A/N: First, in order for this chapter to make total sense, you should know what Buckyballs are. Since I would be too lazy to google them if someone told me to look them up in an author's note, I'll tell you now.
They are very strong magnets, sold in ridiculously overpriced sets. They come in spheres and cubes, and have a diameter of about 5mm. They're too much fun to play with for one's health and safety.
Perhaps now you have an idea of where Rix is going with this here chapter.
LxWxL
CHaPTeR III: my encounters with SiR KiLLJoY oF BLeaCHaToPia
LxWxL
I think I like 'shopping' here.
It was never my intention to return to the room like I waltzed into a grocery store, I simply wanted a sponge without rigor mortis.
Which was really rather pointless, because there will be nothing to wash unless I start making food.
I think I just don't like sponges with rigor mortis. They make me feel …disturbed.
I shift the plastic bags in my right hand onto my arm and fumble for the room key in hopes to get it before the stupid bags cut off my circulation and they have to amputate. I manage to get it into the lock and turn the doorknob. Why do these contraptions have to be so complicated? We're not all Ls, you know.
"I'm hooooooooooome!" I shout obnoxiously, slamming the door open. Thou shalt not prevail, you derpish door! Victory is mine! I can has put a key in the lock single-handedly carrying 10 bags of groceries.
One does not simply deny my skill.
"I'm playing videogames and smoking!" Matt calls. "Near is doing something irrelevant!"
I smirk. Once someone announces what they're doing, everyone who's not a killjoy does too.
I open the fridge and start putting things away.
You see, I can't just shove things in the fridge. I have to categorize them. All of the dairy things have to go in the little drawer and the fruits have to be in lines so I can count them without having to look too hard. And it really bothers me when the flour is on the bottom shelf. Unless of course, it's whole wheat flour, then I really don't care.
…At least I don't alphabetize. Maybe I should. Or maybe I should really stop caring. I make the split-second decision to just throw everything in the fridge in the bags and do something else more entertaining.
"Is Mello back yet?"
"Nope. He probably won't be for a while." Matt responds.
Quick to anger, slow to cool.
Mello… you and I will most certainly not get along. But I think this will be more fun for me than it will be for you.
I climb up on the table and lie across it, with my arms and legs dangling off. So… I could finish unpacking… I could go on the internetz… I could stand outside in the pouring rain… I could annoy Matt… I could eat food… I could follow Roger around and comment on what he does for the sake of seeing his reactions… no, I'm trying to be nice to Roger. But I don't think being nice to Roger is really getting me any points. Hopeless case. I should go annoy Roger. Roger, Roger, Foolger, Foolder. Heh. That's funny. Annoying Foolder with some stupid questions might be fun…
…Nah, I don't feel like going out. I could take a shower… I could jump on the bed…
Meh.
Right now none of these options seem particularly fun.
Jumping on the bed is not fun?
All the things are boring? How did I get a chronic case of the boreds so fast? Is this some sort of negative side effect to not organizing the groceries?
I should organize the groceries and see if it goes away. I spring off the table and open the fridge to see the bags.
…Do I really feel like organizing these? …nope.
Um… I could…
Meh. I don't feel like thinking of what to do. But I don't want to do nothing either.
I frown. I miss L. He always had something interesting to do, be it explaining a case or fighting with me over cake or stacking sugar cubes or telling me to get him something that's impossible to find, or just watching him be L and mindhex everyone who heard his scrambled voice through speakers.
He used to tell me stories about cases he'd completed, because I'd practically (literally) beg him to (and bribe him with sweets. That's what I had to do basically whenever I wanted him to do something for me.).
I actually downloaded his entire database behind his back, but I think he knew, or at least suspected. He probably knew, because I have a habit of stealing information wherever I go and he knew about that.
But he didn't stop me. I think he'd want whoever is L after him to have his notes on his previous cases, if he unexpectedly had to delete them all. And I protect information obsessively. I have one copy of the files and a hammer to smash the disks at a moment's notice. I didn't get to put them in my safe yet.
I read some of the case files, they were absolutely fascinating. The type of mysteries that are suggestive and intriguing, the type that you're dying to know the answer to, but you can make neither heads nor tails of. They would be amazing novels, even told in the plain language of L's notes and official records, they suck you in.
Which is why I loved it when L would tell them to me. Then they were stories, not just records.
One would think he's hard to listen to, the way he speaks without inflection. But L is actually a great storyteller. His voice is lulling, borderline hypnotizing. You watch the whole mystery unfold through his third eye.
And now L isn't here. And I'm bored. I don't care for cases without his voice to tell them right now.
