Wow. Just… wow. Double wow.

I looked at the reviews and saw three more, already! So I was like, hoshizz! And because of how cool they are, you get a big hug and a cookie, Mini Muffin Jenko Chan, NejiIsMineXD, and Hentai-Otaku!

Okay. Review time~

Mini Muffin Jenko Chan: x3 Yeah, I was thinking about making it a bit longer… it does seem a little rushed and sloppy. I might do a quick re-write of that chapter just to give it a bit more length.

But I'm glad you liked how I put in the M+M double comfort attempt, and I'm also glad he's in character. I'm usually making everyone act as out of character as Light would be if he skipped around picking daises and giving out free candies to criminals. ^_^

And yeah, apparently I'm good at making characters distant and rape-scene-victim-ish. ^_^

Hentai-Otaku: Oohh~ I'll have to listen to it too, then, and see how it sounds~, x3! Thanks for the review ;3

NejiIsMineXD: Ahahaha, I'm glad you liked his new look ^_^ (I liked the whole drop-glass idea, too x3)

I'm also glad you like his diary. 3 I'm just pro like that, huh? X3

The song I quote is Half Alive by Secondhand Serenade.

So: without further ado, let's get back on track! Enjoy the chapter, folks!


Chapter 4:

Of Hurt and Moonlight

Rap, rap, rap!

'Sounds like someone knocking on a door…' Near thought faintly.

RAP, RAP, RAP!

"Oh, leave me alone…" The reply was a whisper, and Near tried to roll over. He met a solid wall, and groaned softly, as the annoyingly loud knock continued, growing more frantic with each second, a voice accompanying it.

"Near! It's me, Mello! Open up!"

Near let his whereabouts trickle into his mind; he'd been coughing much too hard, and blood had dripped from his hands… he'd fallen and hit his head off the bathtub, providing his reason for blacking out (other than the blood, which now had dried at the corner of his mouth and on the floor. Shaking his head, he frowned.

"Just a minute," He called. He hurriedly cleaned up the blood and hid the cloth he'd used, washed his hands and rinsed out the sink, and then unlocked the bathroom door.

"Are you okay?" Mello asked, worried about the albino boy (even if his hair was dark now, that didn't change his nature). He had disappeared for most of the day, and he hadn't answered at first when he'd knocked on the bathroom door. It was eerily quiet…

"I am fine." Near replied monotonously, concealing what had happened. "I fell asleep in the bathroom."

Mello raised an eye; he hurriedly added, "I didn't sleep much last night, and I grew tired."

The blonde frowned and nodded, accepting (albeit grudgingly) that this was an acceptable excuse, though a very poor one.

"You can tell us if there's anything wrong, you know…"

"Understood. But there is nothing to say."

Mello frowned even more; and then, sighing, he turned to leave.

"Oh-- L wants to see you, as soon as possible, in his room."

"His… room?"

"Room, floor, whatever." Mello gave a little exasperated snort and left, clearly still worried about the other boy.

So, Near-- who promptly decided that this name was unacceptable-- put on his shoes and went to visit L.

As he went, he tried to decide on his new 'name'. He wanted something simple, but something just as tainted as he was; And he almost automatically thought of the name Nero. It was the name of a Roman Emperor that had a rather dark reputation (the deaths of his mother and brother, earning him the title of the Emperor who twiddled his thumbs as Rome burned), and yet his reign was mostly associated with extravagance and only some tyranny, including the executions of said mother and adoptive brother, and the early prosecution of Christians. Few ever portrayed him favorably, but he was said to have been popular with the Romans, especially those in the East. Nero was also a Latin name, meaning primarily "dark" or "dark-haired" boy. It was also similar to the alias he used previously; and so, Near decided to be known as Nero, though he knew that Near would never truly disappear. What he didn't know was that in his haste to destroy all evidence that such a pathetic, tainted boy had ever existed, he also ridded himself of his innocent nature, and his kind (if difficult to express) ways.

When he reached L's floor, he was surprised to see L standing there, waiting for him. Near-- no, Nero-- paused and raised an eyebrow coolly.

"Mello said you want to see me."

L nodded and gestured to the chairs; Nero glanced at them and mentally chose the armchair similar to L's usual spot. Sitting in it like a normal person, he ignored the urge to kick off his shoes and lift one of his legs onto the chair with him.

L crouched in his own chair, gazing at Nero calmly.

"Your diary was open a few days ago," He said calmly.

