It wasn't love at first sight.
No, I don't believe in such an idea, it was more like...fascination at first sight. I was fascinated by him, the way he spoke, the way he moved, the way his eyes sparkled like an icy lake in the golden light of an early spring morning. All of it was amazing to me.
But mostly, I loved his fire.
Mello-Mihael Keehl-was definitely a fiery person. His eyes, his emotions, his looks, everything about him was hot, burning, and uncalled for. He always seemed to take me by surprise, exploding at random moments, and then flickering down to nothing but burning coals.
At first, I wouldn't accept it.
I refused to accept that I-the embodiment of ice-was melting. Everytime I got near him, the ice became softer, more cracked, watery emotions began to seep out and fill my heart with the pleasant warmth of spring. I wouldn't allow myself to believe that I was warming up, that I was slowly...gradually...falling in love with him.
He was beautiful.
He was a summer's day.
I loved him, and, although he claimed to hate me, it was apparent that my feelings were reciprocated. Especially as we got older, agonizing punches turned into gentle touches. Hatred-filled eyes turned into loving glances, smirks turned to smiles, yells of anger turned into bubbling laughter.
And then...we were torn apart.
L's death, seperated us, tore what we had into a million pieces and stomped on it relentlessly. He left, without warning without saying goodbye. Just a gentle kiss, a last night together, promises of a tomorrow that he knew would never come. And he was gone, blending into the shadows that tormented my mind.
I couldn't find him, I felt ripped in two. The only comfort I had was a picture, a stupid piece of laminated paper that I would clutch tight to my chest, letting it partially fill the hole in my still-melting heart, if only for a moment.
I don't think I cried once, except for the morning I woke up to find him gone.
For the rest of my Wammy days, I wandered aimlessly up and down the corridors, sometimes skipping class for weeks at a time. I would lock myself in my room, and torment my mind with thoughts and memories of his laughter, his touches, the smell of his breath and body.
Always there was hope that he would come back and we could continue our life together. We could be happy and forget the pain that I was going through. The depression, the angst.
I know, it sounds like a typical break-up, but when you love someone so much that you'd do anything for them. It hurts. It hurt me, twisted and contorted my mind until I was unrecognizable to even myself. It made me obsessed, I had become Beyond Birthday and Mello was my L.
Often, people mistake our situation, they say that Mello was always obsessed with me. I don't think so. Yes, he loved me as much as I loved him. But I doubt he went through what I went through when he ran away. I doubt I was on his mind every second, ever fucking millisecond. Yes, I kept count.
Finally, I escaped Wammy's and the memories that it brought me. I grew up, moved out, and began to avidly hunt Kira. Mello always dancing along the outer edges of my mind.
"N? There's a visitor for you." Geavanni's voice, warm and fatherly as always. I glanced up silently, slightly angry that he had interupted my reveries of Mello. I nodded silently, carelessly, probably just some idiot wanting to discuss the Kira case, or interview me, or something.
When the door opened, his prescence was tangible.
I knew it was him, something inside me came back to life, and heat began to pound from my chest throughout my body. It was as if, I had reconeccted with my soul. I had found what had been missing. I smiled delightedly.
"Hello, Mihael." I said quietly, my monotone wavering slightly as happy tears began to claw their way up my throat. He was silent, Geavanni left the room, awkwardly. And still, Mello said nothing, the heavy, almost angry silence settling on everything and shadowing my mind.
Slowly, I raised my head.
The first thing I saw were those eyes. Bright blue and piercing, filled with built-up anger and repressed love.
He smirked.
I smiled.
He sat down next to me, cross-legged, his body folding so gracefully, so femininely that I almost questioned my assumption. Could this really be Mello? My Mello. The happy-go-lucky, awkward, clumsy, rough, boyish child that I once knew? It was almost impossible.
But it was still him, I knew this only because he still caused the heat.
He still made me feel as complete as the day I saw him.
I began to build my dice tower on his leather-clad knee, the small, marble squares clicking comfortingly as they stacked, one on top of the other. The silence was still awkward, stifling, heavy. Neither of us knew what to say, tears were pouring quietly down my face.
Warm hands wiped them away, tilting my chin upward to look at him.
"What's wrong?" His voice was lower, huskier than I remembered. This was definitely Mello. The frantic, angry boy had grown up to be a calm, malicious man. But, like a panther, he was lethal, and still beautiful.
"Damn you, Mello." My voice wavered, my lips trembled, I knew I looked stupid, probably childish but I couldn't control anything when it came to him. "Why wouldn't you leave me alone?"
His face became a mask of half confusion, the other half was frozen in a shocked expression.
A scar.
Anger clouded over my thoughts.
Someone had hurt Mello...someone...someone was going to pay for this.
"I will, soon. I just came to tell you that...no matter what happens, I-" he swallowed thickly. "I love you. Don't forget that, and...never forget me." He laid a hand over my heart, heat radiated from that one spot.
I hadn't understood what he meant at the time. All I could focus on was the love, the anger, and the healing wounds that he had brought me.
He pulled me close, his breath glitchy with tears, pulling me into his warmth, his fire, melting me completely.
We stayed like that for a long time, watching my dice tower collapse when it finally became to heavy for the base. They hit the tiles noisily as they dropped. And then the room was silent, except for his sobs and my gentle breaths and comforting whispers.
N
I just identified his body. Laying on it's back, in a body bag, freezing slowly in a huge, metallic freezer.
I don't think I can cry. I don't think I can really do anything right now. I'm cold. My body and heart as frozen as he is right now.
I can't believe it, I can't believe what's so obviously true.
No, I can believe it, I mean, I saw him, his blue eyes wide, contorted in pain, most of his body charred away, the smell of burning flesh still fresh in the air.
I just refuse to accept it.
I refuse to accept that my fire's finally been put out.
A/N This was kind of bad because it was rushed. But my best friend, Layna was like, "Oh! You should write a story in Near's point of view about how him and Mello were in love and everything." And this was born! XD I just wanted to let you know, this is definitely not my best. XD
My Fire
By: Picasso
8/5/10