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Darkness.
It is not something you want to open your eyes and see. It can mean something terrible has happened or occasionally, that you have confused yourself over your eyelid's position. For L Lawliet, the latter option was nothing short of laughable. For someone to be confused about whether or not his eyes are opened or closed while he can clearly string together arguably intellectual thoughts is pathetic. One would have to be blind – or relatively stupid – to seriously ask himself such a question. As the world's three greatest detectives (with no added schizophrenia), the swarthy-haired male sincerely doubted such conditions. So, how was it, that he could he be doubting his eye lids' arrangement and still not know?
'The bells, they're no longer… No, they are there, just muffled, but that's… It's not rain, though. No, the storm would never be able to obscure that sound, not even dim it. It's like… Nothing.' Church bells – funeral bells. Bells are not meant to signal the death of a loved one. Such a macabre tribute was hard to eclipse, even with the help of time's passing. Yet their musical quality was somehow strange. The melodic dinging of heavy copper was replaced by another rhythm, one of a drum, the predictable thump of a base… But the beeps he heard were not what he remembered.
'Funeral bells mean rain, but that doesn't explain the muted sound. Minds cannot be stifled from their owner, even one as fucking brilliant as mine.' Even the bitterness that momentarily tugged at him was distant – an angry feeling with power, force, potential – nothing more than a whisper in the wind. It was as if someone else was experiencing the emotion. Rain, the innocent phenomenon of precipitation, always managed to stir more than a little bitterness. Whatever emotion the rain normally forced to grace him was always tinged with remorse, peppered with guilt, forming a patented concoction that only it could evoke. This time, there was only a black abyss to wallow in, but that was arguably an improvement from self-pity.
The tenebrosity was silence, the sinful allure of peace – a serenity that can never be even caressed by one who has a million organized yet random thoughts zipping through his head at a mile a second, but there it was, calling to him. How simple it would be to just close his eyes again. 'But what is the point if I can't see anything in the first place?'
The darkness continued to summon him, his mind's eye momentarily toying with shadowy tendrils dancing over his lithe form, pulling him close into a lover's embrace. Bless the sweet darkness. May he return to its suffocating grasp to strangle the life out of his already withered mind. 'A little dramatic, aren't I?'
Ryuzaki…
Like a murmur, so faint, so low it could have simply been imagined – easily distorted by a dropping pin, completely warped by a passing breeze. 'Hello darkness my old friend… You've come to talk with me again?'
If he giggled and pointed, he probably would find everything all the more interesting. What was better than hearing voices in the dark? Oh yes, replying to them.
Ryuzaki...
The tone was louder this time, but then again, it could not have possibly gotten any lower. 'Because a vision… Softly creeping… Has left its… Screams! While I was sleeping… Oh hello, darkness.'
Ryuzaki.
More defined now, more noticeable, something that could actually be called a voice. It appeared it was getting somewhere. 'Does darkness not like my singing? Here I thought we were old friends.'
Did it matter if no one could see him smiling, and he thought he was, just as he thought his eyes were open when he saw nothing but blackness? If he really had a 'friend' watching over him, hopefully they wouldn't point out the obvious answer.
Ryuzaki.
Annoyance. Irascibility. L could almost see the scowl on the speaker's face, the lines on his forehead as he frowned. Almost. Darkness didn't have a face. Did it even have a gender? Was that one of those rhetorical questions? Oh look, there was another one. 'So much for an old friend – can't even get my proper name. Oh how you wound me darkness, I trusted you.'
And of course, that sugar-deprived, half-insane pout was wasted on his friend, his only real friend. Wasn't that funny? Watari didn't count because Watari was –
Ryuzaki…!
Labored breathing. An attractively pulsating vein. Someone was mad. 'Is darkness angry? But darkness doesn't know who he calls so vehemently. Does he know anything about the one he shields? Darkness… You betray me. Oh well, I'm too far for even you to hurt me… My old friend.'
Ryuzaki!!
The world exploded.