Author's note
first time writing a "x reader", so please, be kind. it's just to test the waters and see if i can actually write this type of stuff. it's not as emotional as i wanted it to be, so if you feel like "you" are overreacting, yeah, sorry about that, i was listening to "TV" by billie eilish while writing. it happens, my bad. also, the writing is not top-tier cuz english is not my first language and past perfect is my enemy.
i feel like it should have a second part, but i'll see how this goes, because if people don't like it, there's no point in continuing it lmao.
I'll hold on to this feeling until the grass stains on those old shoes are completely gone.
"I'm done." You said, pressing the button.
You let yourself fall backwards, bending the back of the chair slightly downwards. You stretched, so that all your muscles and bones, which had gone numb from hours spent in front of the computer, sorting out reports, could function as they should.
You grabbed the small bottle of water but stopped before lifting it up. You shifted your gaze to the monitor, on which a large black capital "N" in ClerestorySSK font occupied the centre of a completely white background.
You looked confusedly at the screen, as if you could see the boy hiding behind it, and waited a few more seconds, still and motionless. The deafening silence in the room not only puzzled you, but sent a shiver down your spine, because it was unlike him to ignore you like that. Moreover, on a day like that, when you had finally decided to let him know how you felt about him, it was not a good sign at all.
The reason you had decided to take that decisive action was not out of hope or conviction that he would reciprocate your feelings. In fact, it was the last thing you expected him to do. It was more a matter of putting your mind at rest, of not carrying that regret with you in the days to come.
From a certain point of view, it was also the idea that words like that could 'comfort' him and perhaps make him realise that he had the potential to make anyone fall in love with him, so that the misunderstanding of many years before could also be resolved once and for all, because you had known him for a long time, but you had never been sure whether the explanation you had given him had been sufficient.
You had offered to help during the Kira case, without ever meeting him in person. It was Halle Bullook who had provided your contact, having observed you during your time at the academy. You were the youngest to have enrolled and it was only later that they discovered you were not the age you had indicated. Your falsification of documents, your mental abilities that had far surpassed those of many, even older people, and your ability to face any test with unprecedented ease had made you quite well-known within the agency, so much so that they offered you a job much earlier - eight years - than the typical age. However, your work within the walls of the CIA headquarters had been brief, as you were immediately stolen for the Kira case.
You had remained in contact with your superiors and had been requested to return when the US government decided to stop supporting the SPK, but you had refused, saying you wanted to continue the fight against Kira. And so, it had happened: you had remained at Near's side, who, at first, you thought was extremely cold towards you, despite the fact that you were an indispensable resource.
You had talked several hours a day, offered your suppositions, given your opinions and, of course, listened to his. However, in the first six months, when you had tried to take a slight break from work, because you also needed a little rest, it always had seemed rather inappropriate, because Near would not follow your shift enthusiastically. He had responded to your jokes monotonously, to your information about your everyday life impassively, adding nothing to continue that conversation, and, several times, when you had tried to have a virtual dinner with him, telling him that the doorbell had rung and that it must be pizza or whatever takeaway you had ordered, instead of staying to talk to you and keep you company, he had wished you a good dinner and left you to hang out with the dim lamplight in your little flat.
Your attempts to be his friend had turned out so poorly that you had given up hope, deciding to focus only on what was professional, because you had convinced yourself that, for him, as for the agency, you were nothing more than an asset. You had internalised the idea that your presence didn't matter so much, supported by the fact that he had never offered to transport you to his base, where Halle also was operating. Only your work mattered, and you had assumed that behaviour in response, limiting interactions only if they concerned Kira.
It certainly hadn't helped the loneliness you felt. Several times, you had found yourself thinking that you had made a mistake in choosing to continue and that, although you would be exploited by the agency, it was better than being completely emotionally ignored by the only person you interacted with on a daily basis. You had imagined the various missions and connections you could've made, even if they would've been limited by Kira's work in the world, but they would've been more than what Near had to offer.
It had been something that was tearing you apart from the inside, but which you had tried to hide, for the sake of the world...? You didn't even know it yourself at that point, because you had become tired of it all. You wanted to feel appreciated - Near thanked you, but it seemed only out of courtesy and not because he was grateful for anything -, you wanted to know that someone cared about you from a personal point of view, you wanted to be seen and, the longer the case went on, the more you seemed to fade into oblivion and rather than seeing yourself as a person, you had the impression that you had become a machine, responding only when given an input. And, in part, it was like that, because you had avoided spontaneously contacting Near, as you had done in the first few months, and had merely waited for him to do so, communicating new information or whatever.
It had happened that he sometimes asked you why you had not called him, but you had thought that his interest was only an urgency to know where his requests stood. Nothing more, so you had only answered with respect to facts and not feelings.
To say that your situation had been excruciating was an understatement, because you had come very close to wanting to act on your own initiative and confront Kira, so as to put an end to that story, also since you had had multiple times the feeling that someone was actually after you, and that had given you paranoia, but you had avoided letting Near know.
