Matt's POV. What I imagine Mello and Matt's relationship having the potential to be…

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all.


What we had was not love.

Deep down, I think I always knew it wasn't.

Love is quiet whispers and gentle caresses. Love is secret glances in a crowded room. Love is knowing another person better than you know yourself. Love is two people so in sync that they can no longer distinguish where one begins and the other ends. It's something that everyone wants. And I wanted it. Oh, how I wanted it.

And I almost fooled myself into thinking I had it.

But I know now that what we shared was something different. Something much darker, and born from a secret place within him. A place I had never dared venture into, not even in all the years I had known him. What we had was violent, even scary sometimes. It was nails scraping away at skin. It was hair pulled out by the roots. It was eyes filled with venom, and stifled screams. Clenched fists and groping hands in the dark.

It was far from love.

But it was all he knew how to give. This lack of love, this non-love was what the world had given him, ever since he was a child.

Mihael. That beautiful, blonde little boy, left on the steps of Wammy's.

Mello. The man that boy grew up to be, eyes as empty as his soul.

Yet still, I was drawn to him. Fate, destiny, those seemed like ridiculous concepts to me. It wasn't predicted in the stars or some stupid crap like that. I was just drawn to him, and that was that. I knew ever since the first day I met him that love was out of the question, but maybe he could still give me something.

"I'm Matt."

The new boy glared at me from underneath blonde bangs. "So?"

"You're new right? I could show you around if you want."

"No, I don't want you to show me around. I want you to get out my face," he muttered, before turning his back to me and walking away.

Even as a seven-year-old, Mello knew what he wanted. That was one thing he had always been good at. When Mello wanted something, he got it. It didn't matter whether it was a toy, a bar of chocolate, a place in the mafia…or even a person. If he wanted it, it became his one way or another.

But the one thing Mello truly ever desired was the one thing he could never quite grasp. To be better than Near. To beat Near in something, anything.

"I have to beat that little albino brat, Matt."

"Jeez, Mels. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love with him. You talk about him enough to be anyways."

I gasped as a hand closed itself over my throat and I was shoved back against the wall. My DS fell from my hand and clattered to the floor as I tried to pry his fingers off my neck.

"Don't you ever joke about that again, Matt." he hissed, his angry eyes inches from mine. "I've spent the last seven years trying to beat that little fuck, and you better not trivialize that."

"I-I'm s-s-sorry!" I choked out. Mello's grip relaxed a little and I pulled in a shaky breath. "I won't do it again."

"Good." His face brightened, and in a truly frightening mood swing, he smiled at me. "Because you're my best friend Matt, and," he leaned in even closer, "I'd hate to have to kill you."

And he was my best friend, too. We spent all our time together when we were growing up, and I think I was the only one who really was able to stand his mood swings. Maybe it was the time spent together. Maybe it was the fact that no one else was brave enough to come near him. But regardless of the reason, Mello decided that what he wanted the day he turned seventeen…was me.

"Mello! What the hell are you doing?" I was pinned against a wall again, but it felt very different than three years ago.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Matty. You're mine, and I'm going to prove it."

I whimpered in pain as his teeth latched on to my neck and he began to suck violently at my skin.

"Please stop Mello."

But of course, he didn't. He was Mello, and Mello never stopped doing anything because someone had asked him to. From that day on, I was his. And not in the way that lovers whisper it to each other. I was his possession. His toy. I answered when called. I sweat, bled, and cried for him.

And now, today, I would die for him. The bastard.

The first two shots hurt. I had no time to cry out as the next three slammed into my chest. God, it fucking hurt. As I fell back against the car, thoughts ran incoherently through my mind.

Dammit, Mello.

did this for you.

Hurts…

We never…had love…did we?

No…

What we had was not love. But it was something.

And I was glad to have had something.


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Beta-ed by: Emo-Nerdy-Insane-Writer