Of Letters on Graveyards
Character: 1st person POV Near, with mentions of Matt, Mello, Light, and the rest of Wammy.
Warning: Mentions of abuse and character death.
Summary: Near soliloquizes on the death of Matt, the only thing Mello managed to triumph over him. "Sometimes, even being the world's top genius doesn't shed light on simplicities such as friendship." Always questions, but never answers. Post-series.
Sometimes, when I think back, I wondered why you died for Mello.
What was it about him that made you want to follow the guy? What was it about him that forced you to mock-insult me, then secretly play with me when he wasn't looking? That made you willing to always appear one step behind him, while in truth, you were always one step ahead?
You were so popular back then. The other kids all admired you, you and your extreme multitasking, all your pranks on Roger, and how you became third right after arriving, even though the teachers all whispered of your ability to surpass Mello. You, according to the rest of Wammy's, knew the right clothes to wear, the right way to make people want to be your friend. You had potential to become someone great, was what they said.
Why didn't you? Why didn't you use that potential and opportunity offered by Wammy's?
Why did you follow Mello? Why did you leave England to look for him? Why did you not stay here, and team up with me? You knew you would have a better chance of catching Kira, a better chance of staying alive, and yet. Did those things matter to you? Because you needed to make sure Mello was alright?
You decided to go convert into Christianity, after Mello.
What did that give you, I wondered. You had started quietly praying everyday, while Mello's back was turned. That little cross you took from the church became your most precious item, though whether it was more important than your games and your fags, I didn't know. What did you pray for, aside from Mello's happiness and safety? What did God give you?
When I saw you again, you still had that rusted little cross. Did you still pray for Mello, or did you hope for a better life, to just live through another day? Did you still pretend that those hits were really because you've been careless and he wanted you to be more careful? Did you still laugh off his insults and act as if your red eyes were nothing more than poor sleep and those little cries were because you accidentally stubbed your toes and crushed your game cards? Were you still content to live with him?
Did he ever see through your smiles? Ever bothered to look under those orange goggles and take in the state you've been in for a long time? Ever notice how there was always chocolate in stock, no matter how often he demolishes them? Sometimes I regret having you install those cameras to check up on you and Mello, because the way you were treated surprised, no, horrified me.
What was it that made life pleasant for you? That enabled you to still imply it was so, even when you were alone on the balcony, looking at the sky? Were you truly happy? Were you ever truly happy? I often wondered how Mello turned out the way he did. I had admired his temper, his tenacity to triumph over me. You must have felt the same.
Nobody else wanted to claim your bodies. Roger was not informed of your death. All I could provide was a rudimentary grave and twin crosses, a priest and two caskets. I want to be cremated, so that way my dust can return to the earth, and if you could just scatter them in the wind, I could fly and finally be free, you told me. I assume you no longer thought the same; Bury me, Near, because it's against Christianity to be cremated, and I guess that way I can always watch over Mello.
I almost shed tears at your funeral. Because in truth, although I am, perceived or not, as emotionally distant, you were still my first friend. The one person who wasn't afraid of standing up to Mello while he supposedly reigned terror; the one person who still talked to me like I was your friend.
Sometimes, I wondered why you became my friend. And it's ironic, because sometimes, even being the world's top genius doesn't shed a light on simplicities such as friendship. Not that it mattered much while you were being lowered into the coffin, looking like you were just asleep, watching the lid close and seal you away back into the earth.
You told me you didn't care what happens at the end, because the only important thing is that you've lived. I didn't, and still don't, understand how you could say you lived when you were used in Mello's tyranny, how you could still smile so happily when we had to sneak to talk things over with bruises covering your face. I guess that doesn't matter anymore.
But in any case, just before they covered the grave with dirt, I threw in some flowers. A red carnation and a small bouquet of sweet peas. The smell did not make me feel any less detached, and the pollen reacted negatively at my touch, though I'm still not sure why I decided to pick them. But, they've always been your favorites, haven't they?
Signed,
Nate River
1) Near would most probably never sign his true name. But I'm going along with that he probably burned the letter, there is no more Kira, and that in my head-canon, Matt was his friend.
2) Near was OOC. But I fail at picking out his personality, even attempting to, and suddenly, all those big words that he would have used just crept away from my mind.
3) Apparently Near was pretty stuck on what Mello did ("Near liked Mello") and what not. This isn't meant to represent what Near feels about Mello. He's just being curious on why Matt did what he did. He's not really all that against Mello. I don't know what happens to Matt during his stay with Mello, but let's just say that for the sake of this, and because of Mello's temper, it ended up this way.
And yes, Near is supposed to just be curious. Not all that "Oh why dear heavens!!!" melodramatic mess. Not that I have anything against melodramatics.