You wanted to get back to living... Or start living, because you were quite young and, since your teenage years, you had made the mistake of getting ahead of yourself, driven by the desire to be appreciated by people. You had not lived your life, at all, so you deserved to be able to do that, leaving behind that hell you had gotten yourself into.
You had realised, however, during Kira's capture, in which you had physically participated in person, that you had made a huge, massive error in judgement and that your assumptions about the boy had been extremely wrong.
First of all, the fact that he had asked you to be present had already caught you off guard, but you had always interpreted it professionally, meaning that you had participated in the case, and it was your right to see the end of it. You had not given it much thought.
Escorted by Halle to the warehouse, slightly behind schedule, Near had immediately approached you and ordered Rester to provide you with a mask. Knowing how Kira worked, it made sense that he would want to protect your identity, but it was highly unusual that you were the only one, apart from him, who at that moment held his own over his head, who had to hide.
Since the SPK represented your team, you had retorted slightly, saying that if no one else had it, you wouldn't feel comfortable leaving them uncovered, but Near had convinced you to accept, explaining that you were in a special position. Kira didn't know you and didn't know you were part of the SPK. However, your presence would certainly make Light doubt your dangerousness and you could be almost as much of a problem to solve as he was; therefore, you could be the second person Kira would try to take out, before moving on to the rest of the team.
The plan he had designed for you was to be present, but distant and hidden from view. You weren't supposed to take off your mask no matter what. Only with an explicit order from him could you have done so. In any other case, you would have been waiting for Light or Mikami to kill everyone before coming out and arresting them, keeping your face hidden.
Before setting you to wait for the second L and his team, Near had also decided to do something you would never have expected.
He had thanked you in person. He had made sure that his last words to you, should they be any, were sincere thanks for the work you had done, for your contribution, which he said was essential. He had added that whenever he thanked you, he had never found the manner in which he had done it to be adequate, because you would react differently from what he expected, that was, instead of continuing the conversation on other topics or adding to it, as you would do at the beginning, you would answer him with a mumble of assent, and after that, you would end the call, sometimes even without warning. He even confessed to you that he had been afraid that Kira had reached you, in a way unknown to him.
"I was really worried, but I couldn't ask you directly, because I couldn't know if Kira was listening or had his eyes on you all the time." He had said. "In any case, I'm glad that's not the situation. I wouldn't have forgiven myself easily since you are my responsibility."
The person saying those words had seemed to you to be totally different from the one you had met through a microphone, and you had begun to feel guilty for taking an indifferent attitude to Near as a person, because, apparently, he had sensed all those changes and had waited for face-to-face feedback to make sure you were all right.
You wondered how long he had been aware of your change and how different your situation would have been if you had realised that earlier and, instead of closing in on yourself, making him worry, you had decided to express your disappointment, your intolerance towards your working conditions.
Who knows, maybe he would have changed them himself, because, from the way he talked to you about it, it did not seem to be his intention to make you feel that you were ignored and considered only for your abilities. After all, he had never reprimanded you or stopped you for talking about your personal things, his monotone responses to your jokes could have been his kind of humour, and perhaps leaving you to eat alone he saw it as a way of letting you rest after a long day's work.
You hadn't been able to say much or explain your point of view, because the second L and his team were out, so while you were hiding, you could only hope that it wouldn't be the last time you would see Near alive.
You were scared for him, and it had taken all your willpower not to come out when Light was about to write the boy's name on the note hidden in the watch. You had had to pinch yourself and bite your lip until it bled to get rid of that impulse, because it wasn't in Near's plan, and you didn't want your action to lead to the world having to be oppressed by the omniscient and omnipresent figure of Kira for many years to come.
Fortunately, everything had ended with Light's death before your eyes, and you had waited for Near's explicit order to get out. Light's team was obviously surprised to see you, and Near had introduced you briefly and perfunctorily, reserving most of his speech to stating what he had told you, which was that your work had been a vital part of solving the case.
"Oh, isn't that...?" One of the policemen had said to the others, pointing at you.
He had started to explain that they had noticed you on several occasions and together with Mello, so much so that Light Yagami had asked for you to be tailed, because, perhaps, you were on Kira's side and were trying to retrieve his 'lost items', so to speak. However, they had never even come close to you, because you could easily blend in and escape. And, in that moment, you had realised that your feeling had not been unfounded and that you might very well have met certain death had you been less skillful.
Near had asked you if you knew, and you had replied with a simple 'I had the impression, but I never confirmed it', so as, perhaps, to minimise the degree of distrust you had had towards him.
"You should have let me know any doubts." His tone had been rather harsh, and you could, by now, understand why.
Near was not and never had been insensitive. It was only the fact that you had been separated by a screen, without even seeing him, that had reduced his actions and words to a simple 'I don't see you as a person'. You tried not to blame yourself too much for your assumptions, as, in the end, Near did not turn out to be a person who externalized his emotions hyperbolically. He was a rather calm person, not cold, who expressed how he felt in a calm way and without giving too much away, so it was not fault if you had misunderstood him.
He was not afraid to express his feelings, and he immediately showed it by telling you that he had been worried about you and would be hurt by your eventual death. However, even if not in that warehouse, you would've realised that although he was not afraid of how he felt, he was certainly frightened at the idea of becoming emotionally intimate with others.
