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Near had been sceptical when he'd first received the note. It wasn't that he didn't believe it was from Mello-- there were several things to indicate that it was genuine, things like the code it had been written in, which was hard enough to confuse anyone with an ordinary intelligence, yet simple enough that it left no doubt in Near's mind what the note meant. So that wasn't what made Near hesitate. There was just no way for him to know that it wasn't a plot to trap him or incapacitate him in some way. Yet even though his brain was telling him that this was a very bad idea, that he was compromising the entire operation by going, there was some part of him curious enough to take that risk.
He had been instructed to show up at a small motel in the industrial part of town, and while others might have found this very suspicious, Near wasn't surprised at all. Mello had never been one to bask in luxury; as long as he had what he needed-- food and a place to sleep-- Mello would be content. It had always been that way.
The night clerk at the motel pointed him to room 1313. Again, Near wasn't surprised, and he couldn't help but smile a little as he ran his fingers over the peeling paint on the door before knocking softly. There was a long silence, and he momentarily second-guessed himself. If this was a trap of some sort, he was essentially handing himself over to it; he'd come alone and unarmed, as the note had asked, and now he wasn't sure whether that had really been the wisest of decisions.
The sound of footsteps on the other side of the door startled him, but he didn't move away even when the thin circle of light in the peep hole was obscured by a shadow. After another pause, he heard the slide of the chain lock, followed by the thunk of the deadbolt, and then the door swung open to reveal Mello himself.
They had seen one another recently, when Mello had come to retrieve the photograph, but that encounter had been so brief and unsettling that it hadn't given Near time to really take in the sight of his former rival and childhood sweetheart. The years had been kind to Mello; he'd outgrown the lanky awkwardness of pre-puberty and developed a lean, well-defined grace. But Mello's fondness for dark colours had apparently remained unchanged, because he was wearing shamelessly low-slung leather pants and an equally eye-catching tight, black shirt that served as a backdrop for the silver rosary around his neck.
"I wasn't sure you'd come-- and I thought if you did, you'd bring a legion of boogie men with you," Mello drawled as he opened the door wider to let Near inside.
"The note told me to come alone, so I did," Near droned as he took in the sight of the small room beyond Mello. It looked empty, and he walked through the door without any further hesitation. He wasn't nervous, and even if he had been, he would never show it to his former roommate.
The room looked exactly how he had expected it to: cheap. The fabric of the bedspread and the curtains was stained and yellow-ish, probably from many years of dirt and nicotine, and even though everything else looked clean enough, Near could smell filth under the plastic-sweet smell of all-purpose cleaner mixed with the smoke from Mello's cigarettes that hung in the air.
"Charming," he muttered, looking around before turning to eye Mello. "I don't suppose this comes with a bloodthirsty henchman in the bathroom?"
Not that he would ever, even for a second, think that Mello would take to such undignified and crude measures to get him out of the way. If it ever came to that, Mello would cook up some elaborate and cunning scheme to prove his superior intellect, otherwise he would get no satisfaction in getting rid of Near. But come to think of it, Near wasn't sure Mello would ever want him out of the way. They had always been competing against each other, even during their brief affair, and he was sure that losing one another would leave both of them feeling empty and purposeless.
"You insult my intelligence," Mello drawled with a crooked smile as he pushed the door closed and locked it. "I would never sink that low."
Near hummed, choosing not to comment one way or another-- a deliberate attempt to annoy Mello, and judging from the look on Mello's face, it seemed to have worked.
"If I wanted to kill you, I have much more interesting ways of doing it," Mello huffed as he crossed the room, his boots thumping across the threadbare carpet.
"I suppose," Near replied, and shuffled after Mello to curl up in one of the chairs by the small table in the corner. Twirling a lock of hair around his fingertips, he ventured, "Why did you ask me to come here?"
