Note : Helloooooo ! Here's my new story ! The title will explain itself in later chapters, the story will run from Matt and Mello's birth to their twenties so be prepared for a long story, many chapters, and, knowing me, a lot of cliffhangers (yes, I'm cruel !). I hope you like it !
As Impurities was a one shot, MarshMello finished and I'm quite out of inspiration for Et Cetera, I had to write this one ! But Et Cetera's next chapter will be up soon, it's half written ! Stay tuned !
(Check my profile to find my stories !)
But let's focus on this story now !
Just so you understand a bit about what I have in mind, Matt and Mello still are geniuses here. For the rest, just read !
And please review !

December 13th, 1989, Fera Clinic, Berlin, Germany.
"I'm sorry, Mr Keehl. Your wife..."
The man's lip trembled, but he quickly erased all emotions from his face. "What about the baby ?" he asked blankly.
"The baby is fine, it's a boy" the doctor stated, not daring to look at his interlocutor, a tall man in a black suit, probably in his mid thirties.
"Can I see my wife ?"
"I'll lead you to the mortuary room".
The man stood beside the body of a blond beauty, fighting to hold back his tears.
"It's beyond my strength, Gabriele, I'm sorry, how am I supposed to take care of him without you ?" He cried silently, leaving the mortuary room hours later.
"Mr Keehl, I guess you wish to see your son now ?" a nurse asked when the man was back in the maternity aisle.
"Well, I don't... I can't keep him... I thought..." he tried to decline, adoption seeming the best option to him. A second nurse appeared, a blond baby in her arms. She handed the newborn carefully to the desperate father.
It took a single look at the wonder in his arms to fall madly in love with his son.
"Your mother had an angel's name, so will you, Mihael...".

February 1st, 1990, Los Angeles Metropolitan Medical Center Maternity, USA.
"Red ? RED ? What the fuck is that joke ?"
The tall black man grabbed his wife's chin, a menacing look in his eyes, not caring for the bruises that were already showing on the woman's pale skin. "Who ?" he spat in a threatening tone.
"Please, you're hurting me !" the barely twenty years old woman was in tears, scared.
"WHO ?"
"He... I... Please ! That was a mistake ! I love you !"
"You're lucky your family is backing my ass up, so I'll let you bring this little bastard home but it won't be easy for any of you, believe me, I'll make sure you remember your mistake everyday of your miserable life. And you'd better make sure that your son never steps in my way or..."
The door opened on the nurse, cutting the threat. The man rushed out of the hospital, leaving wife, baby and nurse shocked.
"Did you decide of a name yet ?" the nurse asked, recovering from the shock of what she had heard through the door.
"I don't know..." she didn't dare to say care instead of know. "Hm, I'll name him Mail" she decided quickly.
A few minutes later, sat in her bed, the young brunette was staring at the baby slowly waking up in the lullaby beside her bed.
"Why did you have to come into this world ? This is going to be hell for both of us you know... Everything's gonna be hell because of you..." she sighed, mechanically caressing the copper locks on the baby's head.
"Even your hair has the color of hell..." she sobbed. But when the newborn opened his eyes, deep blue orbs stared at her, and she felt her heart wring. "Don't look at me with such puppy eyes... but well, I guess then your name suits you well..." she added, thinking of the puppy dog she once had when she was a little girl, a red siberian husky. "Same blue eyes... same dog life for you, I guess...". She started to cry.

