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Near’s charcoal eyes wrinkled with fatigue as they skimmed over the case file for the hundredth time. Every word seemed to blur into the last. A yawn broke across his lips. He silently scolded himself for falling asleep. He had been making good progress on the investigation, but his new bleary state had robbed him of that efficiency. Gravity suddenly seemed too harsh on his small body, and the room was whirling around him as if the Earth was rotating in double time.
He tore his gaze away from the laptop and swept his surroundings. He had a few robots arranged in a semicircle nearby in case he needed them to supplement his thought process. The rest of his toys were still stuffed into cardboard boxes in the far corners of the room. He had been in the midst of unpacking the previous night when Watari had called to request that he take the case. That meant he had to pause the preparations to settle into his new house, and he was instead forced to remain awake overnight to investigate a string of murders.
He peeled himself away from his position, crouched on the floor, and resumed unpacking his belongings. A short break might help him recover some of his consciousness so he could return to his work. A deflated kiddie pool and a series of identical rubber ducks had already been strewn over the white tile in an unfinished attempt to organise them. That left one box empty amongst others which were loaded to the point of overflowing.
His attention fell on the finger puppets he had made during the Kira case. He glanced down at his hand, where the replicas of himself and Mello were almost always kept on his index and middle fingers. He had started that routine at the end of the investigation, when he believed Mello to be dead, and it became habit even after the blonde announced his presence at Near’s old headquarters a month later.
He set the two special puppets amongst the others. His eye lingered on the smirking Mello model for a while longer. He wished the older boy had agreed to work with him. Since the Kira case closed, he had found every other job woefully understimulating, and lived in a perpetual state of boredom. He was admittedly lonely as well, despite having spent his whole life by himself. He preferred to operate in an environment with other people to bounce ideas off of, as he had learned working with the SPK, but everyone was always too busy to waste time on him.
Three loud knocks at his door rescued the young detective from his miserable vortex of thoughts. He swivelled around to face the entranceway, which was barely visible down the long corridor adjacent the vacant living room. He retrieved his phone from the pocket of his button-down pyjama shirt. No new messages. Weird; anyone who might bother to visit him on occasion would have almost certainly called first.
He wandered down the hallway and peered through the peephole, which had been strategically installed fairly low to cater to his height. His eye widened as it met a tanned torso exposed by the cropped hem of a quilted vest. The upper half of black leather pants was visible through the small hole, and the further up his gaze moved, the more of his vision was occupied by uneven gold strands that framed the scowling face of his guest.
Mello.
Near decided to spare the impatient blonde another moment of waiting and guided the door open. Sharp cerulean eyes immediately narrowed on him. The serene silence of the empty house was disturbed by the urgent tap of Mello’s foot on the ground, and the hot, ragged breaths that sliced the lingering chill of the evening atmosphere. A large box was clasped between gloved hands, sheathed in black-and-white checked wrapping paper complete with a yellow bow.
“You look like shit,” Mello stated.
Near opted to ignore the comment. “Welcome. Is there something you need from me?”
He pretended not to notice the box until it was being thrust into his vicinity. His hands lifted to rest on the corners, loosely enough that it would fall if it weren’t for Mello’s firm grip suspending it in the air. The box was hard beneath the paper and he recognised the distinct sound of cardboard as his nails scraped along the sides.
“Happy birthday,” Mello grumbled. He nodded to the present and shoved it closer to Near until he was forced to take it. “Open it.”
Near’s brow descended. “My birthday is tomorrow.”
“Obviously. I need you to open it now.”
Near’s eyes shot back to the box with a sideways tilt of his head. He hadn’t celebrated his birthday since his age was still a single digit, and never thought of the day as anything more than the indication of another completed revolution around the sun. But of anyone Near could imagine making a fuss about the date, Mello wasn’t one of them, unless there was some ulterior motive.
“What is this?” he asked.
Mello’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?”