Mello's back was turned, so Near couldn't see the expression on his face, but his hand did seem to pause when he picked up his pack of cigarettes. After a long silence, which Near was sure was meant to add a touch of drama to the conversation rather than to allow Mello time to light his cigarette, Mello turned and squinted at Near through the smoke. "I wasn't pleased with the way our last conversation ended."
"I'm surprised it matters to you at all," Near replied without inflection, knowing that the unspoken 'not that I care' would irritate Mello. But the truth was, he did care-- very much so, in fact-- and that sort of caring was dangerous. If nothing else, Near had learned from L just how disastrous getting emotionally involved in a case could be. But even so, this was Mello... the Mello whom Near had spent most of his childhood with, and with whom he had fought so hard that they had both ended up with clutches of each other's hair in their fists. This was the same Mello whom Near had curled up with at night, and kissed and loved as much as a young boy can love another.
At first, Near had wondered whether they would still be standing there as enemies if they hadn't had that fight right before L's death. Maybe they would have been allies, working together to catch Kira. But eventually, Near had reached the conclusion that no matter what had happened between them prior to L's death, they would probably have ended up here anyway. Their competition would never end as long as they were both alive and able.
"Of course it matters," Mello said, blowing out a haze of smoke through his nostrils and eyeing Near through it. "But I gave you a lot, and you didn't give me anything in return."
"So that's why I'm here now?" Near asked calmly, not really sure if they were still talking about the Kira case. "So you can try and pump me for information?"
Mello made a quiet clucking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head with a sigh. "You were always so short-sighted. Just because your life revolves around the Kira case, doesn't mean that everyone's does-- not all of us feel the need to prove ourselves to our cold, dead sensei."
There weren't many people who could get under Near's skin, but Mello had always excelled at it, and now was no exception. The gaping wound that L's death had left behind in Near was still raw and open, and Mello had just shoved his fist into it and sunk his claws into Near's heart. But Near would never show the resulting flash of hurt any more than he would show anything else of himself to Mello, so he just shrugged a little-- a slight lift of his shoulder-- and said, "I can only make assumptions based on the facts you've presented."
"Do you have to quantify everything?" Mello spat as he jammed his cigarette into the ashtray. Near watched the smoke rise from the still-smouldering embers while Mello continued his rampage: "You're so naive, Near. It's disgusting. Everything, everything is so black and white with you, but that isn't how the world is, and you'd know that if you ever found the courage to step foot into it. But you'd rather hide in your cold, sterile little dungeon with your statistics and your numbers, and your computer screens that never talk back, or argue, or make you feel anything at all."
Near wasn't sure what bothered him the most: that he had to fight so hard to keep his jaw from clenching in anger, or that Mello still seemed to care so very much about what he was or wasn't feeling. But that had always been at the core of their relationship, he supposed, in whatever form it had taken over the years; all of their petty rivalries and childish competitions had come down to the same thing: Mello craving a reaction from Near-- any kind of reaction, as long as it was some kind of genuine emotion, good or bad. But Near refused to give Mello anything, because, as it was with all children, if you gave them one piece of candy, they'd want more. And Near had never liked candy.
"I see," Near hummed and rose from the chair. "So the real reason I'm here is so that you can spit the same old insults at me as you always have. I'm bored already. Goodbye, Mello."
"Wait," Mello hissed through gritted teeth as Near took a step toward the door, and Near could hear just how much Mello hated having to beg. "Don't go."
"Oh?" Near quirked an eyebrow and shot a cold look over his shoulder at Mello. "Why should I stay if this is all you're offering me? If you're looking for some way to vent your frustrations, I suggest that you find someone else. You bore me."
"Fucking bastard!"
Near hadn't been prepare for the blow; Mello's fist collided with his cheek and made everything turn black for a second as he tumbled backwards into the wall. His head was thumping with pain and he could feel blood rushing to his cheekbone. But Near had, just like Mello, been trained very well in physical combat, and even though he didn't look it, he was tough, so he was only thrown off for a few second before his brain caught up with what just had happened.
