The pale, white haired male stared at the grass below him, one foot dangling in the free air while the other was pulled up close to him, knee touching his chest and one cheek resting upon said knee. He didn't know what he was doing out here. Wasn't he supposed to be hiding in the headquarters instead of being outside around the human population in a cemetery, attempting to be comfortable on a hard wooden bench. He had snapped at his men to leave him be and not follow him, or even ask where he was going. It was very much unlike him to snap at those three, the three that were risking their lives working for him. A twinge of guilt pained his chest, and a frown pulled the edges of his lips down.
It had been announced on television several months ago, the news of his death. You would think someone as unemotional as Near would be able to quickly get over this. However, that had never been the case with this small boy. He was still human and he still had emotions and he still had feelings. Proving to people that he was actually a good person and cared about others was not the reason for him coming to this place filled with death. No.
Near stood up from the bench, one hand raised up to his head, twirling a piece of white hair absentmindedly and out of habit, while the other held two small boxes.. A crack of thunder could be heard almost directly above him, and in a few seconds the pitter patter of rain on the sidewalk and on the grass and on th headstones would interrupt him from the silent world he was attempting to enjoy. A sigh fell from his lips as he tilted his up to the sky, raindrops falling on his cheeks, giving him the visual as if he was crying. That was good enough for him; let people think he was crying. He wish he could cry. He didn't even know why he couldn't or never did. Maybe what people said about him was true; maybe he really was just some unemotional albino freak.
The soft thudding of footsteps could not be heard amongst the pouring rain and the booms of thunder, and he liked it that way. Near was attempting to find his way through the maze of headstones and to the grave in which he was looking for. Or rather, the set of graves in which he was looking for would be more accurate. It seemed like it took the boy several hours to find the correct place, and when he did the frown on his face became more prominent, turning into more of a pout.
His knees hit the mushy wet ground of the cemetery within seconds, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before reopening them. His head turned slightly to the left, and he studied the inscription on the headstone.
Mail Jeevas
February 2, 1990 – January 26, 2010
'My games kick ass'
Near's voice softly read the inscription out loud, a small laugh giving way at Matt's chosen slogan. Roger had told all the kids to pick what they wanted on their tombstones when they died when everyone attended Wammy's, and that just happened to be Matt's. He imitated the same motion as before, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, fighting back some kind of sadness. He took one of the boxes from his hand and placed it in front of Matt's tombstone.
"They came out with a new Grand Theft Auto. I thought you'd enjoy it, Matt."
His voiced quivered a little bit as he looked from the little box to the tombstone marking the death of one of the boys who used to pick on him when they were younger, but proved to be not as bad as Near had anticipated as they all matured. The two of them might not have been friends, but Near respected the boy. After a moment of staring at Matt's tombstone, his head turned to the right, and an ache in his chest started to blaze.
Mihael Keehl
December 13, 1989 – January 26, 2010
'Chocoholics unite, bitch.'
A watery smile crossed Near's lips as he quietly read the saying on the headstone. He remembered Mello's first intention of having it be 'I am number one.' when Roger scolded him and told him to pick another one. The rain continued to pound on the back of the white haired boy's head, and he could feel wetness on his cheeks, though the rain was not falling there. He brought his empty hand up to his eyelid, gently wiping a finger below it. He squinted at the wet stuff on his finger, surprised that he was actually crying.
Sighing, he turned his attention back to the grave. The smile faltered as he placed the remaining box on the ground in front of the gravestone. Near hastily swiped at his eyes with the back of his hands, desperate to get the tears away. He could not face Mello vulnerable. Though, of course, it was too late. Looking down at the box, Near sighed once more.
"I hope you like that new Dove chocolate from America, Mello. Happy Birthday."
With that, Near lips touched the cool stone for a second before he got up, his fingers twirling his hair once more. His expression was difficult to read, though it was a mix of sadness and pain. He started to walk away, heading back to headquarters, when he stopped.
Without turning around, he said just barely loud enough for anyone by Mello's grave to hear him, "I love you, Mello."
A tiny smile crossed his face as he strolled out of the cemetery. He hadn't gotten to say goodbye, but he never wanted to say goodbye in the first place. All Near ever wanted to say to Mello were those three simple words.
I love you.