A/N: Awww! It looks like I'm about four days off schedule.

Sorry I couldn't finish this chapter by last weekend!

It took me so long to finish writing this chapter! o.o

It's not that it's even that long. I just kept blanking out through it at some points...even though I knew what was going to happen. Lol.

Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this one. :]

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Death Note Characters. However, this story is mine.

A privileged Saturday came about again. Although many students of Wammy's House believed Roger was going to take them to the city center to get a special treat, it wasn't true. As the usual privileged Saturday, Roger took twenty students to the convenience stores. Also as usual, Near, Mello, and Matt rode on the bus again. Near sat in usual spot in the front, Mello and Matt sat in the very back. Linda also attended this trip. She, however, wasn't sitting with Near this time; she sat with her own group of friends.

It had been a week since Linda spoke to Near. Ever since the incident in the art room, neither of them spoke to one another. Although Linda didn't suddenly start hanging out with Sydney—she still hated the girl, Linda stopped coming by the Common Room to share friendly, small talk with Near. It was an odd change for Near. Since two similar events happened that last Saturday, Near felt uneasy about Linda not talking to him anymore. First a random orphan cut Near down, and then Linda said she disliked Near. Near wasn't sure why this made him feel so misplaced, but it did. It made him feel maybe even a bit isolated.

Near's gray eyes stared blankly out the window as the bus continued to roll over the bumps and grooves of the road. Once again Near tried his best to tune out the noises that erupted harshly through the bus and out the windows. The teen could feel Linda's eyes on him, but he didn't make a single attempt to turn around to face her or even glance at the girl. Oddly, Near saw Mello out of the corner of his eye glancing at him every so often. Occasionally, Near would gaze over in Mello's direction, catching the blond teen in the act. As soon as their eyes connected for a split second, Mello would either avert his gaze, trying to make it look like Mello was staring past Near or glare at Near before averting his gaze. Near thought nothing of it. Mello was being Mello as always.

After feeling someone sit down in the empty seat beside him, Near glanced over at the approacher for a moment. It was Linda. She wore an uneasy expression as she awkwardly played with her fingers, a nervous habit. She readjusted the purple clips in her hair as she shifted her weight. Near could feel Linda shoot him awkward glances, but he didn't turn his attention away from the window. He only waited for Linda to say whatever it was that she needed to say. He had the feeling it was going to pertain to the incident that happened last week.

"N-Near?" She started clumsily as if she still wasn't sure what to say. Respectfully, Near turned his head towards Linda. However, Near only gave Linda half of his attention. He really didn't want to hear what Linda had to say, but he figured that if he listened, it would move the conversation quicker.

"I didn't mean what I said!" The outburst woke Near out of his drifting thoughts. "She made me say it! I didn't have a choice! It's all her fault! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!"

Linda's breathing hitched and her chest moved shakily in and out as she gulped down the air around her. Linda dipped her head down dramatically, her brown bangs covering her face. Although Linda shielded her face, Near guessed Linda was holding back some tears. However, Near was unaffected by Linda's words; those words that somehow felt empty. His face remained emotionless as his voice stayed monotone.

"You should not blame others for your own actions, Linda," Near told her plainly. He reached up and began to twirl one of his white locks of hair. Linda expected Near to say something else, but nothing came.

Linda looked up, wanting Near to say more. Near noted that Linda had not been crying, she only averted her gaze from him. It was as if she were hiding something. Shame? Guilt? Near's gaze suddenly gazed over at Linda's group of friends. Some gave her glares, some blank stares. They all whispered among themselves. Linda appeared to notice them too. She suddenly regained her posture and shook away the sorrowful, apologetic appearance. Embarrassment and secrecy. She was showing a false sympathy.

When Near didn't say anything more, he watched as Linda got up from her seat and walked back over to her group of friends. She gazed about cautiously, almost as if she were afraid someone specific would notice her moving across the bus from Near's seat. Near knew this time she was not looking around for Roger. All this time, she was trying to make sure that Sydney and Sydney's friends didn't see her. Even though Linda claimed to be rivals with Sydney, Linda cared what Sydney thought about her.