After the conclusion of the Kira case and having agreed to remain an on-call contact for any future cases, you had made yourself present in front of your superiors, who had offered you a rather important position within the CIA, which you had refused, explaining the situation you were in, without, of course, confiding too many details about the identity of the new L and the definitive death of Kira. You had managed to arrive at a compromise in which you limited your range of action to the United States and without going undercover for too long, so that you could immediately run to Near if he needed you.
The work with and for Near had been quite occasional; more infrequent than what you had expected and the messages he had Rester send to you to make sure you were healthy or alive. The exchange was brief, but heartfelt. He was always interested in what you were dealing with, even offering you a hand, though he always specified that he knew you were competent and would manage brilliantly.
In the last couple of years, he had also started to ask you about your personal life, always maintaining a certain degree of formality and distance, like a professor who met you after five years and never knew how to approach you, without overcoming that invisible barrier of educator-student. Responses varied little but remained constant along the lines of 'I am not interested in other... Social interactions'.
Without ever mentioning him openly and, therefore, without having a definitive confirmation of your relationship, you had started considering him a 'friend' since 2012. You had never cared to search for such an answer, because it was enough for you to know that he was a pivotal point in your life: a person who was always present, because, at times of extreme loneliness or sadness, you had never missed calling him at unreasonable hours just to hear his voice and he had always answered, without showing any kind of impatience.
After your first official visit to his base in 2013, together with Halle and Rester, you had started to physically present yourself there. You often didn't warn him and showed up at his door, but that had never particularly bothered him; with time, he had probably also gotten used to it and it seemed stranger to him when you wouldn't do it.
Not much happened between you; sometimes you didn't even speak, except for the colloquial 'hello', 'hi', 'I came here to say hello, how are you?', 'good, I'm glad you're here'. You would settle down in one part of the room to work, on your sack that Near had bought especially for you, while he stayed in the middle playing or stacking various objects, creating huge constructions that hid him from your sight.
You had begun to perceive that headquarters as a second home, in which you could safely feel at ease, because Near never had the urge to send you away, as happened with unwanted guests. On the contrary, when you would fall asleep, Near would take care of moving the computer, which you held on your thighs, put a blanket over you, turn off the lights and take refuge in another room, where he was sure not to disturb you, in case he had to work, someone came to visit him or simply started playing with some objects that might cause noise.
You had told him several times that there was no need to do that, but he had never listened to you and had continued with that procedure, even when you preferred him to stay with you in the room.
In any case, in all those years, you had begun to feel more than just friendship towards him. On his part, however, Near had always kept his distance and, from this, you had perceived this fear of intimacy, not just romantic intimacy, because, of course, you had always simply considered the fact that he did not like you like that. Not because of the difference in status that divided you, you the simple, though esteemed, CIA agent and him the great and omnipresent L, because, in his company, you saw no one but Near, a simple man who liked to spend his time on the ground, distracting himself in a thousand different ways, from playing with toys to designing Shinigami facial recognition, whom you had to remind to eat and whom you had to drag out of his base so he could get some vitamin D. You didn't take him out who knows where and who knows how often; once or twice a month, to a nearby park, which he particularly hated, because of the insects - mostly bees - that liked to greet him, because they didn't see him very frequently. Despite that, he had continued to accompany you and you had understood that he didn't hate it so much, since he had a pair of shoes especially for that activity, which Roger would clean from time to time, so as to remove the greenness of the grass, although the shadow of those walks still visibly remained on them.
"Near, I'm done." You repeated, pressing the button again.
This time the answer was not long in coming, but that did not alleviate the strange feeling you felt.
"I heard you the first time."
His voice was the original one, not altered in any way by intermediate machinery, but it sounded colder than usual. On top of that there was also the realisation that he had not yet activated the camera, so that you could see him - since your camera was accessible once with his - as he did at the end of each of your work sessions. You wondered about the reason for his strange behaviour, and, in a remote part of your mind, you had already guessed why, but tried to convince yourself that there had been no way for Rester to betray you like that.
"And why didn't he answer me?"
Again, silence.
Your plan certainly wasn't going in the direction you had hoped, but even if Rester had decided to break the news to him before you did, the way he was acting didn't make much sense in your eyes. After all, it was only a temporary stop, and you could... No, actually, you couldn't have done much, but you would have returned, and your relationship would have been just as valuable in your eyes, if that was what really bothered him.
You would tell him if he wasn't ignoring you.
"By any chance..." You cleared your throat. "Do you have a case on hand that steals your attention?"
"No." He replied promptly, confirming that he wasn't answering you because he didn't want to and not because he was busy.
It was definitely a hard blow to take, after all the courage you had built up to come forward, which was starting to dissipate with every syllable he didn't utter.
"Anything else?"
You tried to figure out if, perhaps, he had been told or learned of something that might have put him in such a bad mood, but you didn't have many ideas. Near didn't have much of a relationship with the outside world. L's work was monotonous and repetitive enough that it didn't give him any satisfaction to solve cases. Roger, old as he was, was still hanging in there. Lidner and Gevanni were more than healthy, and Rester was a finger away. The Kira case had definitely left certain marks on him, but it had never happened that he was completely overwhelmed by it... And you began to be afraid that this had happened and that he hadn't told you anything.
