The Love Below - Chapter Twelve
Title: The Love Below
Characters: L/Mello/Near; this chapter is Near-centric
Rating: M
Word Count: ~5,000
Spoilers: For now, Mello and Near's real names. Possibly others along the way.
Summary: Mello and Near are competing for L's title. Are they also competing for his love?
Author’s Note:
Man, its been a busy few weeks. This, coupled with my ill-timed indecisiveness about the chapter, made for a long break between updates. I can’t wait for the days that I will be able to return to my one week schedule. XD
This is another chapter with a lot going on. Some changes in the trajectory had to be made here, so it might seem like much of this is filler. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but it’s necessary regardless, so there you go. Also, I broke a lot of my own personal rules of writing in this chapter. I don’t yet know the full ramifications of doing so, I just know that it was either a really good idea or a really bad one. >.>
So yeah...enjoy? :)
***
Chapter Twelve - Waiting Game
“Never tell a young person that anything cannot be done. God may have been waiting centuries for someone ignorant enough of the impossible to do that very thing.”
- G. M. Trevelyan
Near turned eleven fresh with the optimism of youth and weary with the understanding of age. He supposed that the implementation of his new strategy accounted for his optimism. Near was sure that he’d made an impression on L at their last meeting and he had plans for other such measures in the future. The origin of Near’s weary understanding, however, was somewhat more difficult to pin down. If he was forced to guess, Near would say that it came from his last conversation with Mello.
That had been nearly three months ago, but Near still delighted in the memory of it frequently. There was something richly satisfying in the way that Near had challenged Mello. Near knew that Mello, and L, would have had no expectation of his behavior. And therein lay his strategy’s success: the best weapons contained the element of surprise.
But, as enjoyable as that day had been, Near could not help but think that it had carried with it a sense of foreboding. The competition for L was best conceived as a battle. If not actual blood, there would most likely be many tears shed during its course. Near was not naive enough to suppose that his first romance - if romance it could even be called - would be sunshine and roses at every turn.
The threat of Mello’s rivalry aside, Near knew that L was a complex and oftentimes dark individual. He carried the concerns of the world on his shoulders, sometimes more concerns than he was truly responsible for. Winning his heart would not be fun and games, burdened as it was with issues larger than sex.
Near knew his own heart, though, and it was very strongly concerned with sex. Or his pituitary gland was at least. Like Mello, Near came upon puberty early. Unlike Mello, however, Near instantly recognized his condition for what it was. He noticed that his eyes followed the older children, and that his gaze was not always at eye level. He saw his arms and legs begin to lengthen, practically overnight, and that his voice was dropping in pitch. The change was only slight, Near knew that his voice would never sound as deep as L’s, but it was apparent to his sensitive ears. These and other signs made puberty the only answer, and Near was happy for the fact. Even if Near was not yet an adult, he was clearly no longer a child. It would be one less objection L could make to them being together.
It was difficult for Near to reconcile his two contradictory states; he had never accommodated paradox with ease. At least this paradox was caused by his emotions, though, Near thought. That was comforting. Emotions weren’t supposed to make sense.
With Near’s birthday had come new classes. He was now sitting in the front row of a class titled Risk and Reward in International Espionage. It was incredibly interesting, more so than any other class Near had taken at Wammy’s so far. The teacher and students met in the library every Wednesday. There, they would spend time researching notable examples of spies and the missions they carried out before cataloguing them into an immense database. The class structure was perfectly suited to Near’s introverted, analytical personality. He was free to wander off alone and read for hours at a time, contributing to class discussions in the form of writing instead of speech.
Right now, he was studying the personal account of an Argentinean spy who had made an art of disguising himself. Using only simple, everyday clothes, the man was able to blend into any locale or social group necessary for his work. Near found the man’s use of color particularly interesting. When he was forced to appear older than he really was, the man would dress in grays, browns, and dark greens. When he needed to seem wealthy, he wore rich colors, deep blues and purples.
The colors black and white are two that I use only sparingly. White I reserve for formal, business affairs. It is a color charged with emptiness and respectability, preferable for a wide range of negotiations. Black, on the other hand, I use for only one purpose: to seduce.
Near pondered the paragraph for a moment after reading it. He had never given much thought to his clothing. He’d always worn whatever was available and in the correct size. Other children sometimes requested special items, but Near had never felt the urge to do so himself. Perhaps there was more to the practice of dressing than he had originally supposed...
“Class,” the teacher called. “It is time for you to record the data you’ve collected. After you’ve done so at your terminals, you are all dismissed.”
Near had chosen to read right next to his terminal, as it was more efficient than reading between the bookshelves and then searching for a free computer along with the rest of the class when time was called. He therefore was able to enter his findings quickly and then leave the library, not having to wade through a crowd of other students.
On his way back to his room, Near’s mind turned itself to L - an all too common subject these days. After he had given L that kiss at their last meeting, Near had expected L to call him back for a private meeting soon afterward. Near thought that it would take L no more than a few days to speak to him and give the answer Near had predicted: a gentle, firm “no.”
But L hadn’t met with him within those few days. A week, then a month, went by without word. Even now, three months later, Near had received no summons, no hint of any desire on L’s part to discuss the kiss with him.
Near could make neither heads nor tails of L’s silence. If he was going to say no, why didn’t he just say it? Near saw no point in drawing out a negative response. And if L was going to say yes - in Near’s estimation, a nearly impossible response - why would he wait to say that too?
