Swirling, shining snowflakes were falling that evening in the middle of December, on the crowded streets of London. Little islands of snow could be seen on sidewalks, as the cleaners were rushing to tidy passages for the pedestrians. It was this kind of evening when the Spirit of Christmas was strolling down the streets, filling people's hearts with an urge to stop for a moment and cover the world with light. Well, decorate it with lights at least.
Shop owners closed their shops early and now all stood in their windows, decorating them in gold, green, and red. Some put up Christmas trees, with gifts wrapped in glittery paper with shining, curly ribbons underneath. Others almost fell off their ladders, hanging colourful chains of lights under the ceiling. Only the barber didn't have much to do because the 'lollipop' outside his place was in matching colours, so he just stood on the doorstep and watched the others working.
People stopped rushing and seemed to be under the power of the Christmas Spirit as well. Most of them were tightly bundled up, wearing thick coats and fluffy scarves. Some had big furry hats, which they had to pull up from their eyes from time to time in order to see. But each and every person on the street had one thing in common, a reddish blush, covering their cheeks and noses, caused by the winter wind blowing lightly yet coldly.
A woman dressed in black with big dark eyes was pulling a boy away from one of the shop windows. It was all pink, contrasting with the navy blue depth of the evening darkness. Full of sweets in every colour a kid could ever imagine, the owner was now standing in between all those precious treasures, placing them on little green elves that he brought just a minute ago, so that now the window looked like Santa's factory.
The man noticed the little boy struggling with a woman who surely was his mother, and when he placed the last elf and gave him his share of sweets, he waved at the kid and disappeared inside the shop…Just to reappear in the doorway, (which opened with the sound of bells ringing) holding a handful of the finest fudge.
"Well now, little man, do you like my elves?" the chubby man asked with a warm smile, resembling Santa.
Unfortunately, the mother seemed to be in a hurry and replied before the boy could react.
"He doesn't believe in elves." she said abruptly and pulled her son, perhaps a bit to hard, for he lost his balance for a moment and almost fell down on the thin but slippery layer of fresh snow.
"Elves are too good to be real, Sir." the black-haired angel said seriously.
"Oh, a philosopher have we here?" the man guffawed. 'But even philosophers like sweets, don't they?' The boy's eyes shined as he saw the man handing him a bunch of sweets.
"Sugar is good for your brain! It gives it the power to think! So if you use your brain a lot, you'll never get fat and you can eat all the sweets you want."
"How come, Sir?…you are fat…"
The mother curled her arms, ready for a harsh lecture about her son not knowing how to behave. But there was no lecture; there was only a cheerful laugh of a man who loves children.
"True. But I never was as smart as you, little fellow.'
The boy tried to say something more, but stayed silent under his mother's clod gaze and let her pull him away.
The confectioner kept eye contact with the kid until he vanished in the crowd and said to himself: "What an unusual little boy...but what an odd woman he has for a mother…"
***
They slipped and jumped over piles of freshly fallen snow, as they headed towards the old part of the city. The further they went, the less Christmas lights in windows they could see, people here cherished their homes like castles and liked to keep their holidays to themselves apparently. The boy dressed in a knee length thick gray tweed coat could barely keep up with his mother's long steps. He tripped a few times and looked up, seeking her eyes but she didn't even notice him, engrossed in thought.
The woman might have been of any age, 25 as well as 40, a black woolen scarf covered her face up to the nose, perfectly matching her big black eyes and ebony hair, yet contrasting with the whiteness of her aristocratically pale skin. At first sight, her eyes looked identically as the boy's, but upon closer inspection, one could notice differences.
His eyes were filled with a strange mixture of childish joy and the visible suffering of an old sage who knew more that anyone else and that made them unique. The woman's eyes on the other hand, were perfectly normal, apart from the gray shades caused by a slight dullness.
In front of an old Victorian mansion, surrounded by a big carved fence with floral motives, the woman stopped, and they stood there for a while. When the mansion's door opened and a dark figure started slowly heading in their direction, the woman crouched so that her eyes were on the same level as the boy's.
"It's your new home." she said, putting on a fake smile, not matching the indifference of her escaping eyes.
"You're not coming here with me, right?" the boy asked, trying to hide his wet eyes.
"You know this too, huh?" she looked on at figure which now stopped in the shade of a tree, obviously waiting for something.
