Fluff angst. Let's put their ages at about 7. Near x Mello slashy hints.
Sunshine and Chocolate
Near held the cup of hot chocolate carefully in his hands, heading to the room. He laid it down on the bedside table and clenched his fists to keep himself from touching Mello's hair. The other boy was asleep, half curled up, mouth slightly parted to draw breath. Golden strands had plastered themselves to the boy's forehead and neck and every once in awhile, Mello would give a soft whimper.
Sick. It was a cold winter and still Mello loved the outdoors too much to take care. It was the logical conclusion to such a blatant disregard for rules.
Near played with his own hair, staring fixedly at Mello's, wondering how sunlight would feel flowing over his fingertips. He should have been waking the other boy to tell him that he was forbidden chocolate for the duration of his illness but he didn't want to see Mello cry. It would spoil the illusion.
A year ago, when he arrived on the steps of the orphanage, Mello was there to greet him. His caretaker had told him before they left, "Mello is an intelligent boy. This will be a good opportunity for you to get used to being around and working with people."
They never told him Mello was sunshine.
He remembered standing stunned at the gates, the strands of his coarse hair fluttering across his fingertips, staring at the boy whose hair looked like liquid sunshine. He remembered when the exuberant boy gave him a hug and when he pulled back instinctively. Mello smelt of chocolate and the warmth of sunshine.
Near reached over and shook the sleeping boy slightly.
"Hm…?" vocalized the boy sleepily.
"I brought some hot chocolate."
Mello perked up almost immediately and tried to sit up. A gasp of pain left him and he leaned against the headboard, grasping at his head. Near watched the fingers thread themselves amongst the golden strands and bit his lip to fight the urge to reach out.
He could never bear to touch Mello because Mello was perfect. He could never bear to touch Mello because once he did, he would have solved the puzzle, completed the game. He would lose interest and move on, but he didn't want to. He wanted to keep the illusion of sunshine.
Silently, he waited for Mello's headache to fade, then passed the cup of chocolate to Mello, making sure that his fingers would not come into contact with the other boy's.
"You're not allowed to eat chocolate until you're well again, but I am allowed to bring you a cup of hot chocolate every night."
Mello smiled, a wan smile that disturbed Near because it was not as bright and warm as it usually was.
"Thank you," whispered Mello, sipping at the swiftly-cooling liquid. The smell of chocolate filled the air and lingered on, even after Mello had finished.
Near set the empty cup back on the bedside table, noting that Mello's hands were trembling.
"You should rest now as the body performs its repairs most effectively when you are asleep," he told the boy.
"I know that," replied Mello tiredly. He shut his eyes and shivered. "Could you please turn up the heat, Near?"
"No, I cannot. The central heating system was damaged and is currently at 50 output. This is the maximum safe temperature that can be delivered to the entire mansion at this point in time."
"Oh."
Near watched the boy for a little longer, then went over to his own bed and pulled off the blanket. It was important for a sick person to be kept warm. Mello blinked at him.
"But what about you, Near?"
"There is space enough on this bed for the two of us."
He had been holding back for far too long. Near had to win, had to complete the game. He had to find out if those golden strands were really strands of sunshine, if they were really warm. He knew if he won, he would lose the beautiful illusion. He knew that if he refrained, he would be miserable. Either way, he would lose, so why prolong the agony?
Illness and exhaustion caught up with Mello quickly but Near was not that fortunate. Mello still smelt of chocolate, but also of sickness and sweat. Sunlight would trickle through the most eager fingers but the fine golden strands danced across his, a feathery touch on his fingertips. Cold.
Near cried briefly that night, only for a minute or so. The game was over.
From that day on, Near stopped talking to Mello. His quality of work increased exponentially, forcing Mello to play catch up. Neither of them slept much anymore. Mello, because it was all he could do to keep up.
Near because he didn't want to dream of sunshine and chocolate.
owari