Disclaimer: Don't own it, yo.
Rating: T
Spoilers: Complete Death Note series.
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After
By Azar-Apocalypse
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Sometimes, when it was cold out at Wammy's House and the glow-in-the-dark constellations glued to his ceiling dully lit up the room, Near entertained the very naive, very clichéd thought that maybe Mello cared more about what was on the inside than what was on the outside. He was sure that Mello would hate him, even if he was a supermodel.
He was sure that Mello would hate him, regardless of what he did.
Then Mello left and Near stopped thinking about him for a long time, occupying himself, instead, with Kira, Japan, and the SPK.
But none of that matters anymore, because Mello is dead and the Kira case is closed and the fourth L doesn't really care much about Wammy's House anymore.
---
The truck's body is so burned that the smell hasn't faded from the papers, even after four weeks of waiting. Near can't wait any longer than that, so he straps on a mask, peels the curling cover from the book, and begins to read.
They're not Mello's memoirs. They're not words from beyond the grave. (And Near has to admit that he's not surprised).
It's a compilation of stories, assembled in the vague form of a narrative; told as some kind of immature joke; interrupted by subtle, smug remarks directed at Near.
These are things he should have known. Things about the first L; things about the second L; things about Beyond Birthday; things about Mello himself: things that he should have known but never bothered to care about.
And through the resentment and humiliation and admiration, Near can admit to himself, however reluctantly, that Mello certainly had a way with words.
---
The drive to the wake - or what constitutes a wake when there's no body - is sombre and stretches on for far too long.
Near feels something inside of him ache with each of Lidner's choked sobs. He wishes she'd shut up, but he doesn't have the heart to tell her so. He doesn't have the heart to tell her much of anything, anymore; because she was the only thing that tied him to Mello, and now that Mello is gone, she has no use. Maybe she realises it; maybe that's why she's crying so hard.
But he still really wishes that she'd shut up.
---
"Near..." Lidner murmurs after the charred remains of a person are removed from the room for the crematorium. "I'm sorry for your loss."
He doesn't look away from the empty casket, but he wonders vaguely why she's saying this to him. "'My loss'?" he repeats incredulously. Her mascara is running; her eyes are a shade lighter than usual when they reflect the light. Near's throat constricts.
Lidner gives Near a sympathetic look and he feels a weak sort of tug in his chest. Her hand is cold and clammy in his; and her fake nails are sharp when they dig into his wrist, but he clenches his jaw and ignores it.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Gevanni is watching them from some way away, and even Rester has stopped pretending that they do not exist.
Lidner gives a half-hearted shrug and says, "You just... You knew him, and I thought-"
"I'm fine," he interjects sharply. "Death is a part of life; there's no point in dwelling on it."
It's not the complete truth, but he's told bigger lies before. Lidner's watery smile makes the tightness in Near's chest ease up slightly.
"I miss him."
Near doesn't say anything; but in his pocket, he slips his finger into a smooth, wooden cylinder.
---
It starts shortly after the SPK disbands. This has been their home for such a long time, Near supposes, that it would be weird to leave, so he doesn't protest when Lidner fails to pack her things. They're all so close, he supposes, that it would be weird to suddenly stop contact altogether, so he doesn't protest when she insists on talking with him over meals. She's so pathetic, Near supposes, that taking advantage of her likeness to Mello doesn't mean anything, so he doesn't protest when she stumbles into his room, one night, and spreads herself out beside him, on his bed.
"Do you think about him when we kiss, Near?" she whispers hotly into his ear. Her breath reeks of whiskey. "You two were close, right?"
Near feels her fingers curl in his hair and asks, "What are you saying?" He wishes he had something stronger than water on his dresser.
She kisses his cheek sloppily, her hand sliding up his thigh. "Do you?" she slurs drunkenly. "Because I do."
Her lips are on Near's in an instant and he kisses her back with equal enthusiasm, squeezing his eyes shut so that he doesn't have to see her face.
He wonders if he could convince her to cut her hair.
---
It's a Sunday, maybe, when Near opens the files again; peels back the cover of a burned and flaking book; runs his fingers along the consistent, messy scrawl; and casts his eyes to the ceiling when he finishes.
He should have known.
He hesitates as he reopens the drawer, and it's just enough movement to jostle the book.
A photograph flutters to the ground; the photograph that Mello had given Near; the photograph that Near had returned to Mello.
Dear Mello
Something odd happens in the back of Near's throat, and he realises that he's trying to swallow down the stinging in his eyes.
Mello's lips curl upward in the photograph and Near's crazy enough without that, so he turns it over and stares at his own handwriting for some time. Twenty minutes before he realises that something's written beneath it.
Dear Near
Near stops trying to swallow and lies on the floor, clutching Mello's photograph tightly between two fingers.
Yes, Mello certainly had a way with words.
---
Near's hair is longer, now, and more coarse than he remembers. It doesn't frame his face the way he'd like it to and it gets in his way, sometimes, but that's nothing a pair of scissors can't fix.
There's not a lot that his scissors can't fix.
---
It's a silly, sentimental thing: a reunion when no one ever really left; insisted on checking up on Near whenever they had time.
"Well," Gevanni says when Near asks why he's here, "I was just in the area, you know, and I thought I'd like to visit you."
Near nods vacantly. "I was under the impression you were holidaying in France, actually."
Gevanni doesn't say anything after that, but Rester comments on how much older Near looks; and he makes sure to call him 'L'.
A Lego tower collapses when Near's hand jerks.
Lidner disagrees; says that Near doesn't look a day older than thirteen. Which is true, Near supposes distantly, rebuilding the tower.
Gevanni leaves after thirty minutes and Rester soon follows. Lidner slides something foil-covered across the tiles to Near.
"I was in Germany," she says. "It smells like him." She leaves without looking at him.
That night, Near tears back the foil just barely and sniffs at the confection.
He learns later, when he tries to imitate the smoky smell of chocolate on Mello's breath, that chocolate does not catch fire; it melts.
---
The man in white is talking, but all that Near can understand is 'pituitary gland' and 'six months'.
And that's okay, really, because he won't miss much. (He's sick of missing.)
---
"I expect I'll be dying soon," L tells Watari through the small puppet on his finger, some time later, "so if you could choose a successor, I'd be very appreciative."
Watari stumbles slightly when he leaves the room; and Near curls up on his side, staring up at the constellations on his ceiling. He tries to touch Mello's face against his chest, but nicks his finger on the edge of the paper.
And red never really suited Mello at all.
---
Gevanni and Lidner and Rester and Watari are a sombre circle around his bed. They never really left.
Lidner mops at his forehead with a damp cloth. "Does it hurt?" she asks softly.
He wheezes for a moment and then replies quite frankly, "Yes."
It's quiet, for a while, before Lidner strokes his hair with bare fingers and murmurs, "It's okay to go, now. I miss him, too."
He doesn't say anything; but in his pocket, he feels his finger slip out of a smooth, wooden cylinder.
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I don't know what I was on when I wrote this, so don't ask.