The Sunrise

A soft breeze shuffled his blond hair, like kind hands of a mother which he never felt in his life.
Looking down at river, Mello sighed and closed his beautiful blue eyes.

I'm tired.

Waiting for sunrise, he could remember every sunrise he had seen in his life. His father would have been asleep till then, drunk and exhausted from beating his own son to death. His own silent tears would have been dried by the breath-taking beauty of sunrise. When he had ran away from his damn house and that fucking man who called himself father, the sunrise had given him a great deal of energy; he had ran and shouted and cried from the joy of freedom. He would always wake up in early mornings, with his lover's body pressed to him, and he would smile in his hair and watch sunrise from window, feel love and being loved.

His heart sank when he remembered his love, his eye, his laughter. Everything about him was just… angelic. And Jesus fucking Christ, he fucking missed him.

After a long period of staying in Matt's house, (in his bed, precisely), he sneaked out to watch sunrise from a bridge next to the house. That was when he decided to commit suicide in sunrise, from that bridge. And nothing was going to stop him from doing so, even Matt.

Slowly, he took a shaking step forward and opened his arms. There's nothing left for me, watching the first rays of the sun, but this. He took a deep breath and was about to take another step when he saw a white figure coming toward him.

Fuck.

He considered jumping before he reaches him, but the white figure was already on bridge. So he gritted his teeth, cursed his fucking luck, and backed off.

He will ignore me and pass, like the other passengers.

He wasn't lucky, because the white figure (who was a small boy, probably 15 at most) came close, and closer, and stood right fucking next to him. Irritated, he cast a quick glance at him.

He was like a ghost, albino, purely white with dad grey eyes like an endless pool. He was as pale as dead, and Mello (with shock) realized that he was in his fucking pajamas which were two size bigger than his slender body.
Mello imagined him (he didn't wanted too, but he couldn't help it anyway), living in a small white room with a small window. Everything might have been neat and organized. He imagined the boy, sitting on his bed and looking at the scene, or sneaking out and freezing by the sound of his father's snores. And….

For God's sake, stop! He fucking ruined your plan! And you're imagining him like a love struck nine year old girl! (His mind reminded him nicely.) He felt a pang of anger and frustration. He didn't wanted to live anymore! He was tired, tired of loneliness, tired of blaming himself, tired of his pains, tired of this fucking world who took everything and everyone he had. There was only one person linking him to the world: Matt. He was the only one left for him, his one and best buddy, always there when he needed him, taking care of him when others left him like a piece of shit. Mello loved Matt brotherly and deeply, but he didn't wanted to be a burden for him. It would be so selfish of him.

He fixed his gaze upon sunrise and prayed to his God that this weirdo would leave soon.
God wasn't with him that day for certain.

The worst part was his fucking silence. Like it was part of his daily routine: walking to the bridge and watching the sunrise with a man who is about to jump into the river.

After 15 minutes, Mello was thinking about various ways of killing a person on a bridge and committing suicide afterward (he had reached the thirty-sixth method) when he heard a soft voice, his voice: "Nice sunrise, isn't it?"

Although Mello had been waiting for him to talk, he hummed nonchalantly. He wasn't so eager to start a conversation with that sheep. Maybe if he paid him no attention, he would leave soon. The sheep boy didn't said anything anymore, and twirled a lock of his silver hair around one finger. Mello narrowed his eyes. His patience was wearing thin.

"Are you going to stay?" finally he snapped.

The sheep boy hummed softly. Mello took that as affirmation. He tried again: "can't you at least go and come back later?" The boy stopped twirling and looked at him with big, wide eyes. Mello suppressed the feeling that he was reading through him, as if he were transparent, and locked his blue eyes with grey ones (and tried very, very hard to do the 'puppy eyes').

"Please," he said with force (he had NEVER, EVER pleaded ANYONE). The boy looked somehow amused (God, he really wanted to strangle him) and shrugged: "sorry, I can't."

Mello huffed angrily and looked away.

I can jump now, in front of his eyes, and he can't fucking stop me!

But what if he's a fucking swimmer? He would save me, and I would be more fucked up!

If I don't do it now, I can't do it anymore! I'm certainly not going back!

What if Matt's awake and looking for me?

- What's your name?

With his soft, almost feminine voice, Mello lost his train of thoughts. He realized that he was clenching his fists so badly that it hurt. He opened them and tried to breathe evenly.

This fucking son of a mother fucking bitch! He's trying to speak with me, like we are two normal teenagers at a bar! Even a low-IQ person can put two and two together and get his ass out this place! What's his point? What is he trying to gain?

- I'm Mello.

- Near.

Mello snorted: "What kind of fucking name is 'Near'?! If I were you I would prefer to be called butthead."

Near shrugged nonchalantly: "Not that your name is better than mine, in fact, I think your parents wanted you to be Mellower."

Stupid joke it was, but it made his blood roar in his ears. That little brat was making fun of him! (He decided to ignore the fact that he was indeed the one who started insulting at the first place.) He turned to look at him and probably hit him when saw a tiny little smile (a sarcastic smile, to be precise) playing on Near's lips.

He's… teasing me? Alright Near; if you play, I will play along.

Mello rolled his eyes: "Whatever. Why are you here anyway? Shouldn't you be asleep? You don't wanna miss your school kid!"

He could feel Near glaring at him and grinned.

- I couldn't sleep. My step-father was looking for strawberry cakes and his boyfriend was snoring. I got tired and came out to watch sunrise from here. Why are you here? I'm 20, by the way.

Mello was dumbfounded. Near had gave him lots of information and he was trying to process them.

20?! He barely looks like a 15-years-old! He said step-father. So he's an orphan? And… he has a… gay step-father who has a thing for looking for cakes… strawberry cakes in midnight?
Sounds interesting…

He frowned. Somehow, the last sentence didn't felt right with him.

- I… I couldn't sleep either.

He hoped that Near wouldn't pry so much; he wasn't ready to talk about his suicide mission.

Near didn't said anything, much to Mello's relief, and continued twirling his hair. They watched sunrise with a comfortable silence he hadn't had for a long time. Not that he wanted that, but sometimes everyone needed a moment of peace and…

- Would you like to have some breakfast with me?

A.N: I wrote this for spiritcrimson's birthday! I really hope you liked my shitty little fanfic! This story might continue…