Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was cold. Damp. Dark. Nothing more than another depressing day in January. Yeah, the New Year has come, but what’s exactly exciting about it? Nothing more than just doing it all over again.

It was late — Wammy’s top three students were in the Common Room. Near, completing a puzzle on the floor. Mello, reading a book on a couch. And Matt, playing on his DS on another couch. It wasn’t unusual for the three to be around each other often. But there was more. A tension in the atmosphere, everyone knew it, but nobody even bothered to harp on the topic; the air was thick.

Mello put his book down. He was sitting on a couch, lying on his back. Putting the book beside him, he looked up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh. Nobody could tell, nobody could know about his dilemma.

“What’s up with you?” Matt chuckled, his eyes never faltering from his game. He tried to lighten up the mood a little bit as the rain pouring outside and the dim, warm lighting wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

Mello groaned quietly, “Nothing. It’s… nothing.” he replied, but in truth, he didn’t even know himself. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Near was always above him. Nothing more, nothing less. He always had the top grades, even if it was just shy of a point. So analytical, so precise, so perfect. Mello hated that about him. Near was so perfect to him, it made him go a little crazy; it irritated him. A lot. The line between obsession and infatuation is almost blurred.

“Whatever you say, man,” Matt replied with a dismissing tone. He learned not to be pushy about topics Mello didn’t particularly favor. Mello's eyes lingered at the ceiling before releasing a breath. His eyes darted over to Near, who was lying on the floor, still finishing his puzzle. Glances turned into looks, and looks turned into stares. 

Oh, Near, how he hated you. 

He stared at Near, watching how his thin, delicate fingers held the puzzle piece, then snapping in place — a perfect fit. His hands matched his pale, dainty frame, doll-like. His small, round face, keeping a calculated expression on the puzzle, his gray eyes never taking his view away from it. Near was really focused; you could tell by how he twirls his short, white, wavy hair while he does a task. 

“I need to be better than him.”

“What am I doing?” Mello thought to himself. Why is he staring at his rival’s body like that? He hated him, his academic rival. Trying to keep in frustration low-profile, he left the Commons, thinking that all he needed was sleep. 

Sleep deprivation.

Matt took a slight glance at Mello walking away, while Near didn’t react.  Both of them weren’t the best at reading people, but they knew something was off about him. At least more off than usual. Jeevas’ expression turned slightly puzzled once he heard the door shut, which sounded more like a slam. He stared at the white-haired boy below him, Near’s puzzle being almost completed. Matt saved and turned off his game, setting his DS aside. He wondered just how much goes on in Near’s head, to be the top student at Wammy’s.

“Do you need something, Mail?” Near asked with not much emotion as he placed down the final puzzle piece, completing the picture. It was all white. Near gazed at the finalized picture, not sure what to do with it now, “I can feel your gaze.”

“Nah… sorry,” Matt replied, his expression turning sheepish, “I guess I got distracted.” This piqued Near’s interest. He lifted his head up slightly, wondering what Matt could get distracted from, even though he already had a good idea of what.

“Were you thinking of Mihael?” Near questioned softly, not wanting Mello to overhear; the walls at Wammy’s were quite thin. Matt’s expression turned solemn, he was always the more empathetic one out of the three. Mello was always quick to get heated, but it was a part of him . The two knew that this wasn’t particularly like Mello at all.

“Yeah. Y’know, he hasn’t been himself lately,” Matt mutters, trying to keep his voice low. It was late, afterall. “I know you’ve been able to tell, too, right?”

“Correct.”

“I dunno, he said it was nothing, but he’s been kinda weird lately. He’s my guy, y’know? I notice this kinda stuff,” Matt sighed, slumping on the couch. He hated secrets more than anything. You would think after being friends for so long, they would tell each other everything, right? 

Wrong.

“I completely understand your concern, Mail. I worry about him, too…” Near sighed quietly, looking deeply into the blank puzzle again. He wondered, “Why does it have to be this way?” The white haired boy began to dismantle the puzzle, putting all 1,000 pieces back into the box.

Why does it have to be this way? Matt thought the same. He stared at the crumbling puzzle, Near’s fingers lifting each piece one by one. How could Mello hate someone like him, someone like Near? Somebody so dainty, fragile, so quiet. That’s where Matt and Mello differ. 

“How could anyone hate him?”

“How could anyone not hate him?”

Chapter Text

“I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, anyway. He’s my rival, nothing more, nothing less,” Mello thought, lying on his back on his bed. His face scowled at the thought of Near, but why was he thinking about him so much now? There’s nothing special about him, anyway. He just happens to excel in an orphanage, that’s it, right? Mello huffed, tossing and turning in his bed. 

“I hope this all goes away,” Mello muttered, his lips just brushing against his pillow case. His head was racing; all of this thinking was starting to cause nothing but a huge headache, “I’m better than him, anyway, and he needs to know that.” He needed to get knocked down a few pegs, he thought. Just the thought of Mello finally being before Near excited him. He grinned to himself, savoring the sweet victory he’ll have. But then, in the quiet dark of the room, that grin slowly faded. The idea of standing above Near, proving once and for all that he was better—it was satisfying, yes, but it wasn’t just about victory anymore, was it? Mello stared up at the ceiling, eyes narrowing. 

Why does it feel like I need him to see me? 

It wasn’t enough for Near to lose. Mello wanted him to react . To feel something, anything. He clenched his fists at his sides, frustration growing in his chest. 

“Damn it,” he whispered, voice low and tight, “why does he always look so calm? Like nothing gets to him... Like I don’t get to him.” He sat up abruptly, blonde hair falling over one eye. His heart was racing again, but now there was something else mixed in with the anger—something hot and dangerous and impossible to name.

“He’s not better than me,” Mello said aloud, just to hear the sound of it. The room went quiet again, but Mello didn’t lie back down. He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the dark like he was trying to outthink something invisible. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realize that rivalry and obsession could be two sides of the same coin.

Damn it. Damn it all.

Mello stood up, pacing in the dark. He thought maybe movement would shake the feeling — that tight coil of heat and confusion twisting deeper into his gut. But it only made things worse. Each step echoed in his ears louder than the last. His head was a storm of contradictions, Near’s face flashing through his mind in perfect clarity. Every hair, every gesture. Every time he blinked slowly like time itself bowed to him. He clenched his jaw.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about him?” he hissed through his teeth. Then a memory surfaced — not even a day old. Just a few hours earlier, in the Commons, when Near was fitting the last piece of that all-white puzzle into place. Perfectly. Effortlessly. Mello remembered how his hands moved. How he twirled his hair absentmindedly. How he didn’t even look up when Mello left the room.

That burned more than it should have.

He hadn’t reacted. Not a glance, not a shift, not a word. As if Mello's storm didn't even register. Was that what this really was? Was it really just about being better—or was it the fact that Near never looked at him the way Mello looked at Near?

Mello stopped pacing.

The silence of the dorms pressed down on him, only broken by the soft tapping from the rain still falling outside. Somewhere in the building, probably just down the hall, Matt and Near were likely still up. Talking. Thinking. Maybe talking about him. He ran a hand through his hair and laughed bitterly under his breath.

“God, I’m losing it,” he whispered. He didn’t care how late it was or that curfew had long passed. The halls were quiet, sure, but Mello didn’t move like he cared. His boots echoed across the hardwood as he made his way down the dim hallway. He found himself outside the Common Room again.

