Hey guys! Wow, so many positive reactions to this story! Thanks to CrazyForCoffee, lolzy33, Trouble Cookie, iatethecookie, Sara's Dementia, and Kayla-kun for favorite-ing. And thanks to TheRainbowStyle, Sara's Dementia, and hts911 for putting My Dear Stalker on their story alerts list! And a big thanks to CrazyForCoffee, Trouble Cookie, TheRainbowStyle, Sara's Dementia (all of whom either alerted, favorited, or both), LucaBlightisPUCA, and SarySoda for reviewing!

Disclaimer: IDNODN.

Saturday came just as dull as Friday, and I was not about to alleviate my tedium with another trip into town. Up until around four o'clock, I helped L solve cases. Obviously he didn't need help solving them, though, so I was mainly just lightening the load by taking some of the simpler ones.

When four o'clock came around, though, my stomach growled, alerting me to the fact that I hadn't eaten all day. I went into the kitchen, my legs sore from sitting for too long. A few minutes later, I emerged, nibbling on a turkey sandwich. L had gone out for a few minutes, actually going into the sun willingly in search of more confections to fill his sweet tooth.

I sat on the floor at the table, pulling out a plastic bag of dice from under it. I stacked them up into different shapes for a while, occasionally taking bites out of the sandwich.

Briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

The sound of the phone ringing brought me out of my dazed dice-stacking as I picked up the wireless device.

"Hello," I said monotonously. "This is Near."

"N-Near," a mechanical voice said. Immediately, I was tensed and mentally on-guard. I had been raised with L for so long, I knew perfectly well what a filtered voice meant.

"Who is this?" I asked, completely masking the slight panic I felt.

"I can't tell you that," the person replied. "However, I want to let you know, that you shouldn't have to worry about your bullies anymore. I've taken care of them." The other person paused, my breath hitched. Did 'taken care of' mean…? "Please, don't worry, Near," they continued. "They are still alive…I haven't killed them. I just scared them a bit. Hopefully they won't be messing with you anymore. If they do, I'll know. Trust me."

The line went dead after that, leaving me trembling.

"I-I…"I stammered. "I've got a…I've got a stalker."

Shit…

I tried to continue the rest of my day like I had planned, trying to shake the paranoid feeling that someone was watching me, the feeling of eyes watching me even in rooms with no windows. It didn't really work. Especially when I went to the bathroom.

Yeah. Have you ever tried to pee while looking over your shoulder?

…Yeah…

Anyways, I was still on edge when L got home, so the sound of the door closing literally made me yelp.

"Near?" L questioned, looking at me. I winced, and mentally damned myself to hell ten times over. I probably looked like I'd just seen a ghost or an ax murderer. "Are you okay?" I nodded, grabbing a couple armfuls of case files and retreating to my room. Even then I was a bit reluctant to close the door. Once I was sat down on my bed, spreading the numerous folders out around me, I tried to sort through my thoughts.

Who could my stalker possibly be? Why would they be watching me? Obviously they were, or they wouldn't know about my bully problem. And what could t hey have said, or done to the aforementioned bullies to scare them off…?

I should tell L, I thought. He could figure this out no problem. I'm too emotionally influenced in this situation to think clearly. That was a good plan. Tell my cousin, the genius L, that I was being stalked. He'd find the stalker.

But what if the stalker kills L?

The thought hit me like a cargo train. This person knew our phone number. Which meant he'd probably looked us up in the phone book. To do that, he had to know either L's alias, or our address. Either way, all three things were listed in the phone book. So if he knew where we lived then he probably knew I lived with my cousin, Elliot. And if he really was watching me, then he probably knew that Elliot was a very good detective. And that put L at risk if the stalker knew that he was being hunted by him.

So now I can't tell L? I thought exasperatedly. Jesus Christ… I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. What else could I do really, at this point?

"Near?" At L's voice, my head snapped up. He was holding a phone in his hand. Or rather, he was holding it with his thumb and forefinger. "It's for you." I almost felt my heart skip a beat.

"Hello?" I questioned monotonously into the receiver, watching as L exited the room.

"Near?" it was my stalker. He actually sounded unsure of himself despite the mechanical disguise.

