A/N: Woooo! Another chapter! :]
I cannot believe it's Thursday already! Last week was going by so slowly, but this week is speeding by!
I hope everyone's week is going by quickly too!
And I'm thinking about naming the chapters. I like stories that have named chapters, so yeah....
Hahaha. Now that I've got eight chapters up, I'll probably go back and name these chapters when I find some time.
Warning: This chapter contains a suicidal attempt. If the character succeeds or fails, read to find out for yourself. ;)
Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Death Note Characters. However, this story is mine.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Gray eyes stared at the clock on the wall. The clock became a bomb of destruction, ticking down the minutes—the seconds—that remain until complete annihilation. Annihilation of what exactly? Near didn't know the answer to that question. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Everything suddenly became louder than usual. The clock spun his head around wildly like a child jerking the bars of a four-colored marry-go-round at the park. The scribbling of pencils against paper screeched in Near's mind like razors clawing down a dusty chalkboard. The rustling of papers became the flapping wings of black buzzards who were soon to search for a rotting carcass. The shrill of chairs scrapping against the tile floor were car tires screeching against the pavement as they come closer and closer to Near.
The cracking of the wood of his pencil awoke Near from his trance. His entire body tensed. Was it from picturing a car skidding towards him? He loosen his gripped on the number two pencil. His eyes scanned the wooden surface. Faint crack marks could be seen in the middle of the pencil where Near had gripped it too tightly. He sighed and set his pencil down on his desk. He was done with his work anyway.
What's wrong with me? He asked himself. He felt sick. Not feverish sick, but he felt nauseous. His sick stomach felt knotted. The knot inside of him kept growing tighter and tighter, making his stomach spasm every so often. His stomach wasn't the only thing bothering him either. From all of his jumbled thoughts, a pounding headache hit him roughly. Staring down at the desk in front of him, he debated laying his head down on the surface. After a few moments, he decided against it. He didn't want to bring attention to himself. The students around him would realize that something was wrong if Near decided to rest his head against his desk.
Near almost flinched when the teacher walked over to his desk and asked for his paper. He nodded and handed his work to the woman. Before walking off, the teacher frowned and tilted her head to the side slightly. "Is everything all right, Near?"
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The silence between the two of them seemed to pass for hours, even though Near was sure only a few seconds went by before Near slowly nodded. He didn't say anything. He didn't lift his hand up to twirl his locks like he usually did. He didn't give a full response on his behalf. He only gave a short, half nod before turning his head down slightly to stare at his cracked pencil and wooden desk top.
Luckily for Near, the teacher said nothing more and continued making her way down the aisles to collect papers. His stomach spasmed again. He didn't care about what the other students would think this time. Near abruptly rested his head on the desk, his forehead pressing against the cold, wooden surface as his white curls falling into his face, covering his closed eyes.
What's going on? Near wondered again with his head still jumbled wall-to-wall with various thoughts. Why am I feeling like this? This wasn't the first day he felt sick. In fact, he had been feeling sick ever since Sunday, which was when Roger took a group of people to the convenience stores. That was also the day Near talked to the man with the black, trench coat....
Suddenly, the bell rang, echoing through the classroom. After getting up from his chair, Near noticed something. He seemed to move slower than everyone else. As he walked down the hallways, heading towards the Common Room. The students around him seemed to move quicker than usual, their voices echoing in Near's head like white noise. Near felt as if he had been shoved into a dimension that moved five seconds slower than reality. His head felt like it were spinning again. Dizzily, Near stepped into the Common Room.
Stumbling over his bare feet, Near pushed the double doors of the Common Room close. It took more effort than usual; the doors oddly felt heavier. With the doors shut, the room blocked out the echoing sounds and fast moving images from Near's mind. Near breathed heavier and quicker than usual as he leaned against the door, his hands outspread and roughly pressed on the wooden surface. He could feel his heart beating like a fast paced metronome, distinct and intimidating.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The ticking of a bomb continued to echo through his blurred mind. The faint noise was quiet enough for it to be inevitable not to concentrate on it but loud enough for Near to want it to stop. Near slowly moved away from the door, trying hard not to stumble and fall to the hard, tiled ground. He made his way over to the cabinets where he kept his puzzle. He clumsily reached for his puzzle and ended up knocking it off into the floor.