You could not, by now, retrace your steps and cancel the plans you were involved in, because they depended entirely on you, but you could not help but already feel guilty about leaving him in such a situation. All you had left was to stand by his side for what little time you had left, though not physically, as you would have liked.
"Near..."
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
Silence.
"If you're not alright, you can talk to me about it. You know I'm here for you..." You touched the black initials with your finger, deluding yourself that you were grabbing his forearm, almost forcing him to pay attention to you.
He had ignored you in the past, when he tried to hide how he was, and that action, no matter how much you sometimes felt you were invading his space, had been the only way to make him listen. You would immobilise him and make him turn on your side, looking straight into your eyes. Immediately after, you would let him go and keep your tone calm, explaining that he didn't have to run away from you, because you weren't there to judge him.
"Even tomorrow?" He asked and you felt guiltier than ever. "I don't know if you're going to lie to me or not, so I'll answer myself with a no."
"Did Rester tell you that?"
"I found the papers while looking for the cutter." He replied.
You couldn't believe that Rester had printed the file you sent him. Apparently, even if he wasn't going to tell him directly, he wanted to let him know as soon as possible. He must have taken the cutter, which Near always kept near him, and placed it next to those pieces of paper.
At that point, it was you who had no more words to tell him, because you couldn't lie to him and say it was a joke. It would have made the consequences worse. You could not even calmly continue the conversation and confess your feelings to him, because that would not have put him in a good mood. Perhaps, he would also have interpreted it as a way to reverse the roles, where you were the one to 'console' because he did not reciprocate.
You realised that your plan was not even the best, not even fully thought out, because the acceptance had been fairly recent - a few months - and you had not had the courage to tell him. You knew that there would be only one line in which he would interpret it and you didn't want that to be his idea of your opinion of him. You wanted to end it in the best possible way, in which, even if rarely, the unreciprocated person and the loved one would get closer, after such a confession. You didn't want to explicitly say goodbye to him and make him believe that you wouldn't return, because that would have undone a lot of the progress you had made in being so close to him. He would have convinced himself that you were going to die and, to protect himself, he would have eliminated his friendly feelings towards you.
Not giving him that impression was a bit selfish on your part, but you wanted him to be left with the expectation that you would reappear and, once you set foot in his life again, he would be surprised and cherish that episode in his memory.
More than anything else, you were convinced you would see him again, so you didn't want him to forget the time you had spent together.
Was this obviously your umpteenth misinterpretation of Near? Of course, but you couldn't help it, because your greatest fear was being forgotten by everyone, especially by him.
It was this phobia of yours that had prompted you to agree to put yourself on the line, because the initial appreciation the agency had given you was beginning to wane, and you were afraid of becoming 'the one with the bright future who wasted it on paperwork'.
"Disappearing in the middle of the night and blaming the CIA because the person designated for the operation found themselves incapacitated at the last minute." Continued Near, who seemed to have begun to feel like arguing. "Ingenious, though hardly credible, I must say."
You heard some paper being crumpled.
"Have you prepared to return back to the field?" He asked and you could detect a slight note of annoyance in his voice.
Under other circumstances, you would have told him every single detail, as he always seemed to be interested, but at that moment, it was clear that it was a rhetorical question, used only to provoke you or make you feel guilty. However, you had no intention of taking the conversation to a harsher pitch. You had to find a way to, at least, end it all on, if not good, at least calm terms, thus abandoning the idea of being able to let him know how much you liked him and adopting that strategy you so wanted to avoid.
You would have said goodbye to him... You would have said a sincere "goodbye" to him, futilely hoping that he, in the time to come, would not decide to forget you.
"I'm sorry." You said and, again, silence followed your words.
Had you caught him off guard? You hadn't imagined this would happen, that guilt would leap from one to the other like that, leaving you speechless at every statement the other made.
Perhaps, more than guilt, it was the realisation that ten years of knowing each other would end like that, if you had no intention of telling each other the truth for good.
You should've predicted that your plan would not succeed because, unlike work, where everything was predictable, calculable and impersonal, with Near everything could take a different path from the one planned.
Most of all, your emotions were more than involved, but not only those towards him. You also had to leave other people, who were very dear to you.
Rester among them, who had become a very important figure for you. He had even given you various lessons on how best to do your job, as your superiors often took certain knowledge for granted, and he had also taken care of a lot of paperwork that you could no longer put in order, without completely collapsing into a deep sleep. Besides the texts, he also often came to make sure you had food in the fridge and your flat was in order. When you ran out of gas, had a flat tyre or were simply too tired to drive, you only had to send him a dot and he would immediately come to you, as attentive as ever, with all the help you needed, pizzas, a fizzy drink and a jacket, if you forgot to take yours in the morning, as you often did during the winter, because you were in a hurry.
And that was what he did for you, who were not in his presence all day; so, you could not even imagine the way he took care of Near and the confidence Near had in him.