"I took the liberty of reading it… and I must admit that I have grown worried. I know you must not appreciate everyone asking this all the time, but I must know if you are alright."

Nero exhaled loudly through his nose, almost derisively.

"Yes. I am perfectly fine, thank you so very much for asking."

He barely believed his boldness and rude words, and it pained him to know he had just said them to L, of all people- but he knew he must retreat from contact with others, even if he didn't know why he must.

"Near, that was quite uncalled for."

"It's not Near anymore, L. It's Nero."

L blinked once, rather owlishly, and surveyed Near calmly.

"No, no it is not. I do not believe that name does you justice, and it is bad enough that you have changed your appearance so drastically. You're affected by this even more than I thought… and I will not let it continue. I will not allow you to change your name, and I demand that you wear your normal attire, as well as your usual hairstyle!"

Nero's eyes narrowed, and he glared at L as he stood.

"You will not command me to do anything, you bastard! If I'm hurting as much as you think I am, then maybe it would be smarter to try and console me instead of trying to exert power over me, especially since power is exactly the reason you called me here. An issue of strength, of power? A battle? If that's what you wanted, L, I hope you're happy- because now, that's what you have."

Nero stood and turned on his heel, leaving quietly; he didn't even slam the door. He wished he could take back those words, those horrible words, spoken in anger and defiance-- but he couldn't.

L, ashamed of himself for causing even more damage, wished the smaller male would have slammed the door.


Mello watched Near go by silently, a frown marring his features. The blonde bit the inside of his cheek, before quietly following and catching up to him.

"Near, are you-"

"It's Nero, and I'm fine."

Nero brushed off the blonde and returned to his bedroom, sitting in front of his diary. Something told him it hadn't been touched lately, other than by himself.

So, he opened the small, leather-bound book to the last page that had been written in. He wrote the date, again striving for perfection; and then he began to write. He'd simply tear the pages out later, but he had to give voice to his feelings. That's what this diary was for-- that's what L wanted.

And if L wanted him to open up to something, he'd bloody well see what Nero felt.

And then he'd be bloody sorry he'd ever asked.

He began the entry with the words:

"I'll pretend that I don't know this will be read behind my back."

And then he began to write.

I was brutally raped and beaten, and it was only a few days ago that the reality of it sank in.

I am tainted-- so I strive for perfection. Why, I do not know. I suppose I feel that if everything I do is perfect, that no one will realize that I am not.

All my life, I have been told-- over and over-- that I am not the same as those around me. I was told that I am a freak-- that I am cold-- that I am less than they are. I was told that I am less than the dirt they walk on.

And so I have learned to view myself as such, through simply having it embedded in my mind. Is it my fault? In hindsight, perhaps it was not my fault that I was told such things. But I always believed that it was my fault… my fault that I am so pathetic.

But even so, I was lulled into a sense of security that I never should have allowed myself to fall into. I let so many of my walls down…

And so it is my fault that I was surprised; that I got separated from L when I went outside with him. I should not have even left the relative safety of my floor; since when did I go outside Whammy's walls? And when did staying inside ever steer me wrong?

But there it is: I felt safe. So I went to a store with L. It was rather small, a cozy place that reminded me of the 'home' a classic tale presents you with. Nothing like mine, of course; My father was a merciless drunk and my mother was kind, but rather simple, and though she didn't know much she always tried her best despite our rather low income; she always spent a few dollars buying me books and poetry. Even though father would beat her for it, she would; eventually she stopped because she found out that father almost always burned them, sometimes before I even knew they were there. She would memorize some poems, though, and recite them to me, all the same. Those were the few times I felt safe; as she held me and told me a story or poem and rocked me to sleep. That changed, once father got out of hand. He slapped her so hard that she fell, and hit the counter with her head. There was a lot of blood; She never got up.

So father was shipped to jail, and I was transplanted to a foster home. This place seemed much more cheerful, and I had much more there. Money, books, toys, puzzles, anything I wished… I thought I should be there forever, happy. But that too was shattered- whatever walls I hadn't made by then were created when the people that took me in were ruthlessly slaughtered; I came home from elementary school to find them lying in their own blood, all three of them.

So it is rather stupid of me to have gone out, and worse, to feel safe enough to be lured away by someone with a puzzle. How did he know that I loved puzzles…?
He looked so much like Matsuda (this was a tremendously stupid mistake on my part) that at first I mistook him as such. But as soon as I realized it wasn't someone I knew, he dragged me into an alley. I can only guess that he hit me with something, for all I remember of it is pain in the back of my head and a loss of consciousness. It felt like I was swimming in a very dark sea…

I woke up and was forced to kneel on all fours; there was a shackle around my neck and I was blindfolded. The pain and humiliation I endured at his hands was more than I was able to cope with, as is no doubt visible in the many changes I've undergone in attempts to free myself of his memory-- and then, in an attempt to chain myself to it, to forever remind myself that I am not pure.

