Mello stepped out of the shadows, his subtle,
beautiful features half burned away, eternally scarred by his
unfailing determination.
"It's been a while," Near said,
not looking up from the safety of his toys. Somehow, even though he
was staring at the ground, Mello was always in view. He couldn't look
away from him.
"Have you finished preparations?" Mello
asked.
They were sitting on a red carpet, and the trees were
blooming white feathers, but all the photographers were looking
away...
"Yes. I'll have him soon enough."
"Why
are you fighting it, Near?" Mello bent over, looking Near in the
eye, and he was almost out of view. "It's a god of death. It
can't be defeated, even by us."
Near shook his head
frantically. "No, Mello, he isn't a god of death. He's just a
murderer. We can take him down... together..."
Mello grabbed
his shoulders and forced him to look, and those eyes, those blue
eyes... and that red, battered, broken flesh...
"No, Near, we
can't."
"Why, Mello? We can surpass him together!"
Near was panicking. But why? Why was his heart beating so
fast?
"Because... because..." Mello almost looked
tearful, like he was in pain. Near wanted to reach out and help
him... they were so far apart, after all. One step wouldn't hurt.
Near crawled forward.
"...because--"
The flowers
turned black and--FLASH!! FLASH!!--the photographers were taking
pictures. Their pictures. Their faces and their names...
Near
turned back to Mello, but it was too late, and his pale skin had
given way to burning flesh. The air stunk. Near's head ached. He
wanted to go away, but he could hear the writing of the pen and he
had to stop it, he had to stop them from dying...
Everything fell
away. Near was on the ground, alone.
The air was warm. He could
smell smoke. He lifted his head up and felt breathing in his ear.
Troubled breathing--the last, unfailing, determined breaths... And
blue eyes, stained by fire and ruin and death.
"Because
you killed me, Near." And the whisper turned to a
growl, and a yell...
