Maybe it was always the silence that bothered him the most, maybe it wasn't. There was always something amiss, though he never missed a beat. Everything was in place, yet all the pieces of the puzzle were seemingly missing. Contemplation on the void in his chest, his fingertips reached to tug at a curl, not saying anything, only expelling a sigh. Never did he feel so out of place, for once not knowing the answer. Maybe that was what was keeping him up at night, bringing the dark baggies under his cloudy eyes. The hues of gray and blue intermixed to a wintry storm within his iris, the pupils dilated as he focused before him. A headset on, listening to the static, with no voice on the other end. A thumb and index rubbed the curl pressed between them. Lost in thought, nothing more than a dull calm settling. This was all wrong. There once was laughter in the halls of Wammy's, but he was no longer there, just sitting in a metallic colored building, but that wasn't what he wanted. What he wanted was missing. It wasn't that there was a lack of emotion, but there was too much control in his form. Still, he was not a robot.
The male was trying to fill a void, but no matter the books that were given, the gifts bestowed to him, there was that one thing he couldn't grasp, but he didn't know what he was reaching for. The sleepless nights, the mysteries of his emotions, and the pent up thoughts were consuming, but no one stopped to realize that he was human too. There was nothing metallic about him, no buttons to press, no wind-up mechanism to make him go, and no gears to control each moment. The boy that they thought was a robot was anything but. With those large eyes, he focused on the screen before him, but it held nothing, just black, and a reflection of those white curls, pallid skin, and pursed lips. Everyone treated him like a tool, like a toy, but he knew this. Still, he worked for himself and no one else. Justice was his goal, but in the silence it was time for himself. That time though was spent trying to find something he would never understand, but it just was. His hand went over his chest, to check for a heartbeat as silly as it was, but sometimes he felt dead.
For his story was just another chapter of a Wammy's boy that wanted to find his way through life, but had yet to do so. Many fond memories were held in that mind of his, but there were some of sadness. No longer were there the happy cheers of children, just dreariness surrounded him. Even when he was checked on, the voices were mechanic. At least a certain blonde would contain something, which was something he never did. There was that brunette that would play his games and laugh, he could recall. The two were best of friends weren't they? The male tugged on the curl as he tried to forget. The days had come and went, but his memories had made their stay permanent. He could reminisce all afternoon, but there was work to be done. It was too easy though. Sorting through the memories was the true challenge. He began to recall the burned flesh of that certain blonde. How it had to have hurt, it even made him wince at the thought, but if anyone would have seen him, it wouldn't have even looked as if he flinched. But still…
If there was anything about him, he was not a robot, but a boy by the name of Near…