White puzzle pieces scattered, some pieces skidding across the ground while others teetertottered side-to-side for a moment before limply lying against the floor. Near knelt down and shakily reached out to grab a puzzle piece and place it back into its box. He suddenly froze in place. He felt his heart shake fearfully in his chest as he stared down at the puzzle pieces. The pieces began to blend with the tile flooring. He couldn't distinguish what was the floor and what was a puzzle piece.
All of the emotions Near kept bottled up inside were beginning to bubble over. These foreign feelings taking a hold of Near, emotions that he had tried so hard to keep locked away. A quiet mewl caught in Near's throat as he realized what emotion was currently rising up.
Fear.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Why fear? Why now? Near knew the answers he didn't want to know. He blocked the answers from his mind the best he could. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the man's depressed words. Those words that were frightening and dipped in remorse. Those words that held confusion and insensitivity. Those words that could very possibly be truthful and real....
Near looked up at the sound of one of the Common Room doors opening. A familiar blond stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. "Near—," Mello cut himself off before Near could figure out what he was saying.
Near suddenly tried his best to cover up his emotions again. Does Mello see it? Near wondered. Can he see my fear? Is that why he stopped? Near mentally shook his head, not wanting to think of the events that could play out if Mello saw a foreign emotion on Near. It was bad enough that Near let his guard down a bit while in class. Of all the students in the entire orphanage, Mello would be the most likely to notice any changes. This fact probably wasn't helping Near's stability.
Without warning, the aura of the room abruptly shifted. Tension crawled along the walls like demons pushing their way out of the depths of the earth. Shadows from the thunderstorm that raged on outside engulfed the room in almost complete darkness even though it was only about four-thirty at the latest. Terror shook the room like an earthquake as Near dizzily watch Mello stalked towards him. Mello suddenly became a beast of fire as flames of rage flared off of him. His eyes became shards of ice that burned hotter than dry ice. Near felt his heart beat wildly in his chest as Mello approached him. Even with as loud as Near's heart drummed, there was a sound that rang louder in his skull.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
'You're still the outsider,' The man's voice echoed through Near's head like a disease.
Mello stood in front of Near now, his shadow being casted over Near.
Tick-tock-tick-tock. Tick-tock-tick-tock.
'Do you honestly think that everyone can get along perfectly fine being just the way they are?'
A heated hand clenched the collar of Near's white, pajama shirt.
Tick-tock-tick-tock. Tick-tock-tick-tock.
'It is the different ones that always get shoved over the edge.'
Near's gray eyes drastically widened.
Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock.
'What's keeping you alive?'
Mello's fist collided with Near's left cheek, sharply lashing Near's head to the side. As soon as Near's mind began to process what was happening, his body had already been slammed into the ground, the side of his head pressing against the cold tile. His left cheek hotly burned as the other was cooled by the tiled flooring. Finally his brain processed the blow and send pain shooting through Near's body, the center of the pain on his face and...his heart. His cheek almost burned as painfully as his heart did. The pain that clenched his heart triggered another emotion. The emotion was triggered without Near realizing it until he felt something cold and wet dampen his cheek and the tile floor.
A few tears escaped his eyes. It was as if the punch had shattered the bottle that Near stuffed all of his emotions into. Although no sobs or whimpers escaped Near's throat, cold tears dripped down his face. After realizing the tears, Near quickly realized another detail. He realized something else the punch triggered. The ticking of the destructive bomb had ceased. Actually, Near couldn't hear much of anything. There was only one thing Near could hear.
Silence. Numb silence.
Sure, Near could hear the heavy breathing of Mello's breath and Near's own heart, but this strange, numb silence seemed louder than those solid noises. The silence intimidated Near. It held a strange, controlling power over the gray-eyed teen. A shiver of fear rolled down his spine, causing Near's heart to spasm and another tear to fall.