Near wished L would just do something already. His plan could progress no further without L’s answer. All of these feelings he had to deal with were frustrating, but at least the frustration could be managed with premeditated action. The way it was now, Near could only sit around and wait. And waiting was Near’s all-time least favorite activity.
This was the way the last three months should have gone: Near would meet with L at L’s request, in a place that was private but still within the bounds of decency. L would tell Near that he was too young, too entrenched in L’s authority, too caught up in the competition for a sexual relationship to exist between them. Near would listen to L’s (no doubt well-rehearsed) speech and accept his decision with marked maturity. Then, when the next meeting came around, Near would continue his routine of warm and engaging interaction. Only this time around, L would see the thoughtful, respectable strategy behind it. L would be charmed by Near’s sophistication.
Near thought it was wonderful plan. Simple, easy, and low-risk. It was a plan that was sure to beat the pants off of Mello’s, at any rate.
But L was stopping it from happening! More than a few times, Near wondered if L had actually foreseen all of his schemes and was twiddling his thumbs on purpose.
But that was ridiculous. If L had a mind to halt Near’s progress, the best thing for him to do, strategically, was speak the plan out loud to Near himself. That way, Near would know that L was wise to him and he would be forced to come up with an alternative. L was doing something else entirely, thought Near, and damned if the man could give him a clue about what that something was.
Safely returned to his room, Near resolved to put the matter out of his mind. All of his contemplation did nothing productive in the end. L would do what L would do, and that was it. There were some things that were better left unconsidered, and this was one of them.
Then Near spotted the note on the floor. It was from L.
Near simply stared at the note for a moment, taking the time to wryly consider why the man always had to take him by surprise. Then he turned right around, passed through his bedroom door once again, and went to find him.
***
“L?” Near called, stepping into the room. “You wanted to see me?”
Near had found him in the kitchen, of all places. L hadn’t seen fit to specify where Near was to meet him and it was only through a bit of intensive deduction that Near had avoided searching the whole mansion.
The kitchen was brightly lit and sparkling clean. There was no formal table or chairs, as meals were always served in the adjacent dining room. There was, however, a pair of stools next to an island in the center.
L was sitting on the top of one stool, an almost obscene amount of strawberry shortcake in front of him. His fork was poised thoughtfully above one of the largest strawberries scattered over the top. Near managed to curse Mello’s intelligence in the back of his mind when he came upon the scene. Mello thought Near understood L? No one’s expression was more inscrutable than L’s was at that moment. Near couldn’t have understood what he was thinking if his life had depended on it.
L looked up from his cake when Near spoke, dropping his fork jerkily.
L was nervous? He couldn’t be...Near had just startled him.
“Near,” said L. He pulled the stool next to him back from the counter. “Please, sit.”
On his way to the seat, Near had to remind himself not to twirl his hair. Hair-twirling was an aspect of the old Near. The new Near was different. He had to be mature. Poised.
The stool cushion was soft and smooth underneath him, the counter only a bit higher than was comfortable for someone his height. Near was disappointed to discover that he couldn’t see L’s face. All he could manage from his current position was L’s profile, and that was obscured by L’s untamable hair.
“I know you don’t have much of a liking for sweet things-”
With the notable exception of you.
“-but for the sake of courtesy: would you care for a piece?” L asked, indicating his cake.
Near shook his head, his thoughts taking on an uncharacteristically asinine quality. There was only one fork...
L let out a cynical, half-broken laugh. “You had so much to say at our last meeting. Now you are silent?”
Near had to speak then. “I assumed you called me here because you wanted to do the talking this time around.” he said.
L turned his head, meeting Near’s frank stare with one of his own. Near could tell that L was focusing all of his attention on Near at that moment. His pupils darted from side to side rapidly, as though he was searching for something.
“You assumed I would reject you.” L said suddenly, as if he had only then come to the realization. The statement was not a question.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, Near reflected that this was probably the moment where he was supposed to forget how to breathe. He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he and L just stared at each other, both still breathing evenly.
They stayed like that for a few heartbeats. Then, suddenly, L turned back to his cake.
“Please don’t misunderstand,” he said. “I don’t mean to say yes.”
Near came back to himself. Of course L wasn’t going to accept. Not now, anyway. He had known that. Of course.
L poked at the cake moodily with his fork. Speaking more to it than to Near, he muttered, “I didn’t call you here to ravish you on this countertop.”
Did L have to be so explicit? The last time Near checked, the kitchen was still public space. Didn’t he worry about others overhearing?
And didn’t he have any consideration for the images that last sentence would conjure? Near thought viciously.
L didn’t meet Near’s eyes after that declaration, instead stuffing an oversized forkful of cake and icing into his mouth.
Near waited through the gratuitous chewing. L and that mouth.
“I just didn’t think that you had expected me to refuse you,” said L. He took a few breaths in and out before continuing. “Why would you do everything that you did if you didn’t expect success?”
Near pulled his lips up into a smile. “I do expect success,” he said. “Why do you assume I expect it now?”
L watched him for a second, then chuckled lowly. “You’re right of course,” he said. “That assumption had no basis. My mistake.”
Near laughed along with him. L was such a wonderful person. All at once, he was the proudest and most humble being Near had ever known.