"Pathetic," he muttered, pushing away from the wall and shoving a lock of stark-white hair out of his eyes. "But I suppose I was excepting too much when I thought we had moved past this stage."
"We never moved past this stage." Mello sneered and only barely dodged the knee that Near aimed at his groin. He was not, however, fast enough to keep Near from slamming him up against the opposite wall of the little entryway, but instead of fighting back, he just dug his fingernails into Near's arms and hissed, "That's it, fight me."
Near pushed away from Mello and shook his head. "No. You've made it clear that you're still acting on your childish, violent impulses when you're upset, and I want no part of it."
"You're always so fucking superior, aren't you?" Mello spat, advancing a step and slapping his hand against the wall beside Near's head. "Answer me: what makes you think you're better than me? Is it because you've turned everything off inside? Does that make you better than me, that you're an emotionless, automated robot?"
"I'm not emotionless," Near replied, his voice calm and collected even though there was a part of him that felt like screaming. "I choose not to let my emotions rule me, but that isn't what's making you so angry. What's making you so angry is that I feel nothing for you."
Mello's silence had always been more intimidating than his outbursts of anger, and it was a shame he'd never seemed to learn that because otherwise, he would have been much more effective at his job. But the silence only came when he was so far gone into his rage that he'd lost the ability to express it in words, and for the first time since setting foot into the room, Near felt a twinge of fear.
"Liar," Mello said finally, softly, and leaned in a little closer. "Liar, Near; if you felt nothing for me, you wouldn't have come."
"I came because I was curious to see what your motivations were," Near said quietly, staring into Mello's eyes. "But nothing about you has changed, and I was disappointed, though not surprised. You're just as pathetically childish as you've always been."
Mello was so close that Near could smell his shampoo. The scent made a wave of memories of their late nights at Whammy's House flood his mind, and Near only just resisted the urge to reach out and tug his fingers through Mello's hair.
"You're the one who's pathetic, Near," Mello whispered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're the one hiding behind this mask, because you're so afraid that if you don't, you might actually end up feeling something. So you hide like a coward and try to pretend that you're one of your stupid little robot toys with no soul. I don't know what I did back then to lure you out of hiding, but you came out, and even if you say you don't feel anything now, I know you did back then. You cannot deny that, Near. I won't let you."
Near's chest tightened a little, and this time, he couldn't keep his jaw from clenching and his hands from turning into fists at his sides.
"Even if that were true, I'm not the only one hiding, Mello," he breathed as his cheeks flushed a little. "You're hiding in some old memory of something we did, and I'm guessing that the only reason for it is that Matt told you to stop pursuing him. Now you're trying to make someone else give you the affection you're so desperately craving, and you'll do anything to get your way. You're no better than a whore who buys love for money, only you're using withered old memories as currency." Near pushed past Mello. "You never loved me. All you ever loved was the attention I gave you."
There was a heavy silence, and Near almost sighed with relief that the confrontation was over. They'd both said what they'd been needing to say for a long time, and he could go back to his cold, sterile little dungeon and stare at his stupid little robot toys until the ache in his stomach unravelled and he could breathe again. Whatever he and Mello had once shared was over and had been for a very long time, and tonight proved once and for all that those rare moments of late-night weakness that left Near shivering and thinking of Mello had been for nothing.
As soon as Near's fingers touched the doorknob, though, Mello's hand shot out to grab his wrist. Before he even had time to register the touch, Near was being yanked away from the door and crushed against Mello's body. The arm that was suddenly around his waist was tight enough to hurt, tight enough to force the air from his lungs and render all of his protests nothing more than gasps for breath, and his whispered "stop" was silenced by the-- oh god, so familiar-- press of Mello's lips against his.
"Fuck you, Near," Mello was saying, his voice strained to the point of breaking. "Fuck you, fuck you."