…
…
…sigh…
It's time to wander around until something catches my interest. I climb over the back of the couch and fall on the cushions, then I crawl back into the kitchen. Matt's eyes stay transfixed on the screen.
I squat under the table, studying the wood grain for a few minutes, and then decide to go upstairs.
I decide to make my way to my room with my eyes shut. I put my hand on the wall. Now how far in did the hallway turn?
Here. I pass Matt's door, and then-
"Ms. Alyas, what are you doing?"
"I'm trying to get to my room."
"Then why have you shut your eyes?"
"I'm bored."
"Open them, please. I would be most unpleased if you tripped over my arrangement and ruined it."
"Fiiiiiiine." I peek.
Woah. O. M. G. Case of the boreds officially cured.
Near has an incredibly complex construction of wooden train track all over the floor. It spans from his room out into the hall. The tangle of bridges and blocks must be 3 feet tall in some places and he has 23 trains on it right here. Wow. Like wow. I can't convey the awesomeness of this setup. And there's more I can't see in his room. I want to start drooling.
"I thought I was the only one who remembered Thomas the Tank Engine!" I whisper, staring in shock. "But you have Thomas and Annie and Clarabel and Percy and Toby and James and Gordon!" I breathe. "Some faith in humanity has been restored!"
"Impressive, Ms. Alyas." He says, tangling his fingers in his hair.
I NEED to play with that thing. "Do you mind if I…" I say, reaching out.
"Yes. Please refrain from touching my toys."
What? He has this entire amazing thing in the hallway and he's telling me I can't even touch it? What's there for, tormenting me? I eyetwitch. "W- wh- why not?" I ask, my hand twitching a little.
"Because they're mine, Ms. Alyas," He says calmly, pushing a train along the track with a finger, just to make me jealous. The other one stays tangled in his hair. "And I don't want one such as yourself touching them."
"What kind of reason is that?" I demand. I have NEVER, in my life, seen someone this old be so selfish with playthings. What an immature little jerk!
"A legitimate one." JerkJerkJerkJerk. Gah! Near, why u no let me play with you!
I pout. "Fine then. I'll go do something else." I whine.
"Yes, please do."
Jerk. I leave the door ajar partly so he can see that I don't need him to have fun and partly because I'm too lazy to shut it.
I wander into my room. Now I want to play with toys. =3=… Near is mean. Mello is mean. The only nice one here is Matt, and all he ever does is play videogames.
I WANTED TO PLAY WITH TRAINS! TT-TT !
He's such a jerk…
"Well we don't need him, do we Mim?" I mutter, dragging my bear off my bed and grabbing my buckyballs. I take the silver square ones and start building towers. Before I know it, I've constructed a city that contains the Eiffel Tower, Empire State building, and the Parthenon. I ran out of cubes, so I started using spherey ones, and then I ran out of them, so I started using my colorful supply of both types, even though skyscrapers are mostly silver. I even forgot about Near.
I take a loop of them and put them on my head, and then make one for Mim. We are now rulers of Buckytopia.
Then I feel eyes on my back. I slowly pivot, still squatting.
Near is staring at me from the hall.
I tilt my head, owling. How long has he been watching, and why would he do so, Hmm? He has his trains that he refuses to share.
"The Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building are not in the same city." Cynical little sheep-jerk.
"Neither is the Parthenon." I reply.
He gets up and steps into my room, sock-footed, then squats down by the city to get a closer look, toying with his hair.
"Have you considered all the things you could do with these?" He drones.
"Once I made a giant magnetic snake out of them. It was like 5 feet long and I could barely drag it around."
He reaches out for them. "Hey! No touching!"
"You mean to tell me I can't?" He asks monotonously. He seems slightly taken by surprise though.
"Please refrain from touching my toys." I retort. "I don't want one such as yourself touching them because they're mine."
"That's very childish of you, Ms. Alyas."
"An eye for an eye." I reply.
He seems to consider this. Well if I had refused him first, I think he would have done the same thing I did. Fair is fair. =3= if I can't play with the trains, he can't play with my magnets.
Near seems to consider this. "I don't enjoy playing with other people, Ms. Alyas."
I raise an eyebrow. "Have you ever even tried playing with someone else?"
"No." Of course not. Socially retarded bachelor shuns all human company.
"Then how do you know you won't like it?"
"I don't enjoy trying new things, Ms. Alyas."
"Well, there's your problem." I say, continuing to build. "If you want to play with my toys, you're gonna have to try me."
He seems to ponder this.
He's painfully shy, seeing how far this is out of his comfort zone. I wonder if he knows it.
