Author's Notes: Sorry for the immense delay. Just didn't have inspiration, I guess…*sigh*

I have gone back to winging the chapters. I had no idea what I was writing while I was writing, just that it was from Matty's POV. New characters are introduced. I created them around my story's needs, so please don't get upset if they're OOC. They were originally nameless…and then I decided to throw in some names. Sooo…yeah.

Warnings: Italicized dialogue is the native tongue of the country. No, you will never know the name of the country, for actually various reasons. Also, there is some swearing…and some not-so-pleasant images dealing with eating disorders.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. If I did, Matt would have a bigger part. I do own this plot, however.

Chapter 4

My apartment was on the second floor of an old building that used to house two families—one on either floor. It was converted into an apartment building when the country—this city especially—began to Westernize, gain bigger businesses, you understand. Obviously, the families lived pretty modestly, since they had many children and often had extended family in the same home. Me, on the other hand? Oh, I really found this apartment a wondrously spacious accommodation. If I had been able to scout a place out first before I moved here, instead of letting TCS reps find me one, it probably would have been smaller.

Still, they paid for it, and I didn't have to pay rent, so who's complaining?

There was a young couple that took up the other half of this floor and a few tenets downstairs as well. The couple was pretty nice, and the husband, Raye, was helping me learn the native language so I can, you know, live in this city. Buy food, clothes, get directions…The wife, Naomi, however, acted very meek when joining her husband and me. I had encountered her on a few occasions alone, though she was usually out with friends or shopping or visiting her parents. And, let me tell you, that quiet, shy girl was really just an act. Her husband agreed—though hearing about their bedroom exploits was where I drew the line. I didn't have the heart to tell either of them that I wasn't not into…that sort of thing. Especially when Naomi came onto me.

Don't worry, I refused to actually do anything with her, and she knew better than to go further than flirting with me. Showing a little leg, brushing a breast against me, it was all pretty harmless. And Raye said that she had done that with the previous tenets in my apartment. One of whom was female, might I add.

Now, that wife was alone in her apartment when I came home. She heard me coming up the stairs and walked out, wondering if I was her husband.

"Home late, yeah?" she asked slowly. She knew I was trying to learn their language and she spoke slowly so I could keep up and learn.

I smiled at her and replied, "First actual job. It was a hard one." She smiled and followed me into my apartment after I unlocked the door. One lock, that was it. It felt like such a relief, almost calming.

She sat me down at my dining table and walked around so she could rub my shoulders. "Do you want to relax…?" she inquired, the suggestion wide open. I didn't answer, but let her continue her massage. It felt amazing. "You fix computers, yeah? What was wrong with your client's computer?"

I couldn't identify a few of her words, but pieced together her meaning and stored those words away for later to ask her husband. "New computer, needed old files and…programs put in…Ah, that's nice…" Her massaging felt amazing, so much so that I forgot the word for "install." She seemed to understand, though, so everything was fine.

Her hands continued their ministrations while she kept up an almost one-sided conversation. I didn't mind, really. The day was too tiring and she was distracting me from actually thinking about things I didn't want to remember. At least, not at the moment. She was relaxing, calming. Her hands were just small enough that my body didn't react enough to them to get turned on. It was actually a relief. She would have enjoyed that…

Still, she let her hands fall down my chest and past my stomach, which was growling in hunger—I had skipped lunch and it was well past dinner time. They stopped at my waistline and that's when my hands flew up to her arms, pulling them back up. "I apologize," I sighed.

"No, no. I am deeply sorry. Too far too soon, yeah?" she tried to make a joke out of it, brush it off, and pinched my shoulder. I hoped she didn't think she could get anywhere further with me later on…She decided to change the subject when she heard my stomach growl again. "I'll make you dinner. Come." She pulled me up and dragged me out of my apartment and down the small hallway to hers.