Near tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat in a hitched whimper. And then he was kissing Mello, and twining his arms around Mello's neck, and pulling Mello closer and thinking with some immature hope that maybe this time, he could keep Mello from leaving again.
The next few minutes were a blur of hands grabbing and tugging at clothes, fingers twisting into hair and lips hungrily devouring each other, but at some point during it all, they both ended up on the bed, half undressed and too caught up in the electric heat between them to think about what they were doing, to even consider the consequence this would have for both of them in the end. Mello was stretched out on top of Near, kissing him so hard that it almost hurt, and Near was tugging and tearing at Mello's shirt, desperate to feel that familiar, warm skin against his. He didn't know how he managed it, but eventually Mello's shirt came off along with his own. Near let out a soft, whimpering gasp when Mello pressed against him and he could feel Mello's racing heart beating in time with his own. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt, and he would have cried if only there had been room for more emotions inside of him.
"Missed you," Mello growled against Near's lips and clenched his hands in Near's hair. "Fuck, Near, I missed you so fucking much I could hardly stand it."
Again, Near tried to reply, but all that came out of his mouth were tiny, shuddering sobs. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because there were no words that could have sufficiently described just how much Near had ached inside for Mello. After the first few months of being separated, Near had learned not to think about it, to stuff it into the very back of his mind along with everything else that hurt too much to think about, and over the years, he had even convinced himself that it had all been a silly crush and nothing more. But now he knew-- oh god, how he knew-- just how much Mello had meant to him, how much he still meant to him, and Near wasn't sure he would ever be able to cope if he lost Mello again.
"Say it, even if you're lying," Mello demanded as he tore open the front of Near's trousers.
Near somehow managed to unclench his jaw long enough to whimper, "I missed you-- god, yes, Mello, I missed you, I--"
And then Mello was kissing him again, stifling the rest of Near's half-sobbed declaration as if he could breathe it into his own body. Maybe that's exactly what he was trying to do, because Near wanted the same; he wanted to take in every detail of the way Mello felt in his arms and knot it up and keep it inside until the day he died, no matter how much potential it had to utterly destroy him.
"Who's touched you?" Mello asked in a growl as he yanked Near's trousers down and then off. "Since me, who's touched you?"
"N-- ah-- no one," Near moaned, and let himself be spread out on the cheap, dirty bedspread like a sacrifice. Mello's hands were on his body, on his thighs, shoving them apart and leaving him open and vulnerable.
"Swear," Mello hissed without taking his eyes off Near's face. "Swear, Near."
"I sw-- I swear," Near whimpered, squirming on the bed. "I swear, Mello, no one b-but you has ever touched me."
"Good," Mello rumbled and finally took his eyes off Near's face and let them wander down Near's body instead. "Fuck-- God, Near, you're so beautiful it breaks my fucking heart." Then he squeezed Near's thighs hard enough to bruise before leaning down to drag his tongue over Near's hip.
Near let out a shuddering, mewling sound, and his eyes fluttered closed as he wallowed in the feeling of Mello's hot tongue against his skin. In the years that had passed since they had last done anything like this, Near had almost forgotten the feeling of Mello's touch. But now it was all coming back to him: all the passionate nights in their room at the orphanage and their moaned promises of everlasting love. They had been silly teenagers back then and they hadn't known what their love for each other could someday cost them. But Near now knew what made all the pain and the sleepless nights worth it-- being there, in that very moment, in Mello's arms-- and he silently swore never to forget it.
"We don't have enough time," Mello was murmuring against Near's skin. "God damn it, there's not enough time."
Near wasn't sure whether Mello meant right now or the rest of their lives, and he wasn't sure it mattered. There would never be enough time for them, ever, and the thought that this could be their last night together made his eyes well with tears so hot they burned his skin when they slipped down his face.
"Shhh, don't cry," Mello soothed, and crawled back up the mattress to take Near's face in his hands and kiss the tears away.
"Fuck you," Near choked out as he wrapped his arms around Mello's shoulders to keep him close.