The two of them settled down again, eventually, sighing lightly. There were so few times when Near could just be with L. It was nice to just sit and enjoy his company without Mello or the competition in the way.
“I am fond of you Near,” L said later. “Truly. And you don’t have to be anything but what you are for that to be so.”
This time, Near really did stop breathing.
“But you...with Mello, you...I thought...” he stammered.
L turned to face him again.
“I know what you were trying to do,” he said softly. “But it wasn’t necessary. Mello’s emotionality and openness are interesting to me, yes. But that doesn’t mean that you are not. You have qualities that Mello will never have, just as Mello has qualities that you never will. Mello is Mello and you are you.”
Near was stunned. He was mortified to find that he felt like crying.
L had given Near something so precious. Something Near never even knew he wanted. And he had done it so quickly, so simply. As if the idea of Near’s worth should have been self-evident.
“Don’t ever change yourself on someone else’s account.” L said. “The risks are never worth the rewards.”
It was only through sheer force of will that Near kept the tears welling in his eyes from falling. What was this? A few words and L turned Near - Near himself! - into a sniffling maiden?
Did L know what he was doing? This talk wasn’t deterring Near from his goal. If anything, it was motivating him further in the pursuit. Near’s head filled with wild visions of he and L five, ten years from now, sitting together in a kitchen just like this one, talking quietly together just as they were now. Near saw L’s arm looped around his waist, Near’s own head resting on L’s shoulder. He saw L turn and drop a kiss on his crown, the gesture comfortable and casually intimate, like he had done it everyday for years. It seemed such a beautiful picture...
“L?” he asked.
“Yes?” replied L, raising his eyebrows.
“Do you wonder if I’m just acting? If I’m just doing all this for the competition? To get ahead?”
L smiled gently. Then he said, simply, “no.”
“Why not?” Near asked. “How do you know?”
Still smiling, L shook his head. “Near, I’ve known you for years. I think I can safely say that it’s not your style,” he said.
Near smiled back. He knew he could trust L to understand.
It wasn’t until Near was back inside his bedroom that he realized L had never explained why he’d waited so long to talk. A person didn’t put off a conversation for three whole months for no reason, after all. But Near still had no idea what L could have gained by doing so.
When he slid into bed that night, the question was still nagging at him. Near began to go over the meeting inside his head, using his powerful memory to replay the discussion verbatim. With careful attention, Near saw that there were certain aspects of L’s behavior that stood out. The dejected, almost sullen way he’d been eating his cake. The way he’d looked into Near’s eyes intensely. The way he’d appeared to be fighting himself at times.
Near realized that there actually was an explanation for the wait.
It was one that was both incredible and enchanting to consider.
***
After their talk in the kitchen, Near didn’t see L for a week. Six days, twelve hours and thirty-four minutes. Near didn’t even have the willpower to deny that he was counting. He could now understand why so many people sacrificed so much for relationships. Stories like Romeo and Juliet had always made Near sneer derisively, but now he could see the truth in them. Relationships were powerful things. Near wasn’t even in a relationship and he knew he would sacrifice a lot for L. If L asked him to stop playing with toys in return for a single kiss, Near would have done so, gladly. And he would have considered the price a pittance.
Then, on the seventh day, during his Cryptography class, Mello planted himself in front of Near’s desk.
Near gave a mental sigh. Cryptography was a class he and Mello shared this semester. They’d taken it at L’s own request, in fact. But the class wasn’t going well so far. Near and Mello spent more time attempting to show each other up than learning the subject. More than a few times, their instructor had ended class simply on account of their bickering.
Mello looked...different. His blond hair was brushed neatly behind his ears, the ends brushing his shoulders, his bangs lying flat against his forehead. There was a new sharpness to his eyes...was Mello wearing eyeliner?
And his clothes! Instead of the t-shirt and jeans Mello normally wore, today he was covered head to toe in a thin, smooth material. It clung to his shoulders, torso, waist, hips, and thighs. Only the ends of his pants and the bell sleeves of his long shirt flared away Mello’s body. Everything was solid black.
“Can I help you, Mello?” asked Near, with false solicitousness.
Mello examined his nails. They were black as well, presumably painted to match his outfit.
Mello was so vain.
“To do that,” he said, not deigning to look at Near. “you ought to just jump off the Royal Victoria and have done.”
“You’re right, Mello.” agreed Near. “My death would be convenient for you. Then, L might just give you the title. He would then, of course, be too distraught with grief to do anything wise.”
Mello dropped his hand onto Near’s desk, making a sharp cracking sound.
“Roger says L wants to see us. Now shut up and come with me.”
Ah, thought Near. Wonderful, another meeting. He hastily packed his books away and followed Mello out of the classroom.
They took the usual route to L’s office upstairs. Neither of them spoke on the way there. Occasionally, Mello would shoot a poisonous look at Near and Near would smile serenely back at him, knowing it provoked him more than any insult could.
When they entered, Near found that L was not in his usual place behind his desk. He was instead standing at a window, his back turned toward the glass.
So L got a full-on, complete view of Mello the second that he walked in the door.
It was difficult to gauge his reaction. After taking a single look at Mello’s appearance, L spun around to face the window.
“Hello, boys,” L said, talking to the panes of glass in front of him. Near noticed that he was slouching more than normal. “Take your seats, please.”
Near sat down in his usual chair in front of the desk, but Mello walked right past, coming to stand next to L at the window.
