Well, I tried a little One-Shot here, about sweet little BB^^ I hope you enjoy it like I did while I wrote it!
Edit: I edited many parts (and added some) in this story and I think, it's better now, but...well, you decide.
Edit of the edit: Gosh, I'm never satisfied with this One-Shot, am I? Again, changed parts, added, deleted some...
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note
Since he had been young, everybody around him seemed to loath him.
He would walk past the other kids, and they would just look away.
They all knew who he was, and they were afraid of him, pitied him, or hated him.
They would come to his room and rip his pictures apart, pull his hair or just slap him. Sometimes they hurt him seriously.
But he never mentioned it in presence of the adults, knowing that they would worry.
And he didn't need nor wanted their concern.
One day he had suffered a big blue and yellow bruise. He had been asked where he had gotten it.
But being the silent kid who spoke a word just shrugged and pointed to the stairs, signaling to them that he had fallen down.
And they all believed him.
In reality, he had been pushed down there and a big guy had kicked him straight into the face, just barely missing his nose.
And in a cruel, scary way, it made him happy.
He was happy, knowing that he could fool the whole world.
Everyone.
He was a genius.
He was B.
No one would ever see what they did to him.
He was invisible when they wanted and appeared out of nowhere when they wanted to tease him. Hurt him.
And when he was scared of their laughter, while they beat him up again and again and again, he just risked a quick glance at the spot just above their heads, taking a look at their numbers, their remaining life, their lifespan.
He just adored how the numbers ticked down slowly.
He simply loved the way he could see their death approaching.
And it made him sick to know that he felt that way. He was disgusted of himself.
Till the number zero would appear over their heads, he would have to take in their punches, their kicks and their evil laughter.
Just when he gazed at their blurry numbers, he was happy (though disgusted) having 'The eyes'.
He had never considered his eyes as a gift, always as a burden.
He usually hated looking at those blood red numbers, and how they would tell them the death date of the people surrounding him, barley a whisper, but still there and reminding him that nothing lasts forever.
Sometimes he lay awake in his bed, wishing for the whisper to leave his thoughts, to just vanish, to let him be and never come back.
And he wished for the eyes to lie, to be an illusion, to disappear, and the things he saw with them to be a mere product of his imagination.
But he had proved that they told the truth.
He knew when his parents were going to die, and then, when their numbers finally had hit zero, they had been murdered, had been hit by a train.
And he asked himself, how he had gotten the eyes, why he was chosen to have them. And what they were.
His eyes.
His eyesight.
After he had pondered about the last question some time, he came to the conclusion that they had to be the eyes of a god of death, a so called Shinigami.
He was not sure about that, but they simply had to be.
Why else died everybody around him?
Clearly, it was his fault people were killed, died of diseases and slowly withered away.
Then, he could answer the second question.
It was a mere coincident.
Nothing more, nothing less.
It just happened.
And finally, his first question.
It took him some time to find a solution to that, but then he began to think that a Shinigami maybe lost them, dropped them while he was in the human world.
Or maybe he was punished and had to give them to a random person, and he dropped them down to the mortal below, and only he, only B, who was still in his mother's womb, caught them.
Another day, another boring day.
School was a big part of the orphanage he lived in and he took pride in being on top of the class.
He was told lies about the smartest student amongst them all, (though they were all prodigies) their goal, and in his case also his mirror image.
When the sun set, he would meet the leader of the whole orphanage, who was called Watari, but whose real name was Quillsh Wammy. He could see that with his eyes too.
He would tell him the real story about the most intelligent boy in Wammy's House. He told him what he looked like, how he behaved, his habits, the things he liked and disliked, what kind of things he preferred to eat and which way he drinks his tea. He would be told everything about the mysterious child who was two years younger than B.
No one had ever seen his face.
No one knew what he really was like.
No one knew about the flaws and quirks the young detective had.
And no one knew the true purpose of B's existence in this place; no one knew that he was a replacement for the true prodigy of Wammy's House who nobody knew.
All they knew what his alias, his letter was.
He was the twelfth letter of the alphabet,
He was L.
And it stood for Last.
And B, he was the second letter; he was the letter B,
And it stood for Back Up.
Everything the old man Watari told him about L was like water to B.
He needed them,
They were his very point of existence.
