[There is no need for windows. No real use for them. Near has always preferred the ambiguity of a secure building that's sealed off from the world, hidden away from bullshit like celestial movement. Even if sunlight weren't his mortal enemy, he doesn't think that he would be all that fond of feeling it on his skin. It's too warm. It makes him feel sticky. And moonlight isn't any better because all sorts of things will stay hidden in it. Fortunately, the app on Near's phone can account for the weak light of predawn. The hour of the ugly duckling has never been brighter or clearer. Tuned to the building's external cameras, the app shows a sleek car pulling up to the curb, and it shows the passengers departing from that same car afterward. Mello is more than a speck to this artificial eye. And, unaligned though they are, Near still curves his thumb over the image of Mello, stroking him like a saint medallion.
Near hasn't gotten any work done. He isn't sure that he's slept all that much. He's barely been able to get out of bed, for that matter, even to do things like fetch toys or art supplies from his own bedroom. It looks like he's only brought along an old-school Nintendo DS, a sketchbook, a set of colored pencils, and a wind-up monkey with little metal cymbals, all of which he's left in a pile at the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, he's curled up in and among the many soft pillows, staring intently at the app on his phone, watching and waiting as Mello comes closer to him. Bleary-eyed, he doesn't look away even after Mello steps into the bedroom, if only because it wouldn't be very easy to see him in this windowless gloom. That doesn't change the fact that everything is as it should be, at last, finally, thankfully. Everything is back to the way it's supposed to be.
Near reaches over and turn on the bedside lamp to the next-lowest setting. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair is a mess. He's wearing a loose, oversized hoodie--something he must have found and pilfered from Mello's closet. It's thick black fabric with thick black laces criss-crossing down the sleeves, and it's definitely too much for his thinned-out body. The silver eyelets gleam when he fully sits up. Now he's looking up at Mello, just now rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes--]
Welcome home, Mello.
[His voice is dry and and dusty and scratchy, like he's kind of forgotten how to speak in just the time it's taken Mello to fly back to New York. He thinks his delivery could have used some work, too. It was supposed to be more momentous than this, more eye-opening and life-changing, more like he's acknowledging the heavy things they talked about over the phone, more like they're...
Suddenly, he has to stifle a yawn with one floppy cuff of the hoodie.]
no subject
Near hasn't gotten any work done. He isn't sure that he's slept all that much. He's barely been able to get out of bed, for that matter, even to do things like fetch toys or art supplies from his own bedroom. It looks like he's only brought along an old-school Nintendo DS, a sketchbook, a set of colored pencils, and a wind-up monkey with little metal cymbals, all of which he's left in a pile at the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, he's curled up in and among the many soft pillows, staring intently at the app on his phone, watching and waiting as Mello comes closer to him. Bleary-eyed, he doesn't look away even after Mello steps into the bedroom, if only because it wouldn't be very easy to see him in this windowless gloom. That doesn't change the fact that everything is as it should be, at last, finally, thankfully. Everything is back to the way it's supposed to be.
Near reaches over and turn on the bedside lamp to the next-lowest setting. His eyes are bloodshot. His hair is a mess. He's wearing a loose, oversized hoodie--something he must have found and pilfered from Mello's closet. It's thick black fabric with thick black laces criss-crossing down the sleeves, and it's definitely too much for his thinned-out body. The silver eyelets gleam when he fully sits up. Now he's looking up at Mello, just now rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes--]
Welcome home, Mello.
[His voice is dry and and dusty and scratchy, like he's kind of forgotten how to speak in just the time it's taken Mello to fly back to New York. He thinks his delivery could have used some work, too. It was supposed to be more momentous than this, more eye-opening and life-changing, more like he's acknowledging the heavy things they talked about over the phone, more like they're...
Suddenly, he has to stifle a yawn with one floppy cuff of the hoodie.]
Come back to bed already.