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Dear Mello

Summary:

I think you need to find Mihael, Mello.

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Near's letter to Mello

Notes:

Presenting my second fanfiction.

Important: this is not intended as Meronia.

Thank you for reading!

Work Text:

- You know, Mello, I really do think we should try to cooperate on this project. We were told to.

- Shut up and study.

The clock was ticking steadily. The air was stiff. Somewhere far away a dog barked.

Unfortunately, summer was coming.

Summer was a loud season.The children would make such a racket for no reason that Near felt physically ill. In the summer he would often hide in his bed under the hot sheets, breathing in his palms and sweating, just to escape from the noise.

Mello found it funny.

- Look at him! - he would say dragging Near out of his bed. - He is behaving like a baby and he is going to be a detective, solving difficult cases and dealing with dangerous people!

Some other children would laugh along as Near scrambled back into his bed. The staff simply told the children off and told Near to get out of bed because wasn't bedtime.

The few times he ventured outside was when most children were inside, becuse it would be quieter then. And that was mostly because Matt made him go outside. Matt was strange, Near thought.

Matt didn't like being outside either because he was too engulfed in his video games. Despite this, he tried getting Near to go outside because according to him it was necessary to stay healthy and smart.

Matt and Near were in a strange relationship. Matt thought they were friends, Near wasn't sure. He didn't really know how deep a relationship must be for it to be friendship. He just thought Matt was nice to him and liked talking to him. That's all.

Matt was the only person who called Near his friend.

Near wished another person called him his friend too.

- I'm so hungry, - muttered Mello. He was sitting nearby over a book, clicking his pen vehemently. He knew Near hated this sound.

Near and Mello were working on a project together. Despite the latter's pleas not to put them in a pair, they were, "to teach them cooperation and compromise". Mello was in a very bad mood after that.

- I'm not working with you, - he yelled, - you will work on your own and I will work on my own. I don't care if we have to learn cooperation and compromise because it will never, ever work between us!

They tried doing so, but were soon told that if they were told to work in pairs, it meant they had to do so. So now the two boys, one - infuriated by the circumstances, the other - devoid of any emotion on the subject, were stuck at a table in the library working on their project.

It was not a particularly interesting project and Near wished he could do something more engaging. He knew it was necessary to develop his cognitive skills, creativity, attention, logic and, of course, cooperation and compromise, but he really did not enjoy it as much as his last project.

- You know, Mello, since you are stuck on this problem, - Near started.

- I am not stuck, - Mello retorted. - Just because I'm not running around and waving my arms yelling about my success doesn't mean I am not making progress, okay?

- Mello, when you make progress you have a different look on your face.

- Goodbye, I'm going to the garden to do this, - Mello muttered through his teeth and stormed out from the library, taking several books with him. He dropped one of the books. He cursed. He picked it up. He stomped away.

Silly Mello, - thought Near.

Silly, childish, jealous Mello.

Near scratched a piece of paper with his pencil for a bit, writing down ideas and trying to solve the problems. It was quite hot and difficult to think. Near decided he was going to do something different. He slowly got up, put the piece of paper he was writing on in his pocket and left the library.

Mello was sitting under a tree with a book. Near stopped and looked at him from afar. The grass looked very green, the sky looked very blue and Mello's hair looked very yellow.

- I was wondering if you could perhaps help me with something, - said Near quietly from behind Mello.

- You idiot! - yelped Mello, quickly rising to his feet. - You made me jump! What do you need my help for? You're not more stupid than me, I'm sure you can do everything. This is some sort of mockery!

- No, this is not.

- Well if it is not, then it is a trick to get me to work with you, you sycophantic sheep. And in case you haven't noticed it yet, that is not happening.

- It wasn't always like this, Mello. We used to be friendly, remember?

- No, I don't.

- Ah, it's so sad you suffer from amnesia at such a young age, Mello, - whispered Near, looking intently at the boy. - I will try to remind you how it used to be, Mello.

************************************************************

"Dear Mello,

there was a day in my life you did not exist. In fact, there were many days like that.

I used to be alone. I used to be a little lonely boy in an indifferent orphanage. I used to sleep, eat, study and play by myself. There were, of course, a lot of children around me, but I always felt like I lived on a large plane in an unspecified dimension, a simulation full of holograms.

It never bothered me. It was just the way it was. It was troubling me as much as the fact the sky was blue and the grass was green.

It was that way until I was removed from the orphanage I lived in and put into Wammy's House. Because in Wammy's House I somehow felt like we all had a purpose. We were all real, competing in one giant game. We had a leader, who we all worshipped and were competing to take his place when he finally stepped down from his throne. We were there for a particular reason, and it made me happy.