It’s already a surprise, Near thought, but he took the gift anyway and studied each edge. The exterior didn’t seem suspicious. With his hands now free, Mello retrieved a chocolate bar from the pocket of his leather pants and sharp teeth snapped off the corner. Near peered over the top of the box at the off-putting sound. Mello’s eyes were glued upon him with one eyebrow raised, and beneath the expectant stare, Near decided he may as well just open the present.
It was unlikely that whatever lay inside had been offered with the intention of killing or even harming the almost-19-year-old. Near had known Mello for 12 years, and he knew how Mello operated. It was probably a prank of some kind; an attempt to humiliate him. He could tolerate that.
His careful hands tugged at the yellow bow until it unravelled and collapsed at his feet. As expected, stripping away the wrapping paper revealed grey cardboard edges. He cast aside the paper, along with the ribbon, and ran a pale hand over the surface. It looked to be a shoebox of some description, though any logo or other indication of the contents was absent from the naked faces. Something inside rattled when he shook it.
Near took his time to survey the entirety of the present. He peeked through the holes in each side, which both displayed only darkness regardless of how close he pressed his face against them. He listened to the rattling sound again, once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. Mello’s smirk had contorted back to a frown, and the rhythm of his leather boots tapping against the concrete was growing increasingly more rapid.
“Just open it already,” he urged.
Finally, Near removed the lid.
The first object that drew his eye was what looked to be a folded, button-down shirt. It was white, similar to the identical pyjama tops he typically wore, but littered with faint blue spots, including along the sleeves and collar. Beneath it lay a pair of blue pants that resembled jeans, but slightly more formal in appearance. At the bottom of the box – the source of the rattling – were two beige, lace-up dress shoes.
Near dug through the pile in pursuit of anything he might have missed. He was left at a loss when the search uncovered nothing but a receipt scrunched in the corner with a hefty price that almost made Near drop the shoebox. Was this Mello’s way of teasing him for wearing pyjamas all the time? But to spend so much money…
“Clothes,” he commented simply, unwilling to betray more of his confusion that would paint a victorious grin back onto the blonde’s face with a bitter vengeance.
“I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night,” Mello said. “It’s a pretty fancy place, and I just know you don’t have anything remotely formal in your wardrobe.”
Near’s widened eyes flittered about, trying to decide where to land between Mello’s face and the strange gift quivering in time with the shake of his hands. He wondered, for a moment, if he hadn’t yet woken up from his intrusive slumber, but his rational brain was too dominant to let him entertain the thought. People can’t read in dreams, and since he had easily discerned the alarming total inscribed on the receipt, he had to be awake.
“You’re taking me out,” he repeated.
The words were clearly uttered in his voice, but they sounded foreign, and he hated the uncertainty with which they crumbled his stoic façade. He knew Mello had noticed it, by the way an approaching smirk crinkled the corners of glistening eyes. For once, Mello was reading every thought and emotion that crossed his features, whilst Near was still none the wiser when it came to the blonde’s intentions.
“Don’t you dare try to tell me that you already have plans,” he said. “I’m picking you up from here at 6:45. If I see you in those damn pyjamas, I swear I’ll shoot you for real this time.”
An exaggeration, of course, but either way, Near had no intention of ruining the carefully constructed plans Mello had made for the pair. His primary objective was to find out why Mello had bought him formal attire, showed up at his door and was about to voluntarily spend a night with the younger boy despite having considered him a sworn enemy since he was 9 years old.
Sure, Mello had softened a little since the Kira case, but they weren’t exactly friends, nor had the blonde ever shown up at Near’s doorstep without some kind of obvious motivation. And this surprising generosity wasn’t born out of impulse. The receipt dated back to a week prior, so this was something the blonde had been planning for a while.
Maybe Mello was scheming to somehow usurp the role of L. Or maybe he was intending to stand Near up, and leave him feeling lonely and stupid in apparel he would never otherwise wear. Regardless, he hadn’t been granted much choice in the matter, and wasn’t thrilled at the possibility of receiving a metaphorical bullet in his head if he didn’t cooperate.
