Vanilla

The trips to the ice cream parlour were supposed to be a special treat. Indeed, they only occurred when L was in the area. The three of them would go off to any one of the random ice cream parlours within a ten mile radius, like a family. They would sit down and L would go order.

Mello always had chocolate, of course, in any of its incarnations. He was always the first to finish his ice cream and always ready for seconds. It was rather amazing how much chocolate that boy could inhale. Near once tried to calculate the number of calories Mello consumed in one day and how much that boy could humanly burn to keep his figure. He gave up after seven tries of not reaching a satisfactory answer.

L tended to go for the flavour of the day/week/month in a sundae topped with just about everything the parlour had to offer. Sometimes, he chose to dissect the sundae, eating each ingredient on its own. Other times, he turned the sundae into a milky terror before eating it with a straw. So far, he had taken a different approach every time they went out.

As for Near, he got vanilla. He never finished his ice cream, only taking a bite or two out of courtesy, then playing with the serviettes. Everyone just assumed that he didn't like ice cream. That was true. He didn't have any special love for any kind of food, unlike L and Mello. Food was meant to provide the necessary nutrition for growth and the functioning of the human body. The enjoyment factor was only a bonus.

However, it was not like he hated ice cream. He enjoyed his chocolates and cakes when he got them (not too often, thank you very much). It was just that he happened to detest vanilla. He never said anything about it because ice cream was not very high on his list of priorities. Besides, no one had ever bothered to ask.

They just assumed that he didn't like ice cream and that vanilla was the least offensive of flavours.

He folded paper cranes with the paper towels provided, watching L stealing bites out of Mello's ice cream and Mello stealing whipped cream from L's sundae. He had read somewhere that folding a thousand paper cranes would grant him a wish. A superstition born out of people's need to have their hard work rewarded.

But when the two bottomless pits were done and they piled into the limo to go back to the institute, Near tucked the paper cranes into his pockets. That made nine hundred and ninety two.

Only eight more to go.