Hello all my readers, mates, and generally incredible people. I bring you the next installment of Near and Mello's epic romance, which today happens to involve underpants, dead wasps, and naughty suggestions of the very best kind. Now, I don't think the updates will be so quick in the future—I have a school to go back to starting Monday—but tell you what, I'll try to churn out at least one chapter a week. Delightful? I think so.
I warn you, I wrote this chapter under the influence of some pretty ridiculous music, so you might want to listen to some Supertramp or Slade to get you in the mood. Or, you know, just because they're awesome.
Remember: please por favor sil vous plait REVIEW. Reviews make me so happy, it's disgusting. If you review, I will personally send you my bottled tears of joy, m'kay?
Disclaimer: D to the N is not to the mine. Ken?
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Near wandered slowly through the sunny halls of Wammy's, his trademark "dying crackhead" stumble-walk no longer drawing attention from the other orphans. A silver plastic robot clutched in his hand, he slowly made his way towards Roger's office.
He took this opportunity to shoot baleful glances towards the overly-bright windows lining the main hallway (What right did the sun have to shine, anyway? It was December, after all. If the weather had been going according to plan, it would be snowing). Of course, in the Near inventory of expressions, "baleful" was very similar to what would be considered a blank stare on anyone else. Therefore, even if any of the other children making their way to lunch had bothered to examine his face, they wouldn't be able to deduce anything.
Near was very proud of his poker-faces. He had got to the stage when even a massive head wound would only have contorted his features to the smallest degree. While this boded ill for any future attempts at sincerity, he gladly considered his immovable face an asset in the battle against Potential Enemies. This was a particular subset of people whom, he imagined, were not only devious and bent on mankind's destruction but capable of assuming vehicular form when they felt the need.
Whilst all of the Good/Evil battles he had witnessed so far had in fact been against thoroughly human individuals, he felt quite sure that when his time as an avenger came about, Decepticons and tentacle-beasts would rise from the cracks of civilization to oppose his shining morals.
Or, you know, something along those lines.
Anyway, predictions of the future were the farthest things from Near's mind at the moment. Even the burning and malicious sunshine could not distract him from his current plan.
Like all good strategies, it had a name: Operation Convince Mello Not to Regard Near as an Impassive Bastard but Rather, With the Use of Impressive Mental Tactics, to Inspire Deeply Romantic Feelings for Near in his Soul. As this name was, he would freely concede, overlong and unwieldy to boot, he had taken to just referring to his plan as OCMNRNIBRWUMTIDRFNS. This was also complicated and lengthy, but at least it was an acronym. Besides, there was only a small chance of his ever needing to say it out loud in any case.
Roger's office was neatly tucked away in one of the small hallways that meandered through the East wing of the building. Near reached the glossy oak door in record time (twenty-five minutes) and knocked gently.
Roger's creaky old voice shouted a cheerful welcome, and Near pushed the door open. He was grateful to discover that inside the office, the blinds were drawn and only scarce beams of sunlight pierced the air. Roger very rarely exposed the room to the sun, leading to many rumors amongst the orphans of his potential vampiric tendencies.
Near was quite positive that Roger was simply a human being. No old man who could eat soup with such great gusto could be any sort of vampire. And Roger liked his soup.
"Near!" Roger said, a crinkly smile spreading across his equally-crinkly face. "Happy Holidays," the old man said, reaching down and opening a desk drawer. "Now, don't worry! You're not in any sort of trouble."
Near, who in all his time at Wammy's had been in trouble a grand total of once (for making Linda cry after a particularly nasty observation on his part), stared blankly at Roger.
The old man continued, "I just realized today that I forgot to give you the usual Christmas gift on time. But better late than never, eh?" He winked, and rummaged around a bit more before retrieving a poorly wrapped package with triumph. Beaming, he beckoned Near forward.
Near stared cautiously at the gift. He was not sure why Roger believed a orange mouse-patterned wrapping paper would be appealing to him, but it was a kind gesture. Especially as Roger was one of the scant number who actually gave him any sort of gift at Christmastime.
Taking the papery disaster from Roger's hands, he delicately pried up the sellotape at the edges of the paper. He would never rip open a gift; it would betray excitement and anticipation, two emotions that could very easily be used to his detriment.
When the wrappings were sufficiently unfolded, he surveyed the gift that had been revealed.
A pack of socks.
"Socks," he said quietly. "That's very thoughtful of you. They're even white."
"Yes," Roger said jovially, "I know how you like your white socks! But lift those up, there's more!"
Near complied. This revealed the also-white pack of boxer shorts that had been placed underneath the socks. "Ah, undergarments. Thank you very much, Roger." Near pushed the customary smile onto his face and carefully folded the paper back around the gifts.
