Warnings: Slash, rape, violence

Author's Note: A lot of people detest anything MelloxNear, but so many people gave it a go with my last MxN one shot, 'Near's Confession.' It was a huge hit, with over 100 favorites and reviews over this site and another, within the first couple of months of submitting it. I'm hoping that this story will become as popular, but it's a lot less fluffy, and a lot more mature, than Near's Confession, so I don't have my hopes up.

Happy reading!

Someone was in the shower. The mirrors were steamed up, with clear trails zigzagging to meet beads of condensation in the sink. With a swing of a fist, the foggy glass shattered into a spider's web. A small, single piece of mirror clattered to the floor, and then there was silence.

Mello paused. For the moment the absence of the pattering sound from the shower had abated his anger. Drip, drip, drip. He couldn't hear anything but the gentle dripping. The person in the shower remained silent and unmoving. Had he heard him hit the mirror? Mello didn't really care. All the other children were used to his aggressive disposition.

Drip, drip. A drop of red hit the ground, followed by another. Mello swore loudly, and brushed the blood away on the thigh of his jeans. The cut wasn't deep – just inconvenient. Damn him, he thought. It's all his fault, for besting me at everything. I hate him. He swore again, and kicked the base of the sink. He wanted to destroy something. To ruin something pretty. He could start with this bathroom.

“Mello.”

His breath caught in his throat, and the eyes in the misty, cracked reflection widened. The voice from the shower was clear, small and soft. It was too bland - almost apathetic. Only Mello could detect the nearly unreadable curiosity behind it. He'd give anything for that voice to belong to anyone else. Then he paused, considering. Perhaps this was exactly what he needed.

He spun around and pushed open the shower door. It wasn't locked. It hit the wall with a soft thud, and rebounded slightly before stopping. Drip, drip. He stopped. The silence was heavy, penetrated only by the dripping of water from flesh. From ghostly pale flesh and hair, silvery from dampness.

“Near,” said Mello. His voice would have been even, was intended to be even, but was overruled by vehemence. Mello dug his fingers into his palms. His breathing was heavy and loud. Near watched him, clutching the towel to his chest. But for his dead expression, he could have been more of a child than he was. Heat colored Mello's cheeks, and loathing boiled in his stomach.

“I hate you,” said Mello simply. He stepped up to Near and grabbed him roughly by the wrist, twisting it sharply. Near looked away. “I hate you,” Mello repeated, spitting into the small boy's calm face. Hating more than ever his lack of caring, his lack of retaliation.

“I know.” Near's voice was even. Mello shoved him into the wall, and Near looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Dead eyes.

“You don't know!” Mello screamed. He could feel the pulse of Near's wrist through his fingers. Slow and steady. Mello's own heart raced. “You don't know everything,” he spat, and he sent his injured fist into the side of Near's head, forcing him to turn away. Blood stained Near's temple. Whose was it? Near didn't look back at Mello.

“Why won't you cry out? Why won't you scream?” Mello hit him again, and Near fell sideways to the floor. Still, Near said nothing. He didn't even try to run - just stared at the wet, white ground. Mello paused, and kicked him in the ribs. A slight, almost inaudible gasp escaped Near's lips, making Mello smile. He bent down next to him and dug his fingers into his curly hair, forcing his face upwards.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” said Mello softly. Near stared at him, expressionless, and Mello scowled. He wanted to see tears. He wanted to see his hatred mirrored in those eyes. He grabbed both of Near's wrists in a single fluid motion, holding them together in one hand. Near had such thin, delicate wrists. Mello pulled him to his feet and pinned his hands to the wall, high above his head. He paused, staring Near in the eyes. His lips twitched up into a nasty smile.

“Let me go,” said Near calmly. He was barely touching the ground. Mello hadn't realized that he was so light, so fragile. Mello's smirk broadened. So weak. Mello's own strength, the one thing he had that Near didn't, encouraged him. He laughed.

“Scream for me,” he whispered. He ran a long, pale finger down Near's even paler cheek. The skin was still moist. A drop of water sat precariously in Near's lashes. When heblinked, the water fell and trailed down his cheek. Mello caught it with his tongue.

“I'll make you scream,” he said quietly. “I'll make you cry. I'll force your emotion out.” He pulled away the towel, which had fallen loosely to Near's waist, and pressed his body up against his. Near's pulse skipped a beat, and Mello grinned. He cupped Near's chin in his fingers. “It's not normal, Near, the way you keep it bottled up inside. I'm doing you a favor.”

For a moment, Mello could have sworn he'd seen Near's eyes widen. Was he afraid? I'll make him afraid.

“Fear me,” he said aggressively. He took Near's wrists tightly in his other hand, keeping them high above Near's head, and spun him around, pressing his chest against the wall. Near gave an involuntary shudder as Mello's lips touched the nape of his neck. Mello's free hand fingered the buttons of his own jeans, pulling them loose. He felt Near stiffen, and removed his hand from his jeans to wrap his arm around Near's waist. The skin was smooth and moist. He dug his nails into the perfect, opal white flesh.

“Scream for me,” he whispered, “or I'll fuck you till you bleed.” A second of silence was all that Mello allowed. A second of silence that should have been penetrated with a sound, any sound, from Near's unwilling lips. But silence was all there was. Anger coursed through Mello, burning..

“Fuck you!” he spat, before tightening his grip – he could feel the beating of Near's heart quicken - and thrusting forward, penetrating Near without hesitation. Swearwords filled the bathroom. Curses and abuse of every shade. But Mello's voice was all that echoed around the glistening room. Again and again, he thrust, venting his anger. He wanted to rip Near apart. He wanted to destroy him, to make him pay for all the times he had embarrassed him. Angry tears stung at his cheeks. He could hardly feel, hardly think, anymore, so succumbed he was by lust and rage.

Near's legs buckled beneath him, but Mello held him up. Shaking, bucking, sweating, trapped between Mello and the wall, Near could barely move. But it wasn't enough. Mello wasn't satisfied.

“I hate you, Near.”

Mello pushed himself in further and harder than before, but stopped suddenly as a sound burst through Near's lips, loud enough to be heard over their ragged, uneven breathing. It was a painful, high pitched sob, breaking off half way. It was a horrible sound, poetry for pain, fear and helplessness. For a moment, Mello didn't move, his body crushing Near into the shower wall. Near's breathing had quietened. He felt hot and clammy in Mello's arms. And then there was that awful, dripping silence again. Drip, drip, drip.

Mello dropped Near's hands, pulled himself away and watched as Near crumpled to the ground, unconscious. He looked even smaller, younger and helpless as he was like that, in a heap at Mello's feet. Purple bruises were beginning to appear on his reddened skin.

Mello reached his hand over him to turn the shower back on. It hit Near at full heat, and a trickle of blood washed away from his body. But, the fiery hot water didn't wake Near from his sleep. Mello crouched down, and reached a hand through the veil of water to brush Near's hair from his eyes. Flecks of water dampened his black shirt.

“Thank you, Near.”

As he stood up, he felt lighter and eerily empty. He hadn't realized how huge a burden his fear of Near had been, until that night. And now, it was gone. Now he could leave Wammy's House Orphanage, forever.

He smiled, stood up and walked away.

Author's Note: Comments and criticism are appreciated! I'd rather know what you don't like about it, than what you do, so that I can improve. However, if you'd rather just leave something sweet, that's more than welcome too! Please, please review.

If anyone fancies Beta-reading this, then please, by all means do! I finished it ten minutes ago, and it hasn't been Beta-read yet.