"Why did you do it?"
Nate stared blankly ahead, playing deaf. He didn't blink, didn't fidget, didn't even breathe for a moment or two. His toes curled over the plastic elementary school chair on which he sat, his knees snug against his chest, as though afraid of touching the innocent carpeted floor. A small part of him hoped, in futility, that if he was still enough, he would disappear. Yet he knew, that even if such a feat were possible, he wouldn't be deserving of it.
"Near?" his caretaker prompted, grave seriousness in his voice. The hair on the back of Nate's neck stood on end; that voice, that specific tone, meant failure in some way. Watari paced around Nate's room, cold, viciously angry.
"I don't know," Nate stammered.
Watari let out a long, agitated sigh, his teeth gritting. Nate dared to make eye contact, but quickly shrank away, averting his eyes to the untouchable floor.
This was the wrong answer, clearly.
"Yes, you do." That tone again. Every muscle in Nate's body tensed, his instincts screaming at him to run or hide. He froze again, features blank save for the sheen of fear in his eyes.
"I'm not sure what to say," Nate replied desperately, shaking visibly as he spoke. This was the truth, but, as he watched Watari's eyes close, and his gentle pacing cease, that this, too, was the wrong answer.
"You've hurt me. I don't know what you were trying to accomplish…" The older man pinched the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and forefinger, eyes closing again, face contorted with controlled fury. "But if you wanted to be a selfish, cruel, insolent child… You've succeeded."
"I'm sorry." Nate said the phrase unthinkingly, like a reflex. It was a preconditioned response, surely safe.
"No, you're not." Watari opened his eyes, bloodshot with rage. "Look at me."
Nate slowly craned his neck upward, curling more tightly into himself.
"Now, I'm going to ask you one more time. And if you lie again, I will take you back to see Ms. Birch."
No. Not her. Not another round of degrading tests and false diagnoses, cruel observations and the overwhelming fear that they'd make a mistake, and put him in the care of another institution. No, he had to answer correctly this time.
"Why did you do it, Near?"
Nate was quiet at first, unsure if an immediate answer was appropriate. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, giving a scornful, loathing glance to the bandages swathing each wrist. He was not selfish. He was not cruel. But for a few minutes tonight, he had been stupid. It would never have worked.
But, why? He supposed it could have been many things. Pressure. Loneliness. A recent lack of sleep. But Nate knew it wasn't any of these, in reality, that those were all answers to slake Watari.
It was Mello. It had always been Mello.
Mello, the one who seemed to control his very thoughts. Mello, who was always just one step ahead of him. Mello, whose hateful aqua-eyed leer couldn't be soothed by all the gestures of sympathy, by all the courtesy and kindness. Mello, whose nagging, constant opposition was always on Nate's mind, no matter how many papers were aced, no matter how puzzles were solved, no matter how many verbal chess games were won.
Mello was always a threat. He always would be. Nothing more.
Nate composed himself. This was the truth, or as close as could be understood. It had to be the right answer. "I did it because I was disliked."
Watari shook his head, softly, the wrath in his eyes giving way to disappointment. He took a seat at his desk, collapsing into the chair. "I gave you another chance… I have to make a few calls now."
Nate sobbed.
a/n: Written in 45 minutes or so, and I'm scared to even try editing it. I realize this is a horrendous butchering of Near's character, but I'm in no mood for perfection today. It's bad. I know it's bad. Sorry. Also, for those of you who are waiting on A's and B's... I haven't given up on it, but life is shit. It'll be a while before I write another chapter of that excuse for a narrative (even though I've been having loads of fun with crazy!B). Much love.