After he heard that he and L looked very much alike, B nearly freaked out.
He learned that L had messy jet black hair und gruesome bags under his eyes because he was an insomniac, so he stopped combing his hair, used Make-Up and even tried staying awake for straight five days, till he collapsed in class on the fourth day.
L drank his tea with way too much sugar, so it wasn't tea with sugar anymore, but sugar that tasted like tea, and he ate nothing but sweets. So B slowly increased the amount of sugar and even tried eating so many sweets as he could, but found that it wasn't really working, his stomach wasn't adjusting fast enough.
He needed something with a higher amount of sugar! He didn't have that much time!
And he finally found something.
Strawberry jam.
He ate so much of the sticky red substance and forced it down his throat again and again, not caring that he threw up all the time.
Again and again, and with every time he felt like he would puke his guts out any second, but he still ate another glass of the sweet, till his body became used to the poison.
He heard from Wammy that L sat with his knees tugged to his chest and held everything with only his fingertips because he hated getting dirty. His sitting position had caused his back to be bended all the time like he was an old man, though he was only ten years old.
So B trained weeks, month and finally a year to imitate Ls movements without any flaws.
They knew that their mirror image, their doppelganger was somewhere out there.
So much alike, always aware of the other one, but they never had even met.
L must have been afraid to show his face to B, not wanting to be reminded that he could die during his cases, that he was mortal like everybody else. Ah, but he would die. That was for sure.
But who wants to always be reminded that your time could be up in just a few minutes, days, weeks, months or years?
But still, B hated that.
He hated L for being such a coward.
And tone day, Watari gave him the key to Ls success.
L showed no emotion.
Ever.
L had no emotion.
So B had to be emotionless too.
He had to be just like L.
They had to be the same.
But B would always just be the copy with those little flaws here and there.
Time passed, L did not show up.
Everything was exactly the same like before.
The other kids hated him for his looks, for his cold face and his dead eyes and they hated that he never spoke a single word.
Not one.
And he loathed them for being so stupid and blind.
'Can't you see?' he thought. 'You hurt me.'
His eyes were special.
For him it was no surprise, when the first letter, A, came up to the roof where B sat and walked to the edge of the building in December.
He did not need to turn around to notice Bs presence.
"You knew this, didn't you? You saw it coming, didn't you?"
The words left the boys lips as he shivered in the cold breeze up there.
"Yes, I did."
That was a lie, not once had he looked into the classmate's face. 'What do I know, A?'
"I'm sorry."
That was unexpected.
"What?"
"I'm sorry, for what I did. Don't think I don't know you have a giant bruise on your left arm and don't know about the deep cut at your back. Everybody knows.
"You…are...?"
"Sure I am!"
"…"
The two remained silent for a while and watched as the sun slowly set.
"B, do you want to be my friend?"
His breath hitched and B sometimes wonders what would have happened if he'd realized A was about to cry.
"I would like that" had been his reply and a small, shy smile found its way on his face. The other boy laughed in return and waved at him with the words
"I am really happy that I could finally be your friend, y'know? I think that you're actually a nice person."
"?"
"I personally think that you could someday surpass L."
And before B could reply anything, A jumped.
He fell and the boy on the roof could hear the sickening sound as bones and flesh collided with earth.
It was winter, the ground had frozen.
Feeling nothing, at least not for the moment, he leaned over the edge, staring down where A's broken form lay deep below, the snow around him turning blood red which was in some way a pretty sight.
Black was the sky, white was his skin, and red was the snow.
A was now a recently deceased letter of the alphabet.
For the first time in his life since his parents had died nine years ago, B allowed himself to cry.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, which had turned red from the cold wind.
It felt like forever till the other kids noticed the suicide that had just been committed.
Children flooded outside gathering around the ice-cold corps.
They screamed and cried in horror, stood there with their mouths hanging open, not really believing what they saw and some just looked at the body, not saying or doing anything.
Funny, they looked like ants from where he was watching them.
He didn't know who it was, but suddenly somebody yelled his name und pointed up to him.
The others followed the gaze of the kid and noticed him.
Soon they ran into the orphanage, and he knew where they were heading.
But he remained where he was and kept silent until a guy who always picked up on him with his posse came up to him and garbed him by his oversized shirt.