Near turned his head up, so his bangs weren't covering his face. His white locks still covered part of his face, but his hazy, gray eyes blankly stared up at Mello. Near watched as Mello reared his fist back, ready to pound another fist into Near's face. Almost instantly after making eye contact, Mello's fist froze in mid-punch. His blue eyes widened sharply. Near watched as the shards of ice shattered, breaking the raged trance. Mello's mouth opened in a slight gasp. Near could hear Mello's breathing hitch as he stared through an emotional vision. So many emotions shined in the dim light. Mello's blue eyes were glossy with confusion, shock, and another emotion that Near was too dizzy to decipher it.
Mello took one step back and almost tripped over an invisible obstacle that suddenly appeared under his feet. Near wasn't surprised by Mello's reaction. Ever since Near arrived at the orphanage, Near had only cried twice. Near sobbed on the first day at arriving at Wammy's Orphanage. Being only five, Near had been terribly shaken by his mother's traumatic breakdown, suicide, abuse towards him, and Watari taking him to a foreign place and being dropped off into the hands of another stranger, Roger. The second time had been now. This had been the first time Near had cried in ten years. Everything Near had built up was beginning to unravel before him—and Mello. Broken and numbly weak, Near lied against the tile floor.
"N-Near," Mello's voice caught in his throat for a moment as he continued to stare, unable to tear his eyes away from Near's dreary eyes. "You're—."
"Mello," Near found his voice came out thickly monotonously. Apparently the numbness reached Near's vocal cords and voice box as well. As Near slowly turned onto his stomach and slowly begin to push himself off the ground, Near croaked, "Please don't say it....Please save me the trouble."
It hurt enough to feel the icy tears against his hot face. Near didn't want it to be acknowledged by an external presence as well. It pained Near enough already, he didn't want it to hurt even more than it already did. His arms feeling too weak, Near gave up and placed himself back down on the tile of the shadowy Common Room. Near listened as Mello took a few uneven steps backwards, turned, and then raced out of the Common Room. Near heard one of the doors fly open and shut again, leaving Near within the numb silence again.
Near wasn't sure how long he lied there on the tile within the darkness. All he knew was when he finally pushed himself off the ground, it was obviously nightfall. A silent strike of lightening flashed though the Common Room, blindly brightening the room before submitting it to darkness again. Over the course of a couple of hours, more knots tied themselves in Near's stomach, his body felt shakier, and his heart painfully ached as it beat irregularly.
Almost as soon as he stood on his feet, he almost toppled back over once a dizzy sickness pounded into his brain. As Near slowly walked out of the room and began to ascend the stairs of Wammy's Orphanage, the silence echoed through his head. That dark, numb silence still captured his mind. With each small step Near took on the stairs, he felt he was getting closer and closer to the truth. The cold, hard truth. The fact that the man had been right all along.
What was keeping Near alive? Trying to succeed L? Was that the reason Near continued through life? Near shook his head and sighed. That one orphan—Dave—might be right. If he worked hard enough, he could be the one to succeed L. Who was L? "L" was just a name without a face, without an identity. If someone doesn't have an identity, couldn't anyone choose to be that person if they have enough similar qualities? Besides...Mello wanted to be L anyway. Mello....
Near jiggled the brass knob of the door of his room before stepping inside. He shut the door behind him and continued through the shady room. Do I not have a purpose? Near asked rhetorically. Is the life I'm leading truly mine? Is it what I want? ...What am I wanting exactly? It had been so long since Near truthfully desired anything, and now after taking whatever was given to him, Near wasn't sure what he was searching for anymore.
Without warning, Near's foot caught on one of his robots that had been lying in the floor. Near fell forward, his lower stomach hitting against the edge of his nightstand and his upper body crushing anything that lied on the surface. The digital, alarm clock and shaded lamp quickly got knocked off into the floor, and the distinct sound of glass shattering echoed through Near's room.
Wincing with pain, Near looked down to see his right arm had landed roughly on the empty glass that had been sitting on Near's nightstand since last night when he had went downstairs to get a drink of water around bedtime. The glass now rested on its side, jagged shards of glass scattered across the nightstand, in the floor, and cutting into his sleeve and arm. Near narrowed his eyes in the darkness, trying to concentrate on his arm. He slowly lifted up his right arm and shook off some of the glass shards, sending them to the carpeted floor. Looking at the underside of his arm, Near noticed the once white sleeve now appeared distinctly red. Near carefully pulled his torn sleeve back to examine his arm.
