Note: This is the fic I promised to the winners of the Death Nuts contest, all of you that guessed who would be next to die! (see my fics list to read Death Nuts if you haven't already!)
Since you were many to win, I decided to write a multichaptered fic including all that's been asked by the winners. Some chapters will aim at one winner, some at several, depending on the progression of the plot ^^
This first chapter is dedicated to Snappygirl and her wish to see me write about Matt and Mello's first meeting at Wammy's with Matt abuse and something angsty. She also wanted a lemon, but as they're too young now, it will be for later! I promise!
PS: They start very young, but they will be older each chapter, because each chapter will be a progression in their life until they're adult. AND very bad things will happen between them, thus the summary. PS2: chapter rewritten on december 2nd, 2009.
The small redhead curled up in the large closet, sobbing, tears running on his bruised face as he closed the doors on himself, seeking refuge in the dark, among the mess of clothes hung there. An acrid smell of old leather, mildew and laundry filled his nose, erasing all hopes of comfort and warmth that he was searching for. He held onto his folded knees tighter, the cold of the corridor soon gaining him and giving him uncomfortable goosebumps.
He pulled on his sleeves, but the thin fabric wasn't of much help with the glacial december weather spreading its wintry atmosphere in the tiniest of the orphanage's corners, despite the fuel heaters in every dormitory and large chimneys in the common rooms.
But the boy was painfully discovering that coldness wasn't only due to winter, in that place. Any warmth between the walls of the building was long forgotten, among lifeless stares, mocking words and, as he just experienced, raw violence.
Suddenly, light appeared through the opening door, and as he started and looked through his tears who was disturbing his retreat, the child saw a steel colored eye watch him with curiosity through the small slit.
"Leave me alone!" he cried, burying his face once again, his body already shivering from the cold began to shake with anticipated fear. They had already beaten him to a pulp, and he hadn't even been in that orphanage for half an hour!
All he wanted was to be left alone, away from people, away from sorrow and hurt.
But light bathed him as the closet's door opened completely.
"I saw what they did..." he heard, and finally raised his head. In front of him, another child was standing, long blond hair cut straight around his head at chin length, clear eyes showing questioning behind a fringe.
Despite the sharp gaze and the lips stretched in a faint smirk, the fair haired boy didn't spread a threatening aura. The strength emanating from him strangely seemed comforting to the redhead, who suddenly confessed his sorrow in a burst of sobs: "They told me I would be safe here, but everyone lies, all the time" the redhead hiccuped, more tears flooding from his dark blue eyes.
"Who?" the blond asked genuinely, finally entering in the closet and sitting next to the other, closing the door on them.
"Everyone! My parents said I would be safe if I hid in the bathroom, but someone found me and he hurt me! And my parents were dead and the policeman said I would be safe here, and the director of this orphanage said it too! But they all lie!" the small child exploded in a confused explanation.
The blond child didn't understand everything of the heart wrenching assertion, but he knew that the redhead was right: adults lied, all the time. Himself was brought here after his mother told him she would be back soon, when she left him on the border of a road, far from his home.
He had waited two days alone, scared, hungry, but no one came on that abandoned road, so he walked as far as his small legs could carry him, trying to go back home, and fortunately found a gas station on his way, and then everything went fast, and he arrived here. But his mother never came to take him back. She promised, but she never did.
He tried many times to runaway, sure that he should have waited on that road, and that his mother was worrying and trying to find him.
The other orphans had laughed at him each time he had said that his mother would be here soon. And the more days passed without her coming to take him, the more they laughed, and the more his anger grew. Until the day the director of the orphanage told him that his mother would never come back, because they had found her, and she had finally signed papers stating she was abandoning him.
He grabbed the redhead's hand and squeezed it. The other looked at him, hardly distinguishing the blond's features in the dark, but he stopped crying.
"I am Mello." the blond introduced himself.
"I'm Matt." the other sniffled.
"One day I'll take you out of here, but until I'm able to, I'll protect you, I promise..." the long haired child suddenly said. He didn't even know why himself, but there was something about that crying toddler that appealed to him, something stirring the protective side of him out like a blanket he would spread over their head.
"You lie..." the red haired boy replied, wiping his eyes, wincing at the pain as his hand brushed against the darkening bruise on his left cheek.
Matt was four years old, almost five in a few months, and had just arrived at Wammy's orphanage. He had been found unconscious on the floor by the police, in his parents' house, as they were called by the neighbours of this cosy and very well-maintained home, worrying about strange noises coming from the usually very quiet house. They had entered the big villa to find the couple savagely murdered in the living room, the woman obviously raped, half nude and bleeding from between her legs. The man had been viciously cut, his arms barely still attached to his body.
The scene was horrendous, blood staining the british styled furnitures up to the heavy embroided curtains. Bloodbath in a Laura Ashley tagged paradise.