It was the same size as mine, with a different layout. It definitely looked more lived-in. Well, they had been living there for quite a few years. Much longer than I had been living next door. I sat at her table and waited for her to prepare some dinner. She didn't talk anymore, since she was busy cooking and seemed to enjoy silence just as much as talking. It was fine with me, considering I reveled in silence most of the time. Well, silence from people, since video games and computers can get pretty noisy.

The quiet filled with only the sounds of pots and pans clanging and foods boiling allowed me to think. Maybe I didn't want to think, though…Maybe I wanted to forget again.

So…I decided to distract myself further by thinking about Naomi. Like, why she came onto other people when she had a husband of her own. The simple answer was power, and I knew it. She had told me that she used to work, but after meeting Raye, and moving to this city, he told her that he was the husband and the breadwinner. Sexist, yeah, I know. She lost part of herself because her husband decided she didn't need it and wanted to control her. So, she decided that since she couldn't work, couldn't hold power over herself, she could hold power over others. She seduced them, played with them like putty in her hands.

It was sort of disturbing. But it made sense. And the worst part? Her husband knew everything. He had witnessed it in action, even, and called her out on it once. And what did they do to solve their marital woes? A wonderful night in bed, heard through the whole building. So glad I wasn't living there yet.

What would I do if my husband—if I ever had one—was purposefully cheating on me? I would probably be so hurt, I'd never want to be with him again. After all, he said he would love me for better or worse, right? So, that meant that he obviously wouldn't love me through whatever he was going through that would make him want to cheat. Then again, why the heck would anybody love me enough to marry me and vow to always love me, till death do us part? I wasn't worth loving. I was just some nerdy guy who wasn't even remotely attractive.

Naomi placed a plate in front of me, with various foods, all very rich. It all smelled so good, I couldn't help but begin to shovel it into my mouth. She explained that she had already eaten, so contented herself by sitting across from me and blathering on like we were old friends—meaning she quickened her speech and I couldn't follow, only picking up a word here or there. It was alright, though, as I had begun to go off into my own world in my head.

Mello hadn't even wanted me, all those years ago.

He'd pushed me away, kicked me out. How could he want someone like me, anyway? And, of course, there was that little fact that he was straight and I was a guy. Or, at least, he thought he was straight and would definitely never change…especially for somebody who walked out of his life without even a goodbye…

And anyway, he had acted completely businesslike earlier; he didn't want to be with me ever again.

Heh, I had finally seen him again, and it was as if we had never known each other. It didn't matter one way or another. Our friendship was long-gone and I bet he wasn't even thinking about me right now like I was thinking about him. He was probably concerned about his "top-secret" work.

Man, I really wished I knew what he was working on that was so secretive, so important.

"—would you like to go?" Naomi's voice cut into my rambling thoughts.

"Huh?" I answered back. So intelligent, Matt.

Naomi smiled, knowing I hadn't been paying attention. She repeated, more slowly this time, "A few of my friends are going out this Friday night to a club. Would you like to go with us? You haven't been out much yet, yeah? You're always in your room or at work. I'm gonna take you out on Friday night!" She beamed, as if it was a brilliant idea.

I stared at her blankly and just bit off another piece of the bread on my plate. She almost pouted, but instead smirked. I had a feeling I wasn't getting out of this "date" with her and her friends.

She continued to talk again, apparently only concerned that I heard about my new plans for Friday night. I tried to pay attention, if only to keep my mind away from a blond man who had single-handedly taken over my life—hopefully not for a second time. Please not for a second time.

Eventually, when my plate was completely empty and my stomach utterly full, I was able to excuse myself for the night. By the time I made it into my apartment, I heard someone coming up the stairs outside and realized I'd left just in time—Raye was home from work.

I immediately sat on my couch, nursing my swollen belly. I ate way too much. Her food was just too delicious. It hurt to move and I felt extremely nauseated. The worst part was that the reason I felt sick wasn't because of the fullness but because I had trained my body to think that I was always nauseated from eating too much food.