Who knows, maybe, Rester had decided to let him find those papers because, precisely, he knew something you didn't.
"[your alias], listen." Near's tone became almost calm again. "I've always imagined you'd want to return to the CIA permanently and completely. That's not what, shall we say, bothers me."
"Is it because I didn't tell you before?" You said, trying to guess.
"Also... But not only that." He took a pause. "I have been gathering information about it, during the past week."
"Oh." Your finger was not on the button, so he did not hear you realise why he had avoided meeting you the previous seven days.
"You accepted the mission, without even fully informing yourself. You heard they wanted to do it and you rushed over to them. They found it funny or, at least, they giggled as they told me." He replied. "You found an opportunity to run away from me and you took it, putting yourself in a deadly condition."
"I'm not running away from you."
"But you always seemed to be doing it." He sighed. "You've already told me how I made you feel during the Kira case, your impulses and so on... We discussed it many times, because I wanted to understand what I had done wrong, and I told you, almost begged you, that if you ever felt that way because of me to tell me, but you didn't. You preferred to embark on a mission of about seven years, in one of the most dangerous countries in the world."
"I didn't because I feel bad around you. It's not your fault, Near."
"You make me feel like it is, though, and it will be if you end up dying and I never see you again, because I couldn't stop you, because I did something wrong that led you to that… Because I won't be able to ensure your safety."
It wasn't the first time he'd said something like that, but it didn't ease the burning you felt in your eyes.
'Apparently, we both make each other feel things we don't want to. Another thing we have in common,' you thought.
"I trust your abilities. Don't get me wrong. But this is the second mission in that country, always with the same objective, always with someone as highly skilled as you, always with the same field personnel, always under the premise of a simple intel retrieval operation, but that ended up in the worst way possible, because he didn't come back, not even his corpse."
It was the first time you heard that detail - you knew about the first mission there, just not the results - and it also explained the fact that your months-long preparation had mostly focused on what you were not supposed to do, unlike what you had expected. They had put a certain emphasis on that aspect and had seemed a bit pushy, but all in all, you hadn't given it much thought, because it was, in any case, an undercover mission in a rather risky country.
"The situation does not seem stable, and you will be there during a possible change of government, which could drastically alter the relationship the US has with them." He pointed out. "I know I can't convince you to stay, because, at this point, you've made up your mind to do it and you can't withdraw, but I would have liked a warning... About the fact that my only friend would be leaving me."
"I'm your friend?"
"I thought that was clear."
You felt a tear slide down your cheek and you had to move away from the desk so that you could calm down, because the fullest realisation of what you had done had hit you in the face like the current of air that the passing of a train leaves behind.
You had never hidden the fact that you were an emotional person, but, at the same time, you had never cried openly, in front of him or, as in that case, in his vicinity, because he had never given you a reason to do so. Even loving him in secret had not brought you much pain, because you saw falling in love as a simple feeling that was part of life, something that came and went, and, honestly, you were the only person of his age around him, who knew him and whom he trusted. He was hardly going to love someone else, shoving in your face the fact that you should've confessed what you felt, so as to openly show yourself as an alternative, a possible choice.
"I just needed a warning, [your alias]." He repeated and, leaning against the kitchen counter, you had to cover your mouth to stop you from sobbing out loud.
"I wish I had known our time would be over soon. I would have spent more time with you, doing non-work-related things." He continued. "A week is not enough time to process it and accept it, because, even now, I can't. I respect your decision, but I feel a weight at the base of my throat when I think about it. It makes it harder to talk. And I'm angry with myself for not approving what you have decided. I think you made a mistake and I don't want you to go, to see you leave… But you don't have options left. Withdrawing, in this case, means desertion, that would also hinder the relation the US has with the counterpart's government."
You wiped away your tears and let out a long sigh, telling yourself to stop doing that, because you didn't want to spend your last half hour with him crying and not talking to him. It required you six deep breaths and clearing your throat so that you could speak normally. You sat down and it took you a while to decide what words to say to him.
"I'm not telling you these things to make you feel guilty. It's not my intention at all. We promised to be honest with each other, and I am respecting that. I'm just sharing my point of view, even if it doesn't concern me..." He took a pause. "In a professional way, because I personally feel very affected by it."
"Can you turn the camera on at least, so we can see each other?" You asked him, almost ignoring his long rant, but you really needed to see him.
A minute passed and Near seemed to show no signs of life. Apparently, he was so bothered by your choice that he wanted to take revenge like that. You pressed the button ready to tell him, again, that you were sorry and that you understood, but as soon as your finger pushed it down slightly, as cause and effect, the computer screen went from his initials to him.
You stood motionless watching him as he curled a lock of hair, sitting on the floor in his typical position, avoiding eye contact with you and looking down at what you identified as his hand, out of frame.
"You cut your hair..." You whispered, astonished.
"When we accompanied you to the CIA base that night, when we first met, you told me you liked my short hair."
You remembered it perfectly, because, as you talked, all you did was shift your gaze from his face to his hair, completely captivated. If you had known earlier that Near had that particular look, you might have even asked him to turn the camera on for you, so you could admire him more often.