I am as black as sin-- and I therefore do not deserve to wear white. White is the color of purity, of innocence, and of possible perfection. I am none of those. I am black; black as sin. For black symbolizes pain, mourning, death, and yes, aforementioned sin. I am all of those; even if it was not my doing, but someone else's sin forced upon me, I was too pathetic and weak to attempt to stop it; and that is the sin that stains me.

And I am also impure because I cannot even avoid getting sick. I suspect that I have Tuberculosis; I coughed blood earlier, and passed out when I fell and hit my head. But none of this pain matters. It is only partially mine, now. Most of it is Near's; and by changing my name, by changing my appearance, I change who I am. I am now Nero; and so the pain shall linger in my mind as a reminder of how tainted I have become; but it shall not bother me. I shall force it down if I must: this will not conquer me.

But most of what is paining me, and will continue to do so (at least until I make it stop) has become my dreams. For weeks before, and even now, after the incident, I have dreamt of a male that I have come to love, to long for with every fiber of my being. I spoke to him rudely and it pains me to have done such a thing; but it is necessary. Isolation can be viewed as harmful to one's health… yet I bore it in Whammy's, with no lasting damage. I can do it again.

So, I shall defeat him in that his violence towards me shall not consume me with depression and pain… and I shall defeat my desire to be held close, to be loved, for love is painful, and never lasts before it is torn away; and what they say- "It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all"- it was said by someone that must never have endured the pain of losing those that you rely on, that you love. It is too painful to lose the people that you desire to keep with you forever; the people that you could never dream would leave.

And after what I have endured… love is too painful. The pain has begun to outweigh the scant traces of happiness that one may experience as a result.

Besides… There is no way that L would ever want me now.

Nero closed the diary slowly, and laid the pencil across it. There was only one thing he wanted; and that was for L to never read this newer entry.

But L would read it anyway; and in a way he longed for this outcome as well.

The dark-haired boy sighed and stood; glancing in a mirror, he wished he could go back to white- to wearing only socks, to being relatively happy, to feeling safe.

As if that would ever happen… After all, no one can change the past.


"And so, I believe that while tea without sugar is considered to be acceptable, it is really much better with at least five cu--" L stopped suddenly in the middle of his sentence to listen to something. Matt and Mello blinked, exchanged a glance, and started to listen as well; A soft voice, singing, was floating up from the floor beneath them. They had to strain to hear it, but when they did the words were clear; and the voice that uttered them- usually so very monotonous- was expressing more emotion than they had ever heard in it before; possibly more than they believed was possible.

"It's four AM, I'm waking up to your perfume

Don't get up, I'll get through, on my own

I don't know if I'm home

Or if I lost the way into your room

I'm spiraling into my doom

I'm feeling half alive but I know one day

You and I will be free,

To live and die by our own rules,

Free..

Despite the fact that men are fools…"

The speaker was obviously so in tune with the song that it hurt to sing it; and yet they sang, and the three males listened on, almost awed at what they were hearing.

"I'm almost alive, and I need you to try

And save me.

It's okay that we're dying,

But I need to survive tonight, tonight.

Well excuse me while I get killed softly,

Heart slows down and I can hardly tell you I'm okay

At least 'til yesterday,

You know you got me off my highest guard,

Believe me when I say it's hard.

We'll get through this tonight

And I know one day you and I will be free

To live and die by our own rules,

Free..

Despite the fact that men are fools.

I'm almost alive, and I need you to try

And save me.

It's okay that we're dying,

But I need to survive tonight, tonight."

L bit his lip as he listened, the raw emotion audible in the singer's voice pulling at his heart uncomfortably. He could tell that it was affecting Mello and Matt as well; and he had to force himself to keep listening. This could reveal much more than was apparent…

"And you touch my hand ever so slightly

(Girl we're not ready for this yet)

And the deadly look she cast upon me

I won't regret, I won't regret

I won't regret. I won't regret...

And I was trying to disappear,

But you got me wrapped around you

I can hardly breathe without you

I was trying to disappear

But I got lost in your eyes now,

You brought me down to size now.

I'm almost alive

And I need you to try and save me.