“L?” he asked. When L turned to look at him, Mello ducked his head shyly, his hair falling into his downcast eyes.
With a small smile, Mello reached into the messenger bag at his hip, something Near hadn’t noticed before. From it he pulled a palm-sized plastic container, holding what looked like four chocolate-covered strawberries.
“I got these for you,” said Mello timidly. He looked up at L from under his eyelashes. “They’re supposed to be really good.”
Near was dumbfounded. Mello wasn’t shy. He was the farthest thing from! And then Near saw it: Mello was showing L something new, a different side of his personality to catch his interest.
Mello was ripping off Near's strategy!
Near seethed as he watched Mello push the strawberries into L’s hand, his fingers lingering unreasonably on L’s as he did. Then Mello flounced to his chair, sparing a moment to smirk triumphantly at Near on the way. More clearly than if he had spoken the words, his expression said, take that.
L remained where he was, staring at the strawberries in disbelief. He finally sighed and moved to place them on the corner of his desk. “Thank you, Mello,” he said stiffly.
“Now.” said L resolutely. He took a deep breath, facing the two of them. “For today, we are going to see what you’ve learned so far in the class I asked you to take this term.”
Near cringed inwardly. Cryptography was the one class he was sure to be failing right now. From the way that Mello was biting his lip, Near had an idea that the same was true for him as well.
“I would like you both to decode these two letters.” L said. He handed the two of them identical sheets of paper, each one covered in miniscule symbols.
“You have three minutes,” L told them. Then he sat on the edge of his desk, feet pulled to his chest and toes curled against the edge, to wait.
Staring at the obscure symbols in front of him, Near thought it was probably a waste of time to even try. He could reason through a third of the letter, possibly, with the few basics he’d learned. Everything else would be completely outside of his ability.
He chanced a quick peek to his right. Mello was gawking at his own paper, his kohl-rimmed eyes bugging in confusion.
This was terrible. L would know instantly what was going on, and he would not be pleased about Mello and Near’s lack of focus. And what could Near say? I’m sorry L, but I just can’t concentrate in class when my rival for your attentions in the same room?
Near only had enough time to scribble down a few of the words that he could decipher before L said the three minutes were up. He and Mello guiltily handed him their papers, each trying as hard as they could to avoid meeting his eyes.
L scanned the sheets cursorily, obviously seeing their abysmal performance quickly. Near steeled himself for the inevitable rebuke.
Then he heard L’s voice. “Why?”
“L, I’m sorry!” cried Mello. “Cryptography is the class I have with Near, and he never lets me pay attention!”
“I never let you pay attention?” Near challenged. “You never let me! L, Mello is always shouting or stomping -”
“You never stop arguing!”
“- or stealing my workbooks -”
“- or making snide remarks -”
“- or interrupting my answers -”
“- or sabotaging mine -”
“Enough.” L said.
Near and Mello shut up.
“I didn’t ask why you did poorly on the assignment. What I meant was...why.”
L looked at the two of them. When his words came, they sounded strangely desperate. “Why are you both so fascinated by me? Why would your rivalry for me be enough to halt your education? Who am I? What have I done? What have I done to make you feel this way?”
L gave a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping at the end of it. “Why?”
Near didn’t know what to say. There were a million reasons why he felt the way that he did about L. He was L. But none of Near’s reasons seemed adequate in words.
Finally, Mello spoke up, for both of them. “We just do, L. Not everything has a reason.” he said meekly. “We just do.”
L studied him for a moment. Then he turned his face to the window.
Mello got out of his chair and went to stand beside him. He reached up and put his arms around L’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Near left his chair as well, coming to join him. His arms were a bit shorter than Mello’s, but he managed to wrap them around L all the same.
“L,” Mello said, his face buried in L’s shoulder. “Do you feel anything? Anything at all? For either of us?”
L didn’t respond. His arms remained at his sides, his gaze still on the world beyond his window.
Near heard Mello sigh next to him.
The three of them remained in that position for some time, listening to each other breathe, before L shrugged out of their hold. He returned to his earlier position at the window.
“I don’t think anything more can be done today.” he said. “You both may go. I need to...I need to be alone.”
Near and Mello nodded and gathered their things. They left as quietly as they could.
***
Later that night, Near found himself alone in the dining room with Mello. All the other students had eaten earlier, and he and Mello were the only two left.
They hadn’t argued, but they hadn’t talked civilly either. That dinner was spent in silence.
Near was poking listlessly at his potatoes when he heard the door creak open.
Mello gasped.
L was shuffling into the room, his eyes on the floor as he moved. His hands were deep in his jeans pockets. When he came the edge of the table, he pulled one of them out and rubbed the molding absently.
“We need to talk,” he said.
***
I’m sorry, I’m sorry! *dodges bullets*
I hate cliffhangers as much as you do, honestly. And not just when I’m reading - I hate them when I’m writing too. My friends have listened to me rant about them enough to know that I’m telling the truth when I say that. There really wasn’t any other way for me to end the chapter. *hides again*
Anyway, in atonement, I’m hoping I can get the next chapter out in much less time than it took me to write this one. Whereas this chapter was oftentimes a huge, terrifying blank in my mind, I know EXACTLY what will happen in the next one. So it should be easier. :)
As always, I’d love to know what you thought. It always makes me smile when a reader takes the time to let me know their opinions. :) See you next chapter!