Why was he here?

Just walk away. Go back to bed. Sleep it off. Forget about him.

But he didn’t move.

Then — voices. Soft, hushed. Matt’s voice. Near’s voice. They were still there. Mello’s breath hitched. He felt like an intruder on his own life. He wasn’t ready for this. Not to confront them. Not to walk in and act like everything was normal. And yet,

“Why does it have to be this way?” Near had thought. Mello didn’t hear it, but maybe he would have felt it if he had. Maybe part of him did feel it. Deep down. With a clenched jaw, he let his hand fall from the door. He turned, steps heavy. Not from anger, but weight — a tension pressing down like the storm clouds outside. He didn’t go back to his room. Instead, he slipped into the hallway's end nook and sat there, knees drawn up to his chest, back against the wall. Alone with only the sound of rain and muffled voices behind thin doors. Maybe tomorrow he’d talk to Matt. Maybe Near would finally look. But for now, he let the silence hold him. 

And somewhere inside the Common Room, Near looked at the blank puzzle box again.

Empty. Waiting to be filled.

Just like everything else.

Chapter Text

Wammy’s top three were called to Roger’s office at around 10:00 A.M., this meeting being classified as “urgent” with no further explanation. 

“Another project, Roger?” Near questioned, his eyes flicking briefly to Mello, “we just finished one two weeks ago.” Group projects were usually assigned monthly, individual ones every two weeks. The timing felt off, and each of the boys knew it. A small wave of annoyance passed over the room.

“Yes, I know it may feel sudden, but don’t worry,” Roger reassured, “this project should take you all very little time.” Mello raised an eyebrow; this is how a typical “Roger Project” — as he would call it — would start off.

Easy.

“I want you all to monitor the other children here and take note of their behavior.” Mello and Matt were wide-eyed. That’s it? Roger has to be doing this for another reason, right? It sounded like busy work, which probably meant it wasn’t.

“This is a set-up, isn’t it?” Mello snapped, the anger in his tone slowly rising as his fists slammed against Roger’s desk.

“Always so temperamental,” he chuckled unfazed, folding his hands underneath his chin. He looked at the three young boys with a soft smile. Near was playing with a toy robot on the ground. Matt was sitting in a chair, his back slouched with his legs lazily spread, while playing a game on his DS as usual.  And Mello— He bit the edge of his chocolate bar, the sharp snap echoing like the rockslide falling from the top of a cave. His eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched, he knew something was off.

“There is only one small issue,” Roger muttered, “one of you will have to work alone, so decide amongst yourselves.” 

This was it.

This was Mello’s chance to prove he didn’t need any help from Near. This was his chance to prove that he can be good, that he can be better. His pulse quickened, just excited to see this image; this future memory of Near, finally being second instead of first. 

He’ll be better than Near.

“I’ll work alone, Roger. I think it’ll be best for all of us,” The blonde smirked, volunteering himself first before anyone else could get the chance.

“Yes… I believe that things would be better that way as well,” Near nodded, speaking softly as his attention is still mainly on the robot. Matt, who zoned out for the majority of the conversation, was curious. Near was the last person ever expected to be in a project with. “What’s it like to work with Wammy’s number one student?” He thought. The gamer knew that Mello never liked Near, anyone with eyes could tell that, but Matt and Near were never that close. He wanted to be. He wanted to understand Mello; to understand just why Near was so… unlikable. He wanted to know Near better. Both of them now had a perfect opportunity.

“And you, Matt?”

“That’s fine… uh, I don’t care,” Matt replied nonchalantly, trying to sound dismissive of the assignment. Roger nodded and displayed that familiar warm smile.

“That settles it, then. Starting tomorrow, every night for five days, you will return to me with a hand-written report at 9:00 P.M., understand?” Each kid nodded, simultaneously saying “Yes, Roger” before leaving. Out in the hallway, Mello walked ahead, the heels of his boots clicking sharply against the tile. Matt followed behind, his fingers still tapping buttons on his DS, though his eyes kept flicking toward Mello’s back.

“You sure you’re okay working alone?” Matt asked casually, trying not to sound like he cared too much.

“I’m not some charity case, Matt,” Mello muttered. “I don’t need Near breathing down my neck.” Matt shrugged. 

“Didn’t say you did.” His gaze followed the pair until they turned the corner, unreadable as always. They walked in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing faintly down the empty corridor. The early morning light filtered through the high windows, painting long shadows along the walls. Dust floated in the still air like static, like time had paused just to listen .Mello didn’t respond. He kept moving forward, faster than before, like he was walking away from something rather than toward it. His fists clenched at his sides, the half-eaten chocolate bar now crushed in his hand. Matt glanced over again, this time slipping his DS into his hoodie pocket.

“Y’know,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to do everything by yourself to prove something.” That stopped Mello in his tracks. He turned, his eyes sharp and defensive. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Matt didn’t flinch. Instead, he chuckled. His usual easy and laid-back one. 

“Nothing. Just saying… you act like it’s life or death every time Near walks into a room.” Mello’s jaw clenched. His expression was unreadable for a moment—something bitter behind the blue of his eyes.

“It is,” he said finally. “You wouldn’t get it.” Matt stuffed his hands in his pockets, lowering his gaze to the floor. 

“Maybe. But maybe I want to.” Mello blinked. For a moment, his eyes faltered—just a flicker—and then returned again. He scoffed, turned on his heel, and started walking again.

“Forget it,” he muttered. But Matt didn’t forget; he never did. He stayed a few steps behind, watching the way Mello’s shoulders tensed as he stormed ahead like he was always preparing for a war that hadn’t started yet—or maybe one that never really ended.

Chapter Text

“Damn, dude. You have a rough night, or somethin’?” Matt asked before popping open a can of soda.

“Fine. It’s fine,” Mello muttered, though the bags under his eyes told a different story. The dream never changed, it occurred more often than not. The dream started in the Common Room, but something was off. Mello was sitting on the couch where he'd been earlier, but the lighting was too dim, and the rain outside sounded muffled and distant. Near was on the floor with his puzzle, just like before.

"You left," Near said, not looking up from the puzzle.

"What?" Mello's voice sounded strange in his own ears.

"Earlier. You got up and left," Near placed a piece, and it fit perfectly, "You always leave." Mello wanted to say something defensive, something cutting, but the words felt thick in his throat. He tried to stand up from the couch, but his legs felt heavy, unresponsive.

"I don't—" he started, but Near finally looked at him. Those gray eyes were exactly the same as always, but there was something in them that Mello had never seen before. Something that looked almost... hurt.

"You stare at me," Near said simply, matter-of-factly, like he was stating the weather, "But you never really look." Mello felt heat rise in his chest, that familiar anger, but it was mixed with something else—something that made his stomach churn. 

He opened his mouth to argue, to say Near was wrong, but instead found himself asking, "What's the difference?"  Near's hands stilled on the puzzle pieces.

 "You tell me." 

And that’s how it ends.

Now, it was 8 A.M., and he joined Matt in the cafeteria, sitting across from him. Matt nodded toward the corner where Near sat alone, methodically eating his cereal while reading a book propped against his juice glass. 

"So... about this project."

"What about it?"

"I was thinking..." Matt paused, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe we should compare our stuff. Make sure we're not missing anything." Mello's fork stopped mid-stab. 