"What is it?" I made my voice as cold and uncaring as I ever could, in hopes to dissuade him. What was special about me? To everyone else, I was a rude, blunt, unfeeling robot.

"Stop worrying." I rolled my eyes and sighed, but the person continued. "I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to hurt Elliot." I felt my entire body freeze. Oh, so now the bastard was a mind reader, too?

"I'm hanging up now," I said, ignoring his protests and pleas for me to wait. The dial tone was the best thing I'd heard all day. It was cut off by the ringer.

The number was unidentified. The sicko wasn't going to stop, was he? I sighed.

…Damn…

The rest of the weekend passed, becoming even more stressful all the time. My stalker called at least twice a day, and usually it was to say "good morning" and "good night", to which I would reply with "I'm hanging up."

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep, which is why I went to school on Monday with bags under my eyes that were the exact opposite of attractive. If my lack of sleep wasn't enough, I was also dreading what I would find in regards to my torment. I knew I was going to be pissed no matter what the outcome was. If they really stopped torturing me, then it didn't help my stress about my still-unnamed stalker. If they didn't, than…well, they'd still be making me miserable.

Talk about damned if you do, damned if you don't. I sighed, hanging my head. The last few days had been so messed up…

I whipped my head to the side as I heard a rustle in the trimmed bushes that ran the length of the sidewalk. There was nothing there. I sighed heavily, fighting the urge to outright groan. This situation has got me too damn paranoid, I thought, rubbing my sleepless eyes.

Before I knew it, I was at school, walking through the double doors. I waited for someone to hoist me up by my brand new white backpack, or dump the remains of a morning coffee over my head, or throw a paper ball at me.

Nothing.

If anything, the hallway got quieter, if only slightly so, as I walked past. I glanced around, noticing how people started whispering indiscreetly. I listened hard to try and catch bits of their conversations.

"No, man, we can't!" one voice whispered urgently.

"Remember what he said…" came another.

The rest of the bits and pieces that I picked up on were things like that, though there was an occasional insult. Some people weren't even gossiping about me, though they did whisper obscenities in my direction as I passed.

Now you'd think that I would be relieved that the bullying seemed to have stopped. However, it had a dangerous feeling about it. It was as though I was a goldfish swimming around with a bunch of piranha, and was only safe because the person in control of the fish tank threatened to beat them if they came within a three foot radius of me. Eventually, they wouldn't care anymore, and they'd only get mad that I was suddenly untouchable. So, when they stopped holding back, they would attack with full force, and the torment would only be worse.

So I was practically having an anxiety attack, though I didn't let it show. Instead, I kept my eyes looking straight ahead.

Hmm…I thought, thinking about my earlier analogy. That would make my stalker the controller of the fish tank, and I his favorite…how fitting. But I wonder, where does that put the two of us on the balancing scale of power? The thought was slightly unnerving. What if he found a way to manipulate me…?

I sighed lightly, aware that I was supposed to be upholding a pretense of impassiveness. I wished I had a pillow to scream into. If ignorance is bliss, I thought bitterly. Then awareness is misery. If I hadn't known about this whole stalker thing, I would've been fine and dandy, going about my daily life unchanged. Sure, I would still be bullied, but at least I would be able to sleep and use the restroom properly.

I blinked, suddenly noticing that I was in front of my locker, still dazed. I blinked a few more times before going through my routine, exchanging books and whatnot.

"Hey freak!" I felt the presence before I heard the words. There was a person standing right behind me.

Dammit… "Yes?" I said, not turning around. This prompted the probable bully to turn me around forcibly. Once I saw his face, I knew exactly who he was. His name was Jacob Strauss, and his incarcerated father was forcing him to play football to get a scholarship. However, Jacob wasn't naturally strong, and was currently on steroids.

Even though it made him sound pathetic to me, you might remember that the steroids made him bigger, and stronger. And that made him a giant compared to me.

"Unlike everyone else here," he continued forcing me to look at him. "I'm not afraid of your little bodyguard friend." I frowned.

"What bodyguard?" I asked coldly. The fire in the teen's eyes seemed to grow, if anything.

"That freak who threatened us all!" he yelled. "You know the guy I'm talking about!" I felt my eyes widen for a split second, and cursed myself at the show of emotion. Inside, though, my heart was racing. Could it have been my stalker? He said he'd…scared them all, but a threat?

