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Near is, without a doubt, the weirdest boyfriend Misa has ever had. He might even top that one time when she pretended to date the rosebush in her garden that was secretly a magical prince, which involved some mitigating circumstances, since she was eight at the time.
The date was great. Misa wasn't sure what she was expecting from him. For their first month anniversary, Light had brought her some flowers, and that was it. Sure, there wasn't much to celebrate yet, it's just one month, and yet if she had noticed it then, if she realised that he doesn't actually care, never did, she could have avoided... all that. But, regardless.
Compared with today, Near's effort makes it seem like he was about to propose. Not that Misa Misa is unused to all the attention and grandeur and glitter. She has been taken to expensive places before. But she is also quite sure that the restaurant he'd chosen has a reservation list much longer than a month, and that raises multiple questions, none of which she has so far voiced out loud, because the prospect of interrogating him about it feels like it could sour the mood. He had spent the entire time halfheartedly picking at his risotto and staring her straight in the eyes, which had in turn left Misa to chatter endlessly about whatever came to her mind, which had left Near to listen to her rant about the family drama involving her sister and her cousin. She doesn't know why she told him about that. It's not something she normally brings up on a date, or like, ever.
After they were done, Near proposed that they go for a walk, and Misa obliged. It's a nice day, the air was warm, and her companion had proved himself to be competent in conversation, or at least listening. That was an hour ago; by now, she was expecting him to already call them a cab and take her back to either her or his apartment, and maybe continue from there.
He is not taking her to his apartment. He is kneeling on the floor in front of a toy vending machine in the entrance to the mall that's about to be closed in fifteen minutes, inserting another coin and extracting yet another shining bouncy ball with a little plastic kitten suspended in the transparent material, all while telling her something about seals in Africa. It is so bafflingly endearing that she doesn't even know what to do with herself but just watch this strange spectacle that has interrupted their outing unfold. She leans over the machines in her frilly black dress and gazes at the scene before her.
He inspects the ball like some valuable piece of jewellery, then looks to the side, where the lamps are being turned off in the desolate interior of the mall.
"We should probably leave before they chase us out."
Misa snorts at the way he says it, voice flat and matter-of-factly. Over the course of the month and even before that, she has spent quite a lot of time around him, but it's still fascinating how he can just do things like that. After taking her on one of the most expensive dates she has ever been on. It's a bit like he's trying to reinvent social convention entirely out of convenience. It could be confusing in an unpleasant way, but somehow it's just entertaining. Maybe it's because she's tired and sees it as a novelty. She's come to realise she's been tired for quite a while now.
"Aw, did you run out of change?" she laughs.
"Yes," Near says simply, and stands up. He brushes dust off of his trousers, then reaches into his pocket and takes out the handful of balls he got from the machine. Out of the seven of them, he chooses three, then hands them to Misa. That startles her slightly.
"These are for you," he says, as if it's not clear from the context. "Don't throw them here, or you'll lose them instantly."
She hesitates for a second, then takes the toys. One is pink and red, with glitter sloshing inside it in a swirl of small galaxies, the other is black with a white heart pattern going around it, and the last has one half of it solid, the other transparent, and in the centre there floats suspended a small plastic rose. It's actually kind of pretty, like a weird art piece of sorts. They sit in the palm of her hand, shiny and a little squishy. She doesn't really have a space to throw them around in her apartment; they would hit something and break it, and it's just not something that she does. But it's a gift, as perplexing as it is.
"Thank you," she says, smiling, because she feels like smiling. Honestly, it's preferable to yet another bouquet of cut flowers she will have to dispose of after a few days, when they wilt and the water in the vase goes bad.
They leave just as the security guard starts advancing in their direction.