"You want to work together, is that it?"

"Not officially. Just... compare notes. That kind of thing." Matt leaned back in his chair, trying to appear casual. "Besides, Near's probably got some system worked out already.” The mention of Near's name sent an unwelcome heat up Mello's neck. 

"I don't need—"

"I know you don't need anything," Matt interrupted gently, "But maybe I do." Something in his tone made Mello finally look up. Matt's usual easy smile was strained around the edges, and his fingers drummed nervously against his soda can.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Matt glanced toward Near's table again, then back to Mello. 

"I've never really talked to him. One-on-one, I mean. And now we're supposed to work together for five days." He shrugged, but it looked forced. "Honestly? He makes me nervous." Mello blinked. In all their years of friendship, he'd never heard Matt admit to being nervous about anything. 

"Near makes you nervous?"

"Yeah, well..." Matt's cheeks flushed slightly. "He's different from us. Smarter. I don't know what to say to someone like that."

"He's not that smart," Mello said automatically, though the words tasted like lies.

Matt raised an eyebrow. 

"Dude, he's literally ranked first in everything."

"Rankings don't mean—"

"Okay, okay." Matt held up his hands in surrender, "Look, all I'm sayin’ is... if you notice anything about the other kids, maybe we could share intel. Unofficially." Mello studied his friend's face, searching for hidden motives. But Matt looked genuinely uncertain, almost vulnerable in a way that was completely unlike him. It was unsettling.

"No," Mello said finally. "I'm not holding your hand through this."

Matt's smile returned, more genuine this time. "That’s fine by me."

Later that evening, Matt found himself standing outside the library, gathering courage he didn't know he needed. Through the glass doors, he could see Near at a corner table, surrounded by neat stacks of books and papers. The white-haired boy looked perfectly at ease in the silence. Matt pushed through the doors, the soft squeak of hinges bringing attention to his arrival. Near's head lifted slightly, acknowledging his presence without really looking at him.

"Mail," Near said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper to respect the library's atmosphere.

"Hey." Matt pulled out the chair across from him, trying not to make noise. "Thought maybe we should... y’know. Talk about the project." Near's pale eyes flicked up, studying Matt's face with that unnerving intensity he was known for.  

"You look nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Matt said, probably too quickly.

"Your pupils are dilated, and you're mirroring how I'm sitting while keeping your hands under the table," Near observed, his tone matter-of-fact but not clinical. "Obvious signs you're anxious about something."

Matt felt heat creep up his neck. "Do you always analyze people like that?"

"Yes." Near turned a page in his notebook, apparently unbothered by the admission. "It's automatic, I suppose."

"Right." Matt cleared his throat. "So, uh, you started observing the other kids yet?"

"I started at lunch," Near's pen moved across the paper in quick, precise strokes. "Everyone seems relatively normal."

"Everyone? Not one crying child today?" Near finally looked at him directly, and Matt felt something flutter in his chest that he couldn't quite identify.

 "I'm always watching people, Mail. The assignment just means I can record now." The simple honesty in Near's voice caught Matt off guard. There was something almost lonely about it, though he doubted Near would ever admit to feeling lonely about anything.

"That must be..." Matt searched for the right word. "Tiring." Near's pen stopped moving. For a moment, his composed mask slipped, revealing something raw and uncertain underneath. "Yes.. .it is, sometimes," he admitted quietly.

Near’s vulnerability was a first, and it took Matt by surprise. It made his chest get the same fluttery feeling from before, which is still unidentifiable. He was curious — he wanted to know more about Near. Maybe this project wasn’t so bad after all.

“Should we take this to Roger now?” Matt asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Yes,” Near murmured, a slight pause in his sentence, “we should.”

Chapter Text

It’s the second day of the project, and Mello was already regretting his decision to work alone. He sat in the corner of the dining hall alone, notebook open, pen in hand, watching the other kids with what he hoped looked like casual interest, but his eyes kept drifting to the table where Matt and Near sat together, their heads bent over the shared notes. Matt was gesturing with his fork while explaining something, and Near was listening—not just analyzing, but genuinely engaged. They looked completely at ease with each other, like they'd been friends for years instead of days. It made Mello’s stomach churn.

"Focus," he muttered to himself, forcing his attention back to his assigned targets. Linda, another student there, was picking at her food, separating chicken from carrots with unusual precision and ate unusually slow. Behavioral quirk or eating disorder? Mello scribbled down notes, trying to sound calculated and detached like he imagined Near would. 

“Linda exhibits signs of food anxiety. Possible obsessive-compulsive tendencies.”

God, he even sounded like Near in his head now.

A burst of quiet laughter drew his attention back to their table. Matt was grinning at something Near had said, and for once, Near was smiling back—a real smile, not the polite upturn Mello occasionally glimpsed. Since when did Near smile?

Mello's pen snapped.

"Shit," he hissed, looking down at the broken plastic and ink staining his fingers. Several nearby students glanced over, and he felt the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck. This was exactly the kind of attention he didn't need. He grabbed his notebook and headed for the exit, not caring about the curious stares that followed him. In the hallway, he leaned against the wall and tried to steady his breathing.

 What the hell was wrong with him?

 It was just Matt talking to Near. Matt talked to everyone—that's who he was. Easy-going, friendly, the kind of person who could make conversation with a brick wall.

So why did it bother him so much?

"Mihael?"

Mello's head snapped up. Near stood a few feet away, holding a small box of tissues. His expression was unreadable as always, but he was looking directly at Mello, which was more attention than he usually got.

"Your hand," Near said simply, nodding toward Mello's ink-stained fingers.

Mello stared at the offered tissues like they might bite him. 

"I don't need—"

"The ink will stain if you don't clean it off soon," Near interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact rather than condescending, "And you'll need working writing materials for the project."

There was something in the way Near said it — almost considerate—that caught Mello off guard. He found himself accepting the tissues, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. Near's skin was cool and soft, exactly like Mello had imagined in those moments he tried not to think about.

"Thanks," Mello mumbled, immediately focusing on scrubbing the ink from his hands and still avoiding eye contact. Near didn't leave. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying Mello with that analytical gaze that usually made him want to punch something. 

"You seem frustrated."

"I'm fine."

"Your jaw is clenched, your shoulders are raised, and you broke your pen with enough force to scatter ink across a three-foot radius," Near observed, "That doesn't indicate 'fine.'" Mello looked up sharply, ready to snap, but something in Near's expression stopped him. There was no smugness there, no superiority. Just... curiosity. Like Near genuinely wanted to understand rather than prove a point.

"I’m fine," Mello said, his voice sharper than necessary, "Just... organizing my thoughts." Near's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. 

"Of course. I'm sure you have everything under control." There was no sarcasm in Near's tone, which somehow made it worse. Mello felt heat rise in his cheeks.

 "I do. I don't need help from anyone." Near was quiet for a moment, his gray eyes distant. 

"I see," He paused, tilting his head slightly, "Though I notice you broke your pen. That usually indicates some level of... frustration."

"It was an accident," Mello said quickly, defensively.

"Of course," Near's voice remained neutral. "I just meant that sometimes different perspectives can be useful. Not because someone needs help, but because collaboration can hold better results." Mello's jaw tightened. The way Near phrased it—so careful, so compromising—made it clear he knew exactly what buttons not to push. Which was almost more irritating than if he'd been condescending.

