Chapter 3:
Of Realizations and un-Reality
A soft sigh, accompanied with the tapping of a pencil against a desk.
"Why does he even want me to start a diary?"
Near stared idly at the paper he was supposed to write on.
"It's not like anything really happened to… to hurt me."
He contemplated this, before frowning.
"Well… okay, I was hurt. But it's not like… like I'm traumatized. Or… like I'm affected by it all that much…"
Another sigh, and the pencil stops tapping.
"But… I am, aren't I? I mean… I'm still not working. I'm troubled by thoughts-- thoughts of him… Why does that memory still plague me?"
The pencil starts tapping again.
"I mean, all he did was rape me--"
Unbidden, the memory started up again in front of his eyes; blackness, and pain; friction, and finally, warmth that felt dirty and cold running down his thighs… and then, Near stood, made his way to his bathroom, and managed to puke in the toilet (for once not getting it on the floor). He was shuddering terribly, and the full force of the memory, of the incident, finally hit him. He had kept it out, blocked it out, forcing himself to take it lightly, until he was safe enough to mourn.
And now, finally able to do it, he wept without pause: he cried for what that monster had done to him, for the loss of his innocence (now that it was gone, it seemed so important). He cried for the fact that this world was so merciless and uncaring that this happened to so many people so many times that the public was almost desensitized, no longer appalled by the fact when they hear it on the news. He cried for the pain that this world gave him, gave and will give to everyone else. He cried for the fact that very few ever know happiness, and that when they do it is often shattered before too long. He cried for all those that killed themselves because everyone around them was blind to how they felt, deaf to their pleas; and for those that did the same simply because when they were heard and seen, no one had cared.
And when his tears ceased, he found that he, too, was alone- even if Mello, Matt, and L cared, and didn't want to lose him. This brought him little to no comfort; so when his tears were gone, he wished. He wished that things could change; he wished that he could go back in time and avoid having gone outside that day; he wished he could have been stronger and run when his attacker kidnapped him outside a store in the middle of that crowd. He wished that, if he couldn't have happiness, at least maybe others wouldn't have to feel pain; and when there were no more tears, no more wishes, and no more hope, he stood. Drying his eyes and inhaling deeply, feeling empty, he flushed the toilet to avoid gagging again at the stench; then, returning to his desk, he sat in the straight-backed chair in front of it. Taking the pencil in his right hand, he smiled brokenly, thankful that Mello, Matt, and L weren't around. Thankful that they had, all three of them, gone to the store, and that he hadn't gone with them.
He gazed upon the blank paper, the expression on his face becoming just as featureless; and with a trembling hand, he wrote ten words, and ten words alone. He wrote in English, printing it almost illegibly because of how badly his hand shook; each letter was tall enough to take up two lines of the eight by eleven lined papers the notebook contained. He had previously written the date, in tiny, precise Japanese in a corner; in comparison, it was clear something had changed.
He dropped the pencil haphazardly upon the page; he stood once more, almost listlessly, and walked away. He headed for L's room, for he heard three males (two of them keeping up a somewhat halted conversation, the third chiming in only a few times) and the elevator start up. He may have been on his floor, but by sitting in that spot he could hear things even through the thick metal of the elevator.
Left behind, the notebook sat forlornly on the desk, looking quite discarded and lonely.
In large, unsteadily printed English, (it was definitely slanted towards the bottom of the page, almost diagonal) it read:
"You never know what you have until it's gone."
After a somewhat stimulating conversation with L, Matt, and Mello (during which he managed to keep his emotions reigned in and almost invisible) Near bade them all goodnight and went to bed early. It was clear to him that they had noticed something wasn't right, but none of them had called him on it; perhaps they weren't sure what it was; or perhaps they weren't used to him putting his shields up again.
'Oh well,' he thought. 'They would have to see me do it sometime.'
Each day had begun to feel longer and longer, like it stretched on forever and he felt like he had nothing to do. He sat on his bed idly, and then finally lay down and slept, his thoughts rather blank.
