i put my faith in my own convictions.

  ❝ s’okay. there’s nothin’ to hear. ❞  most of it involved bumming around from place to place and sporadic moments of fun sprinkled in, but there were no concrete ties that led back to him, as matt expertly kept himself hidden that way. if it weren’t for matt pouring all of his efforts in trying to follow mello after wammy’s… who knows where he’d be.

  he snorts softly at the mention of mello and his body begins to slump off the couch, lazily stretching an arm to grab a stray block in the vicinity.  ❝ yeah… yeah, mello’s hasn’t changed in that way. ❞  all of them have in some way— as little or big those changes are. matt, on one hand, took up the ever so dangerous habit of smoking, as his biggest change. going on five years straight now.

  ❝ exciting? ❞  amusement ghosts across his face, flashing near a small grin. ❝ big city. new experiences… everyone needs a little excitement in their lives. even you, near. ❞  where they found that excitement might differ for them both but hey, matt thinks it’s a good thing for him. 

  ( a good thing for all of them.)

  matt fiddles with the piece in his hand, looking at it with a thoughtful stare then holds out the block for near to take. screw it. he might as well. ❝ i pissed him off, you know. mello. ❞  a deep sigh passes and irritation from earlier makes itself apparent. he figures near would either entertain his poor venting or completely dismiss it, leaving matt to his own devices. ❝ well—  more like he got pissy at me about something i did then i got mad because he was bein’ a dumbass about it which made him angrier. ❞ 

||  █ ▌— near simply nods. it’s easier, sometimes, to let someone else simply speak. he’s something of a good listener, and though he can’t turn off the part of his mind that tries to pick things apart, he doesn’t analyze anything matt is saying actively, certainly not with any effort behind the action.

it’s good to hear mello hasn’t changed. or at least not much. of course some level of change is inevitable, given what happened, in the end. before the end, even. still, near is comforted by a degree of stagnancy. things had a tendency of happening much too quickly. the respite isn’t unwelcome. and the city manages to be exciting despite the stagnancy.

he worries, just for a moment, about growing rusty due to a lack of time to practice his skills. then he ultimately decides it does not matter. he’s unlikely to lose the sharp edge he carries with him no matter what actually happens. perhaps this shouldn’t be a comfort, but it is. ❝ i suppose some excitement won’t hurt. it can be sort of nice, so long as it’s relatively controlled. ❞

and that’s the key, isn’t it? a degree of control. near doesn’t particularly like not feeling utterly in control of a situation, but...

this is a strange new world, after all. he needs to learn new ways to exist, both in general and among mello and matt. learning experiences.

at matt’s next words, he gives a slow nod. near hasn’t known mello to be anything other than pissed off more often than not, but he’s also used to being on the receiving end of such ire. matt, it seems, is not as used to it. ❝ he dislikes feeling like he’s made a mistake, i suppose, ❞ he says carefully. it’s probably nothing matt doesn’t already know, but... perhaps it’s worth saying anyway.

chocoholicsinner‌:

It does take him a while to get there. The weather doesn’t help the situation; he doesn’t want to go see Near, doesn’t want to team up with him at all. It’s not like they’d agreed on what was going to happen, but Mello was serious about making sure that they helped in whatever way they could.

(It probably had something to do with that martyr complex. He’s not going to think about it much now, however.)

Mello’s eyes are on Near’s door, and he knocks once before coming in without answer. “The world’s gone to shit,” he says by way of greeting, running a hand through wet blond hair. He’s got his signature scowl on, and his boots are making a squeaking sound against the floor. Grating. “What are we going to do about it?”

