Chapter 2: Second Best
I sighed as I turned the page in my book, getting annoyed every time the girl across from me let out a cry, and I wondered what my new home would be like. I didn't know what the big deal with planes was, they didn't seem scary to me at all. But I bet it was because I changed hospitals so much as a kid. I had a mild case of stomach bleeding for a while, and luckily stupid kids like me with no cash and no parents could get awesome treatment for no cost. I dunno what happened to my folks, but I remember hearing my caretaker at the hospital telling my aunt, spelling a huge word I didn't know: S-U-I-C-I-D-E. I was a little too young to get the meaning of that word, and a little too young to understand that my mom died in childbirth and my dad decided to perform that "S" word.
I know all of that stuff now, but I'm not going to start sobbing over it anytime soon. Does it sound kind of cold to you? Maybe it is. But how can I really miss someone I never even knew? I grew up with my aunt, but thanks to that damn illness I lived in hospitals a whole hell of a lot more than I lived at home. Well, while I was in John Hopkin's in Maryland, some old guy that I've never seen before visited me. I was around ten, and almost completely better of my stupid illness. The man came to tell me some of the worst news ever: my aunt died, killed in a car crash on the way coming to see me. That fact truly did hurt me, because I lived with her almost all of my life. But the man, Roger, told me that I was such a smart-ass, or was it a smarty-pants? Well, whatever the case, I had a home with him at his place for smart kids called Wammy's House. I agreed, because anything would be better than going to a normal orphanage, and plus I'd be around kids who weren't total dumb asses like the kids I used to go to school with.
That day I checked out and left with Roger in a wheelchair, heading for the BWI airport to go to some town in France, and then on to England. I was met with a shock when we picked up a young boy from a hotel room, a slightly angry looking blond munching on a bar of chocolate. We met eyes for a moment and I found myself flushing for the first time, and glancing away. The ride from America to France was long and boring, so I read a few Stephen King books the entire time, sitting next to the boy named Mello for the entire flight. He talked a little to me, but spent most of his time staring out the window at the passing scenery (which I didn't know what was so interesting), and crunching on that damned chocolate bar little by little as if he'd never see another one again.
We arrived in France and Roger made me and Mello stay in a small hotel room, waiting for him to get the last kid before we could fly across the English Channel and finally get this annoyingly long trip over. However jet leg was getting to me, and as I sat besides the darkly dressed blond I glanced to him with tired eyes. "Mello?" I questioned softly, trying not to fall asleep before I got an answer to my question. I glanced up to him as he looked down at me, blinking slowly. "Can I rest my head on your shoulder? I'm fucking tired." He stayed silent for a moment and then nodded to me, and so I did, finally falling asleep beside him on the love seat. I suppose my language might have surprised some people, but I only talked like that because my aunt and her boyfriend talked like that, not in a loud, mean way, but in a habitual way. So I merely picked it up from them, and was never punished for saying such words. I've used bad language all my life only because I never knew that they were bad. I usually come off as crass to a majority of people, but that's just who I was.
When I next woke up, I found that he had fallen asleep as well, the two of us curled up on the couch. It was so comfortable that I didn't want to move and disturb him, so I lay there and listened to his heart beat against my ear, snuggling closer. He was so warm and thin, and small and fragile like myself, like most humans. The two of us were only ten years old, yet I felt a strange connection with Mello, like I had been waiting for so long to have someone like him in my life. I didn't realize that I had fallen back asleep until Roger woke us both up, a small brown haired girl in tow. She was lightly drumming on her legs, a weird sign of nervousness, as she watched me and Mello pull ourselves together and get up to leave with them.
Strangely, a black-haired man with horrible posture accompanied us, speaking with Roger for a while. He looked quite young, maybe around seventeen and looks like he needs a little less getting laid and a little more sleep. But, I also noticed that he had such an intelligent glint in his eyes that all his faults just completely flew by the wayside for me. He seemed kind enough, if not kind of distant and aloof, but it was all right. The next plane we all went on was a very expensive jet thing, definitely made for class and comfort. By nature (and if you tell anyone I kick your ass) I tend to get afraid of big places, probably because I've been cooped up inside a hospital room for most of my life. I stuck by Mello as we walked through the airport, my hand in his so I was sure not to get lost. If he minded he didn't really show it, just let me do whatever as we walked around the port. The other girl hung with Mr. Roger and the unnamed guy, looking around curiously in a way I couldn't muster up the courage to do. "Are you scared?" Mello questioned as we boarded, sitting down besides me.
