Near was unsure how it was the sky that filled his vision— or why it was Mello that was holding onto his carcass-like frame. All he could remember was that his secret was out and that his life would never be the same. Even worst, it was Mello— they boy who, so passionately, spited him— that found out. Near was sure he was always seeking an opportunity to ruin his life, and now he had the means to do so. The partially-developed thoughts stormed through the sheep's mind like a tempest— reckless, harmful, and unbelievably cold.

It was Mello's voice that eventually subdued the waves of panic. Only then did Near realise that his body had been mimicking the writhing movements within his brain, and so he allowed his limbs to rest. He wanted, so desperately, to rest.

"Near," Mello's voice called out from a seemingly far away place, though Near's head was laying on his lap.

Don't ask why. Please, don't ask why.

"Please, be still," the blonde stated, almost a whisper— as if it were he who wanted to disappear, "I don't think you're a freak, so stop saying that. It's going to be okay. I brought you to the roof, so no one else will find out, okay? You don't have to talk right now, but please stop screaming."

He was screaming? Near didn't feel like he was screaming, but like the never-ending pressure that had been forming— for years, perhaps— in his chest was being let out. Still, he clamped his mouth shut. No more tears escaped his eyes, but his body still shook as though he was still crying.

A moment slid by.

Another.

"Why," Near started, surprised that it was himself that was asking questions, "the roof?"

"It helps me think."

Mello's arms were still wound about Near— a position unfamiliar to the younger boy. He was confused as to why the blonde would soil himself by even touching him, much less hold him. Dry sobs erupted through his chest once more.

"I'm sorry," the tiny figure whispered.

"The fuck, Near. You're the one who should be apologised to," Mello said, his voice louder and more confident than it had been for the past few minutes, "I've been treating you like shit, and you've been— this."

Near tucked his arm closer into his chest, and avoided Mello's face with his eyes, "Well, then I'm sorry you had to carry me. I was probably heavy."

"Can I pray for you, Near?"

The question startled the lamb. It wasn't the expected 'why' or 'how' or condemnation that he so anticipated the minute that Mello had reached for his sleeve. While he didn't see the point, he merely nodded his head— to tired to argue about religion. Mello pulled out his rosary and muttered a long prayer. Near could only focus on the shifting clouds as the time passed slowly by.

"Do you need to go to the nur—"

"No, I'm fine. Don't take me to the nurse, please don't take me. Roger will find out. I'll be in trouble. Please don't take me. Please— plea— don't— you can't— I'll kill myself. I will— I will jump off this roof the second you get up." Nears words were unclear and short as the panic returned.

Mello's hands gripped the sides of Near's face and he steadied the boy, peering down into his face from above, "Okay. Please, don't do that. I won't— but only if you let me see. I need to be sure you're going to be okay." His voice feigned calmness.

Near paused for a moment— weighing the two options— before standing up and nodding slowly, wiping away a few remaining tears, and removing his shirt. Near felt exposed— raw— and kept his head down, staring at his feet.

A warm hand addressed his skin, startling him. Still, he looked away. For what seemed like hours, Mello assessed and observed his scarred flesh. Occasionally, he would run his fingers across one particularly deep wound.

"Is this all?" Mello asked, his voice breaking as though he were crying.

Near snapped his head up to make eye contact with the older boy. Sure enough, tears were running down his face. What? Did I do something?

"Near," Mello interrupted, a bit harshly, though his expression was one of concern and confusion.

All the lamb could do was shake his head 'no'— once in response to the question, and again when the blonde asked if he could see those, too.

"Okay," Mello responded, not wanting to corner the unstable boy.

Another silent moment.

Mello turned away to face the freshly-risen sun. Near was unsure what to do, so he walked up next to the taller boy. He had put on his white shirt once again, but still felt just as exposed.

"I've been through a lot because of what I am and what I believe in," Mello said, breaking the silence, "and I have even thought about death. But I never've done what you do. I never took it that seriously. And maybe you don't want to tell me now, but I'm just going to ask anyway. Why do you want to die?"

Near thought for a moment before responding.

"I don't want to die, and that's why I do it."

Mello looked at him curiously, before nodding.

"There's a lot that you don't know about me, Mello. I don't expect you to und—"

"Then try! Tell me! I want to help, okay? I can't help you if you don't tell me what is wrong in the first place! Just— tell me when something is wrong before you go and slice your fucking skin, okay? Maybe, just maybe— although I'm not so goddamn high and mighty as you are, Near— and probably never will be— I am smart enough to understand if you just talk to me. I want to help you stop!"

The tears started again.

"I'm sorry, Near," the blonde said, keeping his distance from the boy, "I didn't mean to yell— I'm just scared."

"Of me?" Near asked.

"For you."

Thank you to LouiseLawliet, Emlin18, TheShinigamiInRed, R, and SilvertonguedSerpent1895 for their encouraging reviews for my last chapter. Also, a special shout out to Ellie and many others for the meaningful posts they left on previous chapters that I didn't mention before.

I know this chapter is short and not extremely cliche or over-dramatic, but it is intentional. Broken moments need to be shared in a broken way. That is just how life is sometimes.

Please leave a review or critique.