A/N: Got this plot bunny and it would not stop bothering me! So I wrote it. I was rather amused at the result.

...you probably won't see the humor in it if you don't live in the States.

Your Mom

Mello scowled, snapping a huge chunk of chocolate off into his mouth. This entire place was stupid, he decided. His parents had abandoned him at a rest stop at the side of the road, he'd had to leave Russia to be shipped the states for two years, before ending up at this... this crazyhouse, now, in England.

Mello crammed in another hunk of chocolate. Really, he thought, it was no surprise he was in such a foul mood.

"Mello likes chocolate."

Mello whirled around to glare at the speaker, a small white boy sitting on the floor a few feet from him, playing with a puzzle on the ground. The boy's words were a statement, not a question, and it irked Mello to see someone he didn't even know so sure about his quirk.

"Your mom likes chocolate," he said nastily, breaking off another piece, the influence of the slang from the states clear.

"My mother was raped and murdered in front of me when I was nine," the boy said coolly, his eyes cold.

Mello swallowed hard, a cold feeling of innarte horribleness settling down heavily upon him.

"Awwwwwwwwkward," he said, his tone wry. He stepped forward. "I- I didn't mean anything by it- I'm sorry if I offended you-"

He bit his lip, somehow needing to make peace with this odd white boy, to get his forgiveness. "I'm Mello, by the way," he offered, holding out his hand.

The small boy hesitated, as if unused to human contact, before taking his hand softly, holding on to it, not shaking it, and looking up, his eyes locking with his.

"I'm Near," he said. He paused. "Though, you might already know that, from your mom calling it out so loud last night."

Mello's face cracked into a wide smirk as he laughed, and Near looked back at him, his eyes dancing, quietly amused.

Mello grinned. Perhaps this place wouldn't be so bad after all.

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