Characters: L/Mello/Near; this chapter is Near-centric
Rating: M
Word Count: ~5,000
Spoilers: For now, Mello and Near's real names. Possibly others along the way.
Summary: Mello and Near are competing for L's title. Are they also competing for his love?
Author’s Note:
Man, its been a busy few weeks. This, coupled with my ill-timed indecisiveness about the chapter, made for a long break between updates. I can’t wait for the days that I will be able to return to my one week schedule. XD
This is another chapter with a lot going on. Some changes in the trajectory had to be made here, so it might seem like much of this is filler. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but it’s necessary regardless, so there you go. Also, I broke a lot of my own personal rules of writing in this chapter. I don’t yet know the full ramifications of doing so, I just know that it was either a really good idea or a really bad one. >.>
So yeah...enjoy? :)
***
Chapter Twelve - Waiting Game
“Never tell a young person that anything cannot be done. God may have been waiting centuries for someone ignorant enough of the impossible to do that very thing.”
- G. M. Trevelyan
Near turned eleven fresh with the optimism of youth and weary with the understanding of age. He supposed that the implementation of his new strategy accounted for his optimism. Near was sure that he’d made an impression on L at their last meeting and he had plans for other such measures in the future. The origin of Near’s weary understanding, however, was somewhat more difficult to pin down. If he was forced to guess, Near would say that it came from his last conversation with Mello.
That had been nearly three months ago, but Near still delighted in the memory of it frequently. There was something richly satisfying in the way that Near had challenged Mello. Near knew that Mello, and L, would have had no expectation of his behavior. And therein lay his strategy’s success: the best weapons contained the element of surprise.
But, as enjoyable as that day had been, Near could not help but think that it had carried with it a sense of foreboding. The competition for L was best conceived as a battle. If not actual blood, there would most likely be many tears shed during its course. Near was not naive enough to suppose that his first romance - if romance it could even be called - would be sunshine and roses at every turn.
The threat of Mello’s rivalry aside, Near knew that L was a complex and oftentimes dark individual. He carried the concerns of the world on his shoulders, sometimes more concerns than he was truly responsible for. Winning his heart would not be fun and games, burdened as it was with issues larger than sex.
Near knew his own heart, though, and it was very strongly concerned with sex. Or his pituitary gland was at least. Like Mello, Near came upon puberty early. Unlike Mello, however, Near instantly recognized his condition for what it was. He noticed that his eyes followed the older children, and that his gaze was not always at eye level. He saw his arms and legs begin to lengthen, practically overnight, and that his voice was dropping in pitch. The change was only slight, Near knew that his voice would never sound as deep as L’s, but it was apparent to his sensitive ears. These and other signs made puberty the only answer, and Near was happy for the fact. Even if Near was not yet an adult, he was clearly no longer a child. It would be one less objection L could make to them being together.
It was difficult for Near to reconcile his two contradictory states; he had never accommodated paradox with ease. At least this paradox was caused by his emotions, though, Near thought. That was comforting. Emotions weren’t supposed to make sense.
With Near’s birthday had come new classes. He was now sitting in the front row of a class titled Risk and Reward in International Espionage. It was incredibly interesting, more so than any other class Near had taken at Wammy’s so far. The teacher and students met in the library every Wednesday. There, they would spend time researching notable examples of spies and the missions they carried out before cataloguing them into an immense database. The class structure was perfectly suited to Near’s introverted, analytical personality. He was free to wander off alone and read for hours at a time, contributing to class discussions in the form of writing instead of speech.
Right now, he was studying the personal account of an Argentinean spy who had made an art of disguising himself. Using only simple, everyday clothes, the man was able to blend into any locale or social group necessary for his work. Near found the man’s use of color particularly interesting. When he was forced to appear older than he really was, the man would dress in grays, browns, and dark greens. When he needed to seem wealthy, he wore rich colors, deep blues and purples.
The colors black and white are two that I use only sparingly. White I reserve for formal, business affairs. It is a color charged with emptiness and respectability, preferable for a wide range of negotiations. Black, on the other hand, I use for only one purpose: to seduce.
Near pondered the paragraph for a moment after reading it. He had never given much thought to his clothing. He’d always worn whatever was available and in the correct size. Other children sometimes requested special items, but Near had never felt the urge to do so himself. Perhaps there was more to the practice of dressing than he had originally supposed...
“Class,” the teacher called. “It is time for you to record the data you’ve collected. After you’ve done so at your terminals, you are all dismissed.”
Near had chosen to read right next to his terminal, as it was more efficient than reading between the bookshelves and then searching for a free computer along with the rest of the class when time was called. He therefore was able to enter his findings quickly and then leave the library, not having to wade through a crowd of other students.
On his way back to his room, Near’s mind turned itself to L - an all too common subject these days. After he had given L that kiss at their last meeting, Near had expected L to call him back for a private meeting soon afterward. Near thought that it would take L no more than a few days to speak to him and give the answer Near had predicted: a gentle, firm “no.”
But L hadn’t met with him within those few days. A week, then a month, went by without word. Even now, three months later, Near had received no summons, no hint of any desire on L’s part to discuss the kiss with him.
Near could make neither heads nor tails of L’s silence. If he was going to say no, why didn’t he just say it? Near saw no point in drawing out a negative response. And if L was going to say yes - in Near’s estimation, a nearly impossible response - why would he wait to say that too?
