A/N: A piece I wrote randomly once that I liked how it ended up more than I thought I would. Not sure if this is classified as poetry or what, but I like it nonetheless.
Fire
Near had never liked emotions.
Emotions were dangerous
volatile things,
heated and passionate,
rough and raw,
and they had a way
of sweeping you up
and whirling you off
in an intense whirlwind,
only letting you go
when they had run themselves out.
And they always ran out.
Always.
So Near did his best
to keep his emotions hidden
inside himself,
supressed,
to a place where they
could be maintainted,
carefully controlled,
monitored.
Mello had never been timid
about anything,
about his emotions.
Constantly angry with himself
and the world,
Mello lashed out
at everything
that sparked a feeling within
like a fire, scorching it
with his intensity,
leaving ash
and ruin
behind.
Near had watched Mello,
casually,
through disinterested eyes,
as he raged about the world,
caring about things,
emotional
if he didn't get his way.
He watched as Mello ran about,
yelling
when he came in second again,
screaming
when his chocolate was gone,
crying
when L had had to leave.
He watched Mello,
waiting
waiting
for his fire
to run out.
All fires always ran out eventually.
Always.
But when Near had seen Mello
sitting on his bed
motionless,
his expression vacant,
his eyes hard and cold,
Near had been surprised
to realize
that he wanted the fire back,
that he missed it,
even,
and that
he'd do
anything
anything
anything
to get that fire back.
And so,
slowly,
ever so carefully,
Near began
to try
to rekindle Mello
to help fix him
to re-put him together
to get that fire back.
After all,
even after a fire
had been put out,
with flint,
a few sticks,
and the right tools...
A fire could always be started up again.
Always.
Light a fire, review the fic. Please?