A/N: Ooooo, so many reviews and favorites! I feel so special. Thank you everybody who has read and showed their appreciation for this story in some way! For the lurkers out there, I hope you are enjoying the ride as well.

Kay, I'll say it. This chapter gave me a few fits. Some parts were so hard to write so it made sense to read, while others were so much fun I was giggling as I wrote… you'll see when you get there. I consider two of my weak points in writing, (among many), to be romance and dialogue. And what does this story – and this chapter – have? Ri-ight. But I did love writing the Matt/Near conversation. That was just fun.

Also: This is not the last part. I know, I said three plus an epilogue, but I also said it might run away with me again. Well, guess what? So, we're up to four parts plus epilogue. *sigh* I need to finish this puppy up, 'cause there are lots more plots that are trying to get themselves written before their turn.

So, here you are, everybody! Chapter three in all its ever-growing glory! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Oops, forgot one for chapter two… Didn't own Death Note then, don't own it now. If I did, then 90% of the really cool characters wouldn't have died. … *sob*

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In the Library

Part Three, "Hint"

Raven Ehtar

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Near sat in the middle of his white comforter, at the center of his white room, staring at one of the few traces of color that was to be found. His robot, which had been returned by Mello five days before, stared back blankly. If there had been a contest between the two, it would only be by a small margin that the toy would win, for the boy's blinks could be timed by minutes.

It could also be counted by a few handfuls, the number of times he had left his room in those five days since getting back his favorite toy, and those had only been to use the bathroom down the hall. Lessons he took in his room, those were easy enough to arrange with the teachers, and meals were brought up to him as well. Sometimes the lengths Wammy's went to to keep its wards happy was extremely convenient.

The young albino was known to be a recluse, but it wasn't often he would shut himself up in a single room at such a long stretch. The truth was, Near was avoiding Mello, and had been since his 'light bulb moment'. All the mystery of why he had felt compelled to follow, to watch, and to be close to the older boy had suddenly and frighteningly resolved itself with one tiny revelation:

He cared for Mello. Cared for him a great deal.

Near still refused to put a stronger name to it. 'Care' was enough. The other labels that floated through his head were discarded; attraction, affection… love. No, those were all too much. They came prepackaged with too many connotations for Near to justify using them.

Regardless of what he called it, it put everything into place for Near, at least as far as his own actions went. And considering Mello's behavior – the library, his apathy towards Near for more than two weeks, his robot – it wasn't inconceivable that Mello felt the same way about him. In fact, it seemed likely.

In the privacy of his room, Near allowed himself a grimace. There was no one to see it other than his toys.

Of all the people, why Mello? There couldn't be anyone less like him, or less able to be anything like him. Not to mention the fact that Mello was a boy. Factor that in as another complication. And even if Mello did feel the same way for Near of some level, the likelihood of his getting over his own jealousy and ego to realize it was very slim.

It was too much for Near. It was all too illogical, and couldn't be put into neat, organized places in his mind. He wasn't used to so much emotion, and what he was feeling now was completely foreign to him. It was like he was a bird, suddenly being thrust into the sea and being told to learn how to swim.

Hence his current self-imposed isolation. He didn't want to see Mello for a while. After two weeks of being around him almost constantly, the thought of seeing him at all right now made him a little jumpy. Mello was probably glad to have him out of sight, anyway.

It hadn't helped his confusion much, however. The first couple of days, for example, his robot managed to retain Mello's scent. There was the smell of chocolate – of course – and the faint odors of sweat, grass, and… something else, which Near realized must be Mello's own particular aroma. It didn't really smell like anything except… Mello.

That had bothered Near for a while. Did everyone have their own smell, he wondered, that didn't resemble anything else? He supposed they must, since animals used odors for identification. But how had he come to know Mello's well enough to recognize it? He couldn't remember having ever noticed it before.

He tried to call up the scent of the other children at the orphanage. If he somehow knew what Mello smelt like, then he should at least have an idea of anyone else he shared a roof with.

It was a bizarre exercise, thinking of what other people smelt like. But it had taken Near's mind off of things for awhile, so he had seized it.

