Today seemed like just any other day at Whammy's house; nothing extraordinary to speak of when looking from the outside. The sun shined, the children played, and all was well; or so one would think. Little did anyone know that a young prodigy sat curled in his room suffering the most detrimental of an identity crisis. The now fifteen year old seemed to be glaring at his reflection in a small handheld mirror, harshly patting down a wild mess of pure white hair and pinching color into otherwise plain cheeks; to him all was not well. Appearances had never held any volition this time last year, but now hormones had kicked in and all the things that used to matter don't anymore. Near huffed and dropped the mirror onto his white plush carpet none too gently, no longer having the will to stare at the plainness that was his reflection. Something has got to giveā¦
Near stood and shuffled to his window in the shy, meek way that he did most things; staring longingly at the other children laughing and enjoying the warmth of the mid-spring sun. The sickening twisting and turning of his stomach was something that he couldn't ignore no matter how desperately he had tried; he wanted to be out there, he wanted to be something other than the next in line, and he wasn't even sure he wanted that at all anymore. Nothing about this life he led had been normal, nothing before coming to Whammy's had been normal. Maybe I should run away? Go to a place where no one knows my title or what it means; maybe then I could be happy?
In his younger years Near had thought that if he kept everything out than he could never hurt, he had wanted to be void of all emotion, all things human. The nightmares of his parents' death still haunt him and he feared the pain would always rack his chest; but what he's beginning to realize is that erasing all traces of life on the outside doesn't stop his heart from bleeding, hurting, or loving. The past few months an onslaught of emotions have been wreaking havoc on his mind, he didn't even have the desire to play with his favorite train set anymore. Near was craving color, and music, and life; it was that simple, Near wanted to live.
Among the dozens of children, one stood out from all the rest; playing a game of soccer with the other children was the cause for Near's sudden self doubt. Golden locks flowed down to sun kissed shoulders, cerulean orbs alight with all of the life Near could only dream of, a brilliant smile brighter than the shining sun played on full lips; a smile that had never shown for him. The boy was the epitome of beauty, a striking array of colors perfectly contrasting one another; the wild unpredictability of the older boys mind even more alluring. Mello never hid from anyone or anything as Near did; Mello was strong and outspoken, no matter how trivial the battle may seem, he still fought. Near had always admired the ferocity of Mello's heart.
Long ago the boy genius had taken notice of the beads that hung loosely around the blonde's neck and knew what they symbolized. Near had never been a person of faith, but he understood the allure; no matter how difficult life becomes or how many mistakes are made, you are always loved, always forgiven. He was also aware that if Mello ever took notice of the way his eyes lingered on broad shoulders or the beginnings of abs that were being sculpted as he aged, Near might be severely beaten for it. It was difficult to believe that there was nothing wrong about feeling the way that he did when the object of his affections would be so deeply disturbed by the knowledge of it; especially those nights when he finds himself aching in a way he never knew possible for the boy who would never love him. Should it hurt to love you? Should I feel like I do?
Near leaned his head against the window, feeling it's coolness against his forehead; closing his eyes he searched to the deepest part of the soul he wasn't sure existed for the strength to turn everything he's ever known upside down. Pushing himself off the window, Near makes his way downstairs to find the only person he felt he could trust if the circumstances made him resort to that, a look of determination warring with the usual vacancy of his charcoal eyes; Near was going to let the colors in, he was going to let in life. Something has got to give.
