The American Mafia had to answer to a teenager with the same haircut all good Catholic schoolboys had worn in Prague in the 90s; sitting unconventionally on a zebra print couch, a relic of old world criminality displayed like a Playboy spread: Mello.

Matt squinted at Mello while he locked the door. 'We could be friends with benefits.' he suggested. 'I've considered it.'

'It won't be weird in ten years.' I promised, fighting frustration with the limits of Matt's effort. 'You'll get used to being bored.'

Fuck Near for being younger and better anyway. Fuck Matt for being somehow more aloof and daring and anarchistic in his rejection of good social behaviour than Mello had ever imagined being. Fuck Kira for wasting everyone's bloody time. Fuck Linda for challenging the system he was counting on. Fuck everyone.

It was a shame the law didn't see Mello the way Matt did: as the superhero of investigative journalism, the unstoppable force against which the unmovable crime object met it's match.

11 January 2010: I should be happy.

Mello drags Matt to Spain against his will to pull off a heist. Expecting to be holding fort in a tech van somewhere safe, Matt is disappointed when he ends up mascaraing as a wealthy tourist, forced to enjoy good food, beautiful views, and all that stuff he doesn't really like.

'I don't forgive you, by the way.' Matt said. His hands were in his front pockets and he was smiling, looking at Mello's ears like he always did, never looking in anyone's eyes – Mello had almost forgotten that he did that. 'For leaving me. I'm pissed.'

It occurred to me that Mello had issues – an inferiority complex, a control thing, something psychosomatic. I hoped, and would continue to hope for a few wild months in 2008, that he and I were going to do despicable things together and then go out in a blaze of glory. I don't know why I wanted that. It was crazy to want it; I don't want it anymore.

What happened to Matt wasn't Mello's fault. He'd let Matt go, and Matt had come back.

'You have a gun down your pants. That's psychotic.' Matt pointed at Mello's crotch with his lit cigarette. 'Why would you do that'

Matt didn't need his heart to stop beating; his life was always a flat line.

Matt's really greatful for everything Mello's done for him, as he should be.

Matt is sure something more important will come up, and he understands. Mello's busy. And Mello feels the same way; he just hopes L will understand. He's busy.

Baby, if you love me, would you please, please, smile? Baby, if you love me, god dammit, grin.

Matt has a friend he can rely on when Mello's gone, and he's dreadfully, devastatingly in love.

Honestly, Matt was kidding when he said he wanted more attention from Mello. He really never wanted to come to the Mall at all.

Matt knows a lot of what Mello is, mostly the dark side. It's what he didn't know, the light that is Mello, that he finds out on this morning.

I promise you, Mello, I will make loving me worth your time.

It isn't normal, what Mello's doing; writing his wish in blood, using Matt as the paper, and it's the reason Matt never leaves the Orphanage that haunts him so.

Of course I'll see you around. You can run away, but I will come for you.

Matt is number 1.

Matt's insecure. He may also be superstitious enough to bet his relationship with Mello on how many petals are on each flower in a bouquet. Mello's insecure in a different way, and one of those flowers may be just what he needs.

Mello tells a lot of lies, but when he tells Matt he loves him, that's the best one of all.

The pool is a good place to gain access to boy's elbows. They can't lick them themselves, someone has to do it.

The note started "Dear Mello. I love you.."

In which Matt and Mello are happy being together, Matt meets someone new on the bus, Mello scares children, and Matt finds a new way to control his best friends rages.