I'm so sorry I haven't updated in, like, EVER. But I needed to get this freaking story out of my head :P thank you!
Near always had liked happy endings. It was one of the reasons he didn't like horror. Scary stories ended in heartbreak, in corpses, in fire and in loss.
In the hour of despair, in between one day and the next, no-one should be awake. But people have an annoying and destructive habit of disobeying rules, and so Near was awake. The flickering florescent lighting faded every so often, but it was light enough. Several volumes of fairytales were out and strewn like bodies across the scratched wooden floor, and cardboard boxes were scattered here and there. The distant sounds of the sleeping children in the orphanage were faded, but still there. They were silent, but meaningful, and Near could relate to them. Still searching through twisted and torn boxes, he suddenly came upon a book of beautiful bound leather; amongst all the yellowed pages. He didn't know what it was, or why it was there. So he opened the book of secrets.
The first page was devoid of anything but four triangular metal holders, that signified enough for Near to know that it was a photo album.
The second had a generic picture of the entire Wammy's population.
The fourth was a picture of Matt, skinny and striking with his electric red hair and his ghost-pale face.
Near's heart began to race.
The third was a picture of Mello, as breathtakingly beautiful as ever.
Near's heart broke a little more.
The fifth contained a picture of three boys, black, white, and striped. Hell, Heaven, and the one in the middle.
The sixth was the boys hugging. So much expression in three faces.
Near's throat began to tighten.
The seventh was a playful picture of a blond running away with a game boy, and the eighth was the same but with a robot.
The ninth contained an image so stunning and so beautiful and so heartbreaking that Near could have sworn that the world around him stopped in time. The ninth image was a picture of an angel, an angel with blond pageboy hair surrounded by a halo of darkness. The angel wore a black shirt that cut off suddenly with the end of the picture, something that should have gone on for far, far longer was ripped apart. His face was elegantly twisted into an awkward grin, and a stray hair was out of place, one mistake frozen forever in time.
Near, he took the picture. He wrote 'Dear Mello'. And he put it deep, deep in his suitcase. Near, he cherished it deep, deep in his heart.
And then, many years later, he was forced to hand the picture over. And the recipient, the angel himself, mistook the words. Placed emphasis on the wrong syllable. And so, the last chance the albino boy ever got to show his feelings, was interpreted as mere f*cking arrogance.
One died, from severe gunshot wounds.
One died, from cardiac arrest, and was burnt whilst dying slowly and agonisingly.
And one lived, ever after.
Near never did get his happy ending.
WHY MUST MY STORIES BE SO FLUCKING SHORT???
Review please :3