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“what did you say, light yagami?”
“i said that i want you to kill me.” even now, his voice is smooth as silk, and his fingers twitch, itching for a pen to write his name. near stares down at the shinigami’s notebook, which he’s still clutching tightly to his chest, like he’s making sure its powers will stay out of light’s reach.
“yagami light,” he pants, but near could never forget his name. “it’s written with the characters for ‘moon’, ‘night’, and ‘god’. write it, please.” light’s voice takes on a childish pleading tone, and near finds it hard to imagine his mentor dying in the arms of this pathetic man.
“i’m going to take the notebook home and burn it, light yagami,” near explains, never looking the young man in the eye. through the bars of his cell, near watches yagami wince as though he’s just been shot. he has been shot, but that wasn’t quite so recent, as evidenced by the stitches on his chest and neck, and by all of the gauze that he’s sworn he hasn’t been picking at.
near isn’t sure why he cares so much, but that’s a lie. he cares because this is the man, not god and not the devil, who stole near’s big brother’s heart all those months ago.
“i think i’m in love with kira,” he had sighed, and near’s eyes had gone big, “isn’t that awful?” since then, near has learned a lot about unfortunate love. he has watched strong, unfeeling halle pine after mello, clench her teeth and close her eyes when she failed to save him. he has watched himself do the same, felt himself share kisses with the other boy like warmth against the barrel of a loaded gun.
no one asks who nursed mello back to health, who lovingly stroked his scars and taught him to burn again, but it was near.
“he loved you, you know,” near tells the prisoner now. he thinks he owes that much to mihael. light yagami sobs like a choir boy, with his hands behind his back. “i know he did.”