I know this story is remarkably un-epic so far, but I think this chapter is better than chapter one. PLEASE NOTE that at the end I am NOT implying a future yaoi. This is strictly friendship. If you want to interpret this story as a yaoi, well... I can't do anything about that, but the Wammy Boys aren't gay. At least, not in this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters.

December 14

Mello here.

The teacher thinks I'm taking notes, but I'm actually writing this right now. Sucker.

You know, now that I think about it, saying "sucker" is more offensive to say to a guy than it is to say to a girl. Luckily, my teacher's male. Haha.

Near is sitting beside me. He's being the diligent student I'm not and is actually listening to Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name drone on about subordinate clauses.

I'm usually a better student than this, but today is special.

See, Matt and I had decided last night that we were going to blow up Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name's favorite dry-erase marker. So at around midnight we stole the key to the classroom from Watari's office and planted a miniature paint bomb in the part of the marker that distributes the ink. The bomb set so that it detonates right when he pulls the cap off.

The only reason we thought of this particular prank was because Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name has this weird habit of pulling the cap off of the marker toward his face, so when the paint bomb (which has to be red because that's the color of the marker) explodes, he'll have a faceful of ink.

All is going well so far. The prank hasn't been carried out yet. Me and Matt have made eye contact about twenty times in the past three minutes, because the teacher has been moving closer to the board.

Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name's picking up the marker now. I'm on the edge of my seat and Matt probably is too.

And oh my God, he's telling Near to write a subordinate clause on the board.

Near is taking the marker. I remember that Matt and I fitted a rubber band right below the cap so it'd be harder to get off.

The Twit's trying to uncap the bomb now. Matt and I exchange excited glances.

"Ah!" we hear.

All eyes are on the Twit.

And then absolute chaos breaks lose, because Near's got a giant red spot right on the crotch of his pants.

"I knew he was a girl!" I laughed. "Matt, I told you!"

Matt's laughing too, but he looks a little guilty about it.

I'm not, though. This is by far the best day of my life.

I'm about to go to bed, but first I have a confession to make.

I apologized to Near at lunch for the whole red pants thing and told him the entire story about the ink bomb.

I mean, I wasn't all that guilty about it until I saw him bawling his eyes out after class. "What a weenie! I thought he was tougher than that," was my initial thought, until the shame set in.

Look, Near is only eight, and I completely humiliated him today. So I didn't have much choice.

At least he didn't tell on us. If he was that kind of kid, I would've gotten someone to tell someone to tell someone to tell someone to tell someone to hand him an anonymous apology. Or maybe I wouldn't have bothered to say sorry at all.

I'm going to sleep now.

―Mello

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