( @jeevastm​ && @restiituo​ )

 ears tune into near’s quiet voice within the howling wind and the pitter patter of heavy rain against the windows, shivering as he pats his face dry. ❝ mmfth— ❞  right. towel. ❝ you haven’t? ❞   matt breathes out a fleeting curse and moves to check his phone on the counter top. no new texts or calls. he sucks in his lower lip, feeling a buzz of uneasiness underneath his skin because it’s mello they’re talking about; torn between jumping on his urge to find him and staying put.  

  near’s following response work as both a reassurance and reminder of the chaos. it doesn’t completely quell his worries, but it’s enough to settle. instead, he hovers beside near at the stove, continuing to talk as a form to distract himself, ❝ you’re right. so. is that tea gonna make it? the power i— ❞

  the abrupt sound of the door being thrown wide open cuts through and matt turns, spotting the subject of their concern. he sighs softly, relief cooling his nerves. ❝ no shit, ❞  but before he could say anything else, mello’s already questioning what they were going to do. even with their combined strengths, any attempt to help would just be laughable in this mess.  ❝ what are we going t— you’re not serious, are you? ❞  

 (  — @restiituo​​​ > @chocoholicsinner​​​   ) 

||  █ ▌— near glances toward the door as it opens, and there’s only a brief flicker of concern on his face before he relaxes just as minutely as mello comes in. by this point, he’d poured the hot water from the kettle into the pot to brew the tea, not wanting to take any more chances with the flickering power. the teapot sits on the counter, unassuming and forgotten for the moment, though as mello speaks.

near’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. ❝ no. we aren’t doing anything, mello. ❞

it’s not--as though he’s trying to give orders, but matt is not being firm enough for his liking. near glances at mello, then at matt, then away. it’s easy to see where this is coming from, but he doesn’t want to bring up what will only sound to mello like accusations regarding his mental state, and truth be told, he worries that matt will end up giving in to mello’s desire to play hero.

❝ there’s little we can do. even people who can fly are having trouble, ❞ he says, a touch hesitantly, despite his firm tone.

   ❝ … thanks for the towel. shit got insane pretty fast. ❞ 

   considering the circumstances, it was a huge understatement, but what else was he going to say? with the raging winds and rain that stormed through archimedes, it was a miracle that matt even made it to near’s place at all. now his clothes were sopping wet from the downpour and the whole ward’s power kept flickering between on and off, with no sign of stabilizing. should’ve figured it was about time for the city to show its crazy colors.

  remaining in the kitchen, matt continues to dry himself the best he could, giving near a quick look over as he did so. ironically enough, staying inside seemed to keep near safe and he’s glad for it. they weren’t all accounted for, however, and that’s what keeps him on edge.  

  ❝ thought mello would already be here too. you hear from him at all? ❞

  (  — @restiituo​​​ > @chocoholicsinner​​​   )

      near just nods, looking a little distant. insane, is indeed an understatement, but his mind isn’t supplying him a better word. near puts on a kettle, because that’s something he has a measure of control over. tea is a simple thing, but manageable. the rules of this world do not mirror his own, and so the dangers are much worse. even kira was something they could extend a measure of control over. this is differnet.

      besides, it’s best to start the tea now, while they still have power. he doesn’t think there’s a pattern to the electricity flickering in and out, but he isn’t yet sure. he’s been counting the minutes in the back of his mind each time it happens, because numbers make sense.

      “ no, i haven’t heard from him since we agreed to meet up here. ”

      somewhere in his chest, something is twisting, sick, and he can’t tell if it’s worry for their situation in general, or just for mello, who is still, presumably, outside somewhere. mello doesn’t live far, so really, he should have gotten here first. so his heart pounds merrily along and his fingers tap a mute rhythm on the teacups he’s pulled from a cabinet.

      “ i’m sure he’s well on his way, ” he says, and pretends matt is the only one he’s reassuring.

  ❝ don’t mind if i do. ❞ boots are already off, sauntering in from behind. it doesn’t take long for matt to settle. he makes himself comfortable on the sofa, head resting against the pile of gaudy pillows and feet propped up on the opposing armrest. he pulls up a random mobile game to keep busy; one that had to do with getting a bird safely through the pipes without touching them. it’s mindless. he doesn’t have the energy for anything else.

