So this is something I wrote to look at Near and Mello's relationship as a family. It's AU, set in the real world. Near and Mello are in their mid- to late-20s.
WARNING: There will be NO ROMANCE in this fic. If that disturbs you, the back button is right there.
Near swore under his breath as he missed the turn again. Without checking to see if anyone was behind him, he slammed on the brakes and thrust the rental car into reverse, backed up, then shot forward and sharp left to follow the trail of near-invisible exit signs that would lead him out of SFO's parking garage and into the lot, toward the street so he could get to the freeway. He fumbled with the papers scattered about the passenger seat, looking for the directions that he knew he'd had in his hands not two minutes ago but had mysteriously disappeared when he needed them. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he groped around the papers until he finally found what he was looking for, glanced up briefly to make sure he was still in his lane, then skimmed the printed page for the exit he had to take.
It was early March, which back in New York would have meant the beginning of the end of snow season. Crisp, wet weather that may have seemed dreary to some but was at least evidence of the existence of seasons. Here in San Francisco, it was 65 and overcast, just like every other day. The dull gray sky seemed to turn everything beneath it gray; the city was a world of monochrome hills.
Near really couldn't complain, though. At least Mello wasn't still living in L.A. Near blew out a long breath and absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He hoped he wouldn't be on the freeway too much longer; the rhythm of the road was starting to take hold, leaving Near's mind free to think. Thinking, right now, was dangerous.
As if on cue, there was the exit just up ahead. From here until Mello's place, Near would be preoccupied with the cars and the hills and the traffic lights, and he wouldn't have to think about anything. Not the monotonous Bay Area weather, not the fact that right now he could be inside with a cup of tea and a huge stack of data just waiting to be analyzed, and certainly not the fact that he was now headed to see Mello for the first time in three years.
"Well look at that. You actually decided to come back." Mello's eyes flashed with emotion as he leaned against the door frame, pushing himself into Near's personal space. "I'd started to wonder, when you didn't reply to my emails, or answer your phone, or-"
Near sighed. "Mello, is this really the right ti-"
"You know what, Near? No, this isn't really the right time. But thanks to you disappearing for three years, this is the only time we have." He stood there, blocking the doorway with one hand on a hip, glaring down at Near. Near looked back up at Mello.
"Are you going to invite me in?"
"Not until you answer some of my questions."
Near kept his gaze locked with Mello's, refusing to speak. He should have known that his visit would be met with hostility. Never had Mello spared any guise of affection for him in the past; why begin now? Near had come on a moment's notice, had passed off a few important cases to get on a delayed flight that had led to an overnight layover in a crowded airport while waiting for another delayed flight, all because Mello had asked him to.
And now Mello was standing in the doorway, demanding answers to questions he couldn't have asked during the three years he'd stubbornly refused to initiate any contact. It had to be now, when Near was tired, when he was upset-when they were both upset.
"Why did you leave?" Mello asked.
"You know why I left."
"No I don't, Near, I have no clue why you left! We needed you here-Matt needed you here!"
Near rolled his eyes. "Mello, let me in."
Mello moved to block the doorway even more. "No."
Near stood there in silence for a moment, then began to turn around and head back to his car. "Fine," he said. "I'll just find a hotel or someth-"
"Hey! Don't you turn your back on me again!" Mello's hand gripped Near's shoulder and forced him backward. "Come in."
Near wrenched his arm out of Mello's hold and stepped through the doorway into the apartment. "I don't see why you couldn't save the interrogation for later," he said quietly. "We've got more important things to sort out now." He seated himself on the couch in the living room and looked around. The coffee table had been pushed into the corner. In its place on the floor were photographs, mainly of Mello and Matt. Near could see maybe two or three photos that contained the three of them, but the vast majority of them depicted Mello and Matt in the middle of one of their many childhood adventures. A little flare of-what? pain? jealousy?-sparked in him, but he forced it down, instead remarking, "You've been looking through them."
"Yeah, no shit." Mello knelt down and picked up one of the photos, staring at his and Matt's younger selves. "But there's nothing of him past 18."
"Of course there isn't. When would he have had the time or the energy to have his picture taken? Oh wait, there's always his mug shot from when he was arrested." Near folded his arms and shook his head.
"Shut up. You don't know anything about Matt."
"I know enough to know that he wasn't going to ge-"
"No, shut up, Near. You don't know anything." Mello rose so he towered over Near and pushed himself in Near's face. "Wanna know why you don't? Because you left. How could you just abandon your brother like that?"
"Abandon?" Near stood up and pushed Mello aside, wandering into the kitchen and opening various cabinets. Mello was beginning to irritate him the way only Mello could. The now-unfamiliar feeling rose up in him with little warning, and he found himself slamming the doors a little harder than necessary. "I'd say he abandoned me-abandoned us-long before I moved away. I got myself out before he poisoned my life. Where do you keep your glasses?"