"I work better alone," Mello insisted. "Always have." The admission hung between them, but instead of feeling intimate, it felt like a challenge. Mello straightened, his pride flaring, “I don't need a different perspective. I can handle this project just fine. Better than fine." Near studied him for a long moment, and Mello had the uncomfortable feeling of being analyzed again.

 "I'm sure you can," Near said finally. "You're very capable, Mihael." The simple statement, delivered without a trace of mockery, made Mello feel worse. Like Near was humoring him. Before Mello could answer, Matt appeared around the corner, slightly out of breath like he'd been searching.

"There you two are," he said, relief clear in his voice. He looked between them with obvious curiosity but no tension. "Near said you seemed upset when you left. Everything good?"

Near had noticed him leaving? And told Matt about it? Mello wasn't sure how to process that.

"Fine," Mello said automatically, but his eyes stayed on Near. "Just needed some air." Matt nodded, accepting the explanation easily. The comfortable dynamic between him and Near was obvious even now—Matt naturally including Near in his concern for Mello, Near quietly observing but clearly caring enough to send Matt after him.  Near considered the conversation over and walked away, not upset in the slightest. Matt fell into step beside Mello, a knowing smile on his face.

"You two seem pretty close now," Mello observed, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Matt's smile softened. "Yeah, he's... he's not what I expected, definitely. He's actually pretty funny when he's not trying to be professional all the time. And he listens, y’know?" Matt glanced at Mello sideways. "I think you might be surprised too."

Mello was quiet for a moment, processing this. "He's different around you."

"Maybe. Or maybe he's just comfortable. It's easier to be yourself when someone's not expecting you to be perfect all the time."

Comfortable.

Chapter Text

The third morning of the project started like any other at Wammy’s: grey skies, lukewarm oatmeal, and kids quietly shuffling between assigned tasks. Matt yawned as he entered the study hall, DS in one hand, energy drink in the other, half-asleep despite the caffeine bite. His gaze scanned the room automatically—and landed on Near. There he was, already at the table they’d claimed as theirs, white hair glowing under the fluorescent ceiling lights, hand sorting through papers like they weighed nothing. Matt wasn’t sure why he smiled just looking at him. He always did, lately.

“Morning,” Matt mumbled as he dropped into the seat beside him.

“Your caffeine intake has increased,” Near said without looking up. “You’ve had three energy drinks in the last twenty-four hours. That’s abnormal.”

Matt blinked. “You’re keeping track?”

Near gave a vague shrug. “You’re a partner in this assignment. Your habits affect our performance.”

Matt chuckled, something warm and inexplicable curling at the edge of his stomach. “Fair enough.”

They settled into work, Near reading through a stack of notes while Matt tried to focus on typing a profile. But he kept glancing sideways. Near was humming softly. Just barely—something classical, probably—but it made Matt’s chest feel weird. Like static fuzzing in the background of a perfect song. Near didn’t hum. Near didn’t make small noises. But now, here, with him, Near was doing both. And Matt wasn’t sure why it made his brain short-circuit. 

They’d only been paired for a few days, but it felt longer. Easy. Like they’d always functioned like this—like they clicked without trying. It wasn’t just how well Near remembered things or how fast he worked. It was the way he asked Matt’s opinion. The way he listened, even when Matt rambled. The way he didn’t flinch when Matt sat close, when their shoulders brushed. Matt scratched at the back of his neck and forced his attention back to his screen. 

Later, they sat in the courtyard, Matt cross-legged on the ground, DS in hand, while Near crouched on the edge of a bench beside him, toying with the blades of grass.

“You do that when you're thinking hard,” Matt said, watching Near’s fingers run through the same few strands of grass. 

Near didn’t look up. “Do what?”

“The grass thing.”

“I see.” Near paused, then added, “You stare when you're not playing your game.”

Matt blinked. “What?”

“You stare at me,” Near said simply. Still not looking at him. “Usually when I’m reading.”

Matt felt his face heat. “I— I don’t.”

“You do,” Near replied. “It happens most often between 9 and 11 a.m. and during meals. You also tend to laugh when I make observations you once called ‘robotic.’” 

Matt looked down at his DS. The screen had long gone black.

“You're messing with me,” he said, trying for a grin.

Near tilted his head. “Am I?”

Matt’s throat felt dry. His fingers tightened around the console. Was this teasing? Was Near teasing him? No, that couldn’t be right. Near didn’t tease. Near didn’t flirt. Near didn’t even notice that kind of thing. But… if he didn’t notice, why was he tracking the exact hours Matt stared at him?

Matt wasn’t sure what to say, and Near seemed content to let silence settle in, turning his attention back to the grass like the whole conversation hadn’t just rearranged Matt’s brain. 

That night, Matt laid in bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. Not too much—but… yeah, Near was cute. Weird, brilliant, witty when he wanted to be. There was something magnetic about him. The way his fingers moved when he was solving something. The way his hair always looked like it belonged in some artwork. The way he actually listened to Matt talk, like what he said mattered. He’s nothing how Mello describes him. 

At All.

“I can see him…”

“The real him.”

 Matt turned over with a groan.

Okay, so maybe he had a little crush. Maybe.

But Near hadn’t mentioned it again. Maybe he had been teasing. Or maybe Near knew, and just didn’t care. Or worse—maybe he did know, and was waiting for Matt to crash and burn trying to figure it out.

Ugh. 

He buried his face into his pillow. This sucked.

The next day in the library, Near passed him a stack of notes without a word. Matt took them, their fingers brushing, and Near didn’t move away. In fact, Near looked straight at him, tilting his head like he was waiting for something. Matt’s stomach did a flip, and it showed on his face.

“Are you okay?” Near asked.

“I’m always okay,” Matt replied—too fast, automatic. And Near’s eyes flicked over his face in that precise way of his, like scanning for cracks in a puzzle he already knew the answer to. Matt wanted to look away. But Near smiled—small, knowing, and just slightly amused. It wasn’t unkind. Just quiet. Like he knew Matt better than Matt did.

And maybe he did. Matt said nothing. He simply turned back to the papers, silent, letting Matt drown in his own realization at his own pace.

Like he’d already figured it out. And decided not to say a word.

Chapter Text

By the fourth day of the project, everything felt off.

Matt didn’t realize how often he looked at Near until he caught himself doing it again—halfway through breakfast, halfway through a sentence. Near had cereal today, dry, and he was meticulously lining the pieces up along the rim of his bowl. It was… weirdly endearing.

Wait. Endearing ?

Across the table, Mello scowled into his coffee like it had personally wronged him.

“Are you even listening?” he asked Matt.

“Huh?” Matt looked up. “Yeah. Uh. Somethin’ about… chocolate, right?”

Mello sighed heavily. “Forget it.”

Matt glanced at Near again, just in time to see him glance back. Their eyes met. Near blinked slowly, then turned back to his cereal. Matt’s chest began to fill with warmth. The study hall was quieter than usual that afternoon. Mello was at a separate table by the window, pretending to focus on his notes. In truth, he was watching them. Watching Matt lean too close, smile too wide, laugh too easily. Near was different around Matt. Not dramatically. 

But Mello noticed. He noticed everything.

Matt always sat too close now. He handed Near things without being asked, offered to do the boring parts of the project, lingered a little too long when their hands brushed. Near never pulled away. When Matt leaned in to whisper something—probably another joke about the subject data—Near actually smirked. 