  ❝ huh. if you need something i can always snag it for you next time i come around. ❞ he says nonchalantly, leaving the offer open for near to consider at his leisure. if he didn’t hang around the ward so often, it wouldn’t have crossed his mind. he was completely fine lending a hand as long as he wasn’t preoccupied. 

  the constant dings from his phone are a signal of his progression, filling in the quiet between them. it’s only when near asks how he’s been that he slips up, watching the bird comically smack into the pipe, falling to the ground in defeat.   

  with a disgruntled sigh, matt turns his head in near’s direction to observe him stack the blocks instead. calmer? that was debatable. matt’s own endeavors prior to his behind the scenes involvement at mello’s side wasn’t anything he’d deem noteworthy.  ❝ wasn’t really doin’ much before. other than what you already know. ❞  he replies with a dismissive wave of the hand. that wasn’t a topic they needed to keep beating on with a stick. ❝ but i guess it’s been calm for the most part. ❞   

      at least matt took his shoes off before putting his feet up the sofa, near thinks as he returns his attention to his own task at hand, adding a few more bricks to the top of the structure he was currently working on with slow, methodical movements. matt is preoccupied with his game anyway, and so near occupies himself with the puzzle of how to create the round roof of the skyscraper he’s currently envisioning.

      “ thank you, ” he says softly in response to matt’s words. it’s easy to fall back into comfortable habits--like having someone grab things that he needs from the store so he doesn’t have to deal with going out quite as much on his own. “ i’ll let you know if i need anything. ”

      he doesn’t want to out-and-out ask for anything just yet, to test things at all, nor does he have anything he particularly needs at present. his meager spending money covers the basics, and he manages to put aside enough for recreational activities and new toys. he’s a simple creature with simple needs, after all.

      he nods. “ i don’t know much about what you were doing in particular. mello was making far more noise at the time. so to speak. ” he doesn’t add any more than that, certainly doesn’t bring up the televised circumstances of matt’s death, but he’s glad to hear that his time here hasn’t been too hectic. honestly, if anyone deserves a break...

The anger inside of Mello turns cold, as it always does after it burns up. It starts like this: red hot, through every cell within his frame, until it becomes like shards of ice. Ever since he was a boy, Mello has been angry: he doesn’t know how to be anything else. He feels it in every movement he makes, the calculation after the impulsivity, and he thinks and weighs what it would mean to grab Near by his stupid collar and pull him up to eye level, and

                  (and what? punch him? slap him?)

                          (no, none of those.)

                 throw him back on the ground. Mello’s eyes are on Near, but his body is telling him to leave. “Run off on you?” Mello snaps. “Again? What the hell is that supposed to mean, Near? I was never yours, so don’t act like I am!” It makes his blood boil, to think that Near even believed for a moment that he had a piece of Mello. He didn’t, he never would: Mello would always be a separate puzzle piece, a separate puzzle, despite what Near thought.

“You don’t get to tell me when I leave, I’ll leave when I want to.”

      near just looks at him, eyes fixed somewhere between mello’s lips and the collar of his shirt, though he’s not focusing on any particular part of him. he can’t bear to raise them, to meet mello’s glare. it’s not that he’s afraid, really. not of mello, who had once walked brazenly into his headquarters and aimed his gun at him over an old photograph that near was ready to turn over anyway.

                    ( some things never change, do they? )

      “ i never said you were mine, ” he said, almost unbearably calm compared to mello’s rising and falling anger. he doesn’t expect anything, in particular, because it would be irrational of him to hold any sort of expectation.

      he kind of likes that, though. he won’t say anything now, but he likes how mello defies expectations and doesn’t fit perfectly into any particular category assigned to him. near wouldn’t be so stupid as to assume he has any claim over mello.

      still, he likes his presence. he hopes he doesn’t run off on him again, for more than a little while at least.

  a chuckle breaks through his lips, though it was not meant to be mocking in nature. for whatever reason, matt found amusement in near’s reasoning for going with a sandwich shop. simple would not be the term he’d use for a place that gave a variety of options. 