"I also liked your long hair."
"You never told me that."
It was true, you had never explicitly said that. You had only offered to help him untangle the knots and, a couple of times, in moments of boredom, you had even started to braid his hair in various small braids, adorning them with little plastic butterflies, which he had kept until it was you who had to comb his hair again.
To think that he had washed himself in that state always made you smile, even at a time like that.
'I like everything about you, Near' was what you wanted to tell him, but you didn't want to risk that confession having the reverse effect and him blaming himself for not noticing your feelings.
"In seven years, it should grow to the same length as before." You said. "And I'll be back to tell you I like it."
"Just for that?" He looked at you and you noticed a slight glint in his eyes, but you couldn't find confirmation of what you assumed he had done anywhere else around his eyes.
"No, of course... And to help you style it." You replied with a smile.
"I still have the little box with the hair clips."
"I'd say it's time to change them... Into little flowers, or we can get the ones that are like fruits... Or whatever you want."
Near nodded and you stayed a few minutes watching him, as he slowly shifted his attention to something to his right, which you didn't see.
At a time like this, people would try to imprint the face of their loved ones in their memory so they would carry them with them forever, but you didn't need to do that, because there was no way for you to forget.
You could not forget a person who, despite the stormy start, had become your first real 'home', that place or, in this case, that human being to whom you could turn if you did not want to face the outside world or did not want to do so alone.
Your initial home, from an early age up to the time of enlistment, had not been the best and, by then, you had no contact with those you had to call your parents. You had even changed your identity so that they would not find you, even though all you had wanted and the reason you had got into the CIA was to get their approval. In the end, you had decided otherwise and convinced yourself that they did not deserve to see you achieve your goals, because they had never supported or congratulated you on your successes. Quite the opposite: when you won at various competitions, they made them their own and acted as if they had done all that just to get a little paper or a trophy that attested their abilities. They had never been there for you, only for your skills, and, therefore, you had decided that they should have neither and ran away from them.
On the contrary, he had always been there, even and especially after solving the Kira case, like an old, but still intact and beautifully protected pillar, making sure you had shade in moments of extreme heat, which you could lean on for support when you were about to collapse, and which you stopped to admire, when you realised how precious it was and how people simply walked past it, without even paying attention to it or understanding the importance it held.
"You lied to me, by the way." You rested your finger on the screen again. "There's something stealing your attention."
Near revealed the mysterious object he kept staring at and it was exactly what you had assumed, but, at the same time, it was so much more.
It was his hand... Which had your puppet, representing you in every way, tucked into his index finger.
You looked away for a second, telling you not to cry and that you had seen it a thousand times.
'It's no big deal,' you tried to convince yourself, but it was no use, because your vision had already fogged up and blinking would have meant starting the cascades.
He had put so much effort into that puppet, after he had heard you jokingly criticise him one evening, asking Rester, 'am I that ugly?' as he returned from the bathroom and stood on the threshold.
You had felt guilty, of course, and explained that you were not serious, but he had not shot you down.
However, he had said, 'I thought it was my best creation, actually' and you had felt the world slip from under your feet. He had said it so sincerely and calmly that you couldn't understand why he hadn't been pissed off and you wished he had said, 'oh, shut up, you don't understand anything about it, and you've never created one, you ungrateful being'.
But he had never done that. He had never been angry with you and had quietly started to modify it until it was his best creation even in your eyes. With each of your visits, the puppet became more and more well maintained, and you would have liked to tell him that there was no need to spend so much time on it, that you liked it just the way it was, but, in truth, you loved his care for it more, because it did not stem from a desire to prove you wrong or because he felt like a failure.
He simply wanted to make you happy, and you couldn't help but fall more and more in love with him.
"I added the [your favourite colour] scarf you bought." He said, as you continued to remain turned away. "It's a removable piece, so you can wear other accessories around your neck. Look."
And you did. You made the mistake of moving your gaze to the screen, which was transmitting the video of Near removing the object, and blinking, letting several tears slide down your cheeks.
"It's made out of rubber." He added, squeezing it, and looking away.
He held it for several seconds particularly close to the camera and, without a single second thought, you dried your eyes with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.
"Thank you..." You whispered, knowing he couldn't hear you.
Sometimes, you couldn't stand the fact that you always had to press a button to make yourself audible, but it was for moments like those, when you sniffed up your nose, that you thanked yourself for opting for that choice.
"I like it." You told him and he pulled the scarf away, settling it on your puppet. "You're getting better and better, you know? I never would have guessed you'd go into accessory making."
You noticed a timid smile from him, as he kept his head tilted slightly downwards, and you couldn't help but copy it, because although not that rare, as he always greeted you with a smile, when you left his base and returned to your flat, it remained an important action for you, especially if he didn't just do it out of courtesy.
"I knew you doubted my abilities, but up to this point..." He cast a quick glance in your direction. "Thank you, by the way. It was harder than I thought. I wanted to make it out of rubber so it would stay fixed as much as possible, but I ended up breaking at least five of them, because they weren't thin enough and, consequently, elastic… I think I was also stressed, after finding out about your mission."