Near wished L would just do something already. His plan could progress no further without L’s answer. All of these feelings he had to deal with were frustrating, but at least the frustration could be managed with premeditated action. The way it was now, Near could only sit around and wait. And waiting was Near’s all-time least favorite activity.
This was the way the last three months should have gone: Near would meet with L at L’s request, in a place that was private but still within the bounds of decency. L would tell Near that he was too young, too entrenched in L’s authority, too caught up in the competition for a sexual relationship to exist between them. Near would listen to L’s (no doubt well-rehearsed) speech and accept his decision with marked maturity. Then, when the next meeting came around, Near would continue his routine of warm and engaging interaction. Only this time around, L would see the thoughtful, respectable strategy behind it. L would be charmed by Near’s sophistication.
Near thought it was wonderful plan. Simple, easy, and low-risk. It was a plan that was sure to beat the pants off of Mello’s, at any rate.
But L was stopping it from happening! More than a few times, Near wondered if L had actually foreseen all of his schemes and was twiddling his thumbs on purpose.
But that was ridiculous. If L had a mind to halt Near’s progress, the best thing for him to do, strategically, was speak the plan out loud to Near himself. That way, Near would know that L was wise to him and he would be forced to come up with an alternative. L was doing something else entirely, thought Near, and damned if the man could give him a clue about what that something was.
Safely returned to his room, Near resolved to put the matter out of his mind. All of his contemplation did nothing productive in the end. L would do what L would do, and that was it. There were some things that were better left unconsidered, and this was one of them.
Then Near spotted the note on the floor. It was from L.
Near simply stared at the note for a moment, taking the time to wryly consider why the man always had to take him by surprise. Then he turned right around, passed through his bedroom door once again, and went to find him.
***
“L?” Near called, stepping into the room. “You wanted to see me?”
Near had found him in the kitchen, of all places. L hadn’t seen fit to specify where Near was to meet him and it was only through a bit of intensive deduction that Near had avoided searching the whole mansion.
The kitchen was brightly lit and sparkling clean. There was no formal table or chairs, as meals were always served in the adjacent dining room. There was, however, a pair of stools next to an island in the center.
L was sitting on the top of one stool, an almost obscene amount of strawberry shortcake in front of him. His fork was poised thoughtfully above one of the largest strawberries scattered over the top. Near managed to curse Mello’s intelligence in the back of his mind when he came upon the scene. Mello thought Near understood L? No one’s expression was more inscrutable than L’s was at that moment. Near couldn’t have understood what he was thinking if his life had depended on it.
L looked up from his cake when Near spoke, dropping his fork jerkily.
L was nervous? He couldn’t be...Near had just startled him.
“Near,” said L. He pulled the stool next to him back from the counter. “Please, sit.”
On his way to the seat, Near had to remind himself not to twirl his hair. Hair-twirling was an aspect of the old Near. The new Near was different. He had to be mature. Poised.
The stool cushion was soft and smooth underneath him, the counter only a bit higher than was comfortable for someone his height. Near was disappointed to discover that he couldn’t see L’s face. All he could manage from his current position was L’s profile, and that was obscured by L’s untamable hair.
“I know you don’t have much of a liking for sweet things-”
With the notable exception of you.
“-but for the sake of courtesy: would you care for a piece?” L asked, indicating his cake.
Near shook his head, his thoughts taking on an uncharacteristically asinine quality. There was only one fork...
L let out a cynical, half-broken laugh. “You had so much to say at our last meeting. Now you are silent?”
Near had to speak then. “I assumed you called me here because you wanted to do the talking this time around.” he said.
L turned his head, meeting Near’s frank stare with one of his own. Near could tell that L was focusing all of his attention on Near at that moment. His pupils darted from side to side rapidly, as though he was searching for something.
“You assumed I would reject you.” L said suddenly, as if he had only then come to the realization. The statement was not a question.
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, Near reflected that this was probably the moment where he was supposed to forget how to breathe. He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he and L just stared at each other, both still breathing evenly.
They stayed like that for a few heartbeats. Then, suddenly, L turned back to his cake.
“Please don’t misunderstand,” he said. “I don’t mean to say yes.”
Near came back to himself. Of course L wasn’t going to accept. Not now, anyway. He had known that. Of course.
L poked at the cake moodily with his fork. Speaking more to it than to Near, he muttered, “I didn’t call you here to ravish you on this countertop.”
Did L have to be so explicit? The last time Near checked, the kitchen was still public space. Didn’t he worry about others overhearing?
And didn’t he have any consideration for the images that last sentence would conjure? Near thought viciously.
L didn’t meet Near’s eyes after that declaration, instead stuffing an oversized forkful of cake and icing into his mouth.
Near waited through the gratuitous chewing. L and that mouth.
“I just didn’t think that you had expected me to refuse you,” said L. He took a few breaths in and out before continuing. “Why would you do everything that you did if you didn’t expect success?”
Near pulled his lips up into a smile. “I do expect success,” he said. “Why do you assume I expect it now?”
L watched him for a second, then chuckled lowly. “You’re right of course,” he said. “That assumption had no basis. My mistake.”
Near laughed along with him. L was such a wonderful person. All at once, he was the proudest and most humble being Near had ever known.