"What did he look like?" I asked, my shaky voice betraying the urgency I felt. The idiot must've thought that my apparent fear was directed at him, though, because he smirked at me. He probably felt a swell of pride, knowing that he was the first to actually evoke a physical reaction from me.

"Shut up you little liar," was his answer. He slammed me against the locker next to mine, knocking the wind out of me. Before I could regain my breath, I was shoved into my own open locker, which slammed shut moments later. I greedily sucked in air like a fish out of water, a task which proved difficult when I had both of my knees pulled up to my chest in such a small place. After a few minutes, I could breathe regularly, but any and all sounds had vanished from outside the locker. I muttered an obscenity as I realized that I must've missed the bell in my attempt to reacquaint my lungs with oxygen.

"Hey, Near." The voice was lazy, unfamiliar, and sounded garbled for some reason. I tried to peak out the three open vent slots to get a good look at the person, but all I saw was a Nintendo DS , a pair of black clad legs and arms, and a little wisp of smoke. Well that explained the garbled voice. He probably had a cigarette clasped between his lips.

"Who are you?" I inquired uneasily. "Are you the one who's been calling me?" I felt panic start to seep into my tone, but this time, I didn't really care.

"Nah," the guy replied. "I'm his buddy. He didn't wanna come in person, so he sent me to get you out of this. Ah, hold on." I heard a few clicks and beeps as he continued what seemed to be a particularly hard level on his game. Eventually, though, he closed the device and stuffed it into a pocket. "I set the dial back to zero," he said, blowing smoke as he talked. "What's your combination?" I hesitated. I'm his buddy…This guy was friends with my stalker? It seemed plausible. He didn't sound like he was lying, and if my stalker really needed a cover story, he seemed like the type who would think of something much more believable.

Then there was the immediate problem. I was stuck in my locker, and some strange person I've never met before was smoking on the other side of the door, asking me for my combination.

…

"…Left 20, right 35, left 15, right 18."

Honestly, I didn't care anymore whether or not he had my lock's combination. I could always buy a new one, and the guy seemed to nonchalant to really care about stealing anything from me. As if I have anything to steal, anyways. It was true; all I really had was a box of dominos, a box of dice, and my schoolbooks.

I heard the click just in time for me to brace myself for the fall out. Luckily, I managed to catch myself, with a steadying hand from my rescuer, which I quickly backed away from.

Speaking of my savior, I could actually see him now. He was wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, trainers, and a black hat that covered most of his wine colored hair. He had orange-tinted goggles that seemed to be his main facial feature, along with the lit cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, smoke rising off the end.

"You look like a burglar," I stated dryly. He only chuckled, tapping ashes off his cigarette before taking a long drag.

"And you look like a ghost," he taunted good-naturedly around the smoke. I wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Tell whoever you're with that I'm not interested in whatever they're doing," I said coolly. "Tell them to leave me alone." The redhead smiled, dragging the smoke again. I fought the urge to cough and tell him to smother the cancer-stick.

"Even if I did tell him that," he said. "It's not like it would do any good. Guy's freaking obsessed with you. I wouldn't know why. You don't look like much…" I was torn between horror at what he'd said about my stalker being both stubborn and OBSESSED, and being angry that he'd insulted me. I decided to go with the former.

"Who is he, at least?" I questioned, watching the ashes fall from the end of the cigarette and onto the tiled floor.

"I…" the smoker began, getting close to my face. "…am not allowed to say." I felt my eyes widen and glared at him as he blew smoke straight in my face. He backed up and began walking away, like he hadn't just saved from entrapment in a locker and possibly given me cancer with his secondhand smoke.

"By the way…" the guy called. "He wanted you to have this!" I had only just looked up from where my gaze rested on my feet in time to catch the small package. It was a good thing, too, because the plastic case seemed heavy and solid. I looked at the small device with contempt, wanting to open it and smash it. "You can call me M2 by the way!" After that, M2 disappeared around a corner.

I sighed, and fought the urge to growl viciously at everyone and everything in my mind that had ever pissed me off. I actually do keep a list, and it's pretty damn long, in case you were wondering.

As I closed the door to my locker, I made sure to drop the metal combination lock my stalker had gifted to me inside, hopefully never to resurface.

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