They said I was like his mother. I resent that, because his parents are dead. And we're practically the same age, hes a year older though. He confided in me, I suppose he did. I would bake for him, occasionally; I knew what he liked, how much sugar or icing he wanted and etc. I t was unfair to come to me second. I knew him better than anyone. No one cried harder, sobbed more, dressed in black longer. I was the one he came to when he was angry (They couldn't handle him), happy (No one understood), irritated ('I am not sleepy. They don't UNDERSTAND!') hungry for sweets (I liked to bake, he liked to eat.) It was strange. I was your average, college-going, apartment- residing female. …And he was…not average.

He knew what was going on at his surprise birthday party last year.

He let me sneak up on him and cover his eyes.. He was at work; I put a bullet less gun to his head, blindfolding him. He played along, telling Watari,

'You had better not call the police, I shall take care of it on my own.'

We laughed so hard our stomachs ached once we were at my decorated apartment. I had put up red and green streamers, strawberries I had stayed up the whole night to draw and cut out, and baked strawberry shortcake at three o' clock in the morning. His presents had taken up my job money for two months, I would NEVER tell him about that. He received a cake and strawberry charm necklace, a pair of socks to make him annoyed, a cell phone and a framed photo of us baking, our heads pressed together, batter in our hair, I'm winking, he's grinning.

He laughed at the photo, scowled and threatened to have me arrested as a stalker for the socks, smirked at the cell phone, chuckled at the necklace and allowed me to put it on him.

After that, I was barely able to see him as the Kira case deepened. It broke my heart he didn't come to me and complain about life anymore. Once a month or so, if he wasn't very busy.

That hurt me, my L was too busy for me.