Just so you know, this is an introduction. I'm trying to make future chapters much, much more sizable.
This is the first Death note fan fiction I've written. Actually, I didn't imagine I would ever write one, honestly. Since I have the next chapter written up (much longer than this one by the way) but not typed up, it should be up in the next couple of days. If you're wondering where the 'supernatural' part comes in because you don't see it, you'll have to wait some chapters. How many? I haven't determined that yet.
My apologies for OOC-ness.
And I really don't own these guys, only the plot.
"Near," the snowy-haired genius looked up from where he was sitting on the ground at the sound of his companions voice. Of course, he was sitting in that strange position as usual, and that's how Matt found him when he looked over. The redhead was looking at him with distaste, his lips carefully positioned like there was still a cigarette hanging there between them. "You know what your job is, so get to it!" the words were snapped at near, but he wordlessly got up and walked off like it hadn't mattered. He entered to the woods to do their job while Matt prepared their sparse meal, Mello pitching their one-person tent.
Mello and Matt were both in major agitation and irritation from withdrawals, that was no secret. It had been weeks, easily, since the blonde had eaten a single piece of chocolate, or since the redhead played a video game or smoked a cigarette. What was worse to them was that Near didn't have those because his playing with toys wasn't an addiction, just habitual. The smallest fo the trio could handle not having any toys around (sometimes he'd fiddle with a branch or something, anyway), while Matt and Mello became more demanding, violent, and angry than usual. For Mello, someone had to wonder if that was possible.
For the past two or three months (or so), life had been like this mostly. On the go by day, eating and resting at night. The day was full of walking through forest, the outskirts of smaller towns, and abandoned back roads. At night they would rest two at a time, one person up at any given time. Life was exhausting and wearing.
As Near picked branches off the ground and tore dead ones from surrounding trees for firewood, memories came back to him. He didn't want to think of how this all started, but there it was...