Upstairs, they had shot the culprit as he was slicing through the body of a child, in the bathroom, putting an end to the wandering of a serial killer that the police was tracking since he escaped from jail. The medias had covered the run of the madman in a will to avoid a mass panic, and the child's parents had settled on their leather couch that evening, with wine and sushis, remembering they hadn't lock the door but was it that necessary in such a peaceful block?
Fortunately, the child didn't die although severely injured, and after a long recovery in the closest home for parentless children, he was sent to Wammy's, home for gifted children. What a beautiful way to name a place that never felt like home for any of the children, more like a hellhole for toddlers to teenagers gifted with an above-average brain to make up for what life had taken them.
Mello was barely older, but had arrived a few months earlier, after his mother, unable to hide any longer the fruit of her adultery, decided to get rid of him like a shameful luggage or a dog at holidays time, on the border of a deserted road. The child was crying, scared to be left alone close to the woods, but she had reassured him, telling him she wouldn't be long. He had spent two nights here, cold, hungry, frightened, rocking himself, sat at the foot of a large tree, trying to persuade himself that the noises around him were only his imagination. He finally decided to try to go back home, taking the wrong way as hunger made him dizzy, and landed in a small gas station.
The owner fed him as he called the police, and after a quick stay at the social services, he was brought to Wammy's without any explanation. So he kept believing that his mother would come for him, or was mad with worry looking for him somewhere along this road, and he had hurt himself many times trying to escape through the iron fence surrounding the building and its gardens.
But after his last attempt, that had left him with a severe injury, the iron fence piercing through his body as he slipped, avoided his lung shortly, the director had finally told him the truth about his mother: she had lied, and didn't want him anymore for she had willingly abandoned him.
That day, he had been unable to take the mean laughters from the other kids any longer. After being mocked for believing his mother's lies, he refused to be mocked because she didn't want him anymore. Someday, someone would want him and they would all see!
And he fought, he hit, he kicked, he punched and he beat, as much as his heart ached. They would see, someday, but for now, they would feel the pain too. It wasn't fair, what happened, no, it wasn't right. If they couldn't understand, then he would show them how it hurt.
He didn't understand why the red haired child that had just arrived didn't fight. He was sitting on a bench, alone, in Wammy's gardens, after the director had dismissed him once he had explained everything to him, just like he did for every orphan arriving here. The elder children had come to bully him, and usually, each new child replied back, or Roger, the man that helped the director, would appear to put some order. But today, Roger either had a day off and wasn't there, or just didn't bother, like he happened to do when he had enough, which seemed to be more and more often.
The redhead seemed in pain, but he didn't kick back as one of the orphans kicked him. He didn't stand up from the grass when one pushed him from the bench, and he didn't even say a word when they said really nasty things to him. He let them beat him like a ragdoll in a bad little girl's hands. He just cried silently, and when they were all gone, he stood up with difficulty and dragged his feet inside of the building, hiding in the first closet he found.
Mello had followed him, wondering why someone could let himself beat this way. Himself surely would have fought back and probably hurt them quite a lot before they could send him to the floor.
"I'm not lying, you'll see." the blond said firmly. He stood up and stirred himself out of the closet, pulling the redhead's hand. "Come one, you can't stay here." he added, seeing Matt shiver once again.
"I don't want to see them again..." Matt whimpered, trying to resist.
"Stay with me and they won't hurt you." the other simply replied.
Matt unfolded his knees and, slowly, exited the closet, still tightly holding Mello's hand.
Later, in the evening, Mello managed to convince the director to place Matt in his room so they wouldn't be separated. The old man accepted, seeing this as a chance to avoid a lot of annoyances if the newcomer faced the bullies again, and it would be more convenient to spare the room he had formerly allocated to the redhead anyway, logistically speaking. One less room to check for weekly inspection.
Mello helped Matt put the few he had away and prepared himself to go to bed.
Matt stayed sat on the border of his bed, still in his day clothes, looking at his balancing feet.
"Matt, don't you have pyjamas?" the blond asked, wondering why the redhead didn't change for his night clothes.
"Yes, I have..." the red haired boy murmured, looking at his feet.
"So why don't you get ready for sleep?" Mello questioned, sliding out of his sheets to help his new friend. He grabbed pyjamas in the wardrobe and, as he handed them out to Matt, the redhead reluctantly stood up and walked to the bathroom.
Matt began to take his shirt off but couldn't help but let a whimper escape him each time he moved to pull the garment off.
Mello, worrying for the pain sounds he was hearing, peeked through the partly open door.
"Do you need help?" he proposed.
"Don't look!" Matt whined, his face reddening as Mello realised why he had so many difficulties to get his shirt off: his back and arms were covered by long and red scars, fresh scars. Each move was stretching the still painful skin and preventing the child to move normally.
"I'm sorry! But let me help you! How did you get that?!" Mello pulled on the garment over Matt's head, and helped him put his pyjamas on as the redhead took support on him, his legs unsteady because of the pain, since his legs were marred with red and deep lines as well.
"The man that killed my parents did that..." Matt replied, as tears stung his eyes.
That night, one of the beds stayed unoccupied...