Mello chuckled, but it was dry and humourless, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were red. After inhaling deeply, he whispered, "You're cute when you curse."
It was the same conversation they'd had countless times at Whammy's House, and the familiarity of it just made Near cry harder, and cling to Mello with all the strength he had. Even when Mello shifted to tug open the drawer of the nightstand, Near refused to let go. He had already lost Mello once because he hadn't held on tightly enough, and he was not going to let that happen again.
A soft hiss escaped his lips when he felt something slick and cold push between his buttocks and stroke over his opening. The feeling urged him to spread his legs even more, and he did so, thankful that he was much too caught up in it all to be embarrassed. He could hear Mello's soft hum of appreciation against his cheek, and he moved his hands to thread his fingers through Mello's blond hair, inhaling its scent.
"Do you want it?" Mello whispered, his voice rough, and rubbed over Near's hole, dipping inside just a little. "Tell me you want it, Near. Let me hear it."
"I-- ah-- I want it," Near gasped, arching on the bed as multiple shivers soared up his spine. "God, I want it, Mello." Right now, in this very moment, there was absolutely nothing Near wanted more than this.
"Fuck, I've waited so long for this," Mello murmured against Near's cheek.
Near would have replied-- he wanted to, wanted to tell Mello that he'd been waiting just as long-- but all that came out when he opened his mouth was a needy whine as Mello's finger sank into his body. It had been so, so long since he'd been touched so intimately by anyone, even himself. In the year following Mello's disappearance, he'd tried, but it had never been the same, and he'd felt even worse in the aftermath than he had before, so he'd eventually stopped altogether. But now, after having been untouched for so long, the sudden rush of sensation had him clawing at Mello's shoulders, the sheets, his own hair-- anything he could find to hold on to.
"You're still so sensitive," Mello groaned, and shifted a little to press himself against Near's inner thigh. "God, I've had dreams about the sounds you make."
"M-Mihael," Near managed to gasp, and tossed his head from side to side on the pillow. He needed more, but he couldn't find the breath to ask for it, to plead for it as he surely would have if he'd remembered how.
But Mello, as always, seemed to know exactly what he craved, because he pushed a second finger in alongside the first. A sharp pain sizzled its way through Near's body, but he gritted his teeth and bore down on the intruding ache, the way Mello had taught him so many years ago; he'd withstood this once before, and he was determined to do it again, as much for himself as for Mello. And just like before, the pain eventually began to subside until he relaxed in Mello's arms with a subdued whimper.
"Good," Mello whispered against Near's jaw. "Good boy, Nate. You're doing so well."
Near had the wild urge, just then, to snap that he wasn't a child to be coddled, but it was an old, almost-forgotten instinct rather than genuine irritation. Besides, any arguments he might have offered would have been rendered useless, because Mello's fingers had just grazed that spot inside of him, and a shower of heat exploded through his body. And oh god, he could have died right at that moment and been happy. Everything, all the memories and emotions he had packed away years ago came rushing back with the wave of sensation, and Near suddenly found himself smiling his first genuine smile in ages.
"What are you laughing about?" Mello grumbled and bit Near's jaw a little. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Near breathed, still smiling, and turned his head so press a kiss against Mello's cheek. "It's nothing."
Apparently, Mello bought that because he didn't ask any further questions, and a moment later, Near forgot about it as well when he felt a third finger slide in alongside the others. Pain flared up again, but this time, it wasn't nearly as powerful, and it ebbed away after only a few minutes. The heat bubbling under Near's skin, however, wasn't going anywhere, and it kept growing stronger until he couldn't stand it any longer.
"Mello," he whimpered, curling his fingers in Mello's hair and tugging at it. "Mihael-- I need you. Please-- fuck me."
