought, everything. It was so different; as though I was kissing a different person.

The kiss spoke of love, undying love. It spoke of anger, happiness, confusion, sadness. It was as though Matt's mind was an open book, and I was reading it through the kiss. It was amazing; a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing, unique and special in its own right.

When we released each other, my tears had become dried up. The sadness was gone, replaced by two holes. One of bliss, one of emptiness. I knew I couldn't go with Matt. I wouldn't be allowed it. Even if I tried to go with him, I would be barred at the gates. I could watch him go, but not go with him. It was infuriating.

But that kiss told me everything I ever needed to know. Matt loved me; he never wanted to leave me; that was sure. But it also told me that I needed to let him go. It didn't tell me to forget about him; I knew I never could; but simply to let him go his own way. I found myself believing that I could deal with that. I found myself smiling despite the apparent sadness of the situation, but that dissipated when I saw Matt's face. It was streaked with tears, and anyone could tell that he was sad. That look would always remain a part of his personality; that fragment remaining in his expression even at his happiest. But I knew he could never be fully happy without me. The kiss told me that.

We didn't need to say anything to each other as we got out of the tree. Sitting at the bottom were Matt's things, all in a small duffel bag. We walked towards the gates, hand in hand, our fingers intertwining like the finest of gossamer spider webs. Standing in front of the large, iron gate was Roger. He looked solemn, yet sad in a way. If he was sad to see Matt go, why was he being exiled?

The gates were open, and there was a small car that would take Matt to wherever he was going. He set his duffel bag down, and took both of my hands. We didn't care if Roger saw us; we gave each other a tight hug. I'm sure Roger expected this would be when the tears would come, but no tears came. We both understood Matt's fate.

"I love you, Mihael…" He whispered into my hair, holding me close to him.

"Love you too, Mail…" I replied, and we gently kissed each other on the lips. I was unsure as to what was going through Roger's mind, but I didn't care. Matt grabbed his bag, flung it over his shoulder, and was led through the gates by Roger. He got into the car, and gave one final look at me before the door was closed. With a cloud of dust following it, the car holding Matt left. They knew they didn't need to close the gates to keep me in. They knew I wouldn't follow.

--

The rain fell down harshly on the streets of LA. I walked down the road, not really knowing where I was in this unfamiliar city. I came to an apartment-like structure, and looked at it. Sitting next to the stairs that led to the entrance door was a hunched figure, hidden by the darkness and fog of the rain. I could barely make out the lit end of a cigarette in the bleak weather. Seemed odd that normally such a hot place like LA could get rain like this. It stung when it hit your skin. I was surprised the cigarette could stay lit like that.

I remained frozen in my spot, staring hard at the figure. They seemed so alien, yet so familiar. I took a step forward, and then realized it.

Matt. It was Matt.

"Mail?" I asked tentatively, taking another small step forward. The small flame of the cigarette was slowly raised into the air; and I was sure that pale green eyes were staring at me.

"No one's called me that in years…" A voice said. It sounded rough, as though it hadn't spoken in a long time. The cigarette was flicked to the ground, and dug out with the toe of a boot.

"Most just call me Matt… well, not most… the few I ever interact with." He said, standing up. I could barely see the familiar striped shirt, vest, and jeans of my best friend. He still hadn't outgrown those clothes. Good old Matt.

"It's me… Mihael. Remember?" I asked gently, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

"Don't remember one…" Matt said calmly, taking out another cigarette from his pocket. He tapped it on his thumbnail, but didn't light it; just held it in his mouth. Guess he noticed the rain by now.

I was crestfallen. Had he really forgotten me? "Oh…" I said sadly, looking down.

"Yeah, don't remember a Mihael…" He said, almost happily. Maybe I had been mistaken? Impossible. He recognized his own name, and he was called Matt. So why didn't he remember me?

I suddenly found two hands on my shoulders, and I was pulled into a tight embrace.

"But I do remember a Mello." He whispered, kissing me. I remembered our last kiss before he left; so full of emotion and passion. But this was better. Much better. All the sadness that had been in my life after he left poured out of me as easily as the rain poured from the clouds. It was replaced by ecstasy.

"Matty…" I whispered, hugging him as tightly as possible, our bodies squeezed together in what appeared to be one large form.

"Mel…" He replied. We stood there for a moment, taking in all the feelings and thoughts that had just been released.

"I love you so much, Mail… I thought I had lost you forever…" I told him, tears leaking out of my eyes, adding to their already dampened appearance. The next words Matt said I will remember forever. They will always remind me of when we met. And he said them with the happiest of smiles on his face.

"Nice to know, Mihael. Welcome to the club."