Two jagged glass shards were jabbed into his forearm. Scarlet blood formed around the glass pieces and sent a small, red trail down his arm. Two drops of blood dripped off of his arm and fell onto the floor. Near watched as the beige carpet dissolved the droplets, distorting their sizes and leaving a discolored mark on the floor. His gray eyes fell back onto his injured arm. He grabbed one of the glass shards between his thumb and forefinger. He slowly began to pull on the piece until it came out of his arm. He carefully placed it on the nightstand and went back to his arm to pull the other piece out. The second piece didn't come out as easily. Pulling harder onto the shard, when the glass piece finally came out, one of the rugged edges cut into his fingers.
He placed the bloody, translucent piece of glass on his nightstand. Turning his attention to his fingers, his gray eyes stared at the pricks in his finger. Blood began to push its way out of his forefinger and thumb, pushing against the skin until it could be visible to the human eye. With his thumb, Near gently wiped the blood, smearing it against the top of his finger and side of his thumb.
'I meant death.'
At the sound of the man's words echoing through his mind, Near's heart quickened its pace. First his heart only quickened slightly. Then his heart swiftly pounded before Near could feel his heart ramming itself against the side of his chest, sending a sickly chill through him. The word 'death' echoed through Near's mind in a raspy, shallow voice. As the voice chanted in his head, hazy, gray eyes locked onto a medium sized, glass piece that appeared harshly crooked. Near's mind blanked as he reached out for the broken glass scrap. Near felt himself get caught up in the moment, his thoughts refusing to process, or maybe it was Near who kept them from processing. Near only had one destination in mind. He planned to end it—to end it all.
His body moved without him. His mind clicked off as he took the jagged fragment in hand and pressed it against the skin of his right arm. The chill of the glass shard against his hot skin send a shaky shiver through Near. The shard jaggedly cut into Near's skin as he moved the glass down his arm. He made another incision into his arm, this time near his wrist. He cut into the skin near his wrist and sliced the glass across his arm. With his body still moving out of control, he placed the glass fragment into his right hand gave attention to his left arm. He made two slices across his arm before moving one stroke down his arm.
As he moved the shard slowly down his arm, the pain finally began to catch up with the actions. A sweltering pain grasped Near's body, the source of the pain coming from the cuts that began to bleed of scarlet death. Vivid droplets of fiery red began to gush out of the cuts and streak down his pale skin. Some of the droplets trickled onto his sleeves and onto his pajama pants. Heated tears formed in his gray eyes. As Near's knees gave way, sending Near into the floor, tears began to stream down his eyes. He landed heavily on his knees, and his body began to quiver with the agony of not the cuts, but the entire situation.
Everything around him was unraveling and crumbling down into bits of dust that would soon become lost and forgotten. Near reared his hand back, ready to jab the glass piece into his main blood vein in his wrist. His eyes clamped shut as his body trembled. Tension tightened around every muscle in Near's body, painfully shaking him. Then as fast as the tension came, all of the tightness released. Near's strong grip on the glass loosened completely. The shard of glass fell from his limp hand and landed quietly against the floor. The blood that covered the glass rolled off the translucent piece and dripped onto the carpet.
From holding the shard so tightly in his hand a moment ago, blood dripped from the gash that had been created in the palm of his right hand. Not caring that the blood was staining his shirt, Near wrapped his arms around himself, holding his ribcage. His bloody fingers pressed into his ribs tightly, afraid that if he let some of the tension release, he would lose himself.
Then the tears came. Uncontrollably they cascaded down his cheeks, off his chin, and onto the bloodstained carpet. A few icy tears dripped onto the warm blood, cooling the red liquid and partially diluting it. Faint mewls and sobs broke out of Near's throat as he bent forward, almost pressing his forehead against his legs as he held himself. Cold tears dampened the legs of his pajamas as his white locks began to cover his face like lashes of snow covering a tombstone.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't shove himself into the empty, coldly awaiting grave. A part of his mind still tightly held onto life, afraid of the jaws of death. A small part of him didn't want to give up. Death was the ultimate sacrifice, ultimate and final way of giving up, yet at the same time there was a conflicting thought. The rest of his mind feared life and wanted nothing more of it. The rest of his mind had already thrown up white flags and dug their graves, ready to leap into death's claws. These conflicting thoughts only placed Near into a turmoil. He was so unsure of himself now.