"Actually," I admitted, finding his heavy German rather appealing. "I'm not really fond of big places like this."
He shrugged. "Can't see why. Big places let you out more. Little places hold you in." I tilted my head at his philosophy and nodded. For him that might be the case, however I am a small person so little places are basically ideal for me. Mello turned to look out the window as I examined my book, my heart beginning to pound because he still hadn't let go of my hand yet. The blond also had the genius sparkle in his deep blue eyes, a smarty-pants like Mr. Black-Haired Weirdo and me, and probably the little brown haired girl too. Roger said it was a place for extremely bright children, so I supposed they would all be smart there.
It only took a few hours to land in Winchester and a short, half-hour drive to Wammy's House. I was really excited because I knew I would have a huge library, lots of kids that were smart like me, and I could see Mello often, for reasons I really don't care to tell you. Ha. But when I arrived, I was met with the news that my class difficulty level would be one below Mello's, so I would have to work hard to prove that I could do the harder work. I wanted to be in the same classes as him so I could hang out with him… if he didn't think I was a complete loser.
I worked my ass off for the first few months, doing everything I could to show that I was smart and hard-working enough to me in the top-roster classes just like Mello, Byzantine, and the child-genius Near. I studied late into the night constantly, any grade below a 95 completely unacceptable to myself. I lost a lot of weight through these months (I had noticed that most of the kids were toothpicks; now I know why) because I skipped meals to finish my work. Occasionally I'd stop for an hour or two to go play soccer… er, football as they call it here, but otherwise my mind was completely set on catching Mello.
"Hey." I heard a voice in my ear as I awoke groggily, not recalling ever falling asleep. But my textbook was so comfortable a pillow that I didn't want to move from my spot in the table. The little prick that woke me up could go screw himself for all I cared. "Wake up, Aero." I turned to glare tiredly at the kid and scare him away, however I wasn't expecting Mello to turn up in my line of sight just then. I met his blue eyes for a moment, my brain still half asleep, and I blinked stupidly before sitting up and stretching my arms above my head.
I watched Mello sleepily for a second before asking, "Why're you here?" He sat down next to me, chocolate bar crinkling in hand his other hand, and glanced to me warily.
"Working, like you," he responded with a resounding snap of his confection, as if saying the conversation was closed. I, however, am a nosy American bitch, and the conversation wasn't over until I fucking said it was over. I sat up properly in my seat and tugged at the hem of my pajama shirt, giving him a resolute stare; I was not done talking yet Mello.
I questioned smoothly, getting his previously enraptured attention, "Are the higher level classes difficult? I'm trying to get up there myself, so I'm curious…" I stopped myself short at his cold gaze, obviously wanting me to shut the hell up, now. At that moment, I don't think I've ever seen such a frightening expression on someone's face before then, when I saw it on ten-year-old Mello's and it scared me. Though I wasn't going to show I was cared, just give him a withering, irritated look and turned back to my own work. I guess I fell asleep again, because next time I woke up I was in my own bed, Linda snoring across the room. I sat up lightning quick, trying to discern how I got there. The only thing my eyes could observe, however, was a half eaten chocolate bar resting on the nightstand beside my bed, as if someone forgot to pick it back up after they put me to bed.
…:oOo:…
It took almost a year, but I finally made it to the top classes with Mello, happy that all of my hard work paid off. The chick I bumped down was pissed, but it was her own damn fault for not working hard enough. It was cool, and I got to sit next to him in our forensics class; it was kick-ass. However, I noticed that despite how intelligent Mello was, Near always seemed to be one step ahead on everything.
I watched as Mello received his essay back, curious as to what his score was. "Mello?" I questioned timidly, looking over his shoulder at the mark he received. 99 percent… "Wow that's amazing," I told him, my fist clenching over my mere 94 percent, and I felt a wave of awe wash over me at the sight of the marks. "That's great Mello, you're so smart!" I cheered and he shot me a smug smile, making me sit back down in case my legs melted like butter, the usual reaction whenever I saw his face. It was embarrassing really. But my exclamation caught the attention of some others, and they glanced over at Mello's paper as well. He obviously liked the attention, and I smiled at him. He really deserved it, but how did…
"Wow, Near!" I heard someone exclaim and Mello glared over the desks to the white haired boy, making me wince just from the power of his anger. Once again I was fucking terrified. "100 percent! You're a genius!" All of Mello's attention spirited away to Near, except me of course, and the blond let out a frustrated sigh, tearing his test into little pieces, tossing it out on his way from the classroom. Biting my lip, I jumped up and followed him as well, making sure the teacher's attention was on Near, and not everyone else. As I walked out, I stepped on something hard and blinked, glancing down to see a rosary with red beads and a silver charm, Jesus engraved onto the crucifix. Whose…? I wondered curiously, glancing around the hallway for someone. Is it Mello's?