  ❝ might as well take two floppy pieces of bread with meat and call it a day like lord sandwich. y’know, cocky bastard the food’s named after — ❞  while he’s sure near would be thrilled to hear more from his cornucopia of interesting facts he’d have no problem sharing, he’d leave it for another day, another time. he grins, making a small gesture with his hand to start walking.  ❝ one sandwich shop, comin’ up. ❞

  the closest place seems to be within reasonable walking distance. ten, fifteen minutes tops, depending on how quick the pace was. considering their height difference, matt makes sure to keep his strides steady so they were side by side, otherwise he’d probably lose him. while near would humorously be a beacon of white, he’d rather not deal with a search to begin with. 

  ❝ so — ❞  

  he starts, flicking the butt of his last cigarette carelessly on the sidewalk. there’s a lot he could follow up with; like picking at near’s brain on his deductions about the island or the details of what once was their ‘home’. matt disliked stewing in the thickness of uncertainties and questions that led to more questions. as far as he’s concerned, this is how it is. 

  ❝ i’m assumin’ you already have an order in mind. ❞  

  he knew near, to an extent, but confidence in actually knowing him was very little. an indirect way of asking, but there was no harm in learning the little details of near’s preferences, right?

      near doesn’t seem bothered by the chuckle. he certainly doesn’t take offense to it, knowing no harm is meant by it. he almost asks matt to go on, because he doesn’t know anything about the topic, but he lets matt bypass it. he likes the way this sort of trivia fills up conversational space, but he doesn’t need the silence filled, and so doesn’t press.

      that, and he’d feel a little silly. he just lets matt lead him to the sandwich shop. near, as a rule, doesn’t particularly enjoy eating anything, but it is a necessary function, one that the human body needs despite near’s distaste for it. a sandwich can pack a lot of calories into a small meal and that means, mathematically, that near can eat less later.

      “ i do, ” he says, nodding as they walk. “ i know it might be strange but i always get the same thing. turkey and cheese on rye bread, one piece of lettuce, three cucumbers, no sauce of any sort. ”

      it’s not something he’s necessarily embarrassed about, he knows that matt knows he’s got some pretty stereotypically autistic mannerisms, but he knows it’s a dull order regardless.

      “ i don’t like when my food is wet, or too colourful, ” he adds, by way of explanation, not that one was asked for. still, it never hurts to add detail.

  matt blinks as he hears the lock turn, taken aback as the door opens and near appeared on the other side. while the probability of near being home was high, he actually didn’t expect to be answered so quickly. the corner of his lips pulls up slightly, raising a hand in greeting. 

  ❝ hey. ❞   there isn’t anything else to say. at this point near is most likely observing him, trying to figure out the reason for his impromptu visit based on his appearance alone. matt doesn’t care. he already expects it from him.

  at his question, shoulders lift and fall in a sluggish manner, taking a step inside as soon as he got the okay. ❝ was in the area. figured i’d see how you were doin’. ❞  it wasn’t a complete lie, technically. matt just didn’t necessarily plan to throw his frustrations and complaints out in the open unless prompted. if near manages to put two and two together, however— that’d be a different story. until then, he’ll take any distraction he can find.

  he peers over at the lego-made replica sitting in the middle of the area, other blocks scattered to the side. huh. some things never change. ❝ looks good. i see you’ve moved onto more complicated shit to build. ❞

          near is indeed observing him, but isn’t putting too much effort into it. it’s a default state, something he was trained for and didn’t have a clear way to switch off, rather than an active decision. he doesn’t press matt for more information, though, as his intent really isn’t to pry. he just nods, heading back into the living room, where he had, for the moment, set up his toys. his roommates hadn’t complained yet, especially since he cleans up the space when he’s done, and keeps the bulk of the mess in his bedroom.

          he sits back down on the floor and gestures toward the sofa. “you can sit there if you’d like,” he says, returning to work on what appears to be a skyscraper of some sort. the blocks click into place quietly. he doesn’t want to pry at matt, to push him to reveal anything he isn’t comfortable with.

          if he gets overwhelmed with curiosity, he can always ask later. after all, if he oversteps, he’s found that an apology works wonders. social cues might elude him, but he knows that sorrys can make up for any number of slights, both real and in the imaginations of others.

