Dropped

“Shit,” Mello snarls, and dives for Matt’s gameboy, “will you stop that for just a minute?”



“No,” says Matt, peaceably, and lifts the thing over his head, still playing even though Mello’s in one of his moods and is still trying to snatch it from him.



“I’m talking to you about important things here,” snarls Mello, trying to make a second grab for it.



Technically, he’s taller than Matt, but Matt somehow still manages to keep things out of his reach. The one time Mello asked how, Matt said ‘Siblings. Practise.’ And that was the end of that conversation.



No one in the orphanage talked about family much. This train of thought can’t help but sober him up a little.



His attempts to grab the gameboy away become less frantic, and consequentially, Matt starts talking.



Funny person, Matt. He starts talking more the less you hit him.



“You’re not talking about important things. You’re talking about Near. And how much you hate him. And how much he never shows any emotions. And how stupid his stupid white hair is.”



Matt does a good enough impression that Mello has to snarl a warning at a passing girl who giggles when she overhears. She picks up her pace and leaves quickly, he’s pleased to note. At least someone is still afraid of him, even if Matt and Near aren’t.



Stupid Near.



“If I’m boring you, I can just leave then.” He fumes, and Matt’s unconcerned little smile doesn’t help matters anyways.



“Go outside and kick something,” Matt advises, and Mello storms off. Of course, Matt is right, but he’s a genius. He doesn’t need to be told so.



Outside, his head does feel a little clearer, but not by much. He can’t even remember what set him off this time; it’s always something. Everything Near does bothers Mello, simply because of who he is. Namely, in first place. He storms along the edge of the wall of the building, murderous expression scattering younger (and occasionally older) students from his path.



Because Mello, you see, needs to win. He’s self aware enough to call it pathological, and probably overall it’s pretty unhealthy, but in this case? He feels it’s justified. After all, look at what’s at stake. He cannot go back to being Mihael Keehl after this. And once the L of their generation is chosen, there’s precious little use for the rest of them. Near is what’s standing between him and that.



And then it hits him.



No really. It really hits him. On the back of the head, to be specific. Not hard enough to hurt, but certainly surprising as anything. He whirled, and immediately looked up at the windows above. They were all closed, and he hadn’t heard any of them slam shut. Therefore, it was impossible that the thing... book, was what it was... could have come from any of the windows. Maybe the roof? No one could have been on the roof. It was steep and slanting. And it had definitely fallen from up to down. No one was near enough that they could have done it.



Whose rooms are above him? And who would have been clever enough to just slit the window open, rather than pull it closed in a hurry and give themselves away with the sound. Who disliked him enough to bombard him with notebooks.



Matt described Mello once as the sort who would chase after the man who lit his house on fire, rather than putting the fire out. Culprit caught, but by the time he’s back, the home is cinders. Mello punched him for this observation, but it was probably correct.



Perfect. Near. He bends and picks up the book.



‘Death Note,’ the cover reads, and he has to wonder if he’s been marked with the black spot. That’s incredibly childish.



But. Near.



He feels anger swell again, surging and overcoming his initial curiosity. He bends and picks up the notebook, about turns, and marches off in the direction of Near’s room. If the fucking little sheep thinks he can dump paper on Mello, he has another thing coming to him.



Matt also observed, once, that Mello never seemed to go anywhere slowly. Mello was starting to think Matt spent a little too much time making his observations, and should play more computer games. He was right about that one too, though. Everyone along the way seems to melt out of his way, all the way until he’s standing at Near’s doorway.



Near knew it was Mello. Of course Near knew it was Mello. The knock was soft and polite, but that didn’t make up for the sound of storming footsteps to begin with. You couldn’t just come loudly up a quiet hallway, tap the frame, and be expected to be taken for meek.



But then, when it came to anger, Mello was never really rational. Near supposed it was hormones.

He’s almost sorry he’s being interrupted. It’s not often something he’s reading can attract his attention so completely, but fate has it that this is the one exception. The orphanage encourages all their students to be well informed on current events, so Near is busy doing what he’s called ‘L watch.’ That is, scouring the papers from a dozen different countries for reference to the rather epic L vs Kira story.



As it was, he had no good reason to not answer the door, interesting though the papers might be. But forewarned is forearmed, and he’s able to step out of the way with alacrity, as he opens it the first inch and Mello bursts through an instant later.



“Very fucking funny, Near,” snarls Mello, brandishing a book at him, and Near feels a moment of genuine confusion, before the pieces go together and he can shrug.



“You think it was me because you don’t know who else it could have been.”



He’s hit square in the forehead when Mello pitches the book at him. Fortunately, it’s lightweight, note paper. Bound in a peculiar substance. With an English cover, standard lined paper, he can’t tell what make without bending to pick it up off the floor, so he does.



‘Death Note,’ reads the cover. Mello is still yelling, Near is aware, but this is far too interesting. Because he doesn’t know what the cover is made of, and because the paper isn’t nearly as standard as he thought it was at first glance.



And because of what’s written in it, of course.



“Mello,” says Near, quietly, and the tirade is cut off. Mello glares, but listens. “Perhaps you should look at this?”