"Hey! Back off!" The blond boy growls, dragging your 'bully' away by his hair. As always, blunt and with no restraint; however, now it was directed into a completely different route from his normal one.

"Mello!—" One of the workers calls out for him, but he doesn't react except for one momentary glance over his shoulder, after which you feel his hand on your wrist and your body being moved against your will.

The kid didn't even hurt you anyhow—you were simply playing, but for some reason, Mello, a genius who often found a reason to bother you, now decided to 'stand up' for you. Everyone knew his ambiguous reputation: the second smart minor in Wammy's House who spent most of his time studying and preferred to be alone, and when he did interact with others, it was mostly to pick up on them and be rude for the sake of it. Matt was the only one with whom he shared a word or two calmly, but no more. Even when he came out to play football outside or participate in any outdoor or indoor activity, it couldn't go without him hurting anyone, verbally or physically.

When adults attempted to calm you down by claiming that he's 'just a boy' and constantly justifying his actions by stereotypical sayings, which was ironic for a place that's supposed to give the highest level of education possible. That was, without a doubt, tiring, and not only for you; however, it was impossible to change his behavior. No matter how much time passed, Mello's attitude was firm and unchangeable. No hours of conversations helped, nor did separating him from others. On that point, everyone got used to it; he spends most of his time in the library anyway, buried in books and killing his eyesight with the computer screen, so everyone let him be.

A few children murmur, but no one interferes, and a worried caretaker also decides to let you both go, although she doesn't turn around until you're completely hidden by the walls of the many corridors that are built within the orphanage. Mello stops only when he makes sure you have privacy, absolutely uncaring for your discomfort or protests. He halts without any warning, pushing you forward with a small spin so you would now stand in front of him. His expression shows anger, but it's impossible to know precisely what he's calculating in the brilliant brain of his. For a second, however, when he stares at you with the intensity you often catch him doing, you wonder if he's checking for any bruises or creases on your shirt.

"Next time, don't let anyone treat you like this," he says, but then adds, so it wouldn't sound any doting: "Only I can bully you, because I'm smarter."

What a pathetic excuse—yet, can you blame a thirteen-year-old who has issues with his emotions and a first crush?

Well, that was a spoiler! But not as if it wasn't obvious, was it? Mello would never admit it, but whenever you are in the same room, he doesn't stop tracking your movement. And the fact that he didn't kill you, like many have joked, shows that it's not out of a personal agenda towards you—not in a way that it may appear...