@restiituo​​​​ — surprise visit. wanna open up?

  there’s something funny about standing on the steps of near’s condo, stuck in the haze of his own mind. matt couldn’t decide whether his feet led him down the street out of pure laziness to travel back to his own home or simply as another subtle act of pettiness. 

  right now, it was definitely a little of both. 

  after his last cigarette was nothing but a butt in the ground, matt realizes time had passed. damn. he was sick of idling around the housing ward and honestly his cheek still hurt from earlier. he nearly forgot how much physical strength mello actually had in his body. 

  lips purse as he stares down at his phone, considering his options. while the chances of being welcomed were spotty, matt decides to test his luck anyway. besides, he hadn’t seen near in a few days. it’d be good to check up on him, see if he needed anything and maybe lounge on his couch until he felt like going back home. or got kicked out.

to: n from: m2  [txt]: hey want to stop whatever tower of toys youre building in there [txt]: im at your front door. dont want your roomies to answer

          near hears the notification for a text message and glances over at his phone. he doesn’t get those, normally, and so it’s strange enough to draw his attention away from his legos. he isn’t doing much. despite the grand scale of the model of london he’s constructing, it’s certainly nothing that can’t be paused just for a moment so that he can get the door.

          he wonders what matt wants, whether it’s urgent. he doubts it’s just to say hi, as he wouldn’t need to actually stop by for that, but he doesn’t fully dispel the possibility, strange as it would be.

          he pulls himself up from his spot on the floor and heads for the door, unlocking it. he considers responding to matt’s text but ultimately decides that it would be easier to simply respond in person. front door open, near gives matt a long look, trying to scrutinize his expression without looking like that’s what he’s doing (his detective’s instincts are well-honed, but useless for this), before stepping aside to let him in.

She puts the phone back in her pocket, so overwhelmingly proud of herself that she knows how to use it on her own. Later, she’ll text the person who helped her learn; that’ll definitely impress him. She stands up straight, looks at the small boy (he is not that much smaller than she is), and smiles.

“I wanted to help,” she says. She notes how he doesn’t look her in the eyes, perhaps it’s because he recognizes her status, or is just shy. It doesn’t bother her either way. “I hope that’s okay.”

Near almost manages a smile back. This woman looks so... earnest. It’s kind of nice, having someone take care of one of his problems for him. It’s easy to like that, with how codependent he is by nature. So the expression on his face is actually pretty genuine. It’s not unheard of for him, but it is rather rare.

Mello feels anger settle in his chest, a lit match next to explosives, ready to go off. His expression reflects that in the way he sneers at Near, in the way he reacts to Near’s words. There’s no way that Mello could ever, even as part of a whole, be better than L: L is the goal, the ultimate aspiration. Mello is nothing compared to what L was, will never be, and here’s Near claiming that together they surpassed him.

His fists clench at his side

     (when Mello was a little boy….)

                  and he watches the way Near forms the word ‘together’

                            (he found a hero to look up to….)

                                      and he feels sick to his stomach.

                                              (who went ahead and died, anyway.)

“Fuck off,” he says, because it’s easier than articulating that. His teeth are bared, and he’s actively trying not to reach down and grab Near’s collar. “Fuck you and that gay shit. You don’t know anything.”

Mello turns away from Near, his cheeks heating up with something, and he’s not sure what. Something stronger than hatred that he’s always felt for his rival, the one who has always bested him.

He settles on a few words: abhorrence, loathing, disgust. It’s not enough to fill the hole he’s made himself, between his lungs and behind his rib cage. If he’s not careful, it will swallow him whole.

Near flinches at the look on Mello’s face. The threat of aggression. Mello has always been a more physical creature than Near, has always been more physically aggressive than Near. Near’s aggression had always been verbal, in taunts and jeers. Things that would push someone (Mello) into reacting with his hands. It’s exciting, in a way, as exciting as it is frightening.