"Here." I say, putting a loop of the colorful magnets on his head. "You can be king of Buckytopia and I'll be queen and Mim will be the princess. I want a turn with Thomas, okay?" The beads stand out shockingly against his white hair, spheres and cubes of pink and green and silver and black and gold and blue and more.
"I did not agree to this, Ms. Alyas."He says, reaching up to play with his hair again, feeling the beads on his head.
"So why don't you?" I ask challengingly.
He's silent, he just starts constructing.
Is he ignoring me? Is he just being a jerk and ripping me off so he can play with my magnets? =3= he'd better not be, because I'm getting a turn with Thomas the Tank Engine whether he wants me to or not. I'll hide him in my underwear drawer and not give him back if Near won't let me play with him.
"It would be a more accurate parallel if we pretended that we were construction foremen instead of royalty." He says.
We. So I won't be hiding Thomas the Tank Engine in my underwear drawer, probably. "Okay. But we're still wearing crowns."
"I hardly think that a loop of magnets qualifies as a crown."
"Well good for you, because we're construction workers."
"Then what is our motivation to wear these?"
"Because they're awesome." Obviously. What other motivation would there be?
Near, absently constructing a bowl out of the spherely ones, thinking, one hand tangled in his hair.
L, absently constructing a tower of sugar cubes, thinking, thumb pressing on his lip.
I blink and laugh slightly, in shock.
In that second, I mistook him for L.
"What is it?" He asks.
"You had an L moment."
He looks at me blankly, inquisitively.
"I was watching you build that thing, and for a second I thought you were him. Even though you don't look alike."
"You've met L." He says.
"Yeah." I say.
He doesn't question the validity of my statement like Mello did.
"If that's truly the case, then I must say I'm rather jealous of you."
Because Near aspires to be like L? I think all of them aspire to be like L, except for maybe Matt, because he's very, very laid back. "You shouldn't be. You see a bit of him every time you look in the mirror. Probably why you're his successor." So they aspire to be Ls. (cake-obsessed slobs.) It seems that Mello and Near are already socially retarded, so they're well on their way to being sociopathic, paranoid geniuses that pull everyone's strings.
…I'm gonna have my hands full…
…Why did I sign up for this? I seem to have some sort of magnetic attraction to smart people who can't take care of themselves.
Near is silent, building with the ropes of magnets. "And do you see this quality in Mello and Matt?"
"Mostly in you and Mello. But Mello is a hothead, so it's mainly you." I say.
"Tell me about your encounter with L." He says, like he's beginning an interview.
I have this feeling that Near is quite literally on my case. Be careful what I say and stuff.
"Well, I worked with him for about a month and a half." I say. "Mostly doing research on a case for him and other things he didn't want to do himself. Watari stuff."
"Where was the present Watari?"
"There was too much for one person to do." I say.
"And how did L come to find you?"
"I have connections."
"You're being very vague, Ms. Alyas."
"Thank you for that clever observation. I don't think L wants to be found by you, Near."
"I was simply trying to determine whether you told the truth or not."
"And I'm still not gonna tell you a lot, because I'm a troll not a total idiot."
"Then tell me why you're going to succeed Watari."
"Because I'm rich, pretty resourceful, and have connections. The end."
"That's not a full answer, Ms. Alyas. It sounds that you would have had a pleasant life without getting involved with L, and I assume there was at least some action on your part to attract his attention."
"Not really." I answer. "Well, maybe if I was normal. But normal people don't get to troll on youtube with other people's accounts. And then I tell them that I'm a hacker and they're left with no one to troll back." I feel the maniacal laughter coming on. Suckers.
Oh yes. I did. The impervious troll. On youtube, I do not exist. Umadbro?
"So why did you become involved with L, Ms. Alyas?" He asks, still fiddling away with his hair.
Serious Killjoy moment. I don't want to talk about this to him, just yet. Maybe I don't want to tell anyone about it, ever.
I shrug. "Truth is, it was a combination of grief, boredom, and the need to disappear."
"I see." He says. He's silent for a few moments. "Ms. Alyas, who did you lose?"
"You can't seriously expect me to answer that." Near isn't one to avoid touchy subjects, I suppose. Then again, neither was L. The similarities between them grow.
"No." He says, stacking the square cubes into a tower. "I was still testing you to check your statement again."
"Well, did I tell the truth?"
"Yes." He says. "I am 100 percent sure."
OMG score. I just got all the percents! I think I should get a point for Near's awesome powers of deduction.
… But why do these genius types always answer with percents when you ask them what they think? They must be so used to thinking smartsy that they don't automatically dumb it down for anyone else. Especially when they barely talk to anyone else.
I decide that as of today, I will start a make-Near-try-new-things program, whether he likes it or not. It shall be fun. Or else.
