DISCLAIMER: If I owned Death Note, Matt, Mello, and Mikami would still be alive. So would Soichiro. Also, Light Yagami's death, while he deserved to die by the end of it, wouldn't have been quite so pathetic…

CHARACTERS: Matt and Near, with Mello

WARNINGS: angst, depression, bitter-sweetness, shonen ai

A/N: Okay… This really started out as an attempt to write a MattxNear story where Mello =/= Satan, as often happens. I think it turned out pretty well…

Editted 1/12/2011 for some formatting issues.

Matt was watching Near from over the top of his Game Boy, leaned back against the side of the bed. Lately, Near had been sinking farther and farther into his own little world, and doing it more often. He had a piece of feather-soft hair between his fingers as always, but his hand was barely moving. It was almost as though he was so detached from the outside world that his mind was completely abandoning his body, leaving it sitting there, helpless.

Matt continued watching Near for a moment, then tossed his game over his shoulder and onto the bed. "C'mere, you," he said as he abruptly reached over and wrapped an arm around Near's shoulders. He blinked at the sudden intrusion of his thoughts as he was pulled against the thin, stripe-clad shoulder.

"Matt, is this nece—" Near began, looking up at the brunette through fringed bangs.

"Yes, it is," Matt interrupted, kissing Near's forehead softly. "You're thinking again. You've been doing that too much lately. So stop it." He then closed his eyes and settled back against the bed, his head against the top edge of the mattress and his arm gently holding Near, keeping him from moving away.

Near continued staring up at Matt for a moment. Then, he sighed softly and relaxed into the gentle grip, having no intentions of trying to move. He closed his eyes and made some minor adjustments, letting his legs stretch out a bit as he leaned more fully against Matt.

Many people believed that there soul would go to some kind of spirit paradise after they died. Near was certain he was still alive, but equally certain that he had found his heaven.

It had started almost a year ago. Matt would show up wherever Near was without warning, sit down, and not leave. Certainly, if Near had asked him to, the brunette would have obliged. However, Matt's idle talking - about everything and nothing - was neither demanding nor intrusive.

Matt came whenever he was bored, or the other boys were doing something that he just wasn't in the mood for. He would show up, somehow just ending up where Near was at that particular moment, and just talk. He would talk about some class work that he was having a hard time with, or a particular game that he was playing, or anything else that came to his mind.

On the days that Matt came and Near just wasn't in the mood for talking to anyone for anything, the older boy never asked why, and he didn't speak. They sat in a comfortable silence, both knowing that if one talked, the other would listen.

Neither of them really noticed or questioned it when Near started responding to what Matt said, offering brief opinions and thoughts, or asking for clarification. Slowly, the sessions of Matt sitting and talking with Near listening silently were turning into conversations.

There was no notable climax, no marked turn of events or thoughts, but at some point shortly afterwards, Near began looking forward to these encounters. He didn't seek it, didn't go looking for Matt, didn't wait for it, but he began looking forward to it. When Matt would finally come, Near would look up, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

On one particular afternoon, Matt came bouncing into the library, grinning broadly. Spotting Near back in his usual corner, he seemed to float across the room to him. Squatting before him, Matt held the paper he was clutching before Near's face. In red ink at the top of the page, it read 2/26. Near's copy of the same test had a mark that read 1/26. Near was first, Matt was second, which meant-

"I beat Mello!" Matt burst out, adjusting so that he was sitting next to Near. "I mean, I don't really care about that, but, man! his reaction! It was priceless!" Out of nowhere, as he spoke, Matt threw his arms around Near's neck and slumped against him, still grinning like a fool. For a moment, they just sat there, as Matt came back down to earth from his cloud. After he had released the younger boy's neck, they sat there in silence for several minutes, Near smiling slightly and Matt smirking to himself.

Later that evening, Near had almost convinced himself that the unexpected hug hadn't lasted as long as it had seemed like it had. It had to be in his head. After all, why would Matt have held him for the eternity it felt like? It was completely and utterly ridiculous…

Near jumped one night as the door to his room was flung open, then slammed sharply. He watched Matt as the brunette dropped heavily onto the bed next to him. "Dammit… Mello can be such a jerk sometimes…" he mumbled, laying on his back with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He rubbed at his eyes, furious at the moisture taking up residence there, and took a ragged breath.

