After I had disabled all the cameras in my bedroom, I stripped, dressing in more comfortable clothes. I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. And as I lay there on my white comforter, staring at the ceiling, I realized something.

My day SUCKED. Like, bad.

I know it's a stupid thing to think. I knew it was a stupid thing to think then. But it just suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks (not literally of course, because then my internal organs would be smashed, my spinal cord would shatter, and my skull caving in would result in the virtual destruction of—you know what? Never mind.)

The point is, the thought hit me hard.

And what was my only consolation, you may ask? I had my first, real conversation with my STALKER.

Am I the only one noticing a pattern in my life?

But wait—it gets better.

Living with L, I was all too accustomed to being woken up in the middle of the night while he ravaged the kitchen in search of something made of sugar (which shouldn't have been such a feat considering the fact that it was all he ate). However, this time, he woke me up intentionally. "Near," he whispered harshly in my face. I jolted awake, snapping my body upright. This didn't really have the desired effect. And by that, I mean that we basically slammed heads. Not exactly a fun experience.

Which is why, we were both sitting on my bed, nursing our red foreheads, at—I checked my digital clock—12:17 in the morning.

"Dammit, L…" I cursed, flipping on my bedside lamp. "What could you possibly want? I'm not going out on another late-night snack run for you…" The last time that had happened, I had had to deal with the meddlesome cashier who insisted that I shouldn't have been out that late buying sweets to begin with, and had called the police to take me home. Then L had gotten in trouble for sending a minor "wandering the streets at night, just to fill your selfish sweet-tooth". That was how the red-faced officer had explained it, anyway.

"Near," he said, seemingly ignoring my earlier statements. "I'm leaving on a flight to Russia in approximately one-and-a-half hours." My eyes widened, and I frowned, fully awake now.

"What?" I questioned dazedly. "You're leaving? As in, leaving the country?" He nodded. "Why is it so sudden?" He nibbled on his thumb absent-mindedly.

"It was a sudden breakthrough in the case I'm working on," he explained. "But I can't receive quick messages easily through their low-standard technology. It's a very rural area where they don't have quick internet access or anything like that. I'm sorry, Near, but they need me over there as soon as possible. Would you like to come with me? I'm sure Watari would be glad to see you again." I could tell that he didn't want me to. Even though his poker face would've fooled anyone else, I had lived with him long enough to know. He was only inviting me as a…formality, I guess—only to be polite.

"N-No," I answered, damning myself to the ninth circle of Hell for stuttering. "I'll be fine alone." I didn't want to think about M, but he was the first thing that popped into my mind when my brain finally registered what I had just agreed to. What if he tried something? Judging by his attitude alone, I wouldn't put something like kidnapping or even rape past him.

"You're sure?" L confirmed, giving me one last chance to save myself.

"Yes, I'll stay alone." Wow. There goes all my self-preservation. What is wrong with me? Was it my curiosity taking over? Or was my desire to impress my cousin winning out against my will? L blinked at me owlishly before nodding once, and fluidly exiting my room. As soon as he was gone, I literally fell backwards onto my ivory colored pillow.

I didn't wake up until a little while later, as I heard L dragging a suitcase through the living room. Jumping out of bed, I plodded quietly out of my room, catching L just as he was leaving. "Goodbye, Elliot," I said softly, feeling like a child. L turned around anyways, flashing me his bright, close-lipped smile. I had always envied his smile. It was both childish and endearing. My smile was more like madman's smile, and I only wore it when I was extremely amused.

I didn't even care about the cameras in the living room and kitchen at this point. They could stay there, for all I cared. It wasn't as though I was going to be doing much out there anyways. I was going back to bed.

…

Half an hour later found me sitting on my bedroom floor, playing with some toys that most kids my age would've retired several years ago. I had Legos and little Lego people, along with a few Hot Wheels cars and Transformer robots. I had built a small city, and I was now using a Megatron to destroy it while playing out a battle between Megatron and Optimus Prime.