Not wanting to move from the spot on the ground, Near curled up onto the bloody, damp carpet that was littered with rugged, glass fragments. As he lied there, another stroke of silent lightening flashed through his window that was covered by a curtain. The white light blinded Near's eyes for a moment, causing him to close them out of reflex. After he closed his eyes, he didn't feel the need to open them again. He heard the sound of thunder in the distance before the dead silence of the night took hold of his mind and body. Doubting he'd get much sleep, Near decided he'd clean up the mess in the early morning. Right now, all he wanted to do was lie there within the brokenness of his room. He'd lie just as broken as the broken glass, the broken tears, and blood that spilled from his broken heart.
*~*~*~*~*
Mello's back slid down his bedroom wall. Before he realized it, he was sitting on the ground dazedly. His heart still beat with the same great intensity it had earlier when he was with Near in the Common Room. Near.... A picture of Near lying against the floor of the Common Room with his eyes full of painful tears flashed through Mello's mind. What happened? It was the only question Mello could form. His mind whirled with so many confusing his thoughts, the only question he could ask himself was painfully vague.
It all started when Mello saw Near do something he'd never done before. Near rested his head on the desk in class that afternoon as if he were hurt by a certain, unknown force that took hold of the albino teen. He acted so strangely. Mello never saw him act that way before; he couldn't recall a single time Near acted in such a torn way. It seemed so out of the blue and abnormal.
Mello remembered following Near to the Common Room. Near looked so distraught as he walked down the hallway, almost as if he'd never been inside the orphanage before and forgot where everything was placed. I remember feeling concerned and—Concerned? Mello lifted his gaze for a moment and stared across the room and over to the window. The feeling wasn't bitter pity or randomly placed sympathy. It was pure concern. Why—? Mello shook the thought away and continued going back through everything that happened.
I remember entering the Common Room. I was going to ask what was going on, or what he was trying to pull, but....A picture of Near's eyes flashed in Mello's head. Those gray eyes that were hazy with uncertainty. Those gray eyes that reflected a silver light of confusion. Those gray eyes that were dripping with fear and panic. That panic wasn't directed at me. Mello knew. Something else caused such fear in Near. What could it have been? I've never seen Near so distressed over anything. I can't think of a time anyway....
Mello recalled the feeling that swept over him as soon as he saw the fear within Near's eyes. First I felt concerned and then....This feeling....This strong feeling came over me—it inflamed me! I didn't know how to take it! I fell back into my angry habit. I-I....
The picture of cold tears streaming down Near's face shook Mello's thoughts. Near....He....He sounded so battered. There was so much pain in his eyes and even in his voice. He held so much agony inside. Why was he crying? Was it because of me? He's never cried before when I've hit him, not even during the more brutal times. What caused it?
The event that happened that evening was completely shaking Mello. He wasn't sure how to take or handle it. Mello's eyes narrowed at the ground. He kicked a book across the floor and watched it slam against the other wall. "I shouldn't even be bothered by this," He growled. Right...?
Mello sighed when the fact of the matter caught hold of him. He shook his head and let his blond bangs fall into his face, those strands of hair shadowing his eyes. Even if he wasn't suppose to care, he did. Underneath all of the hate and anger, something else rested. He just couldn't seem to reach down far enough to figure out what was resting underneath all of his scornful rage. Mello's blue eyes stared out the window again before climbing to his feet. He walked over to the window and stared out at the rain as it splattered against the glass. For a moment, Mello thought he heard the sound of glass breaking, but he ignored it, thinking he was misinterpreting the thunder outside.
Before heading off to bed, he slowly closed his blue eyes, trying to block out his troubled thoughts again. As he leaned against the window's seal, Mello whispered truthfully into the darkness. Even if he wasn't sure why he felt the need to speak or know why he wished to say such words, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Near."
Lol. I'm so loving time references right now (if you couldn't tell).
Poor Near! : (
Yes, it had to be done. Near is finally loosing it.
Well, at least Mello's starting to figure out that he might not hate Near, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. (Muwahahaha! Lol)
Please review~