"Stay out of my kitchen." Mello shoved Near away and opened a cabinet. "Matt was sick. He needed help." He filled the glass with water from the tap and handed it to Near.
Near held the glass of water in his hand but didn't drink. He didn't understand Mello. How could Mello just look past everything that Matt had done-everything that Matt had become-and pass it off as Matt being "sick" and needing "help"? "Matt was an addict," Near said. "And none of the 'help' you gave him worked in the end, did it?"
Mello hissed like steam was coming out of his ears. "You just don't get it, do you?" He paced back and forth in the small kitchen, gesticulating furiously. "Matt wasn't- he didn't- Matt was having a hard time. He was sick, Near, he was fighting an illness. And he needed your support. And I needed your support! And then all of a sudden you're off to New York, chasing some job? And then I don't hear from you for three years? And then I have to be the one to get you back here, and I only manage to do that by telling you that Matt's dead? You know what, if you hadn't left, I'll bet-"
"If I hadn't left, Matt would have broken into my place and stolen from me to buy drugs. Again. He would've caused all sorts of damage not just to my property but to my mental health. Again." Near looked at Mello. He looked tired, worn out, defeated. Like he'd picked a fight with an adversary way too strong for him to handle, and he'd gotten beat pretty badly. "He would've screwed up my life the way he screwed up yours."
"Don't blame Matt for forcing me to help him alone."
Near took a long sip of water before speaking again. He tried not to let his hands shake as he set the glass down on the counter. "You never could help yourself, could you, Mello? Whenever Matt called, you were there. Always there to fix his problems for him." He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "Maybe if you hadn't convinced him that he didn't have to be responsible for his actions-"
"Are you blaming me for what happened? I did nothing wrong. I was trying to help. I was-"
Near raised his hands, palms out. "You know, I've come a long way. I'm tired. I'm going to go get my stuff from the car. I don't have much. I'll just put it in your room, I guess. I'm taking the couch?"
"No, I've got the second bedroom ready."
Near stopped in his tracks. "The second bedroom? You have a flatmate or something?"
"...No." Just the one word, no explanation, but the lack of detail gave Near all the information he needed.
One hand on the door, Near turned around. "Mello. You didn't."
Mello crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "I was just trying to help! He didn't have anywhere to go; I thought if he stayed with me-if he just knew he could always stay with me-then-"
Near didn't even bother listening to the rest of Mello's excuse and walked out the door to his car. Mello was pathetic, he thought, to constantly leave his door open for a drug addict who kept closing them on himself. And Near knew that Matt was the only one Mello would ever do that for. The only one Mello cared about enough to waste his own life taking care of.
And yet here Near was, abandoning his life for a few days to deal with Mello. Strange how that one worked out.
He grabbed his small suitcase and laptop case and carried them up the steps back into the apartment. Mello was on the living room couch, chin on his fists and elbows on his knees, staring down at the photographs that littered the floor. Near rolled his eyes and headed down the hallway.
The second bedroom was pristine. The bed was made, the comforter unwrinkled, the pillow fluffed. The drapes were open, and the window let in a little sheet of light. The closet and chest of drawers were empty. Near set his suitcase down on the bed and opened it. Not much to unpack-a couple changes of clothes, various toiletries, a folder full of data from a recent case he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to pass off on someone else. He stashed the now-empty suitcase under the bed and sat down to look over the folder's contents.
He didn't get too far into it before he was interrupted. Mello stood in the doorway, looking into the room but not coming in.
"I'm working," Near said, unzipping his laptop case to make a point.
Mello stood there motionlessly for a moment more, then let out a loud, emphatic sigh before turning and stalking down the hall. Near turned back to his work.
They had takeout for dinner. Near ate in silence, waiting for Mello to say something, but he didn't. He just ate quickly and clumsily, like he was distracted, and he kept stealing glances at the photos on the living room floor. Near was halfway to deciding that he didn't care. Mello had shown long ago that all his attention, all his affection, went to Matt, leaving only bitter rivalry for Near. He'd even abandoned that to focus on Matt and his stints in rehab and his relapses.
Mello stole one more glance at the photos.
Near threw his utensils down with a clatter and got up. "I have to work."
Mello flinched at the sudden noise, but that was all.
The silence that enveloped the second bedroom at night was absolute and disconcerting. The closed drapes let no moonlight in. Near tossed and turned as he tried to get to sleep.
He wondered if Matt had ever actually used this bedroom, or if Mello had just paid the rent on this place for years for no reason at all.
The morning was a strained one. Mello made a lot of phone calls while Near sat at the table working. Every so often Near would feel Mello's eyes on him, but would turn around to find Mello pointedly looking away.