Mello didn't reply, at least not out loud, but he did seize Near's lips in another kiss as he withdrew his fingers. A moment later, the head of his cock was nudging against Near's arse, and they both moaned in unison, into each other's mouths, as he slowly pressed inside. The feel of it was so incredibly and intimately familiar that Near hardly dared to breathe for fear that even the slightest movement on his part would destroy the illusion and he'd wake up in bed alone, panting and shivering. But Mello was solid and warm against him, and so real it set Near's teeth on edge.
"God, I almost forgot--" Mello groaned, his face buried against Near's neck.
There was no need for Mello to finish the thought; Near had already completed the sentence in his head. No matter how many times he'd remembered the feeling of having Mello inside of him, nothing would ever compare to the real thing. There were faint tremors wracking his body, and his hands were shaking in Mello's hair as he wrapped his trembling legs around Mello's waist to pull him deeper. When there was no more space between them, Near let out a shuddering sigh and tightened his hold on Mello.
"I love you," Mello whispered, his voice strained but steady. "I love you, Nate-- I always have."
Near let out a quiet, choked sob and pressed his face against the side of Mello's head. All the years of telling himself that what had happened between him and Mello had only been a 'thing' melted away like morning dew before the sun, and Near found himself chanting 'I love you's against Mello's skin, wanting them to be embedded there forever so that Mello would never forget.
For a long time, the movements of their bodies were slow and lewd, interspersed with long, lazy kissing sessions. But eventually, Near's body was so on edge that he thought he was going to burst into flames at any second.
"Mello-- please--" he breathed, sliding his hands down Mello's body to claw at his lower back. "I need--"
"I know," Mello interrupted him in a whisper, then sat back on his heels to push Near's knees up against his chest, leaving him completely exposed.
Fire was crawling up Near's spine, and when Mello drew back his hips to slam back inside so hard it made the bed creak and complain under them, a shuddering cry left Near's lips. Every inch of him was pounding and his cock lay heavy and swollen on his belly, a steady stream of clear precome leaking from its flushed tip. As Mello increased both the speed and the power of his thrusts, Near had to lift his arms over his head and push against the headboard so his head wouldn't bump into it, but it didn't stop him from squirming and writhing on the bed. Their movements were clumsy and frantic now, and their breathy declarations had dissolved into low-pitched moans and quiet snarls. Finally, when Near was sure he'd die, Mello's warm fist wrapped around his cock and the tight ache in his belly exploded in a shockwave of blinding pleasure. A split-second later, Mello followed him into orgasm with a choked cry, and Near felt his muscles clamp down around Mello's prick as it throbbed inside of him.
"Oh god, oh god," Near chanted, trying to keep his weak, trembling legs locked around Mello's waist. The last shudders of orgasm were still flitting through him, making his pulse race and his spent cock twitch against his stomach.
Mello collapsed atop him in a heap of slender, sweaty limbs, and gathered Near into his arms with a wordless mumble. Being there, with Mello so close and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, was the most intense experience of Near's life, even more so than their first time together. The thought that it could be, and probably was, the last time they would ever be this close to one another made him feel sick inside, and he dug his fingernails into Mello's arms. Mello responded with a kiss, deep and slow and so intense it made Near's toes curl, and when he pulled away, they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. There was something in Mello's eyes, something warm and raw that Near tried to memorize before...
...then Mello blinked, and it was gone.
Even before either of them spoke, Near could feel a profound sense of loss coiling itself up in his stomach. Part of him wanted to cry again, to beg Mello not to let things end this way, but he swallowed around the tightness in his throat and shoved his indifference back into place. Survival had been the first lesson he'd ever been taught; survival was all that mattered. And he needed to survive this, no matter how much he felt like dying inside.
"God." Mello laughed, out-of-breath and unamused, as he slowly withdrew from Near's body and sat back on his heels. As he tucked himself back into the trousers he'd never taken all the way off, he shook his head and drawled, "God, you're so pathetic. You're the one L chose as his successor?"