"What happened?" Near asked after a moment of hesitation. He inched closer to Matt and placed his hands on the covers, looking down at the other boy questioningly.

"Heh... Hell, I don't even know…" he responded, trying to make himself laugh it off. "I guess he had a bad day… He just… He just showed up in the common room, upset about something, I don't even know what and I don't care, and I told him to lighten up and relax, whatever it was it's not a big deal, and he just started yelling and being a jerk… I don't know what happened, but it doesn't matter. I didn't do anything to him, so why'd he go off like that?" He drew a deep breath and let it out heavily, letting his arms drop to the bed at his sides. Near said nothing—this wasn't exactly a situation he found himself in often, so he had no idea how to approach this.

They stayed there on the bed for a long while, until the lights-out bell was rung. At that, Matt sat up, slouching slightly. He moved to stand, letting out a sigh and opening his mouth to speak. However, he never made it all the way to his feet and his words were stopped in his throat—Near's small hand was wrapped around Matt's wrist, pulling him gently but insistently back towards the bed. Hesitantly, carefully, delicately, he wrapped his arms around the brunette's shoulders and leaned against him.

Pressing his face into the crook of Matt's neck, Near struggled to keep his breathing steady as the tears came suddenly, unexpectedly, and silently. His shoulders shook softly, but he made no sound; Matt, taken aback by this sudden outburst (if one could really call it that), slipped an arm around the smaller boy's waist gently and rested his cheek against the soft, pale hair.

So many things were going through Near's mind, whirling around almost against his will and smashing into one another, making fragments of those thoughts fly in every direction. Near couldn't identify half of the things he was thinking, and the other half he refused to label, to validate them—and that scared him as well. At this particular moment, Near couldn't bring himself to care why he was crying, and he had no interest in trying to examine it later. The only thing that seemed to mean anything was that here he was, crying, soaking Matt's shirt with tears, and there Matt was, an arm around him gently, rubbing his back soothingly, letting him cry and soak his shirt.

Right now, in this moment, everything was okay, even though nothing would ever be "okay" again.

Matt blinked groggily, tilting his head back to look out the window. The sky was pale with predawn light. At some point, he and Near had fallen asleep like that on the bed. If he stopped to think about it, he would realize that he should be somewhat embarrassed; while the thought crossed his mind, though, he was much more concerned with the consequences he might face if he wasn't found in his own room when the adults came around to wake everyone up than the consequences of being found in another child's room. Taking great care not to jostle or disturb Near, Matt pulled his arm from underneath the slight, sleeping form and slipped out into the corridor and quickly made his way to his own room.

Though neither of them said anything about the incident to anyone, including each other, they started spending more and more of their time in each other's rooms. It was quieter there, and they could talk more freely, without people hearing them or asking questions. It was comfortable, more so than out in the common areas.

From then on, this was normal, expected, comfortable. Nothing about their arrangement seemed to need examining, so they didn't examine it.

Sitting comfortably on the floor of Near's room, the pair had been talking for well over an hour, occasionally giving advice, occasionally sharing a laugh (or smile, from Near), but almost never in silence. When there was finally an extended break in the conversation, Matt leaned over and, completely without thinking, gently brushed their lips together.

As unexpected as it was, neither of them was really surprised by it. Neither of them was surprised when Near very lightly pressed back, maintaining the soft, chaste contact. Without warning and without hesitation, the kiss deepened, seemingly on its own. Inexperienced tongues ventured out uncertainly, and suddenly Near was on his back with Matt above him, their lips still together and their tongues probing gently. Idly, Near thought it strange that he didn't protest, that the thought of protesting simply never crossed his mind. Though he certainly stood no chance against Matt in a match of strength, Near somehow knew that if the slightest indication of discomfort or distress was given, the brunette would cease the distressing or uncomfortable action immediately. He didn't see the point in giving an indication of a thought that was nonexistent, though.

Matt suddenly pulled away with a gasp and sat up. Deeply flushed, he looked down at Near, who looked just slightly dazed. Matt was rather confused, himself—how had this happened? He couldn't believe himself. How had he allowed himself to end up here, laying on the floor, kissing Near in a way that… that… How had he let himself do that? Near watched shame, guilt, fear, embarrassment cross his features in silence. Just as Matt turned to run for the door, Near grabbed his wrist, using it as leverage both to keep Matt there and to pull himself up.