                            ( If Near is capable of feeling fear,                                     is that enough to make him human? )

When Mello turns away, Near can’t help but be disappointed. Mello is the one thing he can’t ever get elsewhere, an equal. He knows Mello doesn’t see things the way he does, but he’s disappointed nonetheless. 

Near scoffs. “I know more than you seem to. Fine, though. Run off on me again.” He had expected nothing less, but it was worth a try, at least.

           ( It’s easier here, than at the  orphanage, where people had such              lofty expectations of them both. Where they’d pick apart all the              things  that made  them geniuses, all  those gears and arteries              within  them -- have  the  genius children  lost  weight  are their              teeth  satisfactory  are  they  growing  on  schedule  have  they              lost their minds have they lost their minds )

@restiituo​ // x

The boy is incredibly small, and she’s a little worried that he might be lost. Even if he’s in a cafe, seemingly perfectly capable of ordering for himself, she finds herself a little worried. As the cashier asks for the boy to pay for the drink, she cuts in and holds up her phone.

“Allow me,” she says, and it’s half not wanting to make a child pay for their meal, and half that she’s proud of the fact that she knows how to use the currency here. “May I also have a cup of tea as well? Thank you.”

Near makes a soft, startled sound as someone cuts in when he’s about to pay. That’s very kind of her (Near has a steady source of income now but is still used to paying for things on his own, especially directly), but he wonders if it’s because of how young he looks. He turns toward the woman, taking in the details of her outfit with clear curiosity. He’s unsubtle in it, even. The crown in particular draws his attention--shiny.

     ❖ ❝ Is that so? ❞ she hums in thought as he answers her now, keeping mindful of her pace so that she does not gain too much speed ahead of him. She’s still used to walking quite quickly whenever she’s not running for dear life.

     ❝ It’s nice to stay inside where it’s safe, but it can get to be pretty boring after a while, I think. ❞

     ❝ Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, too, Near. Thanks for coming with me! ❞

Near is grateful for her slow pace. He’s not quick on his feet, and sometimes even has a little trouble walking, given how physically weak he is compared to others. It seems like she’s being slow deliberately, and he tries to think of a way to thank her for that without sounding awkward.

Nothing comes to mind, so he decides to thank her later. “Boring? Maybe,” he allows. “I usually have toys to play with, though. And back home, there are people to keep me company. My coworkers...” Underlings is a better term for them, but Near knows that word carries certain connotations. It’s not that he doesn’t respect them, but why avoid calling them what they are?

     ❦ The blonde is relieved to hear that the stranger is willing to take some of the candy off her hands. While she’s not upset with being given free food, Fiona has never been one to enjoy too many sweets at one time. Surely she would give the rest to Hewie if she could, however, candy is not really something dogs should consume, she knows.

     ❝ I don’t either… But it’s a nice treat every now and then, ❞ she answers with a smile, holding out the bag for the other to pick what flavour he wants to try.

     ❝ Plus I was feeling a little hungry, anyway. This isn’t a full course meal but for now, it’ll help with the hunger, ❞

“A nice treat...” he echoes. It’s an old habit, the echoing. And a bad one. He knows it marks him as... different, and so he shuts his mouth quickly, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “Yes, I think it is.”

He looks at the different flavors before settling on a red one. The color is bright and inviting and not something he would normally choose for himself, but a little sugar never hurt anybody. It can even be good for stimulating the brain, keeping one sharp, as long as it’s consumed in small doses.

Mello’s hands ache for the cold metal of a gun. It’s not that he wants to hurt Near (never seriously did he want to hurt Near: it was always just enough for him to rough him up a bit, toss him around, make him a little scared) but it’s more for the fact that weapons make him feel more at home.

Aside: Mello, once, had a father and that man was a gun, and Mello’s mother was a shooting target.

That’s not something to unpack now, of all places, so Mello pushes it away and puts a hand on his hip. His expression is still sour, and he should by all accounts be on a run right now. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Near and their stupid game.