The boy didn't even move, nor did he await an answer, he never did, not from her. She went through her purse and took out a greenish teddy bear, gave it to the kid and pushed him into the awaiting arms of the shade, who took him into the mansion.
Hiding even deeper in her scarf, she slowly walked away.
***
Inside the house, the shadow appeared to be a normal man, with slightly curled, gray hair and a funny mustache. As both of them entered the anteroom, he smiled, closing his little eyes from above his glasses and unbuttoned the boy's coat.
"Here you go, little friend. I'm Watari, you'll live with me from now on, don't be afraid."
"I'm not, Sir." the boy was looking at his feet.
"Perhaps you have some questions, then?"
"No, Sir."
"Well maybe you will at least tell me your name?"
"I'm L" the child took a step back, trying to hide in the corner, hugging his plushie way too hard.
"That's an original name, where does it come from?" the old man tried to comfort him by asking questions.
A small pause preceded the answer.
"I got it after my older brother, Lawrence, who died at the age of 6. He was a good normal boy, and since I'm not even half as good or normal as he was, I got a name appropriately shorter." L lowered his voice with every word, and whispered the last ones.
"What?!"
"That's what Mommy told me" now he was almost crying, but still fighting desperately to not show it, nuzzling into the bear.
Watari gently took his hand and led him upstairs to his new room; he left him there feeling that the child needed to get used to everything at his own pace, and accepting it no matter how slow that pace would be.
L was now standing in the middle of a big square room, still holding the plushie against his chest. The room was on the second floor so the view from the window, (which was placed opposite the door) covered a great part of the starry sky and some smaller buildings from the neighbourhood. In the corner next to the window, there was a big cozy armchair; the opposite wall was covered with bookshelves placed above the big wooden bed.
From now on, the window was a kingdom and L was the king. He sat there for hours and stared at the falling snow, mesmerized by its fragile glow reflected from the Milky Way.
Not disturbed by Watari more that necessary, and only to bring him food, L slowly calmed down and moved to the armchair, but only when the snow had stopped falling. He crouched there, keeping his chin on his knees and closing his eyes, the eyes of a little insomniac, zizzing from time to time.
It was the day before Christmas when little L woke up, just opening his eyes without a scream: "Mommy nooo!!!" just to find that his bear was lying on the floor. He got off the armchair and without even looking at the window, he walked out of the room.
In the lounge downstairs he found Watari struggling with an enormous Christmas tree. He didn't notice the boy at first, but when he managed to put the tree up, he placed all the boxes from the high pine table onto the floor and left the room, looking round the kitchen door to see if L got the hint.
Sure, he got it. Those boxes were full of Christmas goodies. L carefully took one after another and placed them on the Christmas tree.
First the biggest crystal balls covered with glitter, at the lowest branches, and then the smaller ones which reflected his (now smiling) face, a bit higher. In the next box, he found little transparent angels with golden lining and soldiers painted in blues and reds, those he placed in the middle of the tree. The highest branches he methodically covered with little colourful icicles. Finally, he climbed onto the couch and threw silver and gold chains all over the tree and noticed a star connected to a chain of light at the bottom of the very last box.
L crouched next to the box, nibbling on his thumb, trying to think up a way to put the star on the tree when Watari came back into the room, holding a plate and two white mugs filled with hot chocolate, which filled the whole place with the magical aroma of cinnamon.
Handing the star towards the old man, L said:
"Could you…?"
"Maybe together?" Watari replied, giving him back the star and lifting him up so that he could reach the peak.
When the tree was finally finished and the lights turned on, L took one of the mugs and sat on the chair, pulling the sugar bowl from the center of the table…
Putting in 1, 2, 3, 4…sugar lumps, he lifted his eyes from the brown liquid and said really quietly:
"Mommy didn't love me, Watari...because I wasn't normal…will you?"
"L…always...Because you're special." Watari replied, sipping his chocolate.
"But is special okay?"
"It's far more than okay. One day you'll be more that anybody else."
"Watari…" L was slightly blushing "But you won't leave me then, will you?"
"I'll always be by your side." Watari assured him "Let's go to the confectioners, we need some candy…"
He didn't even finish his sentence and little L was already struggling with his little coat in the anteroom, afraid that he might change his mind if he wasn't ready to go.
"What a unique boy..." the man thought and said out loud: "No need to rush…we have all the time in the world."