"This rage is just too much for such a young boy."
"Well, you must understand that he is just now growing into his hormones."
"Why are you defending him? He nearly killed the boy, and on top of it all, caused hundreds of dollars in damage."
"You of all people must know that the Wammy's house is very well funded."
The woman sighed.
"I know that L has funded you well, but I know for a fact that he would not appreciate such behavior."
"No, but he would understand it, and instead of punishing, would teach a more efficient outlet."
She paused before replying.
"I suppose you're right, but if he doesn't change soon, I'll make sure the boy is taken away."
Watari smiled politely.
"I'm afraid that you hold no jurisdiction in this matter. Goodbye."
The man closed the door to his office, leaving the financial associate on the opposite side, mouth agape, yet lost for words.
He was right though.
The reason she had come in the first place was for talk of money.
When the expenses came up, involving several repair bills, was when the talk of Mello had arisen.
Mello (who was at the moment, laying in his bed, staring at a wall) had caused quite an indent in the orphanages funds, seeing as he was only one fourteen year old boy.
The boy who he had put in the hospital did this to himself by (over a number of days) poking fun at Mello's hair, and physique: claimimg he looked like a pretty little girl.
This lasted for quite a while, and the blonde did nothing.
He held his anger in, not wanting to cause any more unnecessary grief at the Wammy's House.
However, on the third day, the other boy decided it was appropriate to grab Mello's bottom while in one of the many common rooms filled with children.
It wasn't necessarily the embarassment of being weirdly objectified in public, but this being done in front of Near.
He was belittled in front of the albino genius, and he had snapped.
God damnnit.
He had sealed his fate as forever being inferior to the other boy.
Why couldn't he be as emotionless as Near?
Why couldn't he have the same self control?
Why the fuck couldn't that perfect little boy show any emotions.
Mello punched the wall.
It was a weak effort, for at that moment he was lying in bed curled onto his side.
The bed behind him on the opposite wall was empty.
The albino child he shared his room with was still out.
Near was so logical.
So rational at all times.
He never showed emotions and always made the right choice, unhindered by feelings.
Even his appearance was as void as his personaity.
His skin was milky white, with not a flaw in sight to damper its beauty.
His hair was a perfect mess of silver curls which fell to just above the boy's eyes.
Jesus.
Those eyes were so dark.
Just cold, hard slate gray.
They didn't just peirce you, they drove an icy stake through your heart with one glance.
He was perfect in every way, but hid himself under baggy white pajamas.
He made himself plain to avoid any confrontation.
Mello stood, and stripped down to his skin.
The hardwood floor was cold under his bare feet.
The blonde pulled a full length mirror from a slot in the closet and just looked at himself.
He blocked everything else out.
There was no noise, no sound.
There was nothing but him and his reflection.
The boy in the mirror was thin, but slightly muscled from countless scuffles.
His skin was marred by old and new.
Both long healed scars and fresh bruises were scattered about the blonde's skin.
He gingerly ran his fingers over the marks, reliving each event, and how almost all were his own fault.
Slowly, Mello's gaze shifted up, tracing the curves of his childish frame.
He hated his hair.
It was a yellow-blonde bob, stopping at the mid of his neck.
The length was just long enough to give him goosebumps when the soft strands moved, but too short to hide them.
Leaning forward slightly, the youth rested himself against the wooden panel; one hand on either side of the mirror.
He stared into the eyes just five inches from his own.
They were blue.
His lips were pink from biting them.
He couls see why the other boy had called him a girl.
Blue eyes, blonde hair, pink lips.
His gaze drifted down to the pale, fleshy bit between his legs.
Nothing much there.
Everything he saw in the mirror was disappointing
"I'll never be him."
The youth whispered, hanging his head.
About halfway through this episode, Near had decided he wanted to go back to the boy's shared room.
He has assumed Mello would be asleep.
However, this assumption would be proved wrong after a peek through the keyhole.
Intruiged, the albino watched the events unfolding within.
It was quite surprising how pitiful Mello was alone when there was no one to impress.
But it seemed as though the only one he wanted to impress was Near.
Perhaps the resentment he showed towards the boy was only jealousy.
It was flattering, but only to be expected.
Ten minutes later when Mello had re-dressed and was once again laying in bed was when the white child entered the room.
He slipped in quietly and sat on his bed.
Slowly, the boy removed his shirt, folded it neatly on his nightstand, and lied down.
A few silent moments passed before Near spoke one quiet sentence.
"If it is any consollation, I have heard that girls find scars attractive."
He gave no explanation for this statement.
Simply turned and went to sleep.
Mello was left awake to wonder what Near had seen.
A single tear trailed its way down his pink cheek.