…Talk about Peter Pan syndrome…

I had just begun the climax of the fight when my cell phone rang.

"Go to bed, Near," said a male voice from the other side. The voice was annoyed-sounding, and the sentence was punctuated by a yawn.

"Who is this?" I asked cautiously. The person on the other end started, and yelped. I heard a loud thud and assumed that whoever it was had dropped the phone. "Hello?" I said, warily.

"Ah, Near," Said the voice again. This time, though it was the same familiar voice filter I'd been hearing for…had it only been a week? No, I guess the right question would be, 'Has it already been a week?'

Time sure does fly when you're being stalked like a celebrity.

…sigh…

"Oh, so it's you," I replied dryly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"If you were surprised, I would say you'd lost your touch."

"How did you get my cell phone number anyways?" I surprised even myself with the question. I hadn't really thought about it since he'd called me before, even if that had been on our landline.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd ask that. What are you doing anyways? You should be sleeping. Just because Elliot left doesn't mean all the rules left, too." I snorted into the phone.

"Two things," I said. "First of all, when did you become my mother? Secondly, you're distracting from the question." I heard him chuckle, nervousness apparent even in the mechanical filter.

"Uh…I'll tell you later." Suddenly, his tone brightened, changing the subject. "Anyways, I thought you wanted to ask me questions." I groaned, rolling my eyes. I obviously wasn't going to get anywhere with this, so I might as well have gone along with his games.

"Yeah, well that didn't exactly end well the last time," I drawled sarcastically. "And speaking of the last time, what the hell is up with the necklace?"

"It was a gift. Couldn't you tell?" I scowled.

"Who said I wanted gifts from you?" I spat. There was a silence for a few moments before M spoke again.

"…You kept it." I was struck dumb by that simple sentence. What possible alibi could I come up with for why I'd kept it? Even I didn't know why I had.

"So what?"

I could not have possibly come up with a more stupid comeback. I almost physically facepalmed before I remembered that M was most likely watching me somehow. His laughing on the phone was a good enough clue on its own that what I'd said was unintelligent. I didn't need him to see me do something like that. That would be like admitting defeat.

"Anyways," I said quickly, cutting off any reply he might've had in store for me. "I have a request."

"Yes?" His voice was eager and immediate. I had just barely gotten out the word 'request' when he jumped on the opportunity. My eyebrows knitted together in thought. Was fulfilling a desire of mine really so excitable?

"Please, for the love of all that is Holy, turn off the damned voice filter." He seemed to hesitate before his want to make me happy finally won out. I heard a beep sound, and he spoke again.

"Is this better?" M's real voice was natural, masculine, and smooth. I actually shivered.

"Much," I answered. "I don't exactly have a love for voice scramblers." A moment of silence on his end gave me a little time to think about, and blush feverishly at the implications of that sentence. I quickly backtracked (translation: I tried to rephrase, and made myself sound like an idiot). "I-I mean voice scramblers are useful, but kind of i-irritating to the ears." That time I did facepalm, not caring if he saw or not. I knew that he was probably trying to hide his laughter for my sake.

"I think I got it…" he said, his tone clearly amused. I pouted for a few moments to myself.

"I just thought about something," I said, seemingly out of nowhere. "What you're doing is entirely contradictory to what you said earlier." I took his silence as a cue to continue. "You said that I should be sleeping, and that I still needed to follow rules even in my cousin's absence."

"Ahaha, I guess you got me there, Near," said M. "I was just under the impression that you didn't like to do what I say."

"…Touché." I yawned. "In any case, I'm going to sleep." I scooted all my toys against one wall, making a mental note to put them away later.

"Hey, Near?" M said, reclaiming my attention. "Have you noticed that you don't talk the same with me as you do with everyone else?"

My eyes widened as I thought about it. Now that he had brought it up, I realized that, yeah, I did talk to him differently. I was much more casual than I was with anyone when I talked to M. I even talked to L as though I were a human thesaurus, or a robot. Mostly, though, with L, it was so that I could impress him by staying on his wavelength. L used big words and complicated sentences naturally, as though it were common to do so.