She's been giving an untrue friendship all along. Near told himself. She appears to be acting with her friends and acting with Sydney. Her actions speak louder than her words. If she can act around them, she can act around me. Near continued to twirl his hair and turned his attention back out the window. For a moment, Near was glad he and Mello weren't of the female population. If female rivals acted like that, he didn't want to get caught in the middle of it or be a part of it. It's foolish to act like something your not.

All thoughts of Linda left his mind as the bus rolled to a stop. Although Roger told everyone to exit the bus in a formal line, students quickly left their seats and hurried the others off the bus in an anxious manner. Once Near stepped off the bus, he watched as Linda walked passed him without a word or a single glance. He expected that much. Mello, however, gave him a short glare before roughly pushing past him.

Near stood on the curb and watched as the others shuffled into the convenience stores that Roger allowed them to go into. Near turned and walked over to the familiar, wooden bench. Sitting down, Near couldn't help but think it felt strangely colder. Even though autumn already swept through Great Britain, Near felt strangely colder than usual while sitting on the bench alone. The long sleeves of his white pajama shirt hardly did justice. Near pulled at the cuffs of the sleeves, almost hoping that pulling on it would suddenly make the thin material thicker and warmer.

"You're still here, I see."

Near didn't have to look up to know who it was; he recognized the voice instantly. It was the same scratchy, rugged voice from the man who wore about five too many watches on each arm. Near glanced up, proving his thoughts. The man wore the same attire he wore the last time Near saw him. This time the man's coat was zipped all the way up, his collar popped up so that it covered his neck and a bit of his face. His eyes were still covered by the darkly tinted sunglasses.

"And you're still the outsider," The man finished quietly with a soft sadness. The man turned his attention over to the stores and shops that the orphans raced into moments ago. He stuffed his hands into his pockets before whispering the comment, "I could not help but notice you left alone today. Having trouble with them it seems."

The man spoke the last sentence as more of a statement than a question. Near stared off in the same direction. "I leave alone most days."

"Oh yes....I forgot."

The strange silence between them started to get to Near's comfort zone. His gray eyes glanced up at the man who stood on the corner of the intersection, waiting for the bus again it appeared. His fingers played with the cuffs of his sleeves as he asked cautiously, "What did you mean exactly...when you meant 'different ones'. What is your clarification on different?"

In an even tone the man asked, "Do you believe yourself to be the same as everyone else?"

"I believe that everyone has their differences."

Causing Near's insides to flinch, a cackle rolled out of the man's throat. After his cackle died down to a light snicker, Near could feel the man's eyes on him, even though they were shielded by the shades. A dark smirk crawled onto his face as the man asked carelessly, "How poetic. Did you come up with that yourself? Do you honestly think that everyone can get along perfectly fine being just the way they are. I'm sure you can think of some people who are more different than others—people that stand out drastically. Now tell me do you believe yourself to be the same as those orphans in there?"

Near only blinked up at him, unable to form words for a moment. Near looked back at the stores that were littered with orphans running around trying to find something for themselves. Remaining silent, Near didn't turn his head again to gaze up at the man beside him.

The man frowned before moving his sleeve down to gaze at his watches. "Your silence has not gone unnoticed. I'll take it as affirmation, Cottonball. Do you disagree with my observations?"

Again Near remained silent and stared off into the distance. The man gazed over at Near again. He gave a slight smirk before staring blankly off down the road. Only when Near spoke again did the man turn his attention back to the orphan.

"What do you mean by being shoved over the edge? Were you saying it as a metaphor or...in the literal sense?" Near asked carefully. At this point, Near turned his full attention to the man, awaiting his answer. Near's gray eyes stared up at the man, watching his movements cautiously and observantly.