Eventually the smell had worn off, and Near was left in his blank room with his games and toys, hoping separation would erase what close contact had apparently stirred up. That was one of two theories the boy had as to why he had developed this… caring for Mello in the first place. By putting himself into contact with Mello on a daily basis for hours at a time, he had been closer to him than he had to anyone else. Add to that already budding signs of puberty and…

The other theory he had stemmed from Mello himself. In his quest to outdo Near, Mello had developed what could only be called – and what Near did call – an obsession. An obsession with being the best and coming out on top, yes, but in the end that came to center around Near. Near had been well aware of it, and thought that it hadn't affected him; but had it? Had he come to appreciate it, to like that kind of attention without realizing it? And had he come to like the one giving him that attention in the same way? There was that old saying that obsession equaled love, or that love was an obsession. Apparently it worked both ways, to the one with the fixation and the object of their attentions.

The isolation wasn't helping, either. Even after Mello's fragrance had ceased to haunt Near's room, the albino couldn't stop thinking about him. If he studied, he wondered how well Mello was grasping the material, or how hard he was studying to beat him. If he sat down to play with his dominoes or solve a blank puzzle, he would remember the innumerable times Mello had knocked down, kicked over, thrown, or just made fun of Near's childish hobbies. If he looked out his curtained windows, he would think of the sports that Mello loved to play in a sun Near could never enjoy. If he even thought about his own isolation, he would wonder if Mello had noticed his absence, and how the blonde felt about it.

It was ridiculous. Somehow Mello's obsession had transferred to become Near's.

What made it all truly unbearable was that there was no one he felt he could turn to for advice. Talking to Roger or any of the teachers was out. The main problem seemed to be the 'who' of the matter rather than the 'what', and Near didn't feel like sharing that particular detail with his elders. He wasn't close to enough to any of the children at Wammy's to discuss something so delicate. The only one Near might have considered was Matt, number three in the line of succession and gaming nut. While the two of them weren't close, Matt never seemed to mind Near's company the way the others did. He didn't seem to mind anything, actually. The boy was almost torpid sometimes. However, he was Mello's best friend, and even if Matt didn't repeat anything to him directly, the blonde was likely to find everything out.

The thought of speaking with L, the great predecessor himself, had occurred to Near, but he had discarded it almost immediately. In the first place, L was currently working several important cases, and it wouldn't do to interrupt him over something comparatively minor. Secondly, he had no way to contact him. When L wanted to speak with the Wammy children, he made the connection, not the other way around. And third, even if he could contact him, Near wasn't sure he felt comfortable discussing the problem with the man. He'd only ever heard L speak once, and he had a major say in Near's future. What if he wasn't understanding? What would become of Near? L was the world's greatest detective, and would most likely approach it all rationally, the way he did any other riddle, but Near couldn't know for sure. It was too much of a risk.

Which left, for outside sources to speak with, one person. Mello.

Ironically, he might have been Near's best choice to ask advice from, their rivalry and Mello's own key position in the situation aside. They were about the same age, with Mello a little his elder, and in theory more experienced. In ranking they were practically side-by-side, so Mello would understand any potential problem stemming from that. And Mello was passionate, where Near was practically void. If anyone knew how to interpret and deal with emotion, it was Mello. Although Mello's particular method of dealing with emotion always tended to be rather impetuous for Near's tastes.

Why did it have to be Mello?

If it had been anyone else there would have been some logical way to approach it. But throw in that temperamental, chocoholic blonde into any mix and logic went straight out the window.

Near looked around his room. It was obvious that isolation wasn't the answer. Five days was long enough to determine that much, at least.

The boy got off his bed a trifle stiffly and shuffled to his door. Maybe being out in the commotion of the rest of the house would provide some inspiration.

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Mello sat curled up in the corner of one of the sofas in the first floor gaming room, a textbook of trigonometry propped on his knees. Slouched in the other corner was his redheaded friend Matt, totally enthralled in his most recent video game.

The game room was amazingly quiet today. Besides the two friends, there were only six other children using the various games. The reason being, it was almost time for the last exams before their winter break, and everyone was studying hard for it.

