I'm having one of my random late night fanfiction speels again, and dropping into a fandom I haven't touched in a while!
The sickness had touched him. Mello stood back staring dead at Near, his eyes deep in his; searching, scanning, looking for anything. But there was nothing. There was always nothing. He was just cold through and through. He couldn't feel, couldn't empathise; he was just stone cold, like always.
Rage, confusion, anger, cutting pain surged and boiled through him. He couldn't comprehend what he was feeling, it swelled in his head, it lost him and he couldn't find himself again.
He was poisoned.
Near had poisoned him.
The Albino's eyes were like coal. Black as night with not even a glint of humanity glazing off of them. No human feeling. He was robotic. He was just a mind on legs. He wasn't what a human was supposed to be; he couldn't think and feel like everybody else, he wasn't normal; he wasn't right.
Mello had hated him straight from the beginning, but now, he couldn't understand what he was feeling. A burning sensation was filling his chest, setting everything that made him real alight. He was turned to ash right there on the spot.
"What have you done to me?!" He wanted to scream out, but his mouth was filled with sand; he couldn't manage the right words.
He'd been lost in the intoxication. Suffocated, smothered. What Near once was, was gone. What was left was a shitty little white ghost of whatever humanity, whatever feeling he could've had. What had Mello gotten himself into, he wanted to ask himself. Why did he lose himself to this shell of a person? There was nothing left of him. He was an emotionless wreck and Mello… well, he was no better.
There was nothing that lay beneath Near, no matter how much digging he could do. His eyes were empty shields guarding faded memories, forgotten secrets, hiding the ashes of his discarded self.
But even if he tried, Mello knew he couldn't pull himself out of this 'sickness' that had festered inside of him. Near had entwined himself to him, whether he willed it or not. He was stuck with him. They were rivals, but they were also equals.
Is that what struck his obsession? Their equality, or his strive to be better than him in any means possible? Even if that means to lose himself, even if that means to forget what makes him different to everybody else.
Mello wasn't Near. Mello wasn't L either. Mello was rude, arrogant, put up a tough front, but really, he was weak, he was forever lost in insecurity. And he despised himself for it.
Was that why he'd put his soul into his rivalry with Near? To escape some problems, but to defy others? To defy his limitations and be better and a brighter star than Near could ever be; even if that means, in the long run, that he will burn out faster than the rest?
"Why is this way it's gotta be?" He found himself muttering. His hands were filling with pins and needles. He couldn't feel them, he didn't know they were shaking. He didn't know his voice was trembling. His face was hot, his eyes were wet, but he wouldn't let the tears roll down his cheeks.
He was angry. But also in despair.
Near just stared back at him with his clear dark eyes, his face expressionless, he just shrugged his small shoulders and said; "It's just the way it is. We all try and find our place in the puzzle, even if that means we need to sacrifice a jig to fit in."
He could talk so easily, Mello mused. But did he have any idea what he was saying? What that meant? To sacrifice a part of yourself to merely fit into the gist of things? What if you wanted bigger or better things than what a simple puzzle could provide?
The hot, raw emotion that clawed inside of Mello was washed over with cool water as he took a deep, calming breath.
"I've had enough." He said. "When all is said is done, what will be left? I'd be broken." His voice was strong, thick and smooth. It surprised him a bit, but he didn't stop long enough to think about it.
"You're already half way there, Mello." Near didn't even meet his piercing gaze. He was crouched on the floor, holding up a plain white puzzle piece between his thumb and forefinger from the set scattered on the floor by his feet. "But there are other ways than just simply cutting off a small piece of yourself, you do know?"
Mello's stomach was tying knots, his eyes glaring hard at the small cardboard piece in the smaller boy's hand. "There's no other way to be perfect." The blonde lamented as Near folded over the small jig of the puzzle piece and smoothly fitted it in with the rest of the sorted out pieces.
"No person has the capability to be 'perfect'." Near stated, his eyes finally meeting with Mello's. "It would drive you mad, even just to stay that way."
Mello's brow furrowed and his teeth gnashed together. "I'm half way there, Near. You said so yourself. Once I cut you out, I'll be perfect. And I mean to stay that way, even if it drives me mad."
"You wouldn't be perfect if you were mad."