"I am sorry…" You said, and he shook his head, as to tell you not to be.
There were ten minutes left until the end of your conversation, after which you should have picked up your stuff, already prepared that morning, and headed for the prearranged location, where some of your superiors and instructors were waiting for you. You would've had to spend another couple of hours going over all the instructions they had given you and board a plane, which would've landed in the neighbouring country south of the target. It was an intermediate stop, necessary to present yourself in front of the counterpart team who would assist you, both from afar and nearby, and with whom you would communicate important information, which they would then pass on to your agency.
You would then have entered the country by land, because it would have aroused less suspicion. You would have behaved as a civilian for all the duration. You had begun studying the three most widely spoken languages in the country since the conclusion of the Kira case and had been required to understand and actively participate in their culture, with the help of native agents of that country working for the CIA - who had become your instructors for that mission - so not only could you pass as a native, but your participation had been planned for quite some time.
You didn't think you were a slaughter animal in their eyes, but you could perfectly understand if Near, having been informed about the matter and already having little regard for the agency, the government and the country, had thought so, and you would have started to think so too, when you would have realised that the information you were giving about the high risks of a possible civil war would not be listened to at all.
In any case, as a mere citizen, your main objective was to make sure that there were no worrying movements at the borders, as the mission had been requested by the country you would be going to first, after they had reported in 2017 a preparation of terrorist groups to attack them.
You were also required to report the location of any wounded soldiers or civilians who were trying to escape and were only a few metres from the border, so that they could be picked up by the forces defined as 'enemy' and brought to safety, as they were used to do.
The time of the assignment had been decided for various reasons, including the movement you would have to do, after a certain period, to cover the entire bordering side, and the US political system, since you would be back in the middle of the 47th president's term and the CIA expected that decisions on the situation would not change drastically until then.
"Do you think we should say goodbye?" Near asked.
"Let's pretend for a while longer that I don't have to leave."
You wanted to enjoy a little more of the calm after that light drizzle and before the real storm, even though you would have preferred to stay the whole time, for the rest of your life, watching him while he was busy doing something else. It gave you a certain serenity to watch what he was doing: how his fingers, with much care, were occupied with something else; how his attentive gaze followed the movement of his hands; before he cut his hair, you even liked how it covered the sides of his face and, like a dancer following his partner, how it swayed in rhythm with his head, but, most of all, you liked how he was completely absorbed in his activity, even though his mind was certainly working incessantly on something else.
You wished you could hear everything he was thinking, because you always wanted to understand him as best you could. You did what you were able, but you knew that there were gaps that you could never fill in and that your understanding would always be minimal, because he was like the Kryptos outside the CIA base, one of the most complicated puzzles in the world, of which you only understood a few passages that did not allow you to get the whole picture of who Nate River was.
"Why didn't you answer me earlier?" You asked him.
"Because if a conversation doesn't start, it doesn't have to end either." He went silent for a second. "I realised, however, that not starting a conversation, under these circumstances, doesn't mean not facing the fact that you have to leave, as if it might make you stay, but losing the chance to talk to you... Forever."
You giggled, shaking your head, and Near turned in your direction. He was confused, as he was bound to be, hearing someone being amused by the possibility of death, but he also looked rather pained. The inner sides of his eyebrows were arched upwards, and his eyes still retained that brightness you had spotted earlier, but, this time, there were also pinkish halos surrounding them.
"Stop being so pessimistic." You told him. "I'm a little offended by your belief that I won't survive, you know? I mean, you said it yourself that I'm good and it's been ten years since the last mission. Technology has advanced and people can communicate faster. If I'm in danger, I'll need to send a little text and, like Rester always does, they'll be outside waiting for me in five minutes."
You managed to maintain that cheerful attitude with a lot of difficulty, because the fact that that conversation had a high probability of being the last one for real kept running through your mind. The technology was yes, advanced, but the means of transport not so much, and the security of borders, as well as the desire to protect them, had moved in the opposite direction to liberalisation. It wasn't certain that anyone would be able to pick you up if you had a problem, and perhaps they wouldn't even try, because between losing a person, even one as important as you to the agency, and risking outright war or a public condemnation by international organisations, it was pretty clear what choice they would make.
However, you wanted to brighten up that interaction, give him some hope, and even though you knew Near was more realistic and understood the situation as well as you did, he seemed to want to play his part in that performance and decided to smile, ever so slightly, but it was better than complete mutism or outright sadness.
By now, you had completely abandoned the idea of confessing, even though you would have liked to know his reaction and have a conclusion to that part of your life.
You began to think that maybe you could have written him one last message, having your counterpart in the field pass it on. You would have told them to send a letter to the address of your flat, in case you died, so that he would also be left with something tangible and heartfelt of yours, something he could read again in case he missed you and that would perhaps console him, one way or another.
Three simple words.
"The hardest part will be not seeing you for years, if I'm honest." You continued. "But I will make sure to follow the news of the formidable L, should I get the chance."
"The hardest part will be solving cases without you." He retorted, making you laugh.
"We both know you've never needed me. You're amazing... Infallible, actually."
"That doesn't mean I didn't appreciate your work contribution, no matter how minimal."
