Another short fic from Near's POV in regards to Mello. I apologize if it comes off as a lil too cheesy. Also, I have no idea what the puppets are made out of, but my guess is wood. -_-
Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me.
He could not sleep. There was that feeling of emptiness in the night when everything fell into silence and one became hyper-aware of only their own existence, their solitude.
No, that's not it. Near got up. There was something he needed to do, something he had wanted to do for awhile now. He paced over to a pile of small wooden blocks, which he had asked Lidner to pick up for him earlier. When he had finally received his order however, much to her chagrin, he did not even know what he wanted to do with them, so they had just been sitting in a discarded pile since. It was time to make use of them now.
Near picked up a block and blade and began whittling. He did not know what he wanted to make, so he let his hands move on their own like usual. Perhaps it would be a toy. No, it would definitely be a toy, but of what, Near was unsure. He carved the head, then the face, then the body, and finally colored over it. He examined the completed work, a model of a boy barely two inches tall with blond hair, black clothing, and a smirk of confidence. Mello.
Near glowered. This was it? What a waste of time. Mello was not coming back again, not until after the Kira case was resolved, and as far as Near was concerned, his rival had served his purpose and was no longer needed. It would do no good to think about him now. Until he finished the case, Near could only think about one thing, catching Kira. No more distractions.
He set the doll on the ground, intending to turn away and go back to sleep. However, as he stared at his creation, he noticed that something did not seem right. This Mello looked too fake, even for a toy.
...
Near had never taken any notice of the other children at the orphanage where he grew up until Mello came along. The boy was a genius, ranked second only after Near himself, and although anyone else would have been impressed by his intelligence, that was not the trait that had initially caught Near's attention. There were plenty of child prodigies at the orphanage, so what difference would another one make, even if he was a giant cut above the rest?
No, it had actually been the exact opposite scenario that had caught Near's attention in the first place, the fact that he had not been a child prodigy. On the contrary, he had been painfully average from the start, completely unsuited for Wammy's.
Mello entered the orphanage at an older age than most newcomers, and he had struggled with difficulty simply to catch up to the rest of his peers. Unlike the others, Mello had not been gifted with innate intelligence but had to actually work hard in order to succeed. He did work hard, however. Mello worked hard for everything.
"You think you're so much better than the rest of us? You think just because you were born with a big head, the rest of us can't even compete? I might not have been born a genius or raised a genius, but I can make myself into one. And I'll show you. I'll show you what I can do!" That was the first declaration of war Near had ever received from his rival. The boy had not responded, because he had no desire to cause any further unnecessary troubles, but the latter erroneously interpreted the silence as condescension, distancing the two further.
Mello did show him. He showed everyone. He miraculously shot up in the rankings at a flying rate due to that impenetrable determination and effort. He had been indestructible, stomaching hours of studying and nights of lost sleep. Indeed, he had not been born a genius but had gruelingly shaped himself into one, and that was what truly separated him from the rest of them.
Near had noticed, but he had never outwardly displayed that acknowledgment, and consequently, Mello mistook the child's aloofness for arrogance, fueling his own delusional thought that he, Mello, born average, would never be anything more than just that, average. To Near, he would never be good enough, or so he had thought.
...
Near picked up the Mello puppet and began coloring it with a burnt orange marker. He remembered seeing that raw, charred mess of what had used to be his rival's face when they had met for that single brief moment. As usual, Near had not allowed himself to react outwardly, but he had clearly noticed the evidence of pain and hardship ingrained on Mello's exterior.
He put aside the marker and held up the puppet again, now revised with a scar imprinted on the left side of its face. The toy looked more real now, more human. Mello had not been indestructible after all.
Near tilted his head. Again, something was wrong with the model. Mello still did not look complete. Instinctively, a hand lifted to meet his hair. He twisted a strand, observing. It did not look complete, Near concluded, because it looked lonely. One need not have personally experienced loneliness to be able to identify it.
Near picked up another wooden block and automatically started chipping away at it. After he finished, the boy placed the new creation on the floor right next to his first. A miniature model of a child with light hair and loose, white clothing how now faced him alongside Mello. He had created himself. He had chosen himself to serve as Mello's companion.
What an illogical choice, Near self-scolded. Why would he pick himself? They would never look right together.
He was wrong however, because the two puppets, M and N, looked perfect together. They appeared so natural standing next to each other that one would have believed that they were intended to be created as a set from the very beginning. He tugged and twirled at another tress, lacking any sign of animation in his visage as he eyed the scene in front of him. He should have been satisfied now that his creations finally looked complete, but he was not. Near scowled.
Little M and N were perfectly happy to be standing next to one another, as if they had always been friends. There was no history of animosity between them. No silent misunderstandings, no unspoken tensions, no obvious hatred.
It was a sweet image. A sickly sweet image. An image that only made Near feel lonelier than ever.