But he’s always thinking about it.

                         (it’s not his fault he’s obsessed. they made him this way.)

“My whole life has been a risk,” Mello says, neither agreeing or disagreeing with him. Because, as established, Mello is the son of a man who was also a gun – and perhaps also a knife, because Mello also finds comfort in sharp edges. 

There is relief, however, when Near says to him: we won. It’s visible on his face for just a moment, the relaxation of those tense lines on his forehead and the downward curve of his lips. Near’s expression may be empty, but that’s all right because Mello’s is full to the brim.

“We’re not better than L,” Mello says after a moment of digesting Near’s words. “I died. That doesn’t make me better than him.”

Near doesn’t like the look on Mello’s face, so he only looks for a moment, then his eyes shift toward the ground. It’s--it’s not something he has the skills to process, and so he simply doesn’t.

“Sure,” Near agrees easily enough, because of course Mello’s life has been risky, and of course only some of those risks were self-made.

These two, raised for the same purpose. Near has always been good at self-reflection. He sees their situation clear as day, his and Mello’s. 

          ( Of course Mello would feel a bit of hero-worship for L.             If Near was wired differently, he might feel the same. But             Near had looked at their situation and saw the rules for             how they were. Near was always too cold, too cynical. )

“Your life has been risky. So I thought... what’s a little more?” he asks, looking up at Mello with something akin to a smirk. Near’s smiles might hold very little weight, but his smirks are carefully-crafted things. Their intent: to annoy, to watch Mello squirm a little. Just a little. Just to show he still cares.

                     ( The first rule of being an orphan is: do not be a child.                        Near has never been good at that rule, on the surface.                        But he knows the value of perceptions, knows it well. )

“You are,” he adds. “Better than him, I mean. He didn’t just die, he lost. You died and won, there’s a difference. I... couldn’t have solved it without you.” If he were someone else, that might be a blow to his pride. But Near isn’t, so it doesn’t sting. It’s just strange to discuss. If someone had told Near he’d have the chance to speak with his ghosts...

          ( The first thing L’s successors had to do was bury their              loved ones -- not their dead, necessarily, though at the              time Near hadn’t realized there was a difference. He              had, in the way only an orphan could, assumed that              one’s dead and one’s loved were the same, a Venn              diagram like a hole in his chest, a solid circle of grief. )

Near’s only regret is losing Mello.

                      ( No, that’s not believable. Start over. )

@restiituo​

“Hmm…” Steven was mimicking the city’s fancier residents as he sipped his tea with pinky out. It did taste better this way, he decided. Or maybe that was just the spring weather. The warm sun had really brightened his mood.

That was what made him feel up to checking out this new café. His tea had no sugar, as per his diet, but he was so glad he came all this way. Sitting outside and watching the birds land near the table to peck at crumbs was such a nice ambiance.

Steven was admiring the birds and ambiance with a smile when his eyes landed on a piece of notebook paper under someone’s table. “He—“ Steven refrained from calling out when he saw the guy sitting at the table seemed deeply engrossed in reading a book.

“Hm.” Steven put his tea down and stuck out his foot, toe stamping down on the piece of paper just as the soft wind picked up. It was probably just trash. A receipt or shopping list. Maybe it didn’t even belong to that boy.

Steven dragged his foot over, paper with it, and picked it up. What stared back at him was lines and lines of  something he didn’t understand. Much too deliberately meticulously crafted to be trash. He found himself asking before he could think of a better approach.

“Hey, do you know anything about this thing?” He held the paper out, blushing when he realized the boy was forced to look up from his book. “S-Sorry to bother you over nothing! W-We can go back to sipping tea now!”

The book was engrossing enough. Mysteries could be fun sometimes. He was only in the first third, but he was fairly certain he had it figured out. As much as Near disliked going out, he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, which was how he found himself out at a small cafe. It was, most importantly, quiet. It was also clean, and Near could let himself sit here, with a small tea latte and a sandwich he was carefully picking apart and eating top-down, color by color. He needed to remind himself to eat, now that he had no one there to do it for him.

