Rating: G
Characters: Mello/Near
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Life in the house is still the same old.
Dinner served at seven, self-study at eight, free time at nine and light's out at half past ten. Roger's voice could be heard chasing the few naughty ones to bed, just like every other day. Doors slamming shut in a fit of childish anger, hall lights off and then Roger's slow heavy footsteps down the staircase and back to his room.
And like a seemingly endless monotonous cycle, Near stares at the bar of chocolate on Mello's table. Just like every other day.
A few pieces of essential clothing, documents and a bit of savings from the given pocket money were all Mello took away with him. The rest of his belongings were all destroyed. All except that bar of chocolate. Oddly enough, no one bothered to claim or even open it. Not even Matt. Perhaps it is a silent way of respect or something.
Half past twelve, Near got on his feet and walk slowly to the window. Thunder and rain washes the streets furiously, just like that night; no signs of stopping, as if preparing to drown the town of its shadowed weary. Near's vision fixates at the main gates and those familiar questions cloud his thoughts again.
Near often wondered about the initial situation Mello would find himself in. Someone as witty and sociable as him will definitely survive well outside of the orphanage. Nothing will faze him, come what may. Mello is a fighter, physically and mentally. Near always believed that somehow, Mello will fight his way back to claim what belongs to him in its entirety.
"Working together?" Mello scowled. "Which part of 'There can only be one successor' don't you get it?!"
"They did not specifically define 'one successor' in the first place. If we work together, we could be one."
"You're always the better one, Near. You don't need me."
The entirety of it all... Mello had it all at that one moment before he chose to live his own way. Near always knew that. If only Mello had that one bit of calmness in him to see the benefit of predictability and flexibility; cold and hot; calm and action all co-existing in two separate entities... If he would throw this whole unnecessary inferiority complex out of the window, he would realize that he is always number one in areas which Near could never win him... And how Near needed him and vice-versa to complete as 'L'... If only he would stay...
In a small place in Near's mind, a voice taunted him, "Tell him you need him, make him stay."
He watched from the window of his own dark room as Mello walked briskly to the main gates. Then, he stopped and stood there for a long time before turning around. Near felt a surge of warmth rushing through him as Mello looked up at his room. And as soon as it rained down on him, he took it as a signal for him to go.
Near watched him disappear slowly into the distance in that wretched weather. He knew it would be futile to say out those words.
When Near focused his attention back to the chocolate, he lifted it up. And then... his eyes met that photo underneath it. Almost instantly, he felt his heartbeat drum furiously against his chest.
It was against all logic in his mind ever since the first time his heart reacted that way for Mello. ('It's the rivalry, the hatred he had... Those made me react.' he explained to himself.)
Always the same smile on that rebellious face as he purposely damaged his toys; the same scowl when he quietly passed by him. And his brilliant set of vocabularies hurled at him across the room during random days...
Despite his deadpanned expression, his heart beats louder than his thoughts. And a finger would curl into those soft white curls and twirl... (Trying to twirl away his focus, the warmness creeping onto his cheeks...) Sometimes, one of his hands would held his bended knee a little tighter while the fingers on the other hand pressed down on a puzzle piece for more than a minute or so... waiting for the 'thump, thump, thump...' to revert back to its normal state.
And now, facing Mello's photo, he picks it up and sits down on the floor. He holds it in mid-air for a moment, starring at it as if spell-bound. His mind wavered together with the hypnotic rhythm of the pouring rain and his thoughts coursed wildly in a silent manner in this self-destruction process.
...Why did he leave this behind? ...Golden crisp leaves against bright blue sky... and his face, that little smile and seemingly devious intense eyes... He shines like the sun.
Near like the winter sun. Tender and warm in that outrageous iciness. Occasionally, in the early afternoons, he would stand in that wintry weather with his face up, eyes closed and just basking in that captivating warmth. He could almost feel his own existence.
For the cold winter nights, all he needs is Mello.
He shines like the sun.
Maybe he's not that tender.
A little harsher...
But he definitely makes him feel warm.
Maybe he burns like fire.
And makes him feel his own existence.
And he burns in his cold winter...
Near likes it that way. He shines like the sun.
Maybe he's not that tender.
A little harsher...
But he definitely makes him feel warm.
Maybe he burns like fire.
And makes him feel his own existence.
And he burns in his cold winter...
And for that, he would let Mello burn his world... and him.
Purposely damaged his toys...
(and his next set of toys would always seem better, nicer. 'At someone's request', Roger would tell him in a small voice)
The same scowl when he quietly passed by him...
(and he would still hold that smile when his eyes met Near's accidentally)
His brilliant set of vocabularies hurled at him...
(and after which he would say, "Don't give me any chance. No satisfaction in winning when your rival don't respect you by doing their best.")
Near knows that he frequently thinks about the 'thump, thump, thump...' a lot, especially in cold weather and warm cheeks and warm body would fill half of his thoughts. Maybe this is what 'missing something' feels like... just, maybe.(and his next set of toys would always seem better, nicer. 'At someone's request', Roger would tell him in a small voice)
The same scowl when he quietly passed by him...
(and he would still hold that smile when his eyes met Near's accidentally)
His brilliant set of vocabularies hurled at him...
(and after which he would say, "Don't give me any chance. No satisfaction in winning when your rival don't respect you by doing their best.")
He puts down the photo and rubs his cold hand over his socked feet.
At least when Mello's around, it's not that cold.
