The music box was given to him by Roger from somebody, but Roger only smiled to him and told him he wouldn't give the name away.
Of course it had to be L, Near reasoned, it was the only conclusion he came up with. Every way he looked at it, it always ended in "L gave me the box, of course." And he merely continued on his blank white puzzle.
It was a very small box, one that would fit in the palm of one hand, but big enough to be noticed by anyone walking by. It was very fragile, a hazel color to the box. It opened, and it was empty, as if something was to be put in it. But Near never found what to put in it at all, considering that most of what he owned were puzzles and toys, all of which did not fit. But the box had something more. On the side of it stuck out a small golden handle, meant for twirling around and around. Once it was turned and as tight as the handle would go, if you opened the box, out came a small but mesmerizing tune that sounded almost as fragile as the box itself.
He merely stared at it on the ground near him, turning his attention away from his endlessly white puzzle. He reached a hand up to his face, twirling a strand of white hair delicately with skilled fingers as he stared at it.
He had memorized every little detail in the box. He didn't question why L sent it, but rather what it meant. He came up to many conclusions, just staring at it. But knowing that it was a music box, meant something more.
He pulled his hand away from the strand of hair and reached over to the box, twirling the golden handle. Once he could turn it no more, he gently lifted the lid. A small pin was in the empty box, and he stood it up against the side, holding up the lid to let it continue its gentle song.
He closed his eyes, listening to the song very quietly. The orphanage was strangely quiet and the song seemed to almost echo, as if no children were even at the orphanage. But he didn't know that exactly, for he rather sat in his room.
The melody to the box reminded him of a warm spring day outside, napping on the grass. He could almost imagine the smell of the air on a day such as that. But he hadn't been outside in so long that he couldn't even remember what rain felt like, or even the grass under him.
He opened his eyes when the melody started to slow and eventually stop, the golden handle stopped from twirling around in circles as it unwound the tune. It always seemed too short. He then pushed the pin, letting it fall inside the box, and the lid close softly. He continued to stare at it though.
Everything was quiet once more and he almost couldn't stand it. Perhaps he had gotten too used to this box. And perhaps he should just put it down and leave it alone, but he couldn't, it was almost like he needed it, almost to calm him down or keep him in check.
He didn't like it.
He picked up the delicate box and held it in his hands as if it was a grasshopper trying to escape. He stood up and left the room, walking down the long corridor of the orphanage. The music was not playing, and that mere fact seemed to drive him insane. Oh, he detested this box so much. If he got rid of it…
If he got rid of it, he would surely forget about the music and be back to normal, yes? That's all he wanted.
He walked quickly down the hallway, some orphans like him walking by and staring at him but said nothing. It was unusual to see Near so serious yet unfocused and walking around, almost helpless. But none asked, so none knew.
Near entered the common room, a large tiled room at the front of the orphanage that offered a place for all the orphans to gather and play. Near's mind was high above the average standard of these children's' minds so he needed no reason to chat with others or to sit around and play a game of kickball. He was sustained with merely a puzzle or something to keep his hands preoccupied.
But he couldn't seem to let go of this box, his hands constantly twirling the box around almost like a ball as he walked. He looked around the common room for something in specific, almost looking lost.
He could see Mello out of the corner of his eye, glaring at him from across the room as usual, but also with a bit of confusion as to why Near was up and walking around for such a small and fragile boy, but he wouldn't dare risk his pride to walk up to ask him what was wrong. And besides that, he seemed to notice something familiar in the boy's grasp and that quieted him down.
Near continued walking, looking for a disposal bin to rid himself of the box. He hated it a lot, in fact, so much, he wasn't sure he could get rid of it. He never really held emotions but could tell his thoughts about the box weren't all happy; Just when its tune came to life was he hopelessly drawn to it.
He stood in the kitchen beside a trash can and lifted the lid. He was tempted to throw it in and never try to think of it again. But that wouldn't happen, because he couldn't really try and pull himself to throw it in, just stare at it.
Mello came into the kitchen, pushing open the door a bit loudly for a silent kitchen, and crossed his arms as he slightly glared at the white haired boy. "What are you doing in here?" He asked, almost annoyed.
Near's eyes glanced silently over to Mello and then immediately turned back to the box as he turned around, sliding it in a pocket of his pants. "I'm sorry." He responded, gently. He seemed to pay no attention to the box, almost as if trying to hide it from Mello. He was sure that if Mello ever knew about this box, it would be the end of him. Because, as far as he knew, this box was the only thing to really drive him off the edge but give him so much pleasure, a sensitive weak spot, obviously.
Of course Mello wanted his hands on it, but he didn't seem interested for some reason. And for that, it made Near suspicious that he already knew, and gripped that weak spot in a strong, iron grip. He narrowed his eyes on Mello, being careful to stay emotionless as well.
Mello smirked. "What did you just put in your pocket? Are you stealing something from the kitchen? I never thought such a 'perfect boy' like you would try something low like that." He said, a bit sarcastically.
Near didn't respond and Mello knew well that the pale boy would stay quiet no matter how much he wanted Near to talk. But, there were many times he wanted Near to just stay quiet and shut the hell up; not in this case though. He walked towards Near, gripping the pale boy's hand with a stern glare. "So what is it?" He asked, curious.
Near stared up at Mello almost blankly, not moving an inch.
It pissed Mello off, how quiet and calm the boy could be under his eyes. He wanted to see him squirm, but he had better plans for now. He instead reached for the object itself. He could see a bit of shock flash across the boy's eyes as he grabbed it out of the boy's pocket. He had it in the palm of his hand when he felt Near's other hand try to pull the object away from in his hands. Near actually wanted it back and the light struggling for it made him look more like a human than some emotionless droid.
But he held it out of arm's reach for Near, let go of Near's other hand, and took off with it out of the kitchen. He was in the common room by the time he stopped, peeking at the object in his hand and stopped, staring at it.
He heard little footsteps behind him, Near following him and stopping beside him, blinking at the box. It seemed he really needed it but wouldn't reach for it in Mello's hands.
Mello glanced over at Near and held out the box to him without a word. Near stared at him and reached for it, seeing the weird look in Mello's eyes, and started to head back to his room, box in his hands.
He couldn't break it or throw it away, he needed it.
Mello smirked, watching Near leave down the hallway. Actually, he had given Near that little present and he was surprised Near held it so closely. It made him feel better.
To see Near so happy with it and finding it almost as an irresistible sin.
A/N: Ah, finally I finished it. I actually worked on this fanfiction at school and I was very intrigued by it. I have no idea where I got the idea from but once I got it, I just had to write it down. It took me two days to write it because, as you know, classes only last for so long when you have access to a computer. I wrote a poem to this story as well but it sucks and it's at home. Truthfully, the story was much better than the poem and I just loved the originaility of the idea I came up with about Near having a weakness to a box that someone gave to him. He still doesn't know Mello actually gave it to him but Mello does and doesn't think he'll tell anytime soon. I hoped you all enjoyed it, bai's now.