For a long moment, Near just looked at Matt, seeing fear in the gentle green eyes—he was just waiting for the shock to wear off, and for the anger to kick in, the disgust, the something other than the cool, almost academic look in those gray eyes. Near struggled to find words to convey what he was thinking; nothing was forthcoming. Eventually, he settled for doing what seemed natural, and pressed their lips together again.

There was nothing forced in this contact, nothing drawn out, nothing dramatic. But it was a contact meant to convey all of the things that Near simply didn't know how to verbalize—that he wasn't angry, and didn't hate it, that he didn't feel violated or anything like it, and that, should Matt wish to repeat this particular course of action at some point, Near would make no move so stop him. Also, though, in that short moment, the vague, abstract things Near had been feeling for months solidified, and, though he refused to label them just yet, he knew they were there, and what they were.

When they parted again, clear green eyes met and held cool gray ones for a split second; that was all the time needed for them both to understand the mutual question. Without another word, Matt stood and walked out into the not-quite-quiet hallway and closed the door softly behind him.

The next morning, as Near came down to the dining hall, Matt slipped out of nowhere into the space behind the younger boy's right shoulder and stayed there. As they often ended up sitting together anyways, their arrangement at the table changed very little. However, they were sitting just inches closer together than they had been, their knees and thighs brushing if one of them moved just so.

They were in perfect agreement.

For a while, things continued almost exactly as they had, but for a few changes. The amount of time Near and Matt spent together didn't change—they could hardly spend much more time with each other as it was. Now, however, every once in a while, during their extended periods of comfortable silence or in the middle of a sentence, Matt would lean over and press his lips to Near's oh-so-softly, and Near would press back, and as slim arms wound gently around the slight figure, the smaller boy would sigh slightly and lean into Matt, closing his eyes as he felt all of the pressures and worries and hurts of his life disappear. Sometimes, they would just sit there like that, their breathing deep and relaxed and together, maybe start talking again; occasionally, though, hands would begin to roam, and they would make soft sounds of surprise and pleasure, little gasps elicited by curious hands being stifled or swallowed before they reached the walls.

One of these "once in a whiles," sitting on the floor of Matt's room, it was Near that leaned over and kissed him lightly. While slightly surprised, Matt wasted little time in reciprocating, bringing his hand up to Near's cheek; in turn, he lifted his hand without hesitation to grasp a stripe-clad elbow.

As Matt moved to pull Near closer to him, the door was flung open. "Matt, why aren't yo—" Mello began, breaking off abruptly as Matt and Near jumped apart. The blond's face was frozen in an expression that looked as though it used to be a grin; however, all of the life was drained from the expression, leaving an empty-looking mask. In an instant, though, the shell-shocked look was gone. Mello's face was twisted into a look that held hurt, contempt, and something that almost looked like disgust in the very instant that he turned on his heel and slammed the door and Matt scrambled to his feet, calling out to him, "Mello, wait a second!"

Matt stared at the door for a moment, his shoulders slumped and his eyes on the crack at the bottom of the door. A soft rustling of cloth brought his attention back to Near, who was getting to his feet, his own eyes turned downward and his expression almost pained—this was not what was supposed to happen; no one was supposed to find out; especially Mello. No one was supposed to get hurt. Especially Matt.

"I am truly sorry," he said softly, picking up the small puzzle he had brought with him and heading towards the door.

With an effort, Matt shrugged. "It's no big deal," he said, his voice level and normal though he still hadn't looked up. "Mello doesn't matter anyways…"

"Yes, he does," Near responded firmly, with every ounce of authority he could muster. Matt looked up at this, meeting his eyes and finding the look returned steadily.

He pulled his gaze away, turning towards the bed and moving to sit. "Seriously, it's not a big deal. You know that saying, about people that matter and ones that care…"

Near placed a hand on the cool metal of the doorknob, looking straight at it as he said, "He's your friend. Friends always matter." Without another word, he opened the door and left, closing it behind himself with a horribly soft sound that felt so final. For a long moment, Matt stared at the door in silence and half-shock. Then, almost soundlessly, he pulled his legs onto the bed and laid on his side, chewing on his lip in thought as his eyes started burning.