A part of him also wanted to attend out of sheer curiosity as to what this dinner could entail. He wanted to know what this meant for their relationship. Did Mello still consider him a rival, or had he unearthed some long-buried desire to reconcile with Near? Was this his way of repaying Near for protecting him from a lifetime prison sentence? Or maybe he even wanted to work with Near – that was probably wishful thinking, but he couldn’t rule anything out.
The door was shut before Near could ask any further questions. As he shuffled away to deposit the new clothes in his bedroom, he had an inkling that tomorrow would be the most interesting birthday of his life.
~
Near had to blink a few times to convince himself that the reflection before him was really his. Mello had the courtesy of purchasing clothes that were a size too big, apparently respecting Near’s preference for extra breathing room when it came to his attire. The shirt was slightly rougher against his skin than he was used to, but at least it wasn’t suffocating him, especially with the top button undone. He tucked the hem beneath the adjustable waist of his dress pants.
The shoes were his only real issue. The tapered ends squeezed his toes together and he had difficulty tying the laces. In general, he hated wearing shoes, so the concern was less with Mello’s choice and more with a personal vendetta against the design. He could at least keep his white socks on underneath, with the overhanging ends of the pants concealing them well enough. He assumed the thick socks were responsible for the tightness of the shoes, but any discomfort was negated by the sensation of fuzzy fabric against his feet.
He appreciated the overall aesthetic of the outfit. Near was never one to fuss about appearances. He took care of himself in the faculties of nutrition and hygiene, but his body wasn’t something he really paid any mind to. He never had an interest in making himself look presentable to others; it didn’t matter, when he hardly left the house, and anything considered ‘fashionable’ wasn’t typically designed with comfort as its main priority.
But he could admit that it was strangely nice to see himself in something other than baggy pyjamas or a loose-fitting pair of jeans. His hair had actually been brushed to flatten the curls from his chronic twirling habit, and he had even gone to the effort of trimming his nails just to really complete the look. As his eye ran along the length of his figure, he started to feel, for the first time, that he might actually be offended if Mello didn’t show up.
That fear immediately subsided at the harsh thump of Mello’s knuckles colliding with the front door. He used a specific rhythm when he knocked that Near recognised upon hearing it. He glanced at the alarm clock perched on his bedside table, behind where the full-length mirror stood in the corner of the room. 6:44pm. No matter how reckless and unpredictable he could be, Mello was at least punctual.
With each stride into the hallway, Near winced at the thud of his shoes that broadcasted his usually quiet footsteps. He approached the door and his fingers ghosted the handle. He let an eye wander towards the peephole. It only took a glimpse of the burn scar occupying the left side of the blonde’s face to confirm that this was real. Mello was really here. Mello was really going to take him to dinner.
The lock clicked and Near tugged the door open. Mello grinned at him from the other side. Near noticed that his outfit was still mostly leather, though the combination of garments boasted a more refined exterior. A plain, black shirt hid in the shadows of his jacket, which matched the dark leather of his pants and shoes. His nails had been painted black to complement a series of rings along each hand, and his red rosary hung proudly around his neck.
Near’s mouth remained closed. He was good at feigning indifference, when his instinct was to stumble backwards and gape at the sight of Mello in a suit until his jaw melted into the concrete beneath him. His mask only faltered when he overtly looked the gorgeous man up and down a second time, though he had a hunch that Mello was so used to being stared at that he wouldn’t notice.
Meanwhile, Mello seemed to memorise all of Near’s form in a single sweep of his eyes.
“Not bad,” he said. “Let me just-”
He moved closer to fasten the buttons of Near’s sleeves that he had habitually left undone, then squatted down to tie his shoelaces. He stepped away with an approving nod as he admired his handiwork. Near shifted the sleeves to allow his wrists as much latitude as he could manage. Mello started towards his car, which lay dormant on the vacant driveway, and paused after a few steps. He spun around to face the small boy paralysed by the door.