Which was why Mello had a textbook with him. It wouldn't do, as the exams crept closer, to let his grades slip now. Wherever he went, he had his nose jammed in some book or other. The rest of the children knew better than to disturb him when he was in that state and gave him a wide berth. If any of them had looked closely, though, they would have seen that Mello's eyes never moved across the page.

Mello was annoyed. That was a fairly common state of being for him, but he felt particularly annoyed at that moment. He couldn't focus, which was the first source of his irritation. Now that he had some peace and quiet, whenever he settled down to study his mind would wander. Where it would wander to was the second – and greater – source of irritation.

He hadn't seen Near for five days straight. After Mello had thrust the hated red and white robot back into its owner's arms, said owner had mumbled a small 'Thank you' and padded away. And that was the last time he had seen Near. After two weeks of being unable to get away from the boy, Mello should have been glad to have him gone. But he wasn't really. He found himself wondering why Near had been missing classes. And meals for that matter, although he never seemed to eat that much, anyway.

Near must be getting his food and materials somehow, because his grades were staying solidly on top. That ruled out the possibility that there was anything seriously wrong with him. If there were, then it wasn't likely he would still be taking tests. Well, not very likely, anyway. And it wasn't like Near needed alone time for his studies. He hardly ever bothered to crack open a book, and he still managed to stay on top.

Add one more source of irritation.

With a little growl, Mello snapped the textbook shut and turned his still unfocused gaze to the TV screen. Matt was playing another first person shooter. Those always made Mello a little dizzy to watch. He stared at the floor instead.

It wouldn't be like Near to sulk, and why would he? He had his damned toy back, and Mello hadn't even taken it apart before returning it. He should be pleased and grateful, if anything. Things were supposed to get back to normal. But no, Near had to go keep acting strange. What was up with him?

Maybe it was just another one of his experiments. He had said the reason he had been following Mello for weeks was just to observe him. Maybe those observations led him to test some psychological theory. Mello wouldn't put it past the albino to use classmates like that. He wouldn't see anything inherently wrong with the idea, since his own concept of personal boundaries was so skewed. Mello didn't like the notion of being used as a guinea pig anymore than he had about being 'observed'. What was he now, another one of Near's toys?

Mello leaned back, trading a view of the carpet for one of the ceiling. Somewhere up there was a small boy, sitting by himself in a room as blank as a canvas. Near had shut himself up once before, but only for two days, to recover from a jaunt outside without enough sunscreen. This was five days with no sign of him, after a stint of already acting strange.

Something had to be wrong with him, and not wrong in the normal Near usage of the word. There was something bothering him, and bothering him badly enough that he didn't want to be seen by anybody else. The question was what?

After an exasperated sigh and head scratch from Mello, Matt piped up without looking away from his game. "Dude, if you're that worried about him, why not check on him?"

Mello shot icy daggers at his friend, which had little effect, since Matt was still immersed in his game. "Who the hell said I was worried?" he growled.

Matt shrugged, blithely ignoring his explosive friend's tone. He'd come to know Mello's moods and limits pretty well – from years of crossing them – and he wasn't quite worked up enough to start beating on Matt yet. "No one," he said, sniping an infiltrator with a quick button press. "But you're acting worried. Plus, you didn't need to ask who I meant, which means that's who you were thinking about."

"Jackass."

"True."

Considering the short conversation at an end, Mello crossed his arms across his chest and glowered at the far wall, attempting to peel back the wallpaper by sheer willpower. If Matt had concluded that Mello was worried, then had Near as well? God, the last thing he needed was more leverage in the hands of his enemy, no matter how small or unlikely to be used it was. And really, it wasn't like he was worried. He just wanted to know what his rival was thinking. It was important if he wanted to be number one.

From his position on the sofa, Matt snuck a sideways glance at his friend from behind orange tinted goggles. "So when are you going up?" he asked innocently.

Mello threw out a hand and slapped the cushion right by Mello's head, trying to make the redhead jump and mess up his game. It didn't work. "I'm not going to check! I prefer the sheep-boy out of my hair for once. You know how he was following me around."

There was a loud explosion on the television, punctuated by melodramatic screaming. "Yeah, yeah, I know," the gamer replied tiredly. He knew because Mello would complain about it to anyone who happened to be close, which was always Matt. "So's that why you've almost completely stopped eating chocolate? The kitchen folks think you're sick or something."