The two of them settled down again, eventually, sighing lightly. There were so few times when Near could just be with L. It was nice to just sit and enjoy his company without Mello or the competition in the way.
“I am fond of you Near,” L said later. “Truly. And you don’t have to be anything but what you are for that to be so.”
This time, Near really did stop breathing.
“But you...with Mello, you...I thought...” he stammered.
L turned to face him again.
“I know what you were trying to do,” he said softly. “But it wasn’t necessary. Mello’s emotionality and openness are interesting to me, yes. But that doesn’t mean that you are not. You have qualities that Mello will never have, just as Mello has qualities that you never will. Mello is Mello and you are you.”
Near was stunned. He was mortified to find that he felt like crying.
L had given Near something so precious. Something Near never even knew he wanted. And he had done it so quickly, so simply. As if the idea of Near’s worth should have been self-evident.
“Don’t ever change yourself on someone else’s account.” L said. “The risks are never worth the rewards.”
It was only through sheer force of will that Near kept the tears welling in his eyes from falling. What was this? A few words and L turned Near - Near himself! - into a sniffling maiden?
Did L know what he was doing? This talk wasn’t deterring Near from his goal. If anything, it was motivating him further in the pursuit. Near’s head filled with wild visions of he and L five, ten years from now, sitting together in a kitchen just like this one, talking quietly together just as they were now. Near saw L’s arm looped around his waist, Near’s own head resting on L’s shoulder. He saw L turn and drop a kiss on his crown, the gesture comfortable and casually intimate, like he had done it everyday for years. It seemed such a beautiful picture...
“L?” he asked.
“Yes?” replied L, raising his eyebrows.
“Do you wonder if I’m just acting? If I’m just doing all this for the competition? To get ahead?”
L smiled gently. Then he said, simply, “no.”
“Why not?” Near asked. “How do you know?”
Still smiling, L shook his head. “Near, I’ve known you for years. I think I can safely say that it’s not your style,” he said.
Near smiled back. He knew he could trust L to understand.
It wasn’t until Near was back inside his bedroom that he realized L had never explained why he’d waited so long to talk. A person didn’t put off a conversation for three whole months for no reason, after all. But Near still had no idea what L could have gained by doing so.
When he slid into bed that night, the question was still nagging at him. Near began to go over the meeting inside his head, using his powerful memory to replay the discussion verbatim. With careful attention, Near saw that there were certain aspects of L’s behavior that stood out. The dejected, almost sullen way he’d been eating his cake. The way he’d looked into Near’s eyes intensely. The way he’d appeared to be fighting himself at times.
Near realized that there actually was an explanation for the wait.
It was one that was both incredible and enchanting to consider.
***
After their talk in the kitchen, Near didn’t see L for a week. Six days, twelve hours and thirty-four minutes. Near didn’t even have the willpower to deny that he was counting. He could now understand why so many people sacrificed so much for relationships. Stories like Romeo and Juliet had always made Near sneer derisively, but now he could see the truth in them. Relationships were powerful things. Near wasn’t even in a relationship and he knew he would sacrifice a lot for L. If L asked him to stop playing with toys in return for a single kiss, Near would have done so, gladly. And he would have considered the price a pittance.
Then, on the seventh day, during his Cryptography class, Mello planted himself in front of Near’s desk.
Near gave a mental sigh. Cryptography was a class he and Mello shared this semester. They’d taken it at L’s own request, in fact. But the class wasn’t going well so far. Near and Mello spent more time attempting to show each other up than learning the subject. More than a few times, their instructor had ended class simply on account of their bickering.
Mello looked...different. His blond hair was brushed neatly behind his ears, the ends brushing his shoulders, his bangs lying flat against his forehead. There was a new sharpness to his eyes...was Mello wearing eyeliner?
And his clothes! Instead of the t-shirt and jeans Mello normally wore, today he was covered head to toe in a thin, smooth material. It clung to his shoulders, torso, waist, hips, and thighs. Only the ends of his pants and the bell sleeves of his long shirt flared away Mello’s body. Everything was solid black.
“Can I help you, Mello?” asked Near, with false solicitousness.
Mello examined his nails. They were black as well, presumably painted to match his outfit.
Mello was so vain.
“To do that,” he said, not deigning to look at Near. “you ought to just jump off the Royal Victoria and have done.”
“You’re right, Mello.” agreed Near. “My death would be convenient for you. Then, L might just give you the title. He would then, of course, be too distraught with grief to do anything wise.”
Mello dropped his hand onto Near’s desk, making a sharp cracking sound.
“Roger says L wants to see us. Now shut up and come with me.”
Ah, thought Near. Wonderful, another meeting. He hastily packed his books away and followed Mello out of the classroom.
They took the usual route to L’s office upstairs. Neither of them spoke on the way there. Occasionally, Mello would shoot a poisonous look at Near and Near would smile serenely back at him, knowing it provoked him more than any insult could.
When they entered, Near found that L was not in his usual place behind his desk. He was instead standing at a window, his back turned toward the glass.
So L got a full-on, complete view of Mello the second that he walked in the door.
It was difficult to gauge his reaction. After taking a single look at Mello’s appearance, L spun around to face the window.
“Hello, boys,” L said, talking to the panes of glass in front of him. Near noticed that he was slouching more than normal. “Take your seats, please.”
Near sat down in his usual chair in front of the desk, but Mello walked right past, coming to stand next to L at the window.