“Are you coming?”
~
Mello wasn’t lying when he said the restaurant was fancy. Even in his semi-formal attire, Near felt underdressed, and he wanted desperately to shrivel up from the moment he walked in. The space from the entrance was vast, lit by the amber glow of a crystal chandelier that clung to the ceiling several feet away from him. Candles on each table offered a haunting light beneath the chins of each occupant.
The décor had been coordinated to suit a sophisticated colour scheme of caramel and mahogany, with hints of rich greens in the fake pot plants located at strategic intervals. A family of oil paintings filled empty space along the walls. Near could see a counter adjacent the extravagant double doors, and a bar opposite.
He recoiled beneath the stares of a few patrons close to the front of the establishment. He was struck by a wave of sudden nausea and unconsciously shuffled closer to Mello. He glanced up at the taller boy, who was busy glowering at anyone who dared look their way. He realised as he watched that they were most likely gawking at his prominent burn scar, which Near had seen too many times to really notice much anymore. The uncomfortable moment was saved by an approaching waitress offering a small curtsey to the pair.
“Good evening,” she said. A beaming smile broke across cherry-painted lips. “Do you have a booking?”
“Yeah, it’s under Mello, 7pm,” Mello said.
The woman nodded and ran her finger down a list of names on the counter with a pen poised in her spare hand. She stopped at one and drew a line through it.
“Right, a table for two.” She swivelled around and scanned Near and Mello. “Are you a couple?”
“Couple? No, this is my… um…” Mello twisted his head to study his once-nemesis. “Business partner.”
Near’s brow quirked, but he said nothing.
“I see. Come this way.”
The waitress ushered the pair towards the far wall of the room. A white tablecloth was draped over a square table, with lace patterns on the fringes exposing slivers of the polished wooden surface beneath. The arrangement was somewhat isolated from the other diners, which Near supposed Mello had specifically requested. The waitress set the food and drink menus in the centre beside a jar of flowers and a vanilla scented candle. They claimed their seats on either side of the two-person setup.
“Business partner,” Near repeated once the waitress had left.
Mello responded with a grunt.
“Shut up. What am I meant to call you?”
“Before today, I would have assumed a rival.” His lips pursed. “But if that’s no longer the case, then I’m inclined to ask what else you could possibly consider me.”
At that, Mello’s eyes drifted to the wall behind Near as he forced out a sigh. In the weighted silence, Near tried to predict what the blonde was thinking. ‘Business partner’ was clearly a ridiculous answer given in the absence of a more accurate reply. Mello was very transparent about his refusal to work with the younger detective. He certainly didn’t regard Near as a friend – if he did, he had a peculiar way of treating his friends.
Based on the way he responded to the waitress, anything romantic was out of the question, not that Near would have assumed that to begin with. Which left… what? An acquaintance? Someone from his childhood who he couldn’t quite let go of? Every theory that seemed vaguely plausible just raised a host of additional questions that he couldn’t begin to answer.
Finally, Mello spoke: “Are you hungry?”
Near’s chest twinged with disappointment. That wasn’t quite what he had hoped for. Mello retrieved one of the food menus from the stack in the centre and nudged the other one away from him. Near let his eyes linger on the blonde for a moment longer before he conceded and opened the other menu.
He shuddered at the horrendous prices listed along the right column of each page. Near would be fine, with L’s entire fortune behind him. Mello, on the other hand – well, Near wasn’t sure what shape the older man’s finances were in, but he didn’t exactly lead the lifestyle of someone who had the kind of disposable cash to afford any of these items. Was Mello expecting to pay for all of this?
Not a word had been exchanged between them by the time the waitress returned to take their orders, nor once their drinks and a side of potatoes were delivered to the table. Mello raised his glass to his lips and took a tentative sip.
“So, how has the title of L been treating you?” he asked.
Is he really just going to ignore my question? Near thought. Alright, if that’s how it’s going to be…
“That’s very civil of you.”
