I don't own Death Note, this is a crack fanfic. Mello and Near…contemplation…Hmm…I don't know how I feel about them, but it's fun to write about them, LOL.
I hope you enjoy this, and please review.
I might add another chapter if I get positive feedback…but so far, this is all I've got. (Unless I get struck by a thunderbolt of epiphanies and ideas, that is)
Mello's POV
My Darling Near,
I want to know your sweet thoughts
You are too beautiful
And so filled with exquisiteness
I am a victim of masked desire.
You make me want to…
Your love, Mello
Aghhhh!!!
DAMN IT.
DAMN YOU!
Why? WHY? Why Near, do you have to torture me like so?
Mello bit off an end of his chocolate bar, contemplating its quality and taste. Silky…slightly. Sweet…a bit…Melting…sure….
Even chocolate couldn't assuage his desire, when his thoughts were otherwise.
I wonder what Near tastes like.
The sweetest.
The silkiest.
Something so fine that even chocolate couldn't compare.
Muttering curses, Mello crumpled the sheet of paper in his fist, relishing in the crackle sound, trying to squeeze all his frustration into the poor ball.
Mello threw it away, a perfect shot, joining one of the many crumpled pieces of paper stuck in the wastebasket.
Screw treehuggers, he thought, squeezing the ink pen until the pen bled blue all over his new, fresh blank sheet of paper.
Shit, not again.
He should have never chosen an ink pen.
Ugh.
Why wasn't it Halle? Or some hot girl that was well endowed? Why did it have to be him? His nemesis? Yet…
Forbidden desire was illicit. And torturous…and beautiful.
Sure.
Whatever.
That sounded like some crapped up horoscope/ fortune cookie things.
He tried to rephrase his sappy feelings as best as he could:
You! Damn albino kid who hasn't reached puberty,
I want to you to know that I can blackmail you any second
You too full of shit, with that snotty attitude of yours
And I am a victim of your stupidity
You make me want to wring your neck
Because you drive me insane.
Mello
Your archrival.
There.
Not bad.
After all, it was true.
(If you don't have the imagination, I, Ameba, the author, with her perverted mind, can explain it to you)
You! Damn albino kid who hasn't reached puberty, (Hell yes, that's the way to be, a hardcore SHOTA uke!)
I want to you to know that I can blackmail you any second (In exchange, you give your bodily services)
You are too full of shit, with that snotty attitude of yours (which turns me on even more)
And I am a victim of your stupidity (Can't you see Near? I thought you were smart! LOOK at me, and see how you torture me!)
You make me want to wring your neck. (In passion, that is)
Because you drive me insane. (Because! Just because! I can't even get near you without getting, er, ….)
Mello
Your archrival. (Not really true, cuz I'm your partner in L-O_O-V-E.)
Near's POV
You! Damn albino kid who hasn't reached puberty,
I want to you to know that I can blackmail you any second
You too full of shit, with that snotty attitude of yours
And I am a victim of your stupidity
You make me want to wring your neck
Because you drive me insane.
Mello
Your archrival.
Well, this was refreshing, Near thought sarcastically.
It wasn't like he hadn't seen Mello's absolute hatred toward him…and it hadn't waned a bit. They were on totally different sides, totally different parts of the world. Once again, on the same case, with the auspices of L.
Near sighed, and tucked the note in a manila folder, along with other hateful things Mello wrote back at Wammy's.
In a way, Near was a bit sad. A bit melancholic.
If Mello didn't hate him so much, maybe they could have been friends, or maybe even more…lovers…but that would just be Near's fantasy. And dreams/ fantasies never happen, so what was the point of thinking about it?
But if…
He could have even forgiven Mello when he tried to bomb Near's underpants.
Or the time when Mello tried to smash his collector's edition of Robotron EX-3948iN.
Or even the time when Mello left him in the rain on a school trip, and then it became sunny. Near had cowered in the shadows when the sun came out, and Mello just stood there, taunting him with a parasol.
Just to laugh at him.
Near could have forgiven him, but Mello never gave him the chance.
Near could have forgotten, but Mello was always a constant reminder.
Near sighed again, and put back the manila folder on the shelf.
He could and never would understand what was going on in Mello's mind.
Never.