Mello felt his ears begin to burn, which pissed him off. Why the hell was he blushing? "Shut. Up."

Behind their orange goggles, green eyes rolled. "Whatever, man."

For a while the two friends sat in silence, save the sound effects coming from the television. One was totally engrossed in his game, the other was sulking.

He'd forgotten about the chocolate. For some reason his addiction just hadn't been that appealing to him over the past couple days. Which was unheard of. Mello was capable – and had proven himself capable – of putting away an entire case of chocolate bars in a single day. The bargain stuff, anyway. The good chocolate he would savor. But now he was down to about one bar a day. No wonder the kitchen staff thought he was ill.

That did it. He would check on Near. Not because he was worried, because he wasn't, but because it was stupid to stay ignorant and wondering, when all it would take to solve the mystery was investigate.

And he wanted his chocolate cravings back.

After Mello had left the room, slamming the door and forgetting his trig text, Matt finally let loose the smirk he'd been holding back. Mello would have hit him if he'd seen it.

"Moron."

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Near wandered though the halls without much direction. The plan had been to leave his room and shake off his lethargy, not to go to any specific place. So Near roamed, in his oddly hunched and shuffling way, from the dormitories to the classrooms to the playrooms to the mess hall – which was ironically the cleanest out of all the rooms at Wammy's – to the common rooms. Everywhere he went there was a noticeable absence of children and noise. The most highly populated rooms were the common rooms and libraries, but everyone seemed to be reading quietly. It wasn't until Near looked at the subject matter of their books that he remembered the winter exams.

With those right around the corner, there would be very little in the way of playfulness or ruckus. One of the only times when Near wanted both, and they were absent. There was a phrase for times like these, an informal turn meaning whatever could go wrong would… Ah, that was it. Murphy's law.

Near didn't know who Murphy was, but his law was inconvenient.

Eventually the small boy made it to the first floor game room, the same game room where Mello had returned his robot. Near still didn't want to see the blonde, but with exams so close, it was unlikely he would be in there. More probably he would be holed up in his room, studying hard.

Quietly, Near pushed open the door and entered the somewhat dim room. It was relatively peaceful here as well, but there were a few taking advantage of the low traffic and playing the games. Just enough to constitute as background noise. The greatest source of sound appeared to be coming from one of the televisions. Near gravitated toward it to see who was playing.

It was a redheaded boy, wearing orange goggles and a horizontally striped shirt. Matt. Of course he would be playing videogames. He played games constantly, even while eating or walking from room to room, one of his handhelds fixed permanently in front of him.

No one ever seemed to comment on it, but Near had noticed that Matt seemed to study as little as himself. If the gamer applied himself to schoolwork as much as games, then there would have been a three way struggle for the topmost position. But Matt spent most of his time behind a screen, tuning out the rest of the world.

Near could understand that. He did the same thing with his own games, they were just more tactile than Matt's.

Near made his way around the TV on the far side to avoid interrupting any game play. He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa as the gamer, one knee habitually brought close to chest and one hand twirling his white hair.

For a while, neither of the boys spoke. Matt because he was playing his game, and while he was perfectly capable of carrying on conversations while playing, he wasn't likely to initiate one. Near was quiet because he wasn't sure of what he wanted to say. Now that he was in the presence of the redhead, he found he did want to talk about his predicament, but a direct approach was still not an option. Because Matt and Mello were friends and because – frankly – it was embarrassing to admit to.

So, what to say? Try to talk in circles, elicit advice while leaving Matt in the dark as to what had been the actual topic? No, that was not a good idea. Matt may be third in line, but he was still intelligent. Near had a notion that Matt actually kept quiet about quite a few of his observations and deductions, and so hid some of his true intelligence.

No, no verbal slight of hand.

If not the core problem, then maybe one of the smaller, orbiting problems that wouldn't seem related…

Near looked at Matt from under a fringe of white bangs. If the gamer noticed the younger boy's shift of attention, he didn't show it. In what Near hoped was a nonchalant tone, but was really his normal monotone, he said, "Matt smells like soap and mint."