Near caught the subtle roll of Mello’s eyes. “You could just answer the question.”
“You could answer mine.”
Mello tried to keep a tough exterior, but the wrestle of his hands in his lap suggested a level of nerves that Near found oddly intriguing. Mello rarely struggled to be transparent about his feelings; but now, the man was withholding something from him, and Near was determined to find out what it was. He forked a few potatoes onto his plate, still holding the narrowed pair of icy blue eyes with his own.
“I don’t know,” Mello said.
An already raised eyebrow climbed higher towards Near’s bangs.
“Hm. Let’s start with something you can answer then.” Near found a lock of white hair and spun it around his finger whilst he selected his words. “Why did you insist on bringing me here tonight?”
The blonde exhaled. “Every time I came over, you were just sitting in the middle of a maze of dice or cards or whatever 5-year-old’s toy set could interest you that day. And you were always by yourself, and you always looked so bored, and I thought if no one else is going to drag you out, then it’s going to me.”
Was Mello insinuating that he felt sympathy for Near?
“I mean, come on, it’s your fucking birthday,” he continued. “And you were going to spend it doing what? Working on some case?”
Near scraped the skin off of a potato with his fork. “L didn’t take days off.”
“Well, just because you have his title, doesn’t mean you have to be a carbon copy of him. Lidner told me you didn’t even celebrate with the SPK after Kira died.”
“They went out drinking. I’m under 21.”
“You seem to have an excuse for everything,” Mello noted.
Near’s brow furrowed. He watched the blonde gulp down his drink whilst he pondered Mello’s justification. He supposed he may as well ask the one question that had been plaguing his mind.
“Does this mean that you care about me?” he said.
Mello paused with the glass still hovering at his mouth. “I care about the fact that you need to stop being a fucking hermit.”
The corners of Near’s mouth twitched upwards, but he resisted smiling fully. That vague answer was as good as any. Mello would never admit it, but he really did care about Near, at least to some degree. When this latent thoughtfulness had suddenly activated, Near wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to sabotage the progress he had been waiting years to see in their relationship.
He decided not to press the matter any further and instead shifted his attention to the waitress, who was approaching the table with two steaming plates of food. Wherever this compassionate side had come from, he wanted to cherish it as long as it lasted. For now, he would focus on making the most of the night while he had the chance. After all, Mello was right; Near had been bored, and he had been lonely, and maybe this was exactly what he needed.
~
It had taken 7 long months for Mello to finally take the initiative and reconcile with Near.
Since the defeat of Kira, Mello had been at a loss for what to do with himself. He’d undertaken a bit of private detective work, but most major cases were delegated to L, which meant that little of the work he’d done in that field was actually interesting. After Matt’s arduous recovery from his bullet wounds, he had found himself a job and a girlfriend, and had less and less time to spend on Mello since moving out.
That had left the reckless blonde at a dead end, and he hated being stagnant. He knew he must be really bored when he had started visiting Near on occasion, using his cases as an excuse when he couldn’t otherwise justify willingly seeing his rival. To be fair, he had reason not to hate the boy anymore. Mello almost sacrificed his life to save Near’s, and Near had repaid him by pardoning his extensive resume of crimes.
But there was something else at play, something that really made Mello re-evaluate his loathing. Each time Mello came by, he noticed that the younger boy’s mental health seemed to have been steadily declining. The signs weren’t obvious, but they were there. His voice was quiet and croaky, his already dull grey eyes were often lined by dark circles and he had noticeably neglected the need for a haircut. Mello didn’t think he had even left his headquarters at all, other than to move into a new house and hole himself up there instead.
Mello found himself feeling strangely sorry for Near. He had always preferred to be alone, but even at the orphanage, there were at least other people around to provide some sense of comfort and community. Now that the SPK had been disbanded, Near had none of that, and Mello had been too embarrassed up until August to handle the matter on his own.