The man gave a short chuckle. "It could be in the literal sense, I guess. It all depends on what situation you're in." He paused before adding, "If you must know directly what I meant, I'll tell you." With the last sentence dripped in vague despair, the man finished, "I meant death."

For a moment, a bit of fear flickered in Near's eyes like a dying flame in the wind. The instant the words were spoken, Near felt himself floating outside of his body. It was the same feeling as he felt in the orphanage when he was doing his puzzle in the Common Room. Near felt unlike himself again. Fear struck Near's heart once he saw himself from the outside looking in. He saw something he disliked.

Before he could identify what caused Near such fear and dislike, he felt himself come back to his regular state of mind. Near regained his posture before asking slowly, "How come death hasn't come to you then?"

The man gave a short sigh and tilted his head down. "I was one of the lucky and unlucky ones. Instead of embracing death, I'm...now just standing around waiting for it." The man tilted his head upward to stare up at the sky. "So many things factor into it that I've forgotten all the reasons why I'm still alive. I guess you could say I'm still alive because of spite." He spat the last word like venom. It was easy to tell that he was hiding a long term grudge against something. The man's voice returned back to normal when he finished, "If it weren't for the hate, I would have ended it long ago....Yes, long, long ago."

As the town bus began to roll up to the bus stop, the man turned his head towards Near and asked rhetorically, "What's keeping you alive?"

Near watched as the man stepped onto the bus and disappeared inside. His gray eyes remained on the bus as he watched it rolled forward a bit and stopped again. The doors of the bus opened and the bus driver peered over at Near sitting quietly on the wooden bench.

"Where ya headin' kid?" The bus driver called out to him.

Where am I heading? Near asked himself. A moment of realization hit him when he noticed something he hadn't noticed in a long time. Near was unsure—unsure of his motives, unsure of his path, unsure of himself.

"I don't know," Near admitted weakly before dropping his gaze to a crack on the sidewalk.

The bus driver gave Near a strange look before figuring out the teen wasn't going to hop onto the bus. The bus driver shrugged, closed the bus doors, and continued down the road. Still staring down at the sidewalk, Near wondered sadly. What reasons do I have to live on? What is keeping me alive? Is the man right? Do I have...nothing? Near didn't dare attempt to answer the questions in fear on the answers themselves.

*~*~*~*~*

(Later that night)

Mello abruptly awoke in a wild fit of horror and rage. An invisible force tightened around Mello's throat as if the air itself began to suffocate him. His vision blurred, unable to focus on a specific object within the room. Tossing violently back and forth on his bed, he blindly swung his fists at an unknown individual. Something shouted in Mello's mind that someone was trying to murder him, and he wasn't about to just go limp and hand himself over to the attacker.

Suddenly, Mello felt a hand grasped his shoulder. Big mistake for the approacher. Swiftly, Mello grabbed onto the attacker's arm with one hand. With the other hand, Mello wrapped it up into a tight fist and hooked the guy in the jaw, sending him to the floor. Mello followed him down to the carpeted flooring, not going to let the attacker get off that easily. With the attacker flat on his back, Mello sat above him, Mello's legs straddling him as Mello's fists pounded the attacker in the face.

One of the attacker's hands grabbed one of Mello's fists before it could pulverize him further. "Jesus Christ, Mello! Snap out of it! It's me!"

Breathing heavily, Mello's blurred vision slowly began to focus. Taking his surroundings in, he relaxed after realizing he was within his and Matt's dorm. His calm state didn't last long when he noticed it was Matt who lied underneath him, his face littered with bruises. Red splotches covered Matt's face. His lip had been gashed open on one side, sending a trail of scarlet blood down his chin.

While climbing to his feet, Mello cursed, "Fuck! Matt, you're bleeding!"

Matt climbed to his feet and wiped the blood off his chin with his wrist. Going over to sit down on the edge of his own bed, Matt sarcastically commented, "Oh, really? Thanks for telling me. I had no idea."

