~Or die regretting the time you lost [private]

[near_your_enemy]

Mihael hasn't come back.

N is sitting at the desk, legs pulled up to his chin in a surprisingly L-like fashion.  His hands are feverently working at folding paper, his eyes completely focused on the folding, as if his life depended on it.  the bandage is off of his wounded hand, and the large green rash is oozing out onto the thin, colorful sheets,

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[near_your_enemy]

He didn't hear the door opening, but the words--the voice--the voice makes his head jerk up and twist around, looking over with crazed eyes.

"Mello--mello, you came at the wrong t-ti~ime." He murmurs quietly, fingers flexing quietly as he slowly swivles his chair around.

Now that he's here it's obvious that his hands... they're covered in papercuts. Green slivers of blood are dribbling out from each small incision, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Really, Mello. I--I told you. I'm only at two-thirty."

[near_your_enemy]

He pauses for a good moment there as Mihael crosses over to him, blinking largely for a moment before noting the scattered cranes that had been pushed aside to make room for the blonde's feet. A look of genuine horror crosses his face, as he slips from his chair--crushing a few cranes underfoot in the process--and gently picks up the dark blue one that had been tossed aside, completely disregarding Mihael.

"Mello, Mello, don't step on them, okay? They're for you."