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“Are you wearing mascara?” Mello questioned him, with an intrigued expression. His eyes were focused on Near. He had a lot of keychains hanging off his black bag and it was making him irritated.
He rolled his eyes after answering him, “Yes, Mello.”
“It has glitter on it and your eyeliner too.” Mello always said that his eyes were too big, that they were like an unexplored cave.
Why are you so interested, he wanted to ask, but knowing Mello and his antics it was going to end badly. They were working together after a long time, they weren’t 18 year old teenagers anymore, so with their changes and their tragedies they walked side by side, and it seemed Mello despised him a little less.
Near was wearing full makeup, but Mello didn’t notice the base, and the false eyelashes. Or at least, he didn’t comment on it. However, it wasn’t important anymore because they were after a long string of murders, something similar to what happened with the Death Note and they were going to visit a killer. A famous-notorious killer, among Wammy.
The jail was something Mello was used to. He had a lot of people who worked for him in the past inside the muddy space, and he was nervous. Nervous because the past always caught them, the past was always trying to grab him by his hair and seven years had passed since L died and with him a lot of the illusions, a lot of broken promises, the cold cases, Wammy. (Well, Wammy was alive because they had been there and plenty of students ran along the corridors). There was a new generation inside who didn’t know who had died before them, who didn’t ask why they didn’t use some alphabet letters.
In one of the prison cells, discarded, forgotten, but pristine, there was still B lurking in the shadows. His eyes were dark, mysterious, and a cold aura encompassing everyone. Near stood quietly and the metal clinked when B approached him. They had never seen B, he was a myth from L youth. Someone so brilliant, so sadistic he couldn’t live with the others. Mello sighed, but still didn’t know why they needed B’s help. He was a poor man inside a cage and his once genius mind was broken.
“The murders.” B said, clicking his tongue. Near was unfazed and Mello was annoyed at that display. He wasn’t that discarded as he thought at first. “You two are together. Congratulations.”
“We are not together. Now, start spitting what you know.” He was feeling enraged. It was the first time he had seen him, but for some reason, it felt like he had a lot of encounters. Maybe because of his obsession in the first place. B was someone who reminded him of him especifically, or at least, that was what he felt when he wrote Los Angeles note.
Near and B both mirrors of the same fucking expression because they rolled their eyes after he spoke, and he didn’t hear what Beyond said because the man was stalling and pretending to touch Near. When he peered up to see Near, he observed that his cheeks were a little pink, they had a shimmer on it. He couldn’t believe the other glamorised himself to see a serial killer.
The meeting finished. They were nothing if they weren’t practical and rational as Near wished to be. The meticulous little shit. Mello felt as he had lost the fucking time visiting, playing house with B, for some reason, it was an obsession he wished to escape and forget. However, Near thought otherwise because he had a creepy smirk on his face, and the blush he used for the day was even more reddish.
In the comfort of their home. Pause. They were living together, but they weren’t together as a couple even if Matt liked to imply the romanticism of their lives. It wasn’t like that. “You don’t know how to be casual, Mells.” He loved to say. Well. Okay. They have had sex with Near. How come he was the only one thinking about it? How come he was the only one affected by it? Near was playing Barbie with B on purpose.
He wished to grasp his long hair and see Near whimpering pathetically for him. Or strangle him. Or seeing contorted in pleasure because of him.
After they had sex for the third or fourth time, Near stood up and continued writing on the case while Mello laid on the bed with a cigarette barely lit. The smoke was condensed in the air. His partner's pale body shone during the afternoon, especially with the little pearls of sweat and he felt proud. Proud because he did that. Proud because he was fucking him.
“So, if Near starts dating someone. Would you be calm about it?” Matt questioned during one of his videogame nights. “Because he is not here tonight. He could be with anyone he desires.”
Mello paused and held the chocolate bar in his mouth, “Yes, I’d be the portrait of calmness.”
Well, Near had a type. Maybe he was thrilled to hook up with dangerous people. And maybe. Just maybe. He was a bit restless of someone daring to touch him. But he didn’t pay much attention.
The next day he saw Near, the glitter on his eyes was smushed all over his cheeks. His lips were pinkish, and he felt weird. It was hot. It was nice. But why did he do that? Why did he use makeup?
He was waking up with Matt at his side, who was grumbling something in his sleep. Near smiled a little, and got closer to him. “Good morning Mello.”
“Why are you wearing makeup?” It was the first thing he asked and Near’s expression went sour.
“Because I want to, Mello.” Near’s monotone voice was kind of frightening sometimes. “Because I am not a teenager anymore. Because I’d like to see what kind of person I could become being L, but not having to live within his shadow.” He was almost whispering, “Because I think the binary doesn’t suit me.”
Matt was smiling pathetically, and watching them. He screwed it all. He knew. “What worse timing to say that shit, Mells.”