Mello hung up the phone for the last time and sat down at the table across from Near. He folded his arms on the table. Then he unfolded them and rested his chin on one fist. Then he refolded them and looked away.
"Do you have something to say?" Near asked, a bite he hadn't expected creeping into his words.
Mello pushed his chair back with an ear-grating scrape and stood up. "No," he responded with the same bite. "I don't." He stalked behind the table into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and grabbed a glass, then went to the fridge and rummaged around in it. He pulled out a jug of something and filled the glass sloppily, not bothering to clean up the bits of spillage on the counter, came back and made as if to sit down, but stayed standing. Near looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, and that seemed to set him off. "I did a lot for him," Mello said. "I did a damned lot to try to help him."
"I never said you didn't."
"Shut up. I did everything I could. And not even that could help him. You know why? He didn't need just me. He needed you too. And where were you when he was struggling, when he was suffering, when he needed your support? Off hiding in New York behind your job."
Near closed his laptop with a little extra force. There was no way he was going to get any work done; he should've just stayed in New York and not even bothered coming. "Matt needed my support?" He could hear the thick skepticism in his voice. "Matt didn't need anything from me except money. And I'm sure he got plenty of that from you anyway."
"I did not give Matt money to buy drugs!" Mello slammed the glass down on the table. Near hastily moved all his work out of the way of the expanding puddle of spilled juice. "God Near, own up! He needed you, and you refused to be there. You had to move to the other side of the continent because you couldn't handle the responsibility. You don't care about anyone but y-"
"Since when was it my responsibility to put my entire life on hold to take care of a drug addict who'd been in and out of rehab since he was 18? You did, and that was your choice. Don't expect me to make the same."
Mello threw up his hands. "That's exactly what I'm talking about! You refuse to admit any ties to Matt, even now! The minute you started to realize that supporting Matt might mean doing something for anyone other than yourself, you bailed." He turned and started pacing the width of the kitchen, shaking his head and clenching his fists, then stopped right in front of the table and let out a loud huff. "Ever since this whole thing started I've been the only one willing to do anything to keep this family together-"
"Family?" Near rolled his eyes and stood up, carrying his laptop and the folder full of papers now in disarray. "We're not family." He unplugged the laptop cord from the wall outlet and pushed in his chair.
Mello looked like he'd just been punched. "The-" he began, then stopped, staring Near down with wide eyes. "The hell? We're brothers, Near, the three of us!"
"Not by blood."
"No shit not by blood; by bond!"
Near managed to release himself from Mello's paralyzing stare and headed for the hallway. He stopped to briefly look pointedly at the photos on the living room floor. "If it's by bond, then I'm really not your family."
Mello stood, shocked still, for a moment before approaching Near and knocking the folder out of his hands. Papers flew through the air, landing in stapled clumps all over the floor. "You-" he started, but Near interrupted him.
"What has ever happened between us that makes me part of your little 'family'?"
Mello stepped back, eyes glazing over with anger, jaw clenched tightly. He blinked furiously. "You know," he said in a dangerously quiet voice, "you're damned right about that, aren't you?" He pushed past Near and headed down the hallway to his room, slamming the door. As he picked up all the documents Mello had strewn all over the place, Near was certain he heard something breaking.
Two hours later, and Mello still hadn't come out of his room. The phone had rung a few times but had gone ignored. Near knelt on the living room floor, picking up and examining the photos, one by one.
When he'd gone to New York, he hadn't expected to completely cut off contact. He hadn't expected to go three years without a single word exchanged between himself and Mello. He'd expected a chase, or at least a phone call, an email, something from Mello's end to let Near know that Mello's life didn't revolve around Matt. When he hadn't gotten that...
Well, what else could he have done? Call Mello himself? Come back? Of course not; he was too proud to admit having pulled a childish stunt like that. And so he'd stayed in silence, waiting, hoping, for the moment Mello would put Matt's back-to-back crises on hold for just one moment and make contact.
And when he finally had, it was because of Matt. Again.
Near set down the photo he'd been holding and stared down at the spread, resting his chin in his hands. He blew out a long breath and stood up, intending to get himself a glass of water and head to the second bedroom. The click of the door at the end of the hall stopped him.
Near stood frozen as Mello came down the hallway, passed him, and sat down on the couch. There was a shifting sound as Mello bent down and picked up one of the photographs from the floor.
Near drew in a deep breath and let it out, slowly and silently. Then he went and sat on the couch beside Mello, quickly glancing at the photo Mello had picked up.
It was of the three of them, sitting on the grassy hill behind the orphanage under the shade of a giant tree. It had probably been taken in the beginning of summer. They were all smiling. Matt had the biggest, brightest smile of them all. As Near inhaled, he felt the beginnings of a huge swell of emotions that he knew he didn't want to deal with. So he exhaled and willed them away, for now.