The sincerity and seriousness with which he said those words were like a thousand stabs in the back, like the ones he would have felt if your original plan had worked. On the one hand, you were grateful to have been found out, because otherwise you would never have heard Near call you his friend and tell you how much you meant to him; on the other hand, the goodbye would have been more difficult and crueller than ever... And there were only five minutes left, to the last knife that would pierce your heart.
"Minimal, huh? Me trying to be nice, humble even, and you belittle me like this."
"I said work, not personal." He replied. "You showed me the world in a thousand different ways, allowing me to choose the one that suited me best, and I liked it. You helped me a lot by just being here. It's too bad I couldn't fully reciprocate or just that I couldn't show you [a city you've never visited but would love to]."
"Between your schedule and mine, we postponed a bit too much."
Not only that, but they were plans a bit up in the air, which had never had a solid basis.
"You should still have the itinerary made that morning at one o'clock, right?" You asked and Near nodded, clicking a few buttons and projecting it onto your screen. "Oh, you made a real presentation of it..."
The flying piece of scrap paper you had written on had become an actual document, complete with a timetable, estimated time of view of each point of interest and various images, including satellite images and from all angles, of the various places you were planning to visit. He had even scanned the scribbles you had made and stuck them on the - at that point - flyer of a travel agency, because it was clear that it would be perfect to entice people to go there. The colours he had chosen were your favourites, or, rather, the ones you had said over the years would look good on him.
It was a well-crafted and detailed presentation in Near's style, but still, you could sense a note of Rester in it, because the formal, almost military design of the document contrasted with the way the scribbles had been placed. They were in the spot where you had drawn them on the piece of paper and not at the corners, as the commander would have done, so as not to cover up the information.
Near got to the bottom of the page and you widened your eyes.
'Possible date: [date of the season you prefer] /2020'
"Near..." You whispered.
"Don't pay too much attention to the date. I added it a fortnight ago while reviewing the document, thinking about the time you would prefer."
Near deleted the last digit of the year and put '6', but deleted it, again, and put '7', but, again, pressed delete and wrote '6'.
"You're a bit indecisive, I see."
"I was thinking that you'll need to rest, once you get back, so delay a little longer, but then, upon reflection, this trip could be your holiday." He explained and you smiled. "Of course, you decide in the end."
"2026 is perfect. At least, I'll have something to look forward"
You cast a glance at the clock: only two minutes.
"Me too... And that's you, [your real name]." He closed the itinerary and looked at you. "Whether or not you change your mind about the trip."
The urge to tell him how much you liked it grew with every second that approached zero, but you couldn't help but suppress that urge, risking starting to cry again, and you could already feel the tears coming back up.
"Because, if we don't go, it doesn't make much difference to you, since you don't like going out." You joked.
"Because being by your side is enough for me."
You shook your head, repeating in your head that it wasn't fair, that you couldn't just close the call and leave for a mission you weren't sure you'd come back from. It was you who had made that choice, because you felt you were ready and hoped to leave Near by letting him know how you felt and without having to say goodbye, but you couldn't think of how the screen would go off without feeling a part of you being torn apart and, as with every step you took towards the exit, feeling like you were leaving a part of you there.
"Don't cry." Said Near quietly. "You'll do great, as always, and I'll be waiting for you."
You lowered your head down, your tears falling on the binder on the table.
"Maybe I'm beginning to understand why you didn't want to tell me or say goodbye." He confessed calmly. "It hurts, a lot."
Your alarm clock and your mobile phone rang at the same time, and you sobbed loudly, but began to wipe your eyes and nose with the back of your hand. You grabbed your mobile phone and answered the call from one of your handlers, punctual as a Swiss watch, as you turned off the alarm clock.
"I'm out." He let you know.
"I'm on my way down."
Your voice was clearly clipped, letting him know of your state, but this caused him no reaction as you imagined he had seen many other people behave in the same manner before a mission of that calibre or similar.
"Let's meet again, [your real name], please?" Said Near, once he saw you put the phone down.
"I promised to be your on-call contact at all times, remember?"
You had a smile on your lips, which made a strange contrast to the rest of your face, which visibly indicated the distress you were feeling. You were still red, your eyelashes were still wet, as were your cheeks, and you felt your eyelids heavy, as well as your eyes still tingling.
"See you in seven years, Nate."
"Not one more, [your real name]."
"I'll try."
They were your last words to him, to which he nodded, and the conversation ended, interrupted by him, because you both knew that you would not have the strength to do so.
At the moment, you didn't start crying again, because your mind only had one goal, and that was to get your stuff and get down, but you were sure that you would start doing it again, if not on the plane, because you would be surrounded by other people from the CIA, at least on your first night, on a bed and in an unfamiliar house, without the comfort that the idea of having Near always beside you gave you.
You would also have begun to think that, even if not a proper statement, you could have told him that you cared for him immensely. You hadn't thought about it, as you had the impression that he already knew, since you had shown it to him in a thousand different ways, but you would have slowly regretted the fact that those three words had not left your lips that January evening, especially with the realisation of the approaching catastrophe.