There was one boy in Wammy's House, who took this game especially seriously. We shared a bedroom. He was a couple of years older than me. He was taller than me and had a lot of very yellow hair. He was loud. Quick to anger. Always too close.

I liked him. He was incredibly clever. He was funny. He was awfully ambitious and terribly persistent. I found those traits very attractive.

I don't know if he knows it, but I know his name. His real name. Because this strange orphanage made us choose different names for ourselves and forbid us from sharing our real names.

I found it out by accident.

- And we were absolutely lost, - said a brown haired boy excitedly. We were sitting on his bed and he was telling me a story about him and this other boy going into town. They were friends, you see. - And then Mihael said-

- Mihael? - I asked.

- I didn't say that, - the brown haired boy stammered, turning red.

- You did. His name is Mihael?

- Oh, shut up, Near, you misheard me, I didn't say that!

- Mihael, what an odd name, - I thought.

From that moment that boy became more real than anyone. I knew his real name. He was real.

After some time another situation happened which made him even more real.

I was playing hide and seek with this friend of his and a couple of other children. This happened very rarely. This was too tiring for me to do it often, and it is not like we had a lot of free time anyways. That time I hid in the slightly malfunctioning wardrobe in our bedroom. The doors didn't fully close, leaving a sliver of faint light shimmering through the curtains. I saw little bits of dust hovering in the room. It was quite beautiful, but sitting among the clothes on the hard wood was really not the most enjoyable thing I have ever done. I wished I was found soon.

The door opened. I was thinking it was the seeker coming round to check this bedroom. I hoped he would find me. But he didn't. It wasn't the seeker. It was the boy. Mihael.

I never saw him that way before. You know, Mello, in fact, I was quite surprised by what I saw.

He sat down on a bed. He clenched his jaw and tightened his fists. His face seemed red from where I sat. He put his head in his hands and sat motionlessly.

I felt like I had to leave not to invade this private moment, but I knew that if I revealed myself, he would be very angry with me.

He lifted his head from his hands and stared through the window. Then he turned, facing the wardrobe I was in. His face was in tears.

You know, Mello, it looked really odd. I knew he liked keeping an impression of a tough guy. Someone who knew what he was doing. Someone confident, assertive and sure. And yet there he was crying, Mello.

You know, Mello, I am glad I saw this boy crying. He became even more real to me. I knew he hated failing. I knew he saw crying as failing. And I am glad I saw him in what he deemed to be weakness. Mihael was alive.

Despite my slight fear of showing myself, I slowly opened the door of the wardrobe and rose to my feet. The boy clearly didn't expect me. He yelped in surprise as I stood there, my legs feeling numb from sitting in an awkward position.

- Near! - he said. - You were sitting there this whole time?

- I was playing hide and seek, - I explained. - I apologise. I shall leave the room now.

The boy grabbed my hand tightly.

- Don't you dare tell anyone, OK? - he hissed. - Don't you dare. Not even Matt.

I nodded lightly. He released me.

- What happened?

- Nothing.

- You don't seem like someone who cries for no reason.

- This really is none of your business, - he barked. - Thank you for asking though, - he added very quietly, turning away. - Go away.

You know, Mello, now this boy would never do this. He would never thank me for anything.

The sky was very blue and the grass was very green and the boy's hair was very yellow. It was especially so when we were running after each other in the yard of the orphanage in the summer. It was a beautiful summer.

That boy taught me how to pick locks. I never used this skill and I hope I will never have to. He taught me that when we weren't enemies yet.

We weren't friends. That boy was the brown haired boy's friend. The brown haired boy was his only friend. And me, I was an acquaintance.

But then slowly I stopped being even that. I became better in the eyes of our leader, only to become worse in the boy's eyes.

The boy soon disappeared. He left. Instead, somebody similar came. That new boy looked similar and sometimes acted similar, but that wasn't the same boy. The real boy sometimes returned, but only when he thought nobody saw him. He was like a ghost, like a wind, simply passing through the halls of The House and then mingling with the cold night. I would try and talk to this new boy, try to understand him and make friends with him, but he just pushed me aside and scoffed. His attitude was different not only to me but to other aspects of The House too. He snapped pencils, ripped paper, broke toys. He studied a lot. He would go days without sleeping just to study. He did everything with such fervour that I thought he was going to fall ill from exhaustion.

I know where the real boy disappeared.

He lent me a thick old book once. Towards the end it had this passage. I believe it to be the reason for his disappearance.

"Envy consumed him. It tore him apart, crushed his bones, burned the skin off him. It pulled out his teeth, severed his tongue and gouged out his eyes to replace them with sharp fangs, venomous flesh and flaming sockets."

You know, Mello, I wish I could find the real boy. I preferred him.

I want to ask you for a favour, Mello.

Please, help me find him.

I believe you know where he is.

I think you need to find Mihael, Mello.

Near"