Smirked . 

Like he enjoyed the attention.

Later, Mello confronted Matt in the hallway between rooms.

“You know,” he said tightly, “You’ve been pretty distracted lately.”

Matt blinked at him, pulling off his goggles. “Huh?”

“Near. You're basically glued to his side.”

Matt raised a brow. “We’re doin’ a project, man.”

“You're always working on the project.”

“So?” Matt smirked. “You jealous or something?”

Mello’s jaw locked. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” Matt said, drawing out the word, “I think you're bein' weird.”

Mello took a step closer. “You're not paying attention.”

“To what?”

“To what he's doing,” Mello snapped. “He’s not just letting you in. He’s watching you. Studying you.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s just what Near does.”

“You don’t know Near.”

Matt crossed his arms. “Yeah? And you do? Or are you just salty ‘cause someone actually talks to him without feelin’ angry twenty-four seven?”

They stared at each other. The silence crackled.

“Just be careful,” Mello muttered, turning away, “okay?”

Near noticed the change in Matt before Matt did. The way Matt’s eyes lingered a little longer than necessary, how his jokes came across more often, how he kept finding excuses to be near him—carrying their shared notes, asking about his routines, even bringing extra batteries for Near’s robot “just in case.”

It wasn’t obvious. Not yet, but it was building.

And Near noticed.

He didn’t respond to it. Not directly. He offered no encouragement, no rejection. Just small moments—tilting his head when Matt spoke, allowing a subtle smile when their shoulders brushed, offering answers that lingered just enough to keep Matt guessing.

It was a delicate balance.

And Near didn’t plan on ruining it.

In the common room that night, Matt sat beside Near on the couch. Not too close. Just… not far. They were both staring at the same data sheet, but Matt’s eyes kept drifting sideways. Near caught him.

“You’re distracted,” he said plainly.

Matt was startled. “What? No, I—”

“You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for five minutes.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… just fried. Brain’s lagging or whatever.”

“Your pulse increases when I look at you.”

Matt froze. “Huh?”

Near didn’t blink. “You’re aware I measure patterns. Physiological and behavioral. You’ve been fidgeting more. You laugh more. You lean closer.”

Matt stared at him.

“I think,” Near said slowly, “You’re confused.”

Matt opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I don’t mind,” Near added, almost a whisper.

“I’m not—I mean, I don’t understand—” Matt stammered.

“You will,” Near said, turning back to the data sheet like nothing had happened. Matt sat frozen, heart pounding, brain doing somersaults, while Near sat calm. Always calm. Like he already knew what would happen—and could wait forever for Matt to catch up. Mello watched them from the corner of the room.

He saw the way Matt leaned away, but stayed seated. He saw the way Near turned just slightly toward him, like a planet locked in orbit. And he saw something else too.

They had changed. Not drastically. But enough. And that invisible space between them—once casual, once professional—was no longer empty. It crackled now, an energy with something Mello recognized. Something he’d buried deep down within. Mello turned away before they could notice. told himself he didn’t care. As he walked down the hall, their quiet laughter followed him—soft, natural, like it belonged in a world he no longer had access to. He clenched his fists.

He was now wondering what would’ve happened if he decided not to work alone.

Maybe…

Maybe he wished it was him instead.

Chapter Text

It was later than Matt meant to stay out. The library was dim, lit only by the golden cast of a desk lamp near the back, its glow barely reaching the stacks of books. Most of Wammy’s had gone to their rooms for the night. Even the restless geniuses had given up and retreated to their dorms. But not Near. Matt spotted him easily—white curls, hunched over a book near the window, surrounded by loose notes. His usual chaos, neat in its own weird way. Matt lingered at the entrance for a second, uncertain. He didn’t have an excuse this time. No fake reason to “grab something” or “check in on something important.” Just a heart pounding harder than it should and a feeling gnawing at his stomach since yesterday. 

He walked in anyway.

“You always here this late?” Matt asked, voice low but casual as he slid into the chair across from Near.

“I find the silence useful,” Near replied, not looking up. “There are fewer distractions at night.”

Matt gave a soft chuckle and leaned back in the chair, spinning it lazily once. “You’re the only person I know who treats quiet like a resource.”

“It is, for people who use their heads at least.”

Matt smirked. “So what does that make me?”

Near finally looked up. “An exception.”

Matt froze for a second, then blinked. “Was that a compliment?”

Near tilted his head slightly, face unreadable as usual, but the corner of his mouth gave the faintest twitch. “You decide.”

They fell into silence again. Comfortable, like always lately. The kind of quiet that came from knowing the other person wouldn’t push, wouldn’t press, but wouldn’t leave either. They sat together for a while in the quiet. The only sounds were the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle as Near moved a finger puppet in his hand. Matt hadn’t spoken in minutes. His usual jokes and one-liners had dried up, replaced with a restless energy that made him bounce his knee under the table and fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. Near didn’t say anything, but Matt could feel his eyes flicking toward him, waiting. Finally, Matt leaned forward, elbows on the table, and let out a slow, nervous laugh.

“You ever, like…” he began, then stopped himself. “Never mind.”

Near tilted his head. “If you’ve started the sentence, you might as well finish it.”

Matt sighed and looked away, fingers gripping around the edge of the table. “You ever have something in your head that doesn’t make sense until it’s way too late? Like your brain's been buffering for days?”

Near blinked once. “Yes.”

Matt gave a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Thought so.”

He ran a hand through his hair, shifting his goggles up so they sat on his forehead. For once, his eyes were fully visible—bright, nervous, vulnerable.

“I’ve been feeling... weird,” he admitted. “And not, like, bad weird. Just... different. Around you.”

Near didn’t respond. Just listened.

“And it’s been building. Like, every time we talk, or hang out, or when you do something small and smart and kind of smug—I feel it. This thing in my chest that I keep tryin’ to ignore, but it won’t go away.”

He laughed softly, but it cracked at the edges. “I thought I was just being a good friend, you know? That maybe I was just wired wrong because I actually liked being around you more than anyone else here. But turns out, that’s not it.” Matt swallowed hard and looked back at Near, really looked at him.

“I think I like you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know what to do with that. Except tell you.”

“I was waiting for you to realize it,” Near said, voice quiet.

Matt’s heart jumped. “And now?”

“Now I’d like to know what you intend to do about it.”

There was a nervous laugh caught in Matt’s throat. “I could show you.”

Near didn’t move. Instead, he gave a subtle smile— a genuine one, which was different from his “usual” ones. “Okay.”

And then Matt leaned in.

It wasn’t rushed or wild. It was steady, slow, like exhaling after holding his breath too long. Their lips met softly—no fireworks or dramatic music, just heat and closeness and something that felt special. Near leaned into it, tentative at first, then responding with just enough pressure to make Matt’s heart skip a beat. Matt’s hand found Near’s waist without thinking. Near’s fingers curled lightly in the fabric of Matt’s hoodie. Their second kiss was longer. Closer. Like something clicking into place.

Something connecting.

But neither of them saw the person in the aisle.