So…I made my way to the bathroom and leaned over my toilet. I felt disgusting as my belt dug into my stomach. I couldn't believe I ate so much; I had no self-control. I was just a fat pig. My middle and pointer fingers entered my mouth and triggered my all-too-familiar gag reflex. The entirety of my dinner exited my body in several waves.

Yeah, it tasted disgusting. And, trust me, I knew the health risks of bulimia and anorexia. Twenty years of eating disorders tends to do that to a person.

Nevertheless, I did vow to myself that I couldn't eat anything for the next few days. If Naomi wanted to take me out for a night on the town, I was going to do it in as sexy of a body as possible…though no body of mine could really be considered sexy…

Approximately fifteen years previously

I had locked myself in the bathroom again. I held onto the toilet tightly; it had become my best friend recently. I had learned that I didn't always have to starve myself. I could eat to my heart's content and just let it all come back out…or go all the way through quickly. But that way was a little worrisome. What if some of the food still digested and went straight to my fat stomach? Or my pudgy hands or flabby arms?

A pounding on the door woke me up from the light nap I had apparently been taking. I was used to that, though. I was always tired, after all. I just thought it came with growing up. After all, adults constantly drank coffee to wake themselves up.

"Matt! You get the fuck out of there! You come out and stop dirtying my toilet, boy!" a man's voice called.

A woman's voice tried to reason through the wooden door, "Matt, honey, you have a problem. I can help you. I know a place that we can take you and they'll take real good care of you."

The man argued with his wife, "We are not sending him there. I am not paying for him to get rid of this problem when all we have to do is force feed him and lock him out of the bathrooms." He kept refusing to believe I actually had a problem. His wife, however, did believe I needed help. She, of course, couldn't help me. No, she was willing to send me away, though, just like the rest. Nobody kept me long anymore. I was just that unwanted. I wasn't good enough for them because I wasn't a perfect little son who embraced whatever way they lived. Ha, no, I had "problems."

They just didn't want to deal with me anymore. They were going to get my social worker to take me away again. But the state couldn't afford a private program like the one that foster mother had suggested, so nobody would truly, professionally help me. At least, not for years to come.

Tears had weld up in my eyes that night, and I cried myself to sleep while gripping onto the toilet seat, a drop of vomit against my lip. My foster father eventually found the key to unlock the bathroom door and I found myself in my bed the next morning. I wasn't changed, my mouth tasted horrible, and I had a killer headache—the rest of my body ached, too, but I was definitely used to that by then—but my face was clean.

The doorknob was gone from the bathroom door when I went to relieve myself after I woke up.

In less than a week, I was in the back of my social worker's car, being taken to a new family. None of the doors had locks, there were kids everywhere, and I felt completely out of place. What else was new?

Author's Notes: Of course, the distribution of flashbacks will not be even. Matty needed more chapter, I didn't want to go onto the next workday, and so you got a nice, self-pitying, bulimic flashback. I'm very sorry, my dear readers. I do not mean to drown you in Matt's eating disorder. In fact, I guarantee that his next flashback will not have these issues. Other issues, yes, but more entertaining ones for you guys.

I originally created a wife that kept hitting on Matt and her husband who works and is very friendly to Matt. And then I decided to name them…and realized the one good almost-married couple in Death Note is Naomi Misora and Raye Penber. So…they became the couple. I do not mean to mess with Naomi so much, but I needed to warp her into my own story. I did try to analyze her based on some things I noticed from the series, so I hope that compensated…? I'm also sorry that she was most of the chapter…

Also, a big thank you to DIMS, who listened to me ramble about this story without having read any of it ((yet)) and for beginning to speculate plot. Sadly, their plot bunny was not very close to the actual, but it was a good, educated guess. They do know more than you guys, only because they know me more than you guys. But, you'll learn most of it in time. Don't worry.

Next chapter, we return to Mello's work. Yes, you will see some of his work! You still will be left mostly in the dark, but that's the point. If you have any requests or ideas, please share! I would love to hear them!

So, please review—if you loved it, hated it. And explain why/why not if you have the time. Reviews help me grow as a writer, and that benefits you all! ^-^