I smiled. Yeah, he just left, so he probably dropped it on his way out of the room. Perhaps I'd be in his good graces if I found it and gave it to him. I stashed it into my pocket and glanced around the halls, trying to determine where he might have gone hiding, or sulking, whatever he was so inclined to do. I passed by a few of the other students, questioning if they had seen Mello anywhere around. One of them, I think his name was Matt, told me, "Yeah, I saw him outside by the swing set, throwing rocks across the field. I think he's pissed about something." I thanked him and scooted outside, glancing in the direction of the recreational area. Sure enough Matt was right, and Mello stood there, hurling rocks at the tree down a ways from where he stood.
Watching him for a moment, I cautiously called out, "Mello?" He stopped mid-throw and turned to glance at me, still looking severely ticked about the Near incident. His blond hair was swept into his eyes, and I had to take a deep breath to not melt at the sight of his cute face. I was such a loser, I know, for letting something as ridiculous as a boy make me feel so strange about everything, however I wasn't concerned about such a trite matter at the moment. I was more concerned about making Mello feel better.
"What the hell do you want, Aero?" he responded in annoyance, finishing his previously interrupted throw of the stone and knocked a few thin branches off one of the trees. I gulped and walked up to him, my hands wrapped around the necklace I found on the ground of the orphanage. I was feeling like crap, because this is definitely not how I normally acted. That goddamn Mello should've stayed in Germany where I could've never found him.
Stuttering slightly, and cursing internally at myself for it, I told him, "I-I found something o-of yours…" I held out the rosary to him with both hands, my nervousness getting the better of me as I stared at the ground, my lip feeling sore from all of the abuse it was getting from my teeth. He watched me for a moment, his expression still displeased. We stood in silence for a moment before he snatched the rosary from my hands, shoving it into his pocket and not even bothering to say thank you. I stood before the ungrateful bastard for a moment, my eleven-year-old brown eyes glaring into his midnight blue ones. He merely stared back, still chewing on his candy bar, his opposing hand in his black jeans pocket. Finally at the end of my rope I spat, "You're fucking welcome," and turned on heel to leave.
I heard him chuckle and I grimaced back at him only to see his amused expression, looking even more so with the brown bar hanging between his coral colored lips. I cocked an eyebrow as he replied, "Thanks Aero. Do you want a plaque to commemorate your great deed, too?" Angry I stormed away again, but the image of his smirking face cooling my temper, just a little. I was tough as nails; I've kicked Matt's scrawny, thieving ass almost on a daily basis, I've glared Linda down once or twice, and I even dared to try to out argue Near (and ended up losing, but that's way beside the point.) But when I caught wind of Mello; those mile long thin legs, that handsomely feminine face, the terror he could instill in the masses of children, I found that my own legs wobbled and my façade gently faded away. And it pissed me the hell off. No one should be able to do this to me, especially not a rude prick like Mello. Sure I wanted to be in the same classes as him and I wanted to hang with him, however my reasons were strictly because he was the first "kind of" friend I made. But now I wasn't sure if I wanted it to only be that much any more.
Mello… He had gotten darker, that was for sure, in the last few months he'd been here, though I accredited most of that to Near's uncanny ability to be a point or two ahead of the game. In the race to succeed L, there would be but one winner, and a whole lot of losers. Near and Mello were both there, inches from the finish line, and I was terribly eager to see how such a race would turn out. See, to tell the truth, I didn't want to be L. I wanted to be (now, don't laugh) a dermatologist. It seemed like a cool job, and I could just bustle off to college when I turned fifteen and left Wammy's House. I was tenth in line for his name, nothing to brag about with Near, Mello, Matt and Byzantine in first through fourth, respectively. They could brag all they wanted, and it wouldn't make a difference. They were amazingly smart and I wasn't. That's just how the world was. And I didn't give a rat's ass how I ended up in the rosters. As long as I was in the top fifty, and could stick with Mello.
A/N: I tried to make each of their personalities unwaveringly different. If you have an comments or tips to help Byzantine and Aero develop more I would really appreciate the advice. Thanks for reading!