Dreary, dreadful, desolate the day was. Sickeningly moist, the smell of rain, of mist surrounding the area. Everthing was frozen in a grey-scale tone.
The city, even by new-world standards, was a large place. Easy, far too easy to lose yourself in. Oh, but did Near feel lost among the glass-pane structures, eerily reflecting the future before him?
Maybe. Maybe because he was sitting in an outdoor cafe, under an ironically colourful umbrella, wearing a blue raincoat. Blue not not Near's colour. But Near didn't really have a preference for colours. He was merely a shade, a ghostly figure of white, fading into the mist around him.
Furthermore, Near was a being which reveled in solitude, in the dark with a disarray of toys scattered about.
He was waiting for a certain someone. It had to be important.



Ugh. What the hell were these people's problems? Eyes left and right flitted and glanced at the blonde, cloaked in red. Gods, so annoying.
But that wasn't the point here. Today, he would find out everything. Everything about the little white lie that his rival was.
He saw the other seated at a table excluded from the rest of the customers. Typical, typical Near. Hadn't changed a bit.

Near was frozen, unchanging, constant. He was a person who probably loved consistancy. Easy to predict, easier to avoid.
But of course, Mello was none of these things.

His conclusion was further supported by the following statement.

"You're late, Mello."

He pulled his designated seat out with a certain air of annoyance.








The shriek of the metal on cement was unnerving, but Near made no comment. Mello was being as irrate as ever. Comforting fact.
Then the waitress appeared. She spoke in an untimely british accent.



Near was neither hungry nor thirsty.

"I'm fine, thankyou."

It was then that Mello glanced at him before replying to the woman.


"Two icecream sundaes. Put extra chocolate on one of them."

"Okay. Anything else?"

Mello's voice sounded distant; Near was pondering his intentions. He simply stared at the other as the two bowls of sweet, chilled material were placed before them. Near looked at it loathsomely.



An icy tone to rival the weather he spoke of.


Mello was in the process of lifting a scoop of the stuff into his mouth when his hand sudden clasped into a fist and fell hard to the table.


"I got it for you to try, so shut up and eat it!"

Why was he doing this again? Mello seemed to forget. Nothing was more irritating than this ghastly shell of a person called 'Near.'  He sighed deeply-


-and met the other's gaze.

"I wanted to talk to you about... Yourself."

Near had been tormenting Mello for all these years being first. Now Mello was going to put him through the wringer.



The pale boy took a moment to process the thought, as if he was a part of the mist and Mello's words slipped right through him.
Mello wanted to talk about Near. Mello never wanted to have anything to do with Near until now. Near was not willing to participate in this discussion. The idea was both apalling and insane.
 ...It was true that Near was a master at secrecy and not messing in other's business but Mello was unavoidable. Still, Near could try.


"I'm afraid I do not wish to speak of my personal matters."

It would not suffice for Mello. He did not need to be a child prodigy to know that.



There goes the little white mouse curling up into a protective ball. Again. Another sigh. Mello saw this coming. But he was better prepared than usual.

"Fine. But will you tell me about your childhood?"

Surely Near wasn't always like this... That would be really.. sad. Not that Mello would pity him or anything. Everyone's got their tragedy to tell.


Near really didn't know exactly how to answer this. Most of his life before coming to Wammy's House was a blur. There were reasons for this.. ..but..

"..I do not remember much from that time. I was told I had a case of amnesia. I did not bother trying to remember what was before."

 ..Near had a feeling that the days were so alike, they did not impact his memory.

"But that is the past. It does not matter anymore."

With that, Near plucked the spoon from the bowl and attempted a bit of the sundae.
It was cold. Too sweet, and much too cold.


His icecream was melting, going unnoticed. The spoon was still in Mello's hand.

"Amnesia? . . . "

A moment of silence. To mourn what could've been, what should've been, and what isn't.

"...."

Mello's own life was far, far from a fairy tale.



______________________________________________________

LOL I PHAIL'D. FLAME IS GOOD.
BECAUSE BAD FIC IS BAD.

More to come if I ever get the motivation to write.
And thankyou Ciel for drawing the pictures for this part. <3333
See nocakeforyou