Somehow, nothing really changed between Matt and Near after the incident with Mello. Surprisingly enough to Near, Mello never looked at either him or Matt with contempt or anger—just something resembling mild disdain and clear confusion. However, those normally cool, icy blue eyes were always clouded over with some undefined pain…

Almost two weeks after Mello had walked in on them, he and Matt were speaking again. However, the conversations never lasted more than a few strained moments, and it was always business. Though he was good at not showing it, Matt was horribly upset that Mello was upset—the only person that knew it was Near, who was horribly sad that Matt was upset; however, the pale-haired boy had no one to talk to about his own hurts at this point. After all, he could hardly tell Matt that he was the one upsetting him, simply be being upset.

It had been just shy of an entire month. Mello and Matt had been speaking with each other tentatively, but never about anything of consequence. Matt was in Near's room, the brunette sitting on the floor and the younger boy sitting on the bed; the room was unusually tense, which had been usual recently. They had been there for almost an hour, sharing a silence that neither quite knew how to break; it wasn't especially tense, but it was uncomfortable. Out of nowhere, there was a soft knock on the door, making Matt jump. Mello's voice came through the door in a tone that would be called "hesitant" if it was from the mouth of anyone but Mello: "You guys aren't… busy… are you?"

Near's eyes widened slightly, and he ducked his head as his face flushed starkly against his pale hair and shirt. Matt blinked a few times, glanced at Near, and laughed, the tension in the room broken. He called out, inviting Mello in, telling him the door was open. As he closed the door, Mello turned and walked more into the room, his expression saying that he didn't really want to be here doing this, but that he knew that he had to. He sat on the floor across from Matt, rubbing his neck almost awkwardly, his face almost pink. "Look, about before…" he began, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. "I was surprised. I mean, it was—"

He paused, looking briefly at both of them, then ducked his head. "Basically," he continued, rushing to get the words out, "whatever. It's fine. What you guys do… behind closed doors… isn't my business. Ever."

Matt, who had been taking a drink of water, started coughing on the liquid, his face turning as red as Near's, though for a very different reason. After a moment, the coughing dissolved into laughter, though Near still had his head down, and Mello's flush almost matched his rival's. Eventually, Matt wiped his eyes, grinning at Mello across the floor, and nudged the blond's knee with his toe. "So… you're not mad?" he asked, his voice soft. Even though he was fairly certain of the answer, he was still hesitant to actually put words to the thought, to make it real, because something imagined couldn't be ruined.

"Nah, not any more," Mello responded, his flush (and Near's) fading, being replaced by a slight smirk. "Just had to get used to it. Just…" he trailed off, turning red again. "…don't… do anything… while I'm around… 'kay?"

Matt and Mello started spending more time together, like they had been for the last four years, since they had met when Matt was brought to the orphanage. Things were almost starting to seem normal again, after so long of things being not-normal. Except that "normal" was gone. "Normal" had been caught by an unexpected right hook when Matt had kissed Near on the floor of his bedroom. "Normal" had taken a horrible uppercut and hit the floor when Near had let him. "Normal" had been viciously kicked in the gut when Mello accidentally found out; and "normal" was taken to the hospital in a coma when the blond said he didn't mind. Even so…

Even so, this continuous state of not-normal was starting to be more comfortable…

Matt's head dropped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Now he was the one thinking too much… He pulled Near against him more tightly, and Near wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, resting his head in the hollow formed beneath the brunette's collarbones.

All good things came to an end; they both realized this. And for both of them, the good things they'd had so far in life had ended far too quickly.

They wanted to hold onto this beautiful piece of not-normal life while they could—somehow, they both knew that it wouldn't be long before it, too, was gone for good.

So, what say you, readers? Any good?

I like hearing from you, even though, whatever you say, I'm not taking it down, burning it, etc.

Any flames will be used to keep my feet warm, as this tile floor is very cold.

Review, please. It makes this author happy.

OH. One more note. I feel the need to clarify that I did not intentionally imply anything of a nature that would be objectionable considering these characters' ages. In fact, I kept it vague to avoid any serious implications of that kind.

Keep it age appropriate, you pervs (ormaybethat'sjustmeIdon'teven).