i do not own Death Note.

R&R.

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Man of the Hour

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Mello was late to Latin on Thursday, and when he did decide to deign the classroom with his presence, he went about it in a way that was calculated for effect. The door was thrown open with more force than what was strictly necessary, and for a moment he remained silhouetted in the entranceway, his flushed and triumphant features smirking down upon his peers like some kind of radiant, golden God.

"Mello, glad you could join us. Please take a seat."

Near inclined his head as he watched the arrogant child with the corn-silk hair cross the room in four easy strides. He claimed the only remaining vacant seat in the room - the one directly to the left of Near's.

The instructor eyed Mello disapprovingly, but said nothing further regarding the matter. Most of the staff here had long since given up on trying to sort out the walking calamity known as Mello. The green-eyed prodigy was like a chaotic force of nature, and just as unpredictable.

A trio of girls near the front twisted around in their seats to glance at Mello. Then they abruptly burst into giggles, and Near watched in faint confusion as the rest of the room tried to hide their smiles behind notebooks in vain.

"That's enough," the instructor ordered, looking a little embarrassed. Near lifted a thin eyebrow, and glanced sideways at Mello, wondering what he had done this time to cause the rest of the class to react in such a manner. Mello usually invited disorder and attention - but not usually in a way that it flustered the teachers, too.

But as far as Near could tell, there was no discernable difference in the blonde. He looked just the same as he did every day - although perhaps a little smugger than usual, with his arms folded across his wiry chest as he leaned back in his seat.

"Please turn to page 406, everyone."

The tiny classroom was filled with the sounds of chair legs scraping against the floor as people rummaged through their book-bags. Near pulled out his own text from underneath his desk and flipped it open to do the same, unable to keep from stealing a glance at Mello as he did so. But fair-haired youth simply remained sitting there, drumming his fingers impatiently against the hard wood of his table as his ostentatious demeanor gave way to an expression of apparent disinterest.

Well, that was certainly different. Mello may have been a lot of things - showy, disrespectful, riotous - but he was also absurdly dedicated when it came to scholatistics, if only to get better marks than Near. Everything with Mello was a competition - and Near was his biggest corrival. Mello wanted, more than anything, to prove his supremacy over Near in the academic war being waged to assume the right to be the next L, and the idea of him skirting his studies for even a period, especially so close to the end-of-term exams - why, the mere thought was mind-boggling.

But Mello seemed perfectly content to take a day off, staring out the window with a kind of self-assured ease. What is even the point of showing up, then? Near thought before devoting his attention to the passage before him.

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Fifty-five minutes later, and the class was dismissed. Near was tucking his enormous textbook under his arm as one of the braver orphans elbowed Mello as he passed.

"I thought your and Matt's honeymoon phase was over," the brunette jeered, as he and a few other boys jostled one another on their way to the door. Usually such a comment would cause the volatile blonde to bristle, or shout; but today, it merely made Mello grin.

"You up for some kickball later?" the same brunette inquired, as he finally succumbed to the inevitable; swept in the helter-skelter of students streaming out the only exit.

"Maybe." Mello gave a half-hearted shrug, still smirking. Then his elegant neck craned back in the direction of Near, and his grin grew even more impossibly wider as Near finally caught sight of it: the blotched red, almost pock-marked flesh that dotted his collarbone.

"Hickies?" Near asked quietly, unable to keep from wrinkling his nose in distaste. The façade of disgust was a good excuse to allow his gaze to linger on the pale flesh of Mello's vulnerable throat for far longer than what was usually acceptable. "Then again, 'subtlety' was never a part of your vocabulary, was it?" He blinked once, and began to shuffle toward the exit, away from the elder boy.

"L's here." The albino paused by the teacher's desk, which was currently unmanned. They were the only remaining occupants in the classroom now, and Near reached to flip the light switch on the wall as he went. "His plane touched down last night."

Oh. Oh.

Near was inwardly glad that his front was turned away from the blonde in that precise moment; although the younger prodigy was usually schooled in masking his true emotions, this one had managed to slip through the censor. There was open shock there – revulsion and curiosity and want.

L… you… how?

But something in his stance must have given him away, and suddenly Mello was to the left of him, so close that from a different angle, it gave the illusion of them touching. His chocolatey breath was hot on Near's face as he spoke contemptuously, proudly, cheeks tinged pink with barely contained triumph.

"Are you jealous, Near?" Mello murmured happily, drinking in the traces of mingled emotions before Near could suppress them completely. "Jealous that he picked me?" Something electric arched it's way up Near's spine and Mello looked deeply satisfied.

"That's right," he whispered smugly, and Near knew that the blonde had misread him entirely as he stepped out into the hall and was gone.

But Mello had gotten it half-right, at least. Near was jealous—but not for the reason Mello had thought.