//Prologue
It's always been like this.
White, perfect skin, which would always feel cool when he'd touch it. Even like porcelain, and looking as that tickled the back of his hand so soft he'd be touching him even more careful.
Yeah, the pale boy was his exact opposite. It always had driven him crazy, and it still did.
Back then in Wammys, it had been his goal to force emotion into these lifeless eyes. Because they irritated surly couldn't stand that sheeply looking boy. Without any reason, these eyes that stared at everything so sober aroused his loud personality to the max.
So he planned.
Hurting the younger boy would've been way to easy, too trite. Taking the easiest way wasn't asked here. It didn't work anyway.
And little by little, he found something that was even sweeter than a Near in pain.
It was Near giving in.
Because Near was good in holding still and waiting until something was over. Feeling Near stiffen when he touched him wasn't what he wanted.
Because a kiss is not just touching lips. A kiss, as much as a touch, needs two that lean into the warmth.
Of course those moments were rare and always the result of difficult prearrangements. Mello was still quickly annoyed by Near. And nothing would have changed that. As hard it was to get a hold of Near, as easy the boy would slip out of it, never gaining any real trust.
Still, the touch of small, lean fingers softly caressing his cheeks was priceless and simply the best memory Mello had. Even if he still hated Near. In a way.
Mello rolled around in his empty bed and moaned.
He hadn't wasted a thought to Near for years, slowly forgetting, so why did he now suddenly? Without realizing it, in his complete inability to find sleep, he had drifted into long forgotten childhood memories.
How annoying.
The dim light told him it wasn't time to get up yet.
For a guy of 25 years it was quite strange that he still couldn't find normal sleeping habits.
The light became a shade lighter. Yawning and stretching, he sat up.
Near, though, thought of Mello as dead.
And even if he dreamed about small arms caressing him awkwardly in their creepy cute way, he preferred to keep himself out by now.
Poor Mels, thinking he's save
Yeah he's a bit of a sleepyhead here, he has his moments, too
He will be IC by the next Chapter again
short prolog, layout problems should be solved now
Please write me what you think about it.
(And if you'd like to help me with my English (which surly is awful) write me and you'll get tons of cookies)
See ya :3
(btw: Title is from a song from the Dirty Pretty Things, i love them lots)