Near’s birthday provided Mello with the perfect excuse to get him out of his prison and into the fresh air. Mello easily hurled witty retorts back at Near each time the detective tried to pry into his motives. Truthfully, he only avoided them because he didn’t know the answers himself.
He didn’t know if he still viewed Near as his enemy. He didn’t know if he cared about Near, or why he had coughed up so much of his limited money supply to buy an expensive dinner and a new outfit that Near would most likely wear once and forget about. He didn’t know why his heartbeat practically tripled when the waitress asked if they were a couple.
Yet somehow, as he rolled into Near’s driveway in the late hours of August 24th, he was certain that he had done the right thing. The night had gone surprisingly well. After Mello had finally given in and told Near the truth, he noticed the pale boy starting to open up more and more. He had told Mello about some of his cases, about the end of the Kira investigation (Lidner had conveniently left out the part about Near giving the blonde credit for almost dying), and even about the fact that he seldom had human interaction that wasn’t work-related anymore, though that wasn’t much of a surprise.
Not to mention that the food was divine, and Mello couldn't stop thinking about how adorable Near looked in his formal attire.
Throughout the entire car ride, one of Near’s rare smiles that he reserved for a successful deduction during a case had appeared whenever he thought Mello wasn’t looking. It was present in all of his features; in his upturned eyes, in the blush and the dimples in his cheeks. Mello couldn’t resist a smile of his own at the satisfaction. Near was happy. Because of him.
Mello climbed out of the car and rushed to the other side to attend to the passenger door. Near slipped out of his seat. He glanced up at Mello, who had shut the door but left his fingers lingering on the handle. Near’s smile was gone, but there was a certain softness about his expression as he nodded.
“Thank you,” he said.
Mello stepped forward with a shrug. “It’s just a door.”
“I wasn’t talking about the door.” Near’s gaze shifted to the brick path beneath him. He wrapped a tendril of platinum hair around his pale index finger. “Thank you for tonight. It was nice.”
Mello took the opportunity while Near was distracted to edge forward. He stopped when the younger boy’s attention returned to him.
“If it’s not a problem, I would like you to stay,” Near said.
“What?”
Of all the words Mello had expected him to say, that hadn’t been on his radar.
“I said I would like you to stay,” Near repeated.
“Yeah, I heard you.” Mello’s brow raised. “Why?”
Near’s focus shifted back to the ground and he withdrew the hand from his hair to instead fidget with the button on one of his sleeves. He opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. His face scrunched. A long silence hung in the air before he seemed to finally find the words he wanted to say.
“I haven’t been coping well on my own. It would be nice to have company for a little while.”
Mello’s stomach clenched. He knew that – it had been the reason he arranged this at all – but he didn’t think Near would ever admit it aloud. He followed his impulse to take Near’s face in his hands and lift it until their eyes met. Near flinched at the touch at first, but his body eased and Mello was surprised to feel a light tug in his hair. In his peripheral vision, he could see Near’s finger twirling and unravelling the golden strands on the opposite side to his scar.
He had intended to speak, but Near’s intense stare paired with the sensation of his hair spinning around the younger boy’s fingers seemed to drain all of his rational thoughts. Instead, he found himself leaning closer, until the only sound was his elevated heartbeat pulsing in his ears, and the only air between them was the merging cloud of their breaths escaping through their open mouths.
Mello pressed his lips to the soft pair before him. Near parted with the blond locks to intertwine both hands behind Mello’s neck. Mello embraced the smaller waist in a silent request for him to move closer and Near opened his mouth to grant Mello access to its caverns. The deeper the kiss, the more the two felt bonded to one another, as if they were a whole, and neither knew where one of them ended and the other began. Suddenly, Mello had the answers to all those questions he had been avoiding throughout the night – or perhaps he had been denying what he knew all along.
Near was the first to pull away. Mello tightened his hold, salvaging the last of the moment in case the detective asked him to leave or to apologise, or at the very least to never do that again.
But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he asked: “Does this mean you’re going to stay?”
Mello didn’t spare a moment for thought before he said yes.