“L?” he asked. When L turned to look at him, Mello ducked his head shyly, his hair falling into his downcast eyes.
With a small smile, Mello reached into the messenger bag at his hip, something Near hadn’t noticed before. From it he pulled a palm-sized plastic container, holding what looked like four chocolate-covered strawberries.
“I got these for you,” said Mello timidly. He looked up at L from under his eyelashes. “They’re supposed to be really good.”
Near was dumbfounded. Mello wasn’t shy. He was the farthest thing from! And then Near saw it: Mello was showing L something new, a different side of his personality to catch his interest.
Mello was ripping off Near's strategy!
Near seethed as he watched Mello push the strawberries into L’s hand, his fingers lingering unreasonably on L’s as he did. Then Mello flounced to his chair, sparing a moment to smirk triumphantly at Near on the way. More clearly than if he had spoken the words, his expression said, take that.
L remained where he was, staring at the strawberries in disbelief. He finally sighed and moved to place them on the corner of his desk. “Thank you, Mello,” he said stiffly.
“Now.” said L resolutely. He took a deep breath, facing the two of them. “For today, we are going to see what you’ve learned so far in the class I asked you to take this term.”
Near cringed inwardly. Cryptography was the one class he was sure to be failing right now. From the way that Mello was biting his lip, Near had an idea that the same was true for him as well.
“I would like you both to decode these two letters.” L said. He handed the two of them identical sheets of paper, each one covered in miniscule symbols.
“You have three minutes,” L told them. Then he sat on the edge of his desk, feet pulled to his chest and toes curled against the edge, to wait.
Staring at the obscure symbols in front of him, Near thought it was probably a waste of time to even try. He could reason through a third of the letter, possibly, with the few basics he’d learned. Everything else would be completely outside of his ability.
He chanced a quick peek to his right. Mello was gawking at his own paper, his kohl-rimmed eyes bugging in confusion.
This was terrible. L would know instantly what was going on, and he would not be pleased about Mello and Near’s lack of focus. And what could Near say? I’m sorry L, but I just can’t concentrate in class when my rival for your attentions in the same room?
Near only had enough time to scribble down a few of the words that he could decipher before L said the three minutes were up. He and Mello guiltily handed him their papers, each trying as hard as they could to avoid meeting his eyes.
L scanned the sheets cursorily, obviously seeing their abysmal performance quickly. Near steeled himself for the inevitable rebuke.
Then he heard L’s voice. “Why?”
“L, I’m sorry!” cried Mello. “Cryptography is the class I have with Near, and he never lets me pay attention!”
“I never let you pay attention?” Near challenged. “You never let me! L, Mello is always shouting or stomping -”
“You never stop arguing!”
“- or stealing my workbooks -”
“- or making snide remarks -”
“- or interrupting my answers -”
“- or sabotaging mine -”
“Enough.” L said.
Near and Mello shut up.
“I didn’t ask why you did poorly on the assignment. What I meant was...why.”
L looked at the two of them. When his words came, they sounded strangely desperate. “Why are you both so fascinated by me? Why would your rivalry for me be enough to halt your education? Who am I? What have I done? What have I done to make you feel this way?”
L gave a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping at the end of it. “Why?”
Near didn’t know what to say. There were a million reasons why he felt the way that he did about L. He was L. But none of Near’s reasons seemed adequate in words.
Finally, Mello spoke up, for both of them. “We just do, L. Not everything has a reason.” he said meekly. “We just do.”
L studied him for a moment. Then he turned his face to the window.
Mello got out of his chair and went to stand beside him. He reached up and put his arms around L’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Near left his chair as well, coming to join him. His arms were a bit shorter than Mello’s, but he managed to wrap them around L all the same.
“L,” Mello said, his face buried in L’s shoulder. “Do you feel anything? Anything at all? For either of us?”
L didn’t respond. His arms remained at his sides, his gaze still on the world beyond his window.
Near heard Mello sigh next to him.
The three of them remained in that position for some time, listening to each other breathe, before L shrugged out of their hold. He returned to his earlier position at the window.
“I don’t think anything more can be done today.” he said. “You both may go. I need to...I need to be alone.”
Near and Mello nodded and gathered their things. They left as quietly as they could.
***
Later that night, Near found himself alone in the dining room with Mello. All the other students had eaten earlier, and he and Mello were the only two left.
They hadn’t argued, but they hadn’t talked civilly either. That dinner was spent in silence.
Near was poking listlessly at his potatoes when he heard the door creak open.
Mello gasped.
L was shuffling into the room, his eyes on the floor as he moved. His hands were deep in his jeans pockets. When he came the edge of the table, he pulled one of them out and rubbed the molding absently.
“We need to talk,” he said.
***
I’m sorry, I’m sorry! *dodges bullets*
I hate cliffhangers as much as you do, honestly. And not just when I’m reading - I hate them when I’m writing too. My friends have listened to me rant about them enough to know that I’m telling the truth when I say that. There really wasn’t any other way for me to end the chapter. *hides again*
Anyway, in atonement, I’m hoping I can get the next chapter out in much less time than it took me to write this one. Whereas this chapter was oftentimes a huge, terrifying blank in my mind, I know EXACTLY what will happen in the next one. So it should be easier. :)
As always, I’d love to know what you thought. It always makes me smile when a reader takes the time to let me know their opinions. :) See you next chapter!