Mello had come looking for a book he left behind. He’d walked into the library just in time to see Matt standing inches from Near—then closing the space between them. He saw the kiss. Saw the way Near didn’t resist. Saw the look on Matt’s face, that rare, unguarded softness he never showed anyone, but him before. And for a second, Mello just stood there, frozen in the shadows between shelves, heart thudding like he’d been punched in the gut. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t slam a door. Just turned on his heel and walked back into the hallway, fists clenched at his sides.

Unaware, Matt pulled away, slightly breathless. “Was that... alright?” Near nodded, expression calm but eyes a little brighter than before.

“Yes,” he said. “It was exactly what I was expecting.”

Matt grinned, cheeks flushed. “You’re scary when you’re right.”

Near simply sat down beside him, shoulder brushing his, and picked up the finger puppet like nothing had changed. But everything had. Outside the library, a door clicked shut. But inside, it was quiet again.

Only this time, Matt didn’t mind the silence. He embraced it, he was comfortable with it. 

Comfortable.

The word was starting to become familiar now, the way it rolled off of the tongue— it has been said too many times, no? But maybe it needs to be set as a new normal.

Comfortable.

Chapter Text

The corridor was dark, only dimly lit by the yellow glow of the sconces along the wall. Most of Wammy’s was quiet at this hour—homework long abandoned, rooms shut, the usual nighttime silence cloaking the hallways like a thick fog. Near stood in front of Mello’s door, hand hovering in hesitation before he finally knocked twice, light but firm.

No answer.

He waited.

Another knock. This time, louder.

After a long pause, the door swung open with sudden force, revealing Mello in the doorway, backlit by the low desk lamp behind him. His eyes were shadowed, jaw clenched, hair a little messier than usual—like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times already.

“What?” he snapped.

Near didn’t flinch, used to his behavior. “You seemed off. I thought… I should check on you.”

Mello scoffed, turning away, leaving the door open behind him. “I’m fine. Don’t act like you care.”

Near stepped inside, quiet as always. “I do care.”

Mello turned to him sharply, eyes flashing. “Oh, really? You care? Is that why you were in the library earlier? Getting all comfortable with Matt?”

Near blinked, just slightly. “You noticed?”

“Of course I saw,” Mello spat, voice rising. “You think I wouldn’t notice when you start acting different? When he starts floating around like some dumb lovesick idiot?” Near's posture didn’t change, but the pause that followed was heavy.

“You’re seriously gonna replace me with that thing ?” Mello’s voice cracked somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. “You know I’m better than that. I’m better than him .”

“Mello—” 

“No. Don’t. Don’t look at me like that—like I’m some psycho lashing out. I’m not making this up.” He took a step forward, the space between them shrinking. “I saw it in your eyes when you looked at him. Like he mattered.”

“He does,” Near said softly.

Mello inhaled sharply, fury and something deeper tightening in his chest. “You and I— You get under my skin like no one else ever could. And now you’re just… giving up on me?” Near's gaze stayed on him, unreadable. He didn't retreat. He didn't argue.

“You don't get it, do you?” Mello muttered, voice quieter now, but lower—rougher. 

“You were supposed to see me. ”

Near was then forced by the collar into a kiss.

It was angry. Desperate. Nothing like the quiet softness of what Near and Matt had shared in the library just hours before. Mello's kiss was a bonfire, not a match—hot, overwhelming, with slight resentment. It lingered a second too long before Near pushed him back with surprising strength.

“Do you finally see me now?”

That question lingered in the air, it was silent. Not another sound heard but the heaving breathing between the two.

“No,” Near said, firmly. Not cruel, just slightly shaky.

Mello stood still, breathing hard. His hands dropped to his sides. He wasn’t sure what response he’d wanted. This rejection… it felt like shattering glass under his skin. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Near continued, “but we’ve never been rivals.”

Mello’s eyes flared, but Near stepped back before he could speak.

“You are not second to me, Mello, but I’ll never be below you.”

That stung more than he expected. Mello's fists clenched.

Near didn’t wait for another outburst. He turned for the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, not unkindly. And then he was gone.

Mello stared at the empty doorway for a long time, silence rushing in to take Near’s place. The echo of what he’d done, of what he felt , bounced in his chest like a ricochet with nowhere to land.

Alone again.

The sun rose soft and slow through the thick curtains, casting gentle streaks of light across the polished floors of the hallway. Somewhere downstairs, the clatter of dishes and faint murmurs stated the start of a new day.

The final day of the project.

It doesn’t feel like it.

Near stood at the edge of the Common Room, already dressed, his white sleeves crisp. He stared out the window for a moment longer than necessary, gaze unfocused, his mind far elsewhere.

He heard the footsteps before he saw him—lazy, familiar, the sound of someone in no rush to be anywhere on time.

“Mornin’,” Matt greeted, voice a little raspy, a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. His goggles were pushed up onto his head, hair still messy from his sleep.

“Good morning,” Near replied without turning. But something shifted in his tone—lighter, steadier, like the night before had passed through him without rememberance.

Matt moved to stand beside him, brushing shoulders briefly. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m always okay,” Near replied.

But this time, he looked at Matt as he said it.

Silence again. But it wasn’t tense. Just full.

Then Near turned his head, meeting Matt’s gaze. “Did you sleep well?”

Matt blinked. “Kinda. Kept thinking about you.”

Near blinked once, slowly.

Matt cleared his throat. “Not like—I mean, yeah, like that. But not in a weird way. Just… thinking, y’know?.”

Near’s gaze softened. “I was thinking about you, too.”

Matt smiled, small but real. “Guess we’re stuck with each other now, huh?”

Near’s voice was quieter than ever. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Matt leaned slightly closer, his shoulder brushing Near’s. “Good.”

Matt’s gaze softened slightly. He still felt like something was off. “Did something happen?”

Near was quiet for a beat too long. “I had a conversation I didn’t expect.”

Matt tilted his head. “Mello?”

Another pause. Near didn’t confirm, but his silence said enough.

Matt scratched the back of his neck. “He was… off last night. I ran into him in the hallway. Didn’t say much, just glared. Y’know, more than usual.”

Near’s voice was soft. “He saw us.”

Matt blinked. “The library?”

Near nodded once, still not meeting his eyes, fidgeting with his hair.

Matt swore under his breath. “Shit.”

They sat in silence again, but it wasn’t tense—it was heavy. The kind of silence that sits between two people when there’s too much to say and not enough time.

“Do you regret it?” Matt asked finally, voice low.

“No,” Near said immediately. “Do you?”

Matt looked down at his hands, then over at Near. “Not even a little.”

A faint smile curved Near’s lips. “Then we’re in agreement.”

Matt chuckled quietly, his breath fogging slightly in the chilly room. “Weird. We’re agreeing on something.”

“It happens more than you think,” Near murmured. “You just don’t notice.”

Matt shifted a little closer, until their knees were touching. “I notice more than I let on.”

Near turned to look at him, and for a moment, there was nothing between them but understanding. The hum of something unspoken, still growing.

Matt smiled again, softer this time. “So… what happens now?”

Near tilted his head slightly. “Now? We complete the project. Then we’ll see.”

Matt exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding it in all night. “Yeah. Okay. I can live with that.”

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the library windows, casting long rectangles across the desks and carpet. Near sat tucked in the far corner, surrounded by scattered pages, one leg drawn to his chest as he clicked a pen steadily against the edge of the table. His posture was calm, but his eyes betrayed focus—intense and unmoving. Not on the papers. On the seat next to him. Matt slouched in it, chin resting in his palm, scribbling lazy bullet points that looked like a third draft already. His red hair was a mess from sleep. There was a new stillness to him this morning, different from his usual wired-with-a-controller energy. He hadn’t said much since they met up, but he stayed close, their knees occasionally brushing under the table. Neither acknowledged it.