Even though he had, indeed, cleared his mind successfully (having had very little thought in the first place) Near had another of his dreams, and for once, he welcomed it wholeheartedly- because, even if it made him feel dirty (now that he had already lost his virginity, it constantly reminded him that he dreamed about nothing but sex, and made him feel, quite thoroughly, like a whore) it kept his mind from darker, more painful things.
…Smoothing over his lips gently, before leaning in to kiss him, ever-so tenderly… Near smelled strawberries on the other's breath, heard a strangely familiar voice say "I love you, Nate." The male atop him shifted slightly, his face becoming illuminated by a stray shaft of moonlight… Near recognized him at once, felt his heart break at the sight of L; but at the same time, he couldn't help but pull the older male close, kissing him and then echoing L's sort-of declaration, confirming the budding emotion in his chest… the emotion that felt too real, too pure to ever come from him, such a tainted, unworthiest boy, feeling ready to cry from the pure happiness of the moment…
And then L disappeared, his eyes covered by a hand that was not L's; the hated voice of his attacker filled his ears, once more proclaimed him a sheep, and asked him not to sing…
Near screamed and tried to push the man away, writhing desperately, heart feeling as though it might burst from its fevered, frantic beating…
"Wake up!" His attacker snarled anxiously, gripping Near's shoulders tightly, but Near didn't understand, and kept screaming--
"NEAR! Calm the FUCK down!" An impatient, worried voice, yelling in his ear--
Near's eyes snapped open and his scream died almost instantly, his breath becoming ragged. He trembled and he felt an icy sweat on the back of his neck as he looked around to see Matt and Mello on either side of him, standing beside his bed; both looked anxious and worried, and Matt seemed rather ready to try and hold him (perhaps to comfort him) even as he stepped back a pace, relief written over his face.
'Does Matt not like hearing people scream…?' Near thought pensively, before feeling the now-familiar sensation of moisture starting to flood his mouth-- the only warning sign he got before he had to force himself to jump out of his bed and head straight for his bathroom, retching and feeling a burning sensation as he vomited, only a few seconds after he managed to kneel in front of the toilet.
Clutching the toilet bowl so hard that his knuckles turned white, he shivered as he continued to surrender himself to the force of the heaving of his stomach; he didn't much care to stop, as it was disgusting enough without the effort of stopping it.
He felt a warm hand gently rub circles on his back as someone else held a bit of hair out of the way-- when did his hair get that long?-- and slowly the heaves faded. He started gulping down air to steady himself and ensure it was over, before shakily standing, wiping his mouth, and flushing the toilet.
He continued to ignore whoever else was there, brushing his teeth to get the taste out of his mouth. When he finished, he exhaled shakily, gripping the counter just as hard as he had the toilet.
Two pairs of arms wrapped around him slowly, comfortingly; he visibly started to jerk away, and it could be felt how tense he was; but whoever was holding him didn't let go.
He looked up to see Mello and Matt both holding him, sad expressions on their faces, and he froze seeing how badly they needed to try and help, if only to soothe their own consciences (or so he thought). Forcing himself to relax, he leaned into them slowly, almost as if he was afraid, and allowed them to try their best to comfort him.
They stayed with him into the tired hours of the morning; and when they left, Near felt that he missed them. He smiled once more, albeit hollowly, when he realized that more than their presence, he missed their touch- and only because, even if he disliked being touched, that they weren't that… man. That man, who- for whatever reason- had decided that he deserved to be hurt, to be broken…
Near returned to his desk, and sat before his diary. He knew he wouldn't sleep anyway, so he might as well write down a few words to satisfy L.
His pencil was now off to the side, and his diary closed; Near sighed, knowing it would be read sometime.
Opening it and writing the date in flawlessly precise, neat figures, he found himself almost obsessive that it should be neat. Neat, tidy, clean. Because even though he wasn't, no one had to know he wasn't. No one had to know how unclean he really was. If he didn't show them, they wouldn't know. They would forget.
Near tended to be almost obsessive with everything he did, albeit subtly, and he tried his best to hide it. However, now he was taking it to an extreme, though he didn't realize it just yet.
In perfect, tiny characters, he wrote that he had a nightmare. He'd woken up and went back to sleep after a short time. He didn't add anything else, only that he planned to clean his room. Then he closed the book, put his mechanical pencil next to it, and took a few steps away from his desk to survey his room.