"One phone call," he said quietly, looking away now from the photograph and Mello. "You could've spared me the amount of time it took for one phone call."
Mello's fingers tightened on the corner of the photo, leaving harsh creases. "Why would I have bothered calling, Near? You made it pretty clear you didn't want to be contacted."
Near turned back to Mello. His face felt weird, like it was unsure whether his eyes should be narrowed or wide open. "When? When did I ever say that?"
"You didn't say it. Just like you didn't say where you would be working, or what you would be doing, or what your address was going to be. Like you didn't say why you were packing up and leaving."
Near nodded slowly. "And yet somehow it was still important to leave ten messages on my phone and send me three emails to tell me about Matt. Makes sense, Mello."
The photo in Mello's hand was caving in on itself. "I wouldn't have-" He exhaled through his teeth. "You wouldn't get it."
"You're right. I don't get it. I don't get how all our lives you did nothing but fight with me, you didn't think I was important enough to merit any contact whatsoever once I left for New York, you abandoned me for Matt, and then you think you have the right to yell at me for not taking 'responsibility' for this 'family' that I'm somehow a part of."
Mello was silent for a long, long time. He dropped the photo and it glided gently to the floor, the folded corner distorting the image in the light. Then, finally, "You came back, didn't you?"
"What?" Near's eyes snapped from the photograph to Mello. Mello was staring straight at him. "I...of course I came...back."
Mello lowered his eyes and nodded. Then he asked, "Do you care...at all...about Matt? About me? Have you ever cared about either one of us? Or have you always been so focused on yourself that-" He paused mid-rant, took a breath, and started over. "You came. You came back for a reason."
Near didn't say anything. The way the light was hitting the creased photo, the only thing not highlighted or in shadow was Matt's face with its giant smile. He contrasted this Matt-probably only ten or eleven when the picture had been taken-with the Matt whom he'd found, high and freaking out, breaking into his garage-couldn't have weighed more than Near himself, teeth yellow and ugly, no more smiles.
Near closed his eyes. Then, instead of answering the implied question, he said, "I chose to leave right after Matt broke into my house. I- After it happened, you still only paid attention to Matt. Matt was in crisis, just like he always was, and you were there to take away his responsibility for it, like you always were. I didn't feel safe with him around. And you didn't care."
"You're blaming me for doing what I had to do to try and keep Matt from letting the drugs kill him-"
"But the drugs did kill him, Mello. And they were killing you too. And..." And now that the threat was gone, he could come back? Was that what Near was trying to say? Because that was a lie. Near couldn't ever "come back," not for good. Not with San Francisco being a constant reminder of how Mello had always chosen Matt over him. "You were saying something."
Mello lifted his head. "What?"
"You said...you wouldn't have...?"
Mello shook his head. "It's clear you don't understand."
Near slumped and looked away in frustration. "Probably not. Say it anyway."
"Don't order me around. I can't say it anymore."
Near bent down and picked up the creased picture. He hadn't seen Mello touch a single one of the photos but this one. What was so special about it?
"You're smiling in that one," Mello said, as though to answer Near's unspoken question. "We...fought a lot, when we were younger. I thought we would never get along. And then...I stopped trying to convince myself that I hated you, but the thing with Matt...Anyway, I like that one."
"It's...nice." Near glanced at Mello. Was he expecting something? An apology? Another broken half-confession to match Mello's own? Mello was stuffing down his own pride to say something he really meant. That didn't mean Near had to do the same.
But...
"I really wanted you to like me, back when we were kids," Near said finally. "I kept provoking you because that was the only way to keep your attention. And then one day, that attention was gone." He shrugged. "With you, it was always 'Matt this,' 'Matt that.' I left because I figured you didn't want me around anymore." Not quite the truth, but close enough.
Mello's eyes stayed firmly locked on the photograph as he opened his mouth as though to speak, closed it, then opened it again. "I wouldn't have called so many times, left so many messages, sent so many emails, if I hadn't wanted you here. You're family. You're my brother. I don't want to hear you say otherwise."
Near nodded. He didn't really understand this whole "family" thing, but he figured it had something to do with him and Mello and Matt. It had something to do with their shared childhoods, with their constant bickering and competing, with the fact that they knew just what to say to open old wounds. It had something to do with misunderstandings and there never seeming to be enough attention to go around. But above all, Near thought, it had something to do with ties that stayed strong through everything, big smiles and yellowed teeth, living across the street and living across the continent, embracing those ties or ignoring them altogether.
He looked at Mello. Mello looked back at him. Near smiled a little hesitantly. Mello smiled back. Through the living room window, a tiny ray of sunlight shone through a crack in the clouds that covered the early March sky.