Mello is a confusing kind of perfect. He is rough, violent, and crude. Athletic, determined, and always in motion. When he gives presentations to class, he is eloquent, sophisticated and powerful, but what else could you expect from the top student in English? In addition to those things, Mello has the loveliest head of hair Near has ever seen. It is fiery and gold like the sun, to match his fiery personality. It is smooth and curved in slightly under his neck after it reached his jaw.
Oh how Near wanted to touch it.
But Near had self control. Near is calm and composed. He is serious and cold, He never let anything shatter his perfect level-headed, logical, robotic mindset. Not even Mello's radiant hair. No, of course not. Robots do not focus on every straight golden strand, the way the sunlight highlights it, or the fresh scent of the special shampoo that Mello buys... Robots do not think of how lovely it would be touch, to feel that shimmery, smooth, perfection against the palm of their hand...
"What the hell do you think your doing?" Mello's head whips around to face the boy behind him, scowling disgustedly at the fact that the albino twit had just dared lay his filthy hands on his precious hair. Time seems seemed to speed up and slow down all at once. The albino's eyes widen. His heart races. His mouth is slightly agape and he silently tries to think of what to say. This is not happening. He did not just touch Mello's hair. Mello did not get angry at him for it. Matt is not laughing at him. Everyone is not staring and wondering why L's first successor has suddenly become a weirdo with a hair fetish...oh but they are, and Near has no control over their reactions. All he can do is sit there and try and explain himself.
For the first time since Near had came to Wammy's, the genius student says something completely unintelligent:
"Uhh..."
"Alright, let's get back to class." The teacher says exasperatedly. Time is back to normal again. Mello goes through the exaggerated motions of schooching his chair forward, until he is well out of Near's reach, muttering "creep."
Near glances down at his hand. A few of Mello's hairs are lying right there in his palm, in all their golden, angelic glory. The albino smiles and clenches his hand around them tighter, knowing how easy it would be for them to slip away.