Mello slowly walked over to his own bed as well and sat down on it. Mello pressed his back against the wall that his bed sat against and pulled his knees up. Matt, who began to tenderly press his hand against the heated wounds on his face, stated, "Remind me to not wake you up from any of your nightmares again, kay?"

Recalling the night trauma that occurred, Mello pulled his knees in closer and rested his arms on top of them. His hands held onto his elbows as he went deep into thought. A few of his blond strands fell into his eyes. Absently, Mello quietly uttered, "Sorry, Matt....I thought you were him."

Matt hesitated for a moment before bringing his hand away from his injuries. His green eyes stared over at Mello. Silently blinking, Matt said nothing. Mello continued, "I had one of those dreams again. They just keep becoming more and more vivid."

Matt frowned, climbed all the way onto his bed, and fell onto his back. He gazed over at the nightstand beside his bed. He opened the first drawer and pulled out his silver lighter. He clicked the lighter's lid open and close in a rhythm, finding peace in the sound. He shook his head. "The same dream?"

Mello nodded and affirmed, "Same dream."

The blond sharply looked up at the sound of a different kind of clicking noise. He watched as a flame sparked up out of the silver container. As if alive, the flame hissed in the darkness of the room, giving the room a faint, orange glow. One of Matt's hands hovered over the flame. Blue eyes watched as the flame licked over the sides of Matt's fingers. Terror shook Mello's body as he watched through wide eyes.

"God damn it, Matt!"

Mello chunked his pillow at Matt. Surprised by the sudden action, Matt flinched, causing the lighter to slip out of his hand. The lighter slammed up against the wall and fell down onto the bed comforter. Matt quickly glanced from Mello, to the pillow, to his lighter, to the wall. While Matt examined the wall to make sure the collision didn't leave an indention, Mello spat, "Now is not the time to get your lighter out!"

Matt gave Mello an apologetic look. "Sorry, Melz. I...It relaxes me, so I got it out, and I'm sorry. I completely forgot."

Mello, accepting Matt's apology, didn't aggressively spat at the other teen. Still slightly on the edge, Mello grumbled, "Well, it doesn't relax me any...."

Matt sighed. "It really is getting worse, isn't it?"

"Yeah...."

"What do you think is causing it?"

Blue eyes narrowed in the darkness. "It's not what, it's who," He growled bitterly.

"Near? You're blaming him again?" Matt asked, surprised yet expecting that answer. "What does he have to do with all of this?"

Mello huffed, unsure how to answer the question. Near had become an easy fall back; the albino had become Mello's scapegoat. In reality, Mello didn't think it was necessarily Near's fault—at least, not completely. Matt understood Mello's reason behind not replying to his question, but Matt didn't bring that fact up; Matt didn't want to have another injury, this time the injury on purpose. Plus, he was too tired to argue with Mello that early in the morning. Matt glanced over at the digital clock to see that in fuzzy, red letters it read: 3:16 AM. Matt groaned, placed his lighter back into the top drawer of the nightstand, and rolled over onto his side, his back facing Mello.

"Maybe getting some sleep will help, Melz," Matt slurred sleepily as he pulled the blanket over him.

Mello gave a small smile when he noticed that Matt suggested that Mello sleep, the one thing that caused Mello to go into a frenzy. Noticing how tired Matt was, Mello didn't abject to Matt wanting to sleep. Mello climbed to his feet, walked across the room and over to the door. "I'm gonna head out for a bit," Mello told his half asleep, best friend before heading out the door. I'm not going to sleep for awhile. Not after I dreamed about that.


I just want to go ahead and say that I do like Linda.

In my story, I made her a posing faker, but that doesn't mean that overall, I hate Linda.

I actually like to see her in some Death Note stories. :]

I just hate her in this story. ;P lol

And poor Matt! XD

Mello totally waylaid him!

Next chapter coming soon~

Please review. :D