“Do you want to review Mello’s file again?” Near asked, voice quiet.

Matt blinked like he was being brought back to Earth. “Nah, I got what I need. Honestly, I’ve been done. I’m just pretending to keep working.”

Near tilted his head, slightly amused. “Then why are you still here?”

Matt hesitated. “’Cause I figured you’d be here. And it’s quieter than the common room. No one bothers us in the library.”

Us. He said it without thinking, but Near noticed. He always noticed.

“I see,” Near replied, though his voice dipped a little softer. “Well, I appreciate the company.”

Matt gave a noncommittal shrug, though his hand paused mid-sketch. “You know you don’t gotta be formal with me all the time. It’s just me.”

“I know,” Near said.

Matt hesitated before speaking, standing close enough now that Near could feel the warmth of him. “Y’know,” he started, voice softer than usual, “you’re kind of hard to read.”

Near glanced up. “I’m frequently told that.”

Matt let out a breath of a laugh, but it sounded tight. “Yeah, well… it’s frustrating. Not in a bad way, just—” He broke off, fingers twitching at his sides. “Just makes it harder to tell if this thing I’m feeling is totally insane or not.”

Near tilted his head, watching him carefully. “What thing?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “This... whatever this is. Between us.” He finally met Near’s eyes again. “You know that I like you. Not just in the ‘you’re interesting’ way, or ‘you’re cool to talk to’ kind of way. More like... I think about you when I’m not around you. I feel like I get you. And I really, really wanna kiss you again.”

“...Can I?”

Near didn’t speak, but he didn’t pull back either. His lips parted slightly, breath shallow. That was all Matt needed.

He stepped in closer, slowly this time, as if giving Near every chance to stop him. But Near stayed still—rooted, expectant, eyes flickering down to Matt’s mouth just once. The kiss was nothing like the last one. This one was slower. Deeper. Matt cupped the side of Near’s jaw gently at first, then slid his hand back into Near’s soft hair. Their mouths moved in sync—not desperate, but. curious. 

Hungry.

Near made a quiet noise into the kiss, something between a sigh and a hum— almost like a moan, and it sent a jolt down Matt’s spine. He kissed him harder after that, hand dropping to Near’s waist, drawing him impossibly closer. Near didn’t resist. He leaned into it. Into Matt. Like he’d been holding something back for far too long.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Near’s eyes fluttered open. “That,” he murmured, voice lower than usual, “was… unexpected.”

Matt smirked, his forehead resting lightly against Near’s. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

Neither of them noticed the sound of footsteps until it was too late.

“Hey, Matt,” Mello’s voice snapped across the room like a cracked whip. Both of them turned.

Mello stood near the doorway of the library, arms crossed. He looked like he hadn’t slept well for the past few nights. His hair was messier than usual— which it never is, and he had dark circles under his eyes, giving away the fact that whatever had happened the night before hadn’t left his head. He wasn’t glaring at Near, though. He was looking straight at Matt. Near’s eyes flicked between them, subtle but alert.

Matt raised a hand in greeting. “Yo. What’s up?”

“Final reports are due by noon,” Mello said flatly. “Just figured I’d remind you. Wouldn’t want you to get distracted.”

The silence that followed was colder than it should’ve been.

“I got it under control,” Matt replied, voice a little more defensive now. “Thanks, though.”

Mello nodded slowly. “Good. Wouldn’t want to lose points over... misplaced priorities.”

Before either of them could respond, he was gone.

Matt sighed and dropped his head against the back of his chair. “Damn. What crawled up his ass this time?”

Near said nothing. His pen hovered above the paper like he was trying to decide whether to keep writing or not. Eventually, he set it down.

“Did he see?” Near asked quietly.

Matt looked at him. “What?”

“Us kissing.”

Matt swallowed. “...Yeah. I think he did.”

There was no panic in Near’s expression. Just a slight tension in his brows, like he was calculating what to do next. Like he always was.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, after a pause. “I should’ve said something sooner. About how I felt… About you.”

Near looked at him steadily. “It’s none of your fault.”

“No,” Matt said. “But I could’ve handled it better. I’m not exactly great at... any of this.”

“You’re doing fine.”

A small smile touched Near’s lips. Not big, not dramatic—but it was real. It was his. The silence stretched again, but now it was warmer. The tension was still there, but quieter. Muffled by the soft shuffling of paper and the knowledge that something had changed.

By late morning, their final reports were stacked neatly in folders. Near had written it neatly, legible with precision. Matt’s was messier, a bit too casual in places, but honest. 

Roger collected their folders one by one, giving each of them the same neutral nod. “You’re dismissed,” he said. “Thank you for your work.”

And just like that, it was over.

Outside the office, Matt and Near lingered at the top of the stairs. Neither said anything at first.

“So…” Matt finally said. “Now what?”

Near didn’t look at him. “We return to our routines. Until the next assignment.”

Matt gave him a look. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

A pause.

Near glanced up then, eyes soft. “No. I suppose it wasn’t.”

And then, for the first time, Near reached out and gently took Matt’s hand. It wasn’t much. Just a touch. But it said more than anything either of them had written.

“Y’know,” Matt paused, his cheeks flushing a slight red tint, “I… really do love you.” He chuckled nervously. There was a pause, a weight filling the air for a brief moment. Near hasn’t ever been told such a thing, it’s new for both of them. 

Raw emotion.

“Mail,” Near paused, taking a short breath in between. Matt only became more flustered by the use of his actual name. 

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

It was quiet in Near’s room, as it always was. The curtains were drawn just enough to let in light. The floor was scattered with white puzzle pieces in progress, as Near sat cross-legged in his usual spot. He’d already finished two puzzles that morning, but couldn’t concentrate. Something about the day felt strange. He wasn't one to keep track of holidays, but the decorations in the hallway were hard to ignore: pink streamers, paper hearts, candy bowls mysteriously refilled every hour. Even Wammy’s couldn't completely avoid Valentine’s Day. It felt strange to consider it now — not because he disliked the sentiment, but because for the first time in his life, the day actually meant something.

He was thinking of Matt. Again.

Again?

A knock didn't come. Instead, there was a soft tap followed by the creak of his door opening — uninvited. Near looked up, unbothered, already knowing who it would be. No one else entered without knocking. “Yo,” Matt said, pushing the door open further with his shoulder. He was holding something in his arms. A lumpy bundle covered by a brown cloth.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be here,” Near noted quietly.

“Didn’t wanna tell you,” Matt replied, pushing his goggles up into his messy hair. “I just... kinda wanted to see you.”

He paused awkwardly, closing the door behind him with his foot. There was a strange tension in the air — not uncomfortable, just new.

Near tilted his head slightly. “You're blushing.”

Matt scoffed. “Shut up. No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Not.”

Silence was stilled for a beat, but it wasn’t empty. It came with nervousness, something unsaid.

Matt cleared his throat and dropped the bundle onto the floor in front of Near. “Okay, um, this is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, or whatever.”

Near blinked. “You got me something?”