Near didn't say anything. He was sick to his stomach and felt like throwing up. But he didn't. L had taught him well, and the only visible response Near offered was a look so cold that it would have made braver men than Mello cower in fear. Then he slowly sat up and got to his feet. It was better this way, regardless of how much it made him ache inside. Mello had taught him a valuable lesson about lowering his defences, and Near swore to himself that this had been the last time.
Fighting not to tremble, Near reached out for his clothes and began dressing with his back turned to Mello on the bed.
"I'm actually surprised, Near," Mello drawled from behind him. "I didn't know it would be this easy to get you on your back again. I guess that just goes to show that you're not as much in control as you keep telling everybody, that you're just a scared, little boy who can't stop pretending."
Near couldn't even find it in himself to get angry, not even at himself for being so foolish. He felt numb, and the warm sensation that he had felt only minutes before was dying out faster than it took him to get dressed, leaving a cold and empty pit in his stomach.
"How does it feel, Mello?" he droned as he buttoned up his trousers without looking at Mello. "You have finally gotten what you've been lusting after for all those years. You've won the competition, and are therefore better than me. You must be thrilled."
"I am," Mello sneered and got off the bed to light a cigarette. "It feels fantastic, but you wouldn't know anything about that, I guess."
"That's right," Near mumbled, then turned to look at Mello, his face an emotionless façade as usual. "I wouldn't. Goodbye, Mello."
Mello just rolled his eyes and gestured to the door, making it clear that he had nothing more to say, which was fine with Near. The sooner he left, the better, because despite all of his years of practice pretending to be emotionless, the sick hurt was clawing at his stomach and he wasn't sure how much longer it would be before he burst into tears. They stood and stared at one another for a few minutes more before Near turned and slipped out into the corridor. When he heard the deadbolt slide into place behind him, he had to press a hand against his mouth to keep himself from vomiting all over the cheap, faded carpeting.
~*~*~
After having returned to the headquarters and having spent a couple of hours alone, shivering and crying so much he thought his eyes would start to bleed, Near had promised himself that he would never again shed another tear over anyone, and especially not Mello. And true to his promise, when Near some time later was told the news of Mello's demise in the fire, he didn't cry. He didn't feel anything but slight nausea and that was quickly solved with a couple of pills. Besides, they were getting closer than ever to solving the Kira case, so even if Near had cared that Mello died, he wouldn't have had time to grieve.
It wasn't until about a week after Yagami Light and Kira's downfall that Near even thought about Mello again. He was sorting through the tons of paperwork on the case, trying to decide what to keep for future references and what to discard, when he came upon the coroner's report on Mello. Near had never had time to read it properly and it hadn't been anything vital for the investigation, but now, he had all the time in the world, so he leaned back in his chair and flipped open the file against his knees.
He wasn't surprised to find that there was absolutely nothing in the report that he hadn't already known or deducted himself, and he was turn about to throw away the file when he noticed a small note at the bottom of the last page. It looked like it was something the coroner had added himself after having typed in the report, and Near leaned closer to read.
Clutched in left hand: one metal chain with two name tags: "Mihael Keehl" and "Nate River".
Near re-read the note four times before closing the file and setting it aside. But even though it was out of his hands, he couldn't stop staring at it, and a moment later, he snatched it back up and opened it again, just to make sure he'd read it correctly. Once he was satisfied that he had, he closed the folder and wrapped his arms around it, holding it to his chest.
It occurred to him that it might have been one last move to put him in checkmate, but he knew that even at his worst, Mello would never have been that cruel. And that wouldn't explain why Mello had kept their name tags for so many years-- and Near knew which name tags they were: the tags from their old footlockers at Whammy's. Mello had taken both of them the night he'd disappeared.
"Idiot," Near whispered, soft and strangled. "God, Mello, you idiot."
Near had promised himself that he wouldn't cry over Mello and he'd held true to that promise for as long as he could. But some things were more important than promises. If nothing else, loving Mello had taught him that.
~