'The carpet could use some cleaning, but that can wait until later. I don't want to wake anyone. My bed is a horrible mess, though. And I should clean the bathroom, too, and take a shower.'
So Near tore the sheets off of his bed (which really wasn't that messy at all, except his covers were turned down) and re-made his bed. When he was done, it could rival a bed in a commercial easily-- he smoothed out miniscule wrinkles that didn't matter, and then turned on his closet, rearranging everything so that it was all in order according to shape, size, and type of object it was. He then made a mental note to throw out some of his toys, for they were completely unimportant. Moving on to his bookshelf, he rearranged it all by genre, then by alphabetical order, by the release date, and then by size.
Having done the main part of his room as best as he could at the moment, Near looked around and still saw multiple flaws. Anyone else would see a room so spotless they might doubt that anyone owned it.
Moving on to the bathroom, Near poured out some disinfectant- the smell of it making him wrinkle his nose- and washed the sink, counter, toilet, and bathtub all by hand, with nothing but a cloth to help him (except a toilet-bowl brush for the toilet).
When he finished this, he reorganized the medicine cabinet, the cupboard under the sink, and the shampoos near the bathtub. As soon as he finished this, he nodded, and locked the door before stripping and folding his clothes neatly, placing them in a tidy pile on the counter.
Stepping into the bathtub and drawing the shower curtains closed, Near stood idly for about a minute, feeling empty and blank as he finally reached out to the faucet and turned the water on, twisting the hot water knob as far as it would go. He turned on the showerhead and hissed as the searing heat enveloped him; but he stood still and endured it, not allowing himself to move.
'Hot water kills bacteria,' he thought faintly, his logic clearly flawed, as he didn't specify what he thought it might do for him, to clean himself through nearly scalding his skin.
After the burning heat became almost normal, Near reached for a lilac-scented bottle of shampoo, and used nearly half of it at once, washing his hair furiously. He made sure every drop of the sudsy liquid had been turned into a bubble and rinsed out, and then stood still for a minute, the heat making him feel rather dizzy. After a few seconds, he felt better; and then reached for the conditioner, repeating his earlier display of despise for dirtiness. Once he had rinsed his hair out to the point that there wasn't a single bit of residue, he reached for the soap.
What was a full bar of the stuff shortly became a thin sliver of soap as he scrubbed so fiercely that it hurt even more than the heat; and when he had finished, he stood still, once more dizzy to the point of either letting the wall help hold him up or letting himself fall.
Turning the hot water off, Near ran the cold water for a second; just to cool himself off; and, teeth chattering, he turned that off too, stepping out of the shower and unlocking the door, taking his dirty clothes and placing them neatly within his clothes hamper, which he now stored in the closet.
Drying off with a towel, he frowned and put on some clean underwear, dark gray jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a dark gray, short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of black sneakers. He then took a look at himself in the mirror, uncomfortable wearing these clothes that he'd never looked twice at before. Forcing himself to ignore the strange scratchiness of his shirts, the strange way his jeans fitted him, being hip-huggers (though where they started was hidden by his shirt unless he put his arms straight up in the air), and the uncomfortable tightness of his sneakers (he wore them to keep from becoming even more dirty), Near nodded slowly.
He should dye his hair black, too. 'Or at least a darker color,' he decided. White… white wasn't right. He didn't deserve to be able to wear white. 'White… white symbolizes pureness, the lack of taint… it symbolizes innocence. I am none of those things.'
Following that train of thought, he snuck downstairs into Misa's new floor, and stole some black hair dye. He returned to his own room and began the long process of dying it, irritated that it took another two sessions with the hair dye to turn his hair black. Halfway through he accidentally used brown hair dye, so he ended up with very dark-brown hair, which was good enough for him.
Near exhaled, still feeling unclean despite his terribly long and almost obsessive shower. Shaking his head, he decided he'd have another later on; his hair dye was nearly permanent, it wouldn't come out any time soon. He'd even done his eyebrows, he remembered, and for a moment he thought maybe he'd gotten some black under his eyes, before realizing it was just from lack of recent sleep.
