A/N: I've been wanting to write something Near-centric for AGES. Something about his whole last-man-standing scenario just screams "WRITE ABOUT ME!" (at least to me.) But I haven't had any inspiration to write in quite some time. Finally I just got sick of an idea sitting around collecting dust in my (rarely-used) brain cells and threw something together. XD Hope you like this, first time writing Near as well, I hope I did a decent job. Thanks for reading!
A small boy sat on the floor of a large room, holding one knee tightly to his white-clad chest and stacking dice, one on top of the other, to make towers and eventually skyscrapers and castles of black dots on white cubes. If one didn't know any better, they may think they were witnessing this scene from an old black-and-white movie, for there was a distinct lack of color in everything visible; only the boy's face and hands had a hue, and even then, he was deathly pale. Even his eyes lacked life and showed no emotion, unless concentration counts as such, in which case they were filled to the brim.
The boy said nothing, only built his fort of what had to be thousands and thousands of dice, a sea of endless dots which by now extended across the majority of the floor. He had always possessed an extraordinary amount of patience for such things, not to mention skill and a very steady hand. Well, he had to, because he knew that with just one false move his entire masterpiece would come crashing down--infinite tiny cubes scattering across the floor with that cacophony of clinks. The boy positively detested those clinks, not just because they were noisy and hurt his ears, but because each and every die that hit the floor would be a reminder that he had messed up, he had failed, he had lost against gravity, of all things. And losing was not something the boy took lightly. He might not seem like it at first glance, but the boy was very competitive. In the end, to him, it was all about whether you win or lose the game.
Near supposed he should be happy now, then. After all, hadn't he won the most important game of his life, the Kira case? He had surpassed even L by finally bringing Kira to justice. He should be doing, well, whatever happy people do. Near realized he didn't have a lot of experience with that particular emotion, or emotions in general really. He had devoted all his time to winning, and he had never thought about what he would do if, and when, he would achieve that goal. He sighed as he carefully added yet another die to his masterpiece and hugged his knee closer to his chest as he was hit with the rather depressing realization that he had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself now that the game was over. He supposed it probably wasn't sitting here quietly stacking dice, though.
Sure, he had always built things, but they always got knocked over eventually due to some careless mistake, rendering the entire painstaking process a waste of time. Not that Near himself was careless, but as little as it may seem so sometimes, he was only human. His creations would proudly stand for a few days and inevitably lose to stupid gravity again. And then came the clinks, those godawful clinks. The sad thing was, this was all Near had now, his tiny life revolving around stacks of dice. This was his prize for winning the game, and it kind of sucked. He almost wished he had lost instead, because as little as he might want to admit it, he actually missed the losers. Even Kira, because at least things were interesting when he was around. There's just no thrill in continuing to play a game you've already beaten.
He raised his small hand to stack another die, but misjudged the distance between himself and his stack, and knocked the entire thing over. His masterpiece toppled in waves, one right after the other, dice sliding all over the floor, clinking incessantly. Near didn't even flinch as two days' efforts crashed like a city in ruins, only watched silently until finally the last die was sent flying towards a certain display of small dolls he'd made in honor of those few people who played a significant role in his life.
The die made contact with the L doll and knocked it off balance, toppling the Matt and Mello dolls, then the Light doll, and finally the Misa doll fell into the layer of dice littering the floor. The only doll that remained standing was the one with the least amount of effort put into it, so little in fact that, unlike the others which were well-made, it barely resembled its likeness, if at all. A cotton ball was glued to a head with empty, solid black eyes drawn with marker, and this sorry excuse for a head was attached to a shapeless body clad in baggy white pajamas. This was Near as he saw himself. After all, he was a creepy albino freak, he thought. Nothing worth wasting time making a nice doll over.
Near stared at his doll self, and it was hard to tell which Nate's eyes were sadder as the scene of ruin before them told a story: a story of a boy who had won the game, but had lost everything.