“Yeah, I made it. It took me, like, a month. Which is why I’ve been... you know, disappearing sometimes.” He gestured toward the bundle with a brown cloth over it, and Near slowly reached forward to uncover it. Under the cloth was a small robot — clunky, uneven, with mismatched wheels and crooked arms. Its surface was scratched metal, bolts sticking out at odd angles. It looked like it had been made from salvaged scraps— well, because it had.

It was, objectively, ugly.

Near stared at it, saying nothing.

Matt fidgeted. “Okay, I know it’s not the prettiest. But it moves! It’s got a motion sensor. Some of the gears were a bitch to align without making it too heavy, and I wanted it to wave, but the motor kept jamming so-”

Near reached out and gently pressed the small button on its back. The robot winded up, gave a jerky little spin, and started rolling forward in uneven zig zags.

Matt cut off mid-sentence as Near sat silently watching it bump into the side of his desk.

“I love it,” Near said finally.

Matt blinked. “Wait- seriously?”

“It’s definitely not perfect,” Near said, reaching to stop it before it rolled into his bookshelf. “But it’s yours. You made it. For me.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “I just wanted to make you something no one else would think of. I figured you’d get a ton of books or puzzles or whatever today.”

“I haven’t received anything else,” Near said plainly.

Matt looked startled. “Wait, nothing ?”

Near shrugged.

Matt scratched at his neck. “I guess that makes this exclusive, then, huh?” He gave a crooked grin, and Near gave him a rare, small smile in return. The kind Matt had learned to recognize — subtle, but warmer than most people ever got to see.

Matt flopped onto the floor beside Near, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. He watched Near toy with the robot, rotating its wheels manually as if memorizing its mechanics by touch.

“You ever think about that week?” Matt asked suddenly.

Near didn’t look up. “Which week?”

“The project. Y’know, you and me.”

Near paused. “I think about it often.”

Matt leaned back on his hands. “Same.”

Another pause.

“You’re quieter now,” Near said.

“I’m kinda nervous, I can’t lie.”

“Why?”

Matt let out a breath, tilted his head to look at him more directly. “Because... this thing with you, it’s still kinda blowing my mind.”

Near turned to face him fully. “You’re not unsure, are you?”

“No. I’m just scared I’ll mess it up.”

“You most likely won’t.”

Matt smiled faintly. Then, bolder now, he said, “...You’re somethin’ special, you know.”

Near looked at him for a beat, giving another faint smirk. “I know.”

Matt hesitated for only a second before leaning into Near, it started off as a small peck to the lips. But it got deeper. This kiss was different from the first. No longer hesitant, and curious. It was slower. He cupped Near’s cheek with one hand, the other bracing himself as he leaned forward on the floor. Near shifted toward him, breath catching softly, fingers curling in the front of Matt’s hoodie. It was quiet, the soft sound of lips parting, then pressing again. A little more heated this time — insistent. Near responded with the same intensity— uncharacteristic— letting the kiss linger longer than either of them had expected. 

Matt’s hands found their way to Near’s waist, thumbs pressing gently against the hem of his shirt, just enough pressure to ground them both. His touch wasn’t rushed. It danced on the fine line between honest and desperate. Near tugged Matt just a little closer, and he didn’t resist — he followed, letting himself be pulled into the warmth of Near’s chest.

When they parted for breath, Near’s lashes fluttered. His cheeks were pink, mouth still parted slightly. Matt watched the boy beneath him— wide-eyed, like he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

“Sorry,” Matt murmured, crawling off of Nearand allowing him to sit up, brushing his thumb along his cheek. “I’m not… rushing, or anything, right?”

Near didn’t answer at first. Instead, he leaned forward again and pressed a featherlight kiss just beneath Matt’s jaw. Then another, higher this time. A little more lingering. Matt’s breath caught audibly, his fingers tightening just slightly at Near’s waist.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” Near said softly, almost teasing as he still pants. “I don’t want you to be if that’s not how you’re feeling.”

Matt exhaled, shaky. “God, I’m tryin’ not to get carried away.”

Near leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. “Then don’t hold back.”

That sentence alone broke Matt’s self-control.

Matt kissed him again, rougher this time — not careless, but full of everything he’d been holding back for weeks. Their bodies pressed closer, Matt shifting Near to straddle his lap with a quiet inhale, Near’s arms slowly falling around Matt’s shoulders.

Matt's hands roamed—slow, respectful, but bolder now—up Near’s back, settling between his shoulder blades as he deepened the kiss. They were tangled, warm, completely engrossed in each other. Near’s breathing came faster, small sounds slipping between kisses, and Matt thought he might completely fall apart from the way Near’s fingers threaded into his hair, anchoring them together.

It wasn’t about lust. It wasn’t even about the holiday anymore. It was about them. Months of silent glances, half-finished sentences, soft smiles across rooms. This was the moment they stopped dancing around it. 

Near pulled away to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against Matt’s and closing his eyes. He was flushed, lips slightly parted, still half-wrapped around him, hands twisted in Matt’s hair. Matt couldn’t find his voice, and the room suddenly felt too quiet.

“You’re… shivering.”

Near’s voice was soft, but the sudden break in silence made Matt jump. He swallowed, realizing that Near was right. “Yeah, I, uh… yeah.”

Without the distraction of movement and sound, the intimacy seemed more intense. Their quiet breathing seemed loud, each exhale a tangible moment. Matt’s hands still rested on Near’s back, fingers spreading and pressing lightly, as if to make sure he was still there. Near could feel every tiny motion, sensitive to his touch. His heart raced. Everything around them seemed to fade away— it was just the two of them.

This time, Near leaned in, catching Matt’s lips in another kiss, taking Matt by surprise. This kiss was different. It was needy, falling far from wholesome now. Matt responded without hesitation, a low sound in his throat vibrated against Near’s mouth. He shifted, pulling Near closer on his lap, one hand leaving his back to move to his waist, thumbs running slow circles where his shirt had ridden up a bit. He could feel the heat of Near’s skin through the thin fabric, and it made his grip tighten almost involuntarily. Their heads tilted on their own, deepneing the kiss. It wasn’t frantic, no, but there was a sense of urgency, desperately hungry. Near’s hands fell from Matt’s shoulder, now wrapped around his waist over the thick hoodie, and Matt let his hands travel underneath Near’s shirt, overly obsessed with the way his skin felt against his fingertips. After a few moments, they finally pulled away, their breathing slightly ragged. Matt's hands lingered on Near's waist, as if he didn't want to let go.

“I’ve wanted that,” Matt whispered, “for so long.”

Near’s voice was quiet. “I can tell.”

Matt laughed softly, his thumb stroking the side of Near’s jaw. “Of course you do.”

Near smiled—something unguarded. “You’re loud when you’re trying to be subtle.”

Matt kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’ll work on that.”

“Don’t,” Near murmured. “I like you like this.”

They stayed like that for a while—entwined, warm, the quiet hum of the robot, a soft background heartbeat in the room.

“Hey,” Matt said, his voice soft, “can I stay here tonight?”

Near looked at him, his cheeks still flushed, and gave a small nod. “Yes. Stay.” he responded, his voice soft, too. Matt let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, relief visible in his face.

“Thanks,” he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on the smaller boy’s forehead, “I don’t feel like going all the way back to my room.”

“Lazy,” Near muttered, idly playing with the strings on Matt’s hoodie.”

“Guilty as charged.”