His codependent side was showing. Best to not think too hard about it. Luckily he was pulled out of such thoughts by the arrival of another boy, around his age, perhaps only a year or two younger than him. 

 He didn’t mind glancing up from his book, but he carefully avoided looking the other in the eyes. It was something he would likely never master--eye contact was a frightening thing.

He gave the paper a long look, then nodded. “I do, it’s--” he began, then paused as the other boy began to backtrack. His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the self-consciousness there, and he held out a hand to take the paper from him. “It’s not nothing, yes, that’s mine. Thank you for returning it.”

@restiituo / starter call.

💛 💜 ❤️ || she always singles out intellectuals. the signatures exhibited from their minds UTTERLY unique, figures she quite simply found fascinating. a war of wits, swords clashed with tongues wagging. is it possible to BEST a mind reader? she’d like to find out. index circles around a vein, a hook and TUG as if she were a bored child needing to keep herself busy. her eyes focused upon the strange youth, but NEVER could those eyes judge with scathing looks! oh no, she’s thrilled that one so young seems to have an intellectual head on his shoulders —- how relieving it is that the children of the day remember their education!

❝i do not know if you’d want to PLAY a game with me,❞ she says, voice honest. satori doesn’t know if he really desires a game or not, picking up solely on a tail end of a thought, yet picking through it pulling it apart and ISOLATING it from who he is. she turns on her heel, a tilt back of her head. ❝but if were to play a game, what would you say about unfair advantages? could you play a game without THINKING about your next move?❞

Near’s eyebrows twitch slightly at the mention of the word ‘game,’ a subtle sign of interest and the only emotion that crosses his features at the moment. He has a hard time resisting a challenge, and the one she poses is intriguing to say the least. How possible is it to play without thinking about his next move? Well, he hasn’t exactly tried. It sounds like a game where impulsiveness would win, and that really sounds like something Mello would be better suited to. He was always the more quick to act of the two, Near spends far more time in his own head.

@restiituo​ (s.c.)

toy stores… yeah, most people would argue that minoru is a little too old for such places. but most people would also argue that people that only make the minimum wage despite working hard for years rightfully earned it. so, fuck most people. minoru likes to window shop. this is a store, and honestly? toy stores can have some hidden gems in them.

this place is especially guilty of such, having the occasional figma being waaay undersold by people that don’t understand its value. he is somewhat distracted by the peaceful sound of clicking puzzle pieces going into place… no, yeah, that’s just a little too tempting. it brings back good memories of rainy days spent inside. it’s just so satisfying.

he follows the noise to see near, quick to understand that he only started putting this together recently. the clicking was only heard… what? a minute ago? he’s already made some good traction. “ nice to see another person that isn’t afraid of going top to bottom. ” most people start with the edges and work their way inward. not only does minoru simply not process the image of the finished piece like that… it’s just not as fun.

minoru takes a seat across from him. it’s a huuuuge puzzle, and the idea of sinking his metaphorical teeth in is just too tempting. “ mind if i join? ”

Nobody has ever told Near that he’s too old for a toy store, at least not to his face, and he certainly wouldn’t be likely to listen if someone were to suddenly start. He certainly doesn’t have anything better to do here in this place, after all, and he finds the store peaceful at this time of day, without too many customers in the place. It’s easy to tuck himself into a corner and simply waste a little time on a puzzle that he genuinely enjoys.

It’s not too difficult a puzzle, but they don’t always have to be. This one features a landscape shot of a castle, and boasts its piece count (1500) on the side of the box in bold letters. Especially with a picture on it, it’s no trouble at all, but the ritual of it is enjoyable.

When someone sits down across from Near, he starts to feel a little self-conscious, recalling the way people used to question his process with a sneer in their voice, but he relaxes a little when the boy begins to speak. No judgement, and in fact . That’s... nice, actually. He doesn’t look up, because he’s never seen a reason to try and force things like eye contact, but he nods.