P. 20: "Yet into the midst of this haven - always expected, yet horribly surprising each time - from somewhere Kromer's whistle would erupt, destroying the game, crushing my illusions."
There were times I honestly thought we could be happy, Mello and me.
There were times he'd come home looking melancholy instead of just pissed off and frustrated, when he'd see me playing on my Gameboy and just smile. Instead of yelling at me for being a lazy-ass and telling me to check the monitors or fetch him a chocolate bar and a handful of pain pills, he'd just smile that soft, faraway smile of his and sit down on the floor beside me to watch me play. If that nostalgic smile wasn't so tainted with sadness, if that scarred flesh didn't still smell charred and distinctly un-Mello-like up close, it would've been just like old times.
Well, maybe not exactly like old times. Now he avoided his familiar bitching about Near during his better moods, because that would have brought him out of his blissful state of pretend and back to Kira. I could tell he was weary of this crusade, his vendetta, of everything. Even when he tried to look happy, when he laughed with me in my victories, when he cheered me on in my boss battles like they were the most important events of his day, there was a bone-deep tiredness underneath his grin. He'd mock my mistakes with none of the usual scorn; he'd strategize and brainstorm with me when I got stuck, instead of calling me an idiot. He was too tired for insults, but he'd be encouraging me to keep playing long into the sleepless night. Almost like old times, yeah, if you squinted real hard.
But into the midst of this little haven - always expected, yet horribly surprising each time - from somewhere Kira's whistle would sound, destroying the game, crushing our shared illusions, and I'd have to shut off that bright little screen and those happy chip-tunes before the promise of extra lives made us forget that we were mortal and living on stolen time.