It's okay that we're dying

But I need to survive tonight, tonight

Tonight...

I'm almost alive, and I need you to try

And save me,

It's okay that we're dying,

But I need to survive tonight, tonight.

I need to survive tonight, tonight…"

The singer's voice choked off as the song ended, and there was silence, companied with a few soft thuds as though someone was walking and possibly a sniffle or two. L flicked his gaze away from the floor, and back to Mello and Matt, both of which were watching him curiously, if not a bit sadly.

"That was Near, wasn't it?"

L sighed and seemed downcast, for once letting his own feelings through, a bit more strongly than normal.

"Hai, Matt… that was Near. And he's been lying to us when he says he's fine. I think… I hate to think it, but… Near might be nearing the desperation that accompanies suicide cases. He is displaying many of the 'symptoms', after all... We can't rule out that possibility; nor can we forget him in the course of the Kira case."

And so the three began to speak of the boy, and how they might save him as he so blatantly pleaded for them to…


'I am so stupid. Working myself up over a song…'

"Why did I even sing it?" Near asked himself angrily, wiping his eyes furiously and moving over to his bed.

"Oh, god… L, please- please, please save me. I don't know what's happening to me anymore… This… this is starting to control me. I don't… I don't understand this pain."

Near- no longer Nero, for the effort of being a new person, of throwing it away, was too much for someone as frail as he to withstand- rolled over and sobbed into his pillow. He once more cried until his tears were gone… but this time, he didn't wish. He couldn't wish… there were no more of them left. There wasn't any hope left… just him, left floating in a dark sea, trying to swim but unable to; for there was too much weight attached to his ankles. He was handcuffed to an anvil, and the only way out was for someone to swim down with the key and free him, or give up, and let out his breath to drown…

Near dried his eyes and went into his bathroom, locking the door behind him just as someone else crept into the room.

Knowing he had little time to do it before Near might return, L quietly picked up the diary on Near's desk, and flipped to the latest entry, which spanned several pages. He made a snap decision and left the room with it, knowing he'd never finish it before Near came back; and he went to his floor.

L had been prepared to read the entry quickly; the last few had given big clues, but there was little substance to them. But the first line caught his attention and made his heart skip a beat in sympathy for the younger male, and he frowned as he re-read it before moving on. As he continued reading, his expression (unbeknownst to him) grew more and more downcast, darker and darker; which was why, when he didn't notice Matt and Mello come in at first, they stopped and watched him curiously.

When he finally finished reading the entry, L blinked in shock as he read the words "…Besides, there's no way L would ever want me now…", and an unbidden scowl came to rest upon his features.

"L, are you okay?"

L shoved the emotion off his face and looked at them, nodding slowly.

"But Near isn't. Read the first two pages of this-- the first two only, please-- and you'll understand what I mean."

Mello and Matt understood why he'd ask them not to read all of it-- clearly there were some personal issues stated in the entry. They would respect Near's privacy.

They, too, read the largest part of the entry; and they, too, were visibly saddened by sympathetic pain.

"He needs help," Mello said softly.

"You seem to have a penchant for stating the obvious, Mel," Matt said, joking half-heartedly.

"But how to help him… He seems to want to be helped, but at the same time, some of his actions and thoughts say otherwise…"

"What do you mean, L?" Mello asked, curious.

"Think about it… He's asking us, subtly, to help him. But all of his conscious actions reject you and try to push you away."

"Yeah, but we haven't seen you trying," Matt said sharply. Both of the other males looked at him almost instantly; and Matt sighed.

"I heard him say your name in his sleep, L. Several times. And while Mello and I are trying to help him… you've been doing almost nothing short of ignoring him, except for one or two minor interferences that mean nothing and only seem to prove that you're acting out of obligation. L, no offense, but the way you've been treating him pretty shitty lately if this is what you call comforting him."

L nodded, and seemed to space out.

"I can't talk to him yet. I just found out something… I know I need to act soon, but I need to think this over a bit first. I shall let you know how it goes…"

"Right… Good luck, L," Mello said softly.

L didn't reply, didn't look up, as his visitors left.

He was far too busy trying to decide how he felt about all this… and what he was willing to risk to save their little 'sheep'.

When he was interrupted by a familiar face framed by brown hair, the face of one of the top suspects of the Kira case, the moon had begun to rise and take its place in the sky.


Well, that's all for today, folks! Hope you enjoyed it-- possibly enough to press the nice button saying "review"? -winkwinknudgenudge-