Okay, so I talked to M differently…what did that mean?

"Uh…okay…" I sounded pathetic, honestly, even to myself. This time, however, I didn't try and correct myself and make myself look like a blithering moron for the second time that night.

"Goodnight." I froze. Every time before this I had answered his usual 'goodnight' with a very rude 'I'm hanging up now!'. What was I supposed to say now? We'd had a civilized conversation, during which some of my acrimony towards him had begun to fade. However, I still didn't exactly like him, per say. We were NOT friends, and were SO not anything more.

But, our relationship didn't feel so much like a "stalker and stalked" situation anymore.

So, in all my unsociable glory, I slammed the phone shut.

…Dammit…

The day after that, I woke up at nine o' clock, groggy, but otherwise well rested. The smell of food woke me up instantly, though. Why would the apartment smell like food? L wasn't home, and even if he was, the place would smell like sugar and cake if anything. This was a smell like actual breakfast food—like eggs and bacon, you know?

I jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. Laid out on it was a plate overflowing with scrambled eggs, bacon, and French toast.

What. The. HELL?

I was torn between three things.

I was kind of touched that M had thought to do this for me. I mean, who else could it have been?

I was practically exploding with fury. M had the impudence to come into my home without permission?

I was STARVING. Eventually, the last conflicting emotion (or rather physical feeling) won out, and I sighed in defeat before sitting down to eat. Somewhere in my subconscious, I registered that the food was still hot, meaning that it'd been laid out very recently. Another part of my brain told my subconscious to shut the hell up so it could enjoy the meal.

And boy did I. I hadn't had actual breakfast food in ages. L didn't really care much for the stuff himself (except French toast, and he didn't know how to make that either, so he usually ordered some from a delivery restaurant before drowning it all in syrup), so he didn't usually have it in the apartment. I had tried to learn to make it once…

…let's just say, the fire department wasn't too happy with me or L. Considering I had been eight at the time, I think their feelings were justified.

The point is, I hadn't had an actual meal that wasn't something quickly whipped up, or easily made in forever. I think the closest thing to breakfast I'd eaten in my time with L was the chocolate cereal he bought.

When I was done, I stared at my empty plate for a few moments before getting up to deposit it in the sink. I didn't feel like washing it right that second.

The rest of the day was quiet, undisturbed. I worked on cases dutifully and, during small breaks, played with my toys (I did pick up the ones from the night before, like I said). By the time five o'clock had rolled around, I was starting to get hungry. Coincidentally, that was also the time that a certain letter decided to grace me with a phone call.

"Hey, Near," he addressed me casually. "Did you enjoy your breakfast?" I felt myself flush a bit at the question.

"…yes…" I grumbled. "But don't do that again! You nearly gave me a heart attack with that! Don't come into my apartment without permission like that again!" I felt like a mother scolding her son, which was kind of disturbing considering our situation.

"Aw," M whined in mock hurt. "And here I was hoping that I could come make dinner for you." I rolled my eyes.

"No," I said flatly. "And tell M2 to quit smoking those cancer sticks." Don't you just love how a conversation can take so many different pathways? Honestly, I don't really know where that one came from. I just needed something else to complain about.

"Dude, I've tried. It doesn't work." I could tell he was trying not to laugh, and I thought I heard M2's voice from somewhere in the background.

"Whatever," I pouted. "Have you put in new cameras since yesterday?" The silence on the other end was all the confirmation I needed. I sighed, rolling my eyes. "…Never mind. Is there anything else you wanted?"

"…Not really. Just to talk to you." My heart jumped. "Well, I'll talk to you later." The line went dead.

Did he really care for me like that? It was a foreign concept to me, entirely. I don't remember a time in my life when someone said that they just wanted to talk to me. I don't think anyone ever had come up to me, or called, just to talk to me. There was always something else involved. Usually it involved me doing homework.

If there was one thing I was sure of at this point, it was that M was an anomaly.