December 11th 1994.
"Mihael, please keep quiet."
"But Dad, I'm bored !" the child whimpered, playing with his seatbelt.
"We've almost landed, we'll arrive soon, just be patient" the man sighed.
Although it was almost mid december, it was cool and sunny outside of the airport. The weather surprised the child. "Why is there no snow, Dad ?" he asked, looking up at his father.
"The weather is different in this part of the United States, Mihael, it has nothing to do with Berlin."
"So there will be no snow for Christmas ?" Tears rolled on the little boy's cheeks.
The taxi drove father and son to a simple but beautiful house stuck between similar villas in a peaceful block.
"This is our new home, Mihael. Be sure to be polite with the neighbours and never go outside without permission, ok ?" the man warned as little Mihael ran to the front door. He stopped cold when, through the window, he saw a form inside the house sat on the floor, head resting on knees.
Mr Keehl unlocked and opened the door, only to see a small redhead run to the window, trying to escape, but failing miserably and scratching his knee on the window border, falling on the tiled floor of the kitchen, his leg bleeding. The man knelt next to the trembling boy. "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything to you, even if you're not supposed to be there. But I guess you have a reason." he said, having quickly checked that everything seemed untouched around them. The boy was most certainly hiding here.
Mihael had stood in the doorframe all along, petrified.
"Mihael, please, try to find something to take care of this bleeding knee, there must be something in my travel bag."
The blond boy handed a small first aid box to his father, unable to take his eyes from the redhead, who had been looking at the floor from the beginning.
Once the knee was cleaned and bandaged, Mr Keehl helped the still shaking boy to stand up. "So, what about telling us what you were doing here ?" he asked in a reassuring tone.
"I'm sorry" the child murmured, so low that it was almost inaudible.
"You don't have to, you did nothing wrong here I guess. Were you hiding ? Where are your parents ?" The man was a bit worried to have that kid wander alone without parents in sight.
"I'm sorry" the child repeated, tears rolling on his cheeks.
"Well, I guess you're the shy type... Can we at least know your name ?" Mr Keehl crouched in front of the kid, trying to meet his gaze, but the boy obstinately looked down.
"Ma.. Mail" the boy whispered.
"Well, Mail, do you like chocolate chip cookies ? Mihael never misses the 4pm chocolate break and I'm sure you like chocolate too." The man smiled. "Mihael, please, can you get the cookies in your bag ? We'll go to the grocery later so we don't have anything to prepare hot chocolate now, but at least we have the cookies !" He tried to cheer the small redhead up.
"I don't... know..." Mail replied softly.
"You don't know what ?" Mihael asked.
"If I like cookies..."
"You never had cookies before ?" the blond child's eyes went wide. How could someone never have had something so simple as cookies ?
"MAIL !" a female voice screamed from the outside. "Mail ! where are you ?!"
The red haired boy's eyes suddenly widened in panic and he ran out by the window, disappearing in the backyard.
"Mail you little filth ! Come right here or you'll regret it !" the voice shrieked hysterically.
Mr Keehl got out of the house to see who was the owner of the screaming voice, and he froze on the front steps at the sight of a brown haired young woman wearing a dress that showed more of her than decency would recommend, with heavy red lipstick, messy hair and an overall vulgar attitude.
"Oh, hello !" she purred when she saw the older man, swaying her hips as she walked toward him. "Have you seen my boy maybe ? He's like five, red haired and..."
"No, sorry" Mr Keehl said, coldly, before going back inside and closing the door. Mail obviously didn't need to be thrown in the claws of this woman. He briefly hoped she wasn't his mother.
He could hear the hysterical screams go on outside.
"Dad, Mail is in the garden of the neighbours" Mihael said, as he was looking at the scene by the window.
"He didn't want to be caught here so he made it to his garden from behind the house, I guess... I hope he won't get into too much trouble" the father replied, sighing, while staring by the window, lifting his son in his arms.
A car parked in the neighbours' alley and a tall black man got out of it as the young woman grabbed Mail by the arm, still screaming at him and pulling him to their house.
"What did that brat do again ?" the black man yelled.
"He was out for hours and I couldn't find him" the brunette complained. The man rose a hand and slapped Mail violently, making the little boy lose his balance. The woman almost threw him inside the house and the door slammed shut behind the man.
Mr Keehl decided he would go to the children protection department the next day. The little Mail worried him a lot after what he had just seen.

Later in the afternoon, Mihael was sat on the front stairs of his new home, while his father finished putting all their belongings away. His thoughts wandered from this new house, new life, to the new school he would attend in january after the Christmas vacations, but they were mainly focused on the little neighbour he had met a few hours before.
It was the first time the blond child had been confronted to violence.
In his world of fatherly love, easy life, good results at school, sweet dreams and fairytales, he had always felt safe. Mail was the crack in the bubble. Mihael didn't understand what he had seen.
He kept on glancing at the neighbour's house, hoping to see the redhead again. Somewhere deep inside him, he wanted to make sure Mail was fine, although he could imagine, even if he was young and never saw any similar situation, that such a slap in the face was hurtful.
"Mihael, dinner is ready." His father stirred him from his thoughts.
Sitting at the kitchen's counter, Mihael was picking at his food, his head resting on his palm, elbow on the counter.
"Mihael, what's bothering you ? You've been so silent since we arrived, it's not like you. Are you worried about us moving here ?"
"I was thinking about Mail, Dad... What did he do wrong ? And why doesn't he look like his parents ? And how come he never ate cookies ? Everyone eats cookies ! And is he hurt now ? Will he be going to the same school as me ? Can we invite him sometimes ? And..."
"Oh oh oh Mihael, one question at a time ! You seem confused about what happened, right ?"
"Yes Dad... children shouldn't be scared by their parents, should they ?"
"In a perfect world, Mihael, all children should be happy and have loving and caring parents, but it is not always the case unfortunately. I don't think Mail did something wrong, he was hiding here probably because he has problems with his parents, that is sad and you will have to be very kind with him, but never try to force him to talk about it, ok ? He could be uncomfortable with that subject, so if he talks to you, listen to him and help him the best you can, but don't ask him yourself. I suspect this house was his refuge, so now he lost it since we live here, so we should welcome him here anytime, you can invite him if you like, Mihael, you two could be friends, you're about the same age.
As to know why he doesn't look like his parents, well, we actually don't know if they are his parents.
You should ask him next time you see him which school he attends to, there are many in Los Angeles.
Is that all you wanted to know ?"
"I think so..." the blond child replied, losing himself in his thoughts once more.

That night, Mihael prayed for Mail... and made a silent promise : he would give Mail everything that was missing in his life. At five years old, he imagined he would shower Mail with cookies, a naïve dedication, a vow to which he would be faithful his life long, although at that precise moment the sleepy child didn't realise the weight his shoulders accepted to carry, for years.