His limps where stiff and he couldn't breathe because the boy, his name was Henry Barrington (a rather strange name in his opinion) had his other hand tight around his throat.
Henry screamed.
"What have you done, you bastard? You killed him! You KILLED HIM!"
B choked.
"Why don't you answer, you coward? Are you too scared to admit it, huh?"
B's vision blurred.
"ANSWER!"
"It...Was—s—ui—c-i-de…it—wa—sn't—my—fault…"
He said with the last bits of air in his lungs.
H allowed him fall down onto the rooftop.
"Don't lie, you pathetic piece of shit! You pushed him down!"
He got no answer, because B had fallen unconscious.
When he woke up again, he yelled at the top of his lungs.
"IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"
It was the last thing they heard him say for a long time.
Two month passed until everyone was convinced that it was suicide, and during that time, B thought about the classmate.
A had always been there, he had been the first latter after all, and he was one of those who watched in horror, but didn't do anything, when B lay in the dirt, coughing out blood and then standing up like nothing had happened.
A had always been there.
Though they had never exchanged words before the suicide, probably never really acknowledged each other, B felt like something was missing now.
At A's funeral, B was somehow disappointed.
L didn't show up, though one would expect it. Of course he knew that a genius like L had to protect his identity, but this...this was the funeral of a child that had been a potential heir to the name, that had killed himself because of L! He could've come at least in disguise!
The other kids left as soon as the coffin, containing the dead, broken body, was buried, but only the second letter of the alphabet stayed behind, staring at the grave. He was completely motionless, only his raven-colored hair and the too large coat he wore moved in the breeze.
He waited for his mirror image to visit.
At the orphanage, the caretakers were worried sick and looked everywhere for him, until one had suggested to search at the cemetery. It was already late at night when they discovered the person waiting at the fresh grave.
He realized, L would never come. They were not worth his attention.
After the whole incident, B was more focused on L than ever.
A's words at made him snap out of his daze.
B was not made to be L.
Just a simple Back-Up.
He was made to surpass L.
To destroy L.
And he would catch his attention, burn his name forever into the detective's brain.
He would be worth his attention.
He was fifteen when he finally left Wammy's House.
On his way outside he bumped into H.
Before the brutal boy could say or do anything, B laid his hands around his throat and squeezed.
Hard.
He leaned over and whispered into Henry's ear with a deranged grin tugging at his lips
"And what if I did really kill him? You wouldn't give a damn. You're worse than an insect, worse than dirt.
You're worse than me.
You don't deserve to live."
B backed away from him and turned away, smirking at the other child's fear.
"What are you?"
"I'm Beyond Birthday. And I'm gonna surpass and destroy L. I'm a god of death, I'm a Shinigami.
Good bye, Henry Barrington.
Ah, and by the way...You gonna die in two weeks. Thank you for this nice little present of leaving this world, my dear friend."
And with that Beyond vanished into the dark.
Outside he wasted one more look at his home, where he had grown up and he watched the spot from where A had jumped with something akin to sorrow in his eyes.
The voice of Watari, Quillsh Wammy, who had been like a father to him, or better yet a grandfather, reached his ears.
"You don't have to do that, Beyond."
"I have to."
"I'm sorry to hear that. You do know that B stands for Back Up, don't you?"
"I already know. And I'm sorry as well, I couldn't become him, his replacement. I'm better than that and you know it! We will never meet again I think, Old Man. But you will hear of me!"
Oh, and Wammy?"
"Yes, Beyond?"
"You should check on Henry. I think he's not feeling well..."
He left.
-Two weeks later, the boy Henry Barrington gets killed in an accident. -
-22.8.2002. Beyond burns himself as the fourth victim of his murder series, but fails at his suicide.-
-Somewhere between the 22.8.2002 and 21.1.2004. The boy Mihael Keehl, called Mello, visits Beyond in his cell and comes to know of B's story.-
-21.1.2004. Beyond finally dies of a heart attack in a cell of a prison in California. L never cared.-
-5.11.2004. L Lawliet and Quillsh Wammy fall victim to the murderer KIRA who used a Shinigami to dispose of them.-
-28.1.2010. Nate River, known as N, witnesses the defeat, downfall and death of KIRA and inherits L's title. -