…soon, they all won't know whether to love me or hate me.
The right answer, of course, is both.
"Why is it 100 percent, Near?" I ask. "Numbers don't count as answers unless you explain the non-math part."
"You act like you have met L. If you had not, you probably would have made up details to support your story. However, you seem reasonably intelligent, so there is a possibility that you thought ahead and lied well. You have a bold personality, you are one that I would not be surprised to see bluff. However, you don't seem to be out to gain favor of others by trying to impress them with what you think they will find impressive."
"So basically I'm a Watari because I told you next to nothing and I'm a weirdo."
"I would not base such a high percentage on so little evidence." He says. "Your very presence here supports your story. A new child is not put with the most likely successors to L's name without reason, and you do not seem to demonstrate the necessary intelligence to succeed L."
Did he just call me an idiot? I think Near just called me an idiot in big, intellectual terms. I would yell at him, but he's still talking, and curiosity about this… L-Jerk has the best of me.
"But you seem to have characteristics that one would look for when searching for a Watari. First of all, you are an unlikely candidate at first glance, especially with your obnoxious demeanor making your other traits less noticeable. But so far, you have unnerved Mello simply by telling him something, shown some proficiency in martial arts, managed to convince me to humor you, and shown some proficiency with electronic communication, judging from your many computers by your bed."
"So you're sure already?" I whine. "I haven't even done anything that cool yet!"
I think he's surprised again, but he doesn't show it. "Usually, one is happy when someone agrees that they are telling the truth."
"But that's no fun." I contradict. "Sure it's best when you're in a press for time, but we're not." I say, dragging the word out.
"You'd rather I didn't believe you." He states.
"At least not in the beginning." I pout. "The truth would come out when I actually had to do Watari stuff whether you believed me before or not. I like shouting 'I TOLD YOU SO!~' at people, so you kinda just rained on my parade… well actually you drenched it and made all the food in the picnic basket inedible and now the picnic blanket will grow mold and…" I trail off.
"Anyway, how dare you, Near! What do you mean you agree with me, my archnemisis Sir Killjoy of Bleachatopia! This means war!" I shout, sending his tower of magnets flying into a wall.
Found perfect nickname for Near. Achievement unlocked.
He stares at me blankly for several seconds, trying to make the silence awkward.
"I get another point." I announce. He shall not prevail in making me feel like an idiot when I already know I'm an idiot. "I've dumbstrucked Sir Killjoy of Bleachatopia, the hardest to dumbstruck of them all. I think you lose."
"And how do you figure that, Ms. Alyas?"
So he's not going to surrender so easily now, is he. He knows exactly how I figured that, but he refuses to laugh. Or smile. Or get mad. Or be annoyed. He refuses to be any fun at all.
"I win, because at the present moment, you aren't quite sure what to make of me."
"That's true." He admits drone-ously.
He won't even play. He's like, Boring-L.
"You're killing my joy, Near." I sigh.
"Then I suppose I win after all, Ms. Alyas." He says with a slight smirk, toying with his albino locks.
"Ooooooooh." I hiss, flinching. Sir Killjoy of Bleachatopia 1, Alyas 0. "Well played, Near, well played."
LxWxL
A/N: I'm sorry I took so long to update... *surveys her crowd of seven lovely subscribers holding various instruments of torture and glaring* First, I got sick with a horrible case of laziness, and I was too lazy to write anything. And then when I finally recovered by that, I was attacked by a vicious plot bunny! Your poor Rix! CoughPleasedon'tkillmeCough
On the bright side, I finally got around to reading Death Note: Another Note (which is where the plot bunny started stalking me from) I think I love BB, too bad he's a suicidal creeper murderer bad guy thingtypething. I love him anyway. Rix will hopefully have a oneshot she's working on now based on it posted soon.
In the way of the Hourglass Chronicles of L Lawliet… *hangs head in shame* it might be a while. I have to sit down and think through the writer's block that I have on that one, it's one of the ones that you have to sit and think through, and I'm really lazy with a very short attention span. =-= #hopeless #badauthor
Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter with Near. I hope no one was OOC, and I'm slightly afraid that Alyas is becoming a Mary-Sue, which would be appalling and completely intolerable. Rix would be pounding her head on the wall if she accidentally violated the presence of dem awesome successors with a cliché OC no one likes.
I'm also a little scared that this chapter was cliché, because half the time in NearxOC romances it's toys that brings the two fools together. Sorry. It seemed to fit.
Talk to me about that if you care to review, either call me out on something or reassure me that I'm being paranoid, either is fine.
Fankschu, awls ov chu,
~Your RiX