Mello simply didn't understand it. You weren't particularly remarkable like people at the top of the Wammy's food chain were. Your face and body didn't make heads turn, bellies flutter with butterflies nor did hearts stutter. At best, you were oh so painfully average, little wallflower you. Well, average for geniuses. You didn't even try fixing yourself up and you dressed like shit, sticking your head down.

This was a puzzle even he couldn't solve. Why did Matt's eyes always look to find you? Was was so enchanting about you that the redhead simply couldn't allow himself to look away? You were duller than a broken lightbulb that no one would envy him for having you on his arm. In fact, you were so plain, you made him quite close to punching that face of yours in a rage.

He wanted to see the magic that had Matt bewitched so terribly but the redhead was useless, always replying in unintelligible mutters and refusing to elaborate when he'd tried asking. Now Mello's hand had been forced and the blond decided a practical experiment was in order.

By experimenting, Mello meant 'accidentally' hitting you in the shins with a hockey ball during PE hour. You'd fallen with a loud thud and he'd been the only one to rush over quickly to 'help'. Seeing you up close didn't change anything, actually. You were still the useless eyesore he thought you were, causing a grimace to grace the blond's lip as icy blue eyes stared at you as if you were nothing more than a filthy little creature at the zoo. He'd wasted his time on something so... mediocre. He was ready to up and leave, not wanting you to contaminate him -

Until he heard your voice. You asked him if he were alright in sweet, delightfully timid tones as if he were the one in your place, as if he hadn't looked at you with unbridled disgust. Your eyes were wide, your lips pouty - Mello felt like he was starving. A primal hunger had been awoken - of his inner animal finding the perfect prey. This was it. This was what Matt had felt, undoubtedly.