Roger looked delighted with what he genuinely believed to be Near's gratitude. "You're quite welcome, Near. I would have gotten you a new puzzle, but I thought I'd change it up a bit. You know, make it less predictable!" This was said with such an earnest air that Near felt just the tiniest bit of affection towards the old man. Besides, underpants and socks were hardly the worst presents he had ever received. (that honor was held by the handful of dead wasps Mello had carefully placed on his pillow two Christmases ago.)
Near stood awkwardly in the center of the room until Roger glanced up at him again. "Oh, that's all, Near. Get back to whatever you were doing!" He smiled at the pale boy, no longer distressed by the lack of expression the other customarily displayed. "If I were you, I'd take advantage of this lovely weather and go outside! We shan't have many more days like this in December!"
"That's a good idea, Roger," Near said flatly, trying to remember the last time he had actually gone outside voluntarily.
Oh, right. That had never happened.
Roger now employed the classic "shoo" hand motion. "Go on, Near! Enjoy your day."
Near turned and left, resolving to return to his room and reconstruct his favorite puzzle, a 2000-piece monstrosity decorated with a picture of Versailles.
Unfortunately, it seemed luck was not on his side today. As soon as he started down the hallway leading to his room, he was immediately waylaid by the person who had been occupying his thoughts so frequently.
Mello, apparently returning from a game of football judging from the dirt and grass stains lining his knees, slid out from one of the doorways lining the hall. Standing in front of the smaller boy with a ferocious expression on his face, he placed his hands on his hips. Somehow, the gesture was less effeminate than intimidating on Mello.
"Near!"
Near sighed internally, wondering just how many exclamations of his name he would encounter today. "Yes, Mello?"
Mello's eyes narrowed at the flat voice. "What's in the package?"
Ah. It seemed that Mello did not in fact have a particular issue with his behavior today, and was simply searching for a fight. While ordinarily, Near would just walk around the boy and lock himself in his room, today he couldn't help but take the opportunity to admire his aggressor.
There was quite a lot worthy of admiration. Even dirty and scuffed from a football game, Mello was strangely elegant. Unlike Near himself, his posture was impeccable, and the aura of confidence surrounding him was perfectly palpable.
And of course, he had a pretty face. When Near was allowed to witness said face this close, it was generally contorted in anger, but he still appreciated the sparkle of rage in the bluish eyes and the soft fall of meticulously-brushed yellow hair. (It was a known fact that Mello brushed his hair precisely two hundred and thirty-four times each night and morning.)
It's a strange fact of infatuation that the object of desire will always appear exceedingly attractive to the infatuated, regardless of actual circumstances. While Mello did indeed have lovely hair and a certain poise, he was usually dismissed as an overly-girly asshole by his male contemporaries.
This did not extend to the girls of Wammy's, who were mostly going through that awkward stage of puberty when a girly boy was much less threatening than anything else available. Therefore, Mello was in the strange social niche of being beloved by all girls thirteen to fourteen, yet scorned utterly by most of the boys. He dealt with this in his typical way; by breaking the nose of any male that dared to insult him.
It only added insult to (literal) injury for his targets when they discovered the truth of Mello's sexuality. While not officially leaning one way or the other, Mello was infamous for seducing anyone he damn well wanted to, regardless of gender.
This gave Near a fair amount of hope for the future. He wouldn't have to deal with any "I'm in love with a straight man!" baggage, which would probably be his biggest obstacle in any other case.
Of course, Mello still hated him, which was a large difficulty in itself.
This hatred was evident as Mello glowered at Near, waiting for a reply to his previous question. Near shook himself out of the customary Mello-induced reverie and thought of a suitable response.
"It is simply a Christmas gift, Mello." Yes, this was a perfect answer. Sufficiently informative, but enough was left unsaid to ensure that Mello would continue to ask searching questions.
And the more questions Mello asked, the more time was left for Near to observe and admire him.
Mello reacted according to plan. "A gift from who? We were supposed to get all of our gifts the other night." He walked closer, staring into Near's seemingly dead eyes. "What's in there, Near?"
Wait. In his scheming, Near had forgotten the nature of the gift. Now Mello was naturally going to grab the package from him and peer inside. And then, of course, he would see the underpants. Near very assuredly did not want the object of his affection surveying his underpants.
But this was all useless, as Mello did indeed seize the gift from Near's unresponsive hands. He spared a moment to scoff at the wrapping paper. "Mice? Wow, Near, very tasteful."
Only a Wammy child would use the word "tasteful" in such a circumstance, Near reflected.
Mello ripped open the paper, causing his rival to cringe. The blond boy's gaze first lit upon the socks, and Near hoped he would stop there.
"Socks? You got socks for Christmas? Figures…" However, Mello immediately noticed that there was something under the socks, and promptly pushed the first pack aside.
A wide grin stretched across his face. "This is even better! It's no surprise, Near, your underpants are just as boring as the rest of you."
