The crinkling tear of a chocolate bar, a snapping, deep bite. Near closed his eyes and could hear that. The too-tight leather, the ironically religious necklace, the eyes; angry and contrite. Too tight, too high, too low, too bright, too dark, too blonde. That made him snicker.
Sounds like I'm describing a whore.
He thinks and and almost laughs as he thinks what Mello's reaction to that would be. He's still listening, though, for the sound of crinkling paper, that cloying scent of chocolate, the knowledge that his precariously balanced houses, palaces of objects will soon be decapitated. And he tilts his head back, his eyes wide op[en, asking, praying for that sound.
And he hears a tear and bite. He slows the turning of his head, he's not happy to hear it, no, no. Not at all.
"Stupid Near." Mello hisses over the candy in his mouth. Mello glares and swings out with his leg and knocks down a tower of cards, letting the cards fall, fluttering around his buckled boot.
And Near stares at him, willing the emotion to stay inside. So he stares, and keeps training his ears to hear that crinkle . And breathes in the smooth, sickly sweet smell of chocolate.