Returning to his desk, he added a three-word sentence to his diary, once more placing his pencil to the side and closing his diary neatly, before leaving his floor and going to the kitchen for breakfast (no, lunch) without being stopped or noticed by Mello or Matt (who were probably already downstairs).
The cryptic comment he'd added read "Black as sin."
As he waited for the elevator, he thought of only one thing.
'I am as dirty as the black I wear, for black symbolizes sin, mourning, and pain. I am all of those, whether the sin was mine or someone else's, forced upon me. For I did nothing to stop it, and that is my own sin.'
Near walked with his back straight, like any other person, and when he stepped into the first-floor kitchen, all of his usual habits and gestures obliterated along with his former appearance, there was a crash as a glass fell and smashed to the floor. No one noticed it, though, for the four occupants (Misa, L, Matt, and Mello) were all busy staring at Near.
Misa, who didn't know what he was supposed to look like, ran over to him, hugging him tight against his chest suddenly and squealing.
"He's so cute~!!!" She yell-squealed, dragging him over to the table. Or at least, she started to, until he smoothly dropped out of her arms and into a crouch as soon as he saw an opening; standing up again and side-stepping her, he headed for the fridge, stepping over the broken shards of glass, which crunched beneath his sneakers.
Grabbing a hot pocket, he put it in the microwave and pressed the buttons, starting it and discretely wiping his fingers on his jeans.
He stared intently at the microwave, and when it went off, he took the food he'd heated, and started to leave again, when Mello found his voice.
"Near, what the hell did you do to your hair!? And why are you wearing that!?"
"I dyed it, and pajamas are made to sleep in," he replied smoothly, without looking back, before starting to leave (once again). He then heard another voice, this one making him turn around to gaze at the speaker-- great, infamous L.
"Near… are you alright?"
Near could hear the carefully concealed concern, and smiled ever-so-faintly.
"I thought I would look good with dark hair, that's all."
Near left, then, before he could get halted again, and frowned.
Even though he was unclean, even though L would likely never return his feelings, Near had blushed when he met L's gaze.
And that irritated him to no end.
Alright! So, that was my chapter for today. Sorry it took so long, I've gotten worse-- I've almost completely lost my voice, and I threw up today. Eyuck.
Also, I've convinced Dreaming-of-a-Nightmare to finish our co-joined Naruto fanfiction on the joint account To-Kill-A-Poet. So, you who have read it will finally get an ending for our most likely 60,000 word fanfiction (once updated).
Hope you enjoyed that chapter of Falling Short-- Which has hit 10,023 words! More shall come, I promise-- all I ask of you is a review! :D
And now, to answer a few reviews. ^_^
The Philospher's Queen- Why thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my writing. :3
Obsessive Rainbow Stalker- Unfortunately, Near's still a bit silly about that. Understandably, seeing what happened. ^_^;;
But I hope I can make him feel better soon. Torturing him is fun, but reading him being all emoshizz sucks, even if it's fun to write. ^_^;;
butterfly1415- Why thank you~! I must admit, that was my first time writing a rape scene, so I'm glad you enjoyed it. ^_^
I hope that my less-fast-than-normal update didn't disappoint you~!
NejiIsMineXD- x3 Yeah, Near being drugged would be way funny compared to his normal composed appearance. ^_^
I'm glad you like the way I write! And I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and will enjoy the next ones!
Hentai-Otaku- Confusing because it didn't say where and when the kidnapping happened? That was partially a plot hole, at first, and then I turned it into a suspenseful detail. But shh! Don't tell anyone! ;3
And I would have typed that much, but I doubt I want my fingers to do that. :O
Ravens Bane- Why thank you! I always find it so hard to make the plot-lines perfect, so I dedicated six whole pages, front and back, to planning out everyone's motives. I don't plan out the chapters, though, so I'm really just winging it. But shh! Everyone thinks I'm all planner-ific and badass, don't ruin the image. XD
But yeah... I apologize for them being OOC, but sometimes you have to make them a little OOC in order for the situation to work. Besides, this AU, silly. That means they can be a little OOC, riiiight? -puppy dog eyes-
Alright, that's all for now-- remember to click the 'review' button so the next chapter appears! X3