Matt gave a snort that could have been a chuckle. "Yeah," he replied, not looking away from the screen, "people tend to smell like soap after they bathe."

"And mint?"

Now Matt did turn his head toward Near, just a little and with eyes still trained on his virtual targets, and stuck out his tongue at the little albino. There was a red and white striped candy balanced there. "A slight oral fixation," Matt said after taking away the pink appendage.

Near was silent for a minute. There was another odor coming from Matt that might explain the strength of the first two. Near wasn't quite sure his recollections of Matt's scent were accurate, but he was sure that the gamer had never used a strong floral soap before. And the oral fixation could easily translate into…

"Would that also explain the odor of cigarettes?"

Matt grinned. "Heh. You noticed it, huh? Don't tell Roger I've been smoking, okay? He'd have a fit."

Near nodded, even if Matt couldn't see it. "I shall refrain. Matt may wish to try a brand that isn't as strong, to avoid any clinging odors."

Matt continued to grin as his fingers flew over the buttons on his controller. "Taken under advisement," he said. It was hard to tell if he was mocking or not.

Near let the conversation lapse again as he thought out his next move. Communication really wasn't his forte. He was lucky it was Matt he was speaking to. He was distracted enough by his game to either not notice or not care about Near's regular hesitations. Near would need to practice this skill later. For now he just had to make it through as best he could. He took a breath and twirled his hair just a little harder. "Would Matt mind answering a question?"

"Nah, go ahead."

Twirl, twirl. "What do I smell like?" Twirl, twirl.

There was one last, decisive press of a controller button as Matt paused his game. Near blinked; he didn't think Matt knew about the pause button, he'd never seen him use it before.

Matt pulled down his goggles until they hung loose around his neck and turned a pair of murky green eyes on the albino. "Okay, Near," he said with an unfamiliarly serious tone. "What's with the sudden thing for how people smell? It's kinda weirding me out."

Near kept his face blank at Matt's direct question. "Matt need feel no apprehension. My olfactory interest is nothing more than a simple exercise, meant to hone skills needed as a detective."

Matt raised an eyebrow, not at all convinced by Near's disclaimer. "You're thinking of bloodhounds, not detectives," he said dryly.

Near stared.

Matt sighed dramatically. "Fine," he said, closing his eyes. He took in a couple of shallow sniffs. He frowned and breathed deeper, either having a hard time picking up anything off of Near or unable to place it. Then, to Near's surprise and alarm, the redhead grabbed him by his shirt front, eyes still closed, and pulled the boy toward him. Near fought back involuntary shivers as Matt sniffed at his shoulder and hair.

Well, this was… different… and awkward. But it's not like he could tell Matt to stop, he'd asked him to do it.

Finally, the redhead released his grip sat back again. Near scooted back to his corner, hurriedly. Matt didn't seem to notice, and just looked at Near and shrugged. "You don't smell like much of anything except fabric softener. Maybe my nose isn't very sensitive."

"Cigarettes," Near reminded him.

Matt shook his head. "Nah, I don't smoke enough to mess with my sense of smell and taste. Maybe you just don't smell that much." He flashed another one of his lopsided grins. "Switch brands now and then and I don't think you'll have to worry about any trackers by nose, human at least."

Near managed to return the grin with a tiny smile of his own. He then stood to leave. He had meant to stay and ask one or two more questions, but after that little experience it was probably best to just leave now. "Thank you, Matt," he said quietly, and made for the door.

"Sure thing. Oh, hey," the redhead called, making Near turn back halfway to the door. "Here!"

Near managed to catch the wrapped mint that was tossed underhand to him. He looked at Matt, who was still smiling. "Mint's a common enough smell as long as you don't reek of it."

Near nodded and slipped the candy into a pajama pocket. "Thank you," he said again, and left the game room.

Still seated on his sofa, Matt watched as the second boy in the last hour left in search of something and chuckled. Pulling the goggles back into place over green orbs, he switched the game back on.

"Uh-huh."

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Near's room was as stark and plain as ever, that much was certain. It hadn't changed at all since the last time Mello had been inside it, except to gain a few more toys. The question now was where was the room's resident?

This was turning into a habit, and Mello didn't like it. When he wanted his personal space, he couldn't shake the younger boy. Now, when he went looking for him, he couldn't find him.