Near stood there silently, all thoughts of Mello's beauty gone from his mind as he was battered with the twin feelings of irritation and embarrassment.
But somehow, he couldn't help but wonder what color Mello's underpants were…definitely not white, he was sure of that.
Oh, there were those feelings of lust again.
Mello was still talking, and Near wrenched himself out of agonizing introspection to hear "…and I'm honestly amazed that someone actually bothered to get you a gift, you sorry little bastard."
He tossed the unwrapped package back to Near, the other boy only managing to catch it by the very edge. Socks and underpants hit the floor with twin thuds, making it look like the hall had succumbed to a peculiar and localized snowfall.
Mello snorted at Near once more for good measure, watching the paler boy with a spiteful eye. He looked a bit strange….
Near's mind and body worked desperately to suppress all emotion. He couldn't let Mello see how he felt, couldn't let the other boy have an advantage here. But his embarrassment was, for once, too tangible to hide, and to his horror he felt a pink stain creeping across his pallid face.
He was blushing.
Mello noticed immediately, and his face assumed a look of utter shock. Near, the impassive and emotionless enemy, had dropped his guard.
If Mello had been a weaker man, he would have regarded Near's pink-tinged cheeks as cute. Especially with those downcast eyes…
But hey, he was above that. It was necessary to focus more on Near's lapse in defense than on his relative adorableness. Of course, Near had evidently realized his display of weakness as well, as the younger boy was now trying to creep past him.
"Leaving so soon?" asked Mello, following in the proud cliched-dialogue tradition of many cat-stroking villains before him. To add to the general aura of menace, he leaned as nonchalantly as humanly possible against the wall.
Now for the malicious expression—and yes, there it was. Perfect. God, Mello was so awesome sometimes, he amazed himself.
Near, still with his eyes lowered, quietly responded. "I really need to get to my room, Mello. Could you let me by?"
Mello switched from Intimidating Pose No. 1 to Slightly Threatening Stance No. 4 (back against wall, arms crossed, head tilted for maximum scary eye contact) and smirked, revealing remarkably cavity-free teeth. "No need to leave just yet, Near."
Near looked up at Mello again through a dense fringe of white hair, judging immediately that any chance of escape had just flown out the window. The only option, he supposed, was to talk himself out of this situation and then never, ever leave his room again. They could get the food through the window, after all, and he had enough toys to last through the proverbial Zombie Apocalypse. But that was easier said than done, as he had no idea how to distract Mello.
He had blushed. What an embarrassing, elementary mistake. Now, just look where emotion had got him. While he did enjoy getting the chance to observe Mello in all his glory, this could only end badly.
"Really, Mello. Is there something you need to say to me? I honestly must be going, if not." Maybe if he feigned ignorance of the blush, Mello would be momentarily confused.
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Mello scoffed and stared at the white-haired boy. As though he wouldn't pursue the whole "blushing" incident. This was the first time Near had displayed emotion in months, and Mello hadn't even had to walk in on him showering this time.
Not that he did that deliberately, he hastily added. If he wanted to see someone naked, it certainly wouldn't be Near. Ugly sheep-boy, he was.
Now, he had to figure out a way to show some more of that lovely emotion. If only all of those textbooks he had been immersed in of late had been a bit more focused on the psychological warfare aspect of everything…
He really should just abandon Near for the time being. Even a tiny little sliver of emotion was enough, and he desperately needed access to the chocolate stashed in his room. But he couldn't stop now, at least not without making Near feel just a bit of the humiliation the sheep-boy had inflicted upon him over the years.
Hold on a moment. Near had shown emotion recently, hadn't he? At that damn Christmas party, when they were made to kiss…he had forgotten, probably due to a desire to wipe the entire incident from his memory, but Near had blushed then. Just like he had a moment ago.
Of course. Amazing he hadn't figured it out before. Near, after avoiding people for so many years, was desperately afraid of intimacy, of touch…whatever you wanted to call it. It was only natural that someone who had no friends, pushed everyone away, would not know how to deal with the most basic of interactions.
Now, time to utterly exploit that fear. He would almost feel sorry for Near, but sheep-boy had been screwing with his brain for far too long, and that definitely merited punishment.
"Hey, Near…" his voice changed abruptly from brash and challenging to something far more attractive. Near looked at him, his eyes widening slightly but betraying no emotion. Well, that would soon change.
"Remember that party on Christmas Eve? You know, when we…kissed?" Mello drew the last word out in a positively lascivious manner. Near's eyes were glued to his face, wide with what could have been fear, anticipation, or just gas. This was Near, after all.
"Yes, Mello, I recall that." Near's voice was even quieter than usual, and completely lacking its confident air.
"Weeeelll," Mello purred, stepping closer to the pallid boy, "Would you like to, maybe…do it again?"