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...