Well, he'd come up to see if Near was all right. Since he wasn't holed up in his room, Mello had to assume that he was well enough to wander around. That was enough to satisfy him for now. He'd even gone so far as to check the closet and under the bed to make sure the boy hadn't heard Mello coming and hid. But the room was empty, save the dozens of toys and games standing on every surface available.

Mello found himself walking around the room looking at each one in turn. There were the expected robots, planes, puppets, and action figures, all placed in the most visible areas. But there were also stuffed animals, a few dolls, building blocks made of wood and carved with letters of the alphabet… Mello traced one of the letters with a fingertip. What did Near see in these things? They were all so simple, didn't they bore him after awhile? These in particular were very simple. The blocks wouldn't even provide a challenge for stacking. They were designed to stack.

It was strange that someone so intelligent would find entertainment in hobbies so primitive.

G.I. Joes, RC cars, dozens of blank puzzles, (why have more than one if they were all white?), dominoes, several different card games and tarot decks… it was like a toy outlet in Near's room.

Mello thought about his own room, papered with posters of the most popular local bands, littered with books, clothes, and dishes that hadn't made it to the kitchen; not to mention the heaps of empty chocolate wrappers. It looked like a typical teenager's room, not like a set for an idolized children's room. Even Matt's dorm, which he spent very little time in, was cluttered with games and handheld consoles.

There had to be something that wasn't so tidy about Near, but Mello was damned if he could find it.

Mello turned to leave the empty bedroom and head back to his own. If Near wasn't here, it meant he had to be somewhere else – genius deduction, that – meaning he wasn't sick, and Mello could stop worrying. Not that he had been worried.

Walking past the bed a second time, Mello noticed some color out of place. There was a small stain of red in the center of the plush white comforter. Mello's heart stopped for a second as the first thought that came to him was, Blood!

Why would there be blood in Near's bed? Was he actually hurt? Was this why he had been hiding, so he could…

A blink, and a second look revealed the red to merely be the colorful highlights of the robot that had, until recently, graced Mello's room. The blonde took a deep breath. Stupid, he thought. There's no way that Near would do that. He's too logical.

Mello picked up the little toy, running a thumb over the plastic dome. Taking it had made Near turn stalker, and returning it had made him shut himself away. Was that logical? Maybe it was to Near, but Mello couldn't read his mind, nor did he want to. He just wished he could understand it a little more.

Tossing the toy back on the bed, Mello walked back to the door. He pulled it open quickly, just in time to reveal a startled Near.

-------

"Near!"

"Mello…"

The two boys stood frozen at the sight of each other, both processing. Near was more than a little surprised to witness Mello exiting his room, and a number of reasons for why he had been in there suggested themselves. Mostly he was distracted by the rising sensation of embarrassment at the idea of Mello being in his bedroom. Where he slept and dressed… oh, dear.

Mello, on the other hand, was desperately trying to think of any excuse as to why he had been in the room. It occurred to him that he should have caused some damage, and then there would have been no question as to his motives. As it was, what could he say?

Finally, Near leaned slightly, looking past Mello into the white room. Nothing appeared broken or out of place, which was a little bit of a relief. At least there was no clean-up waiting for him. He looked back at Mello, who looked uncomfortable. "Did Mello need something?" he asked, pleased his voice was utterly flat.

"No, I just…" Mello dropped his gaze. There was no real point in trying to lie to Near, he would see right through it. "Near," he said instead, "are you sick?" As he spoke, he could feel his ears grow hot again.

For how much expression Near showed he might as well have been made of stone. "No, my health is perfect. Thank you for your concern."

Mello's color soared. "I'm not concerned, dammit!" He was blushing again? This was intolerable!

Near didn't react to the blonde's outburst, but did note the pink stain that had made its way across Mello's cheeks and met at the bridge of his nose. "My mistake, then."

Mello only nodded curtly and dropped his blue eyes to the floor again. He didn't know what to say next, and was tempted to push past the younger boy to escape any further questions. But he didn't want to approach any closer, as though Near were a brand that would burn him.

