*As emotionally satisfying as picking a fight with Mello
may have been, Near now hurts. Everywhere. Okay, not everywhere, just his stomach a little and his back, everywhere. Which is why he's still in bed at noon, curled up, breathing deliberately and slowly. Someone is bound to come home soon and be able to help him into a hot bath.*
But then he notices it's white hair, not blonde, and so he makes his way over.
...Near? Issat ya?
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*Near sounds tired, par for the course the last few days.*
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Jeeze, are ya okay?
The worry is evident in Meile's voice.
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Meile's tone darkens a little.
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B.
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....
Meile makes a sort of strangled growling noise. His tone is deadly when he speaks:
Which. One?
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Did he hurt ya?
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...I dunno. I ain't evah realleh... y'know, treated 'em afore. Usually Mi--
...somebodeh else duz it fer meh.
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Wut... do ya need anythin'? I can help, s'least I can do.
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Meile scrambles to the bag, and searches for the advil. Once he finds it, he takes it back and hands it over to Near, closing his fingers over Near's har.
'Ere.
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Can you look, and tell me how bad the bruising is?
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