For his part, Near was fascinated by that blush. It was terribly suggestive. It wasn't Mello's usual reddening, this was a much lighter color. More of a pink than the deep red of fury he normally had. If not anger, then embarrassment at being found in Near's room? Suggestive, indeed. Well, the best way to find out…

"Why was Mello in my room?"

The older boy snorted and tossed his head. "Isn't it obvious?" he snapped, trying to draw attention away from the traitorous shade of his cheeks. "I was looking for you, stupid." Never mind why he had been looking.

Near let the 'stupid' remark pass without comment. "I had deduced as much," he said with a touch more dryness than usual. "But wouldn't it also be obvious that I was not in the room simply by looking? Why did Mello go in?"

Damned persistence, Mello thought. "I – I didn't know if you were hiding or not."

Stuttering now? Since when did Mello stutter?

If the blonde hoped Near would fail to notice the slight stammer, he hoped in vain. The albino's slate gray eyes bored into him as he asked, "Why would I hide from Mello?"

"I don't know!" Mello shouted, throwing up a hand. "Why have you been hiding the past couple of days?"

Near seemed to draw into himself slightly as the questioning was turned. "I have not been hiding." Mello's ears perked. Was that defensiveness he heard? "I have simply not felt like leaving my room."

Cold blue eyes narrowed. "But you're not sick?"

"Correct."

Silence dropped between them for a few moments, and Near began twirling his hair again. It was the only sign he gave as to his inner turmoil. This was really too much. Bad enough to feel an attraction to Mello – and it was an attraction, that was obvious with the boy standing right in front of him. Add to that an unsettling encounter with Matt not fifteen minutes ago, and now Mello himself skirting dangerously close to the subject with his questions… Near needed some time alone again to try and sift through it all.

His attention was brought back by Mello's frustrated mutter. "What the hell is wrong with you, Near?"

What, indeed, he wondered. Having no answer, Near only shrugged his thin shoulders, and finally let his own stare drift away from Mello. Staring at him wasn't doing his mental state any kind of good.

It was a mistake. Near never looked away from someone he was talking to, not unless he was playing one of his games. He was known for it, his flat eyes sending shivers up the spines of whomever they were fixed on.

Quietly, though he didn't know why, he asked, "Are you avoiding me, Near?"

Those eyes were back on Mello so fast he almost took a step back. He almost took another one when he heard the tone of indignation in Near's voice. "Don't be stupid, Mello. There is nothing wrong with my health, and I have no reason to avoid Mello. I could say that of the two of us, Mello is the one who appears unwell. Now, excuse me."

The smaller boy moved to push he way past a gaping Mello, making his hurried way into the pure white sanctuary of his room. Mello recovered enough to grab one of Near's elbows before he disappeared. "Hold it, Near, I'm not done –"

A small, pale hand wrapped around the browner, calloused one that clutched at Near's sleeve. It had little strength, but Near dug his fingers into Mello's hand painfully as he pulled it away from his arm. Almost in a whisper, Near said, "Mello must not touch," before shutting his door in the face a thoroughly shaken boy.

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Mello flopped back into his place on the sofa, ignorant that the boy he had just spoken to had sat there not too long ago, and ignoring his trigonometry book.

Near was all right, he supposed, but something was wrong. He'd actually shown emotion up there, and if that wasn't odd then Mello was a penguin. Trying to figure out what it could be would be difficult, but an interesting challenge…

Lost in his own musings, the chocoholic didn't notice his redheaded friend watching him out of the corners of his eyes. Nor did he notice those eyes roll and the tiny sigh that escaped the gamer.

"Mel," he said, still playing diligently, "have you got a crush on some girl, or something?"

Mello looked up, startled out of his reverie. "What?"

"It's the wrong season to be twitterpated, you know," he said blandly. "That's spring."

This time the color on Mello's face was the red of anger as he rose in his seat to loom over the still calm gamer. "What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? I'm not in lo…"

Realization hit like a hammer. As did dread. "…ove…" he finished.

Matt smirked again as Mello deflated into the sofa, but only with the half of his face not visible to the blonde. He'd just barely avoided a beat down, now was not the time to tempt fate. Still, it was hard not to snort as Mello summed up his feelings:

"Ah, fuck."