Here Comes the Bride
I do not own Death Note, nor its characters.
Light always harbored a very quiet little wish that when he grew up, he would get to wear his mother's wedding dress (he was the oldest, it was only fair). When he was smaller his mother would let him wear the veil and the shiny white shoes, because the dress was much too big for his little boy body. She would put the veil over his face and very gently would lift it up, leaning in as if to give a kiss and then instead would rub their noses together. He would erupt into a fit of giggles and the whole process would begin again.
He felt resplendent in the garments, glowing with the knowledge that someday, his prince would come, and he could wear the veil, the shiny shoes, and the wonderful dress.
When L died, Light snuck very quietly to his mother's closet and stole the dress. He put it on, with the veil and the shoes, making a miss-matched bouquet of flowers he found in the room. He looked at himself in the mirror and lifted the veil up and down and up and down and up and down. Tears were forming and his petal lips were trembling, but he looked angelical in the creams and whites of the silky fabrics. Oh, all he wanted was to wear the dress…
He'd imagined it so many times, how perfect it would be, now just a horrid mess. He slid down on the wall and curled himself into a ball, arms wrapped around as if trying to recall some warmth to his body.
But now, he thought, as sorrow took over his body, he would never get to. Sobs wracked his body and he held himself in his own arms. Never, never would his special day come, with all the people there to see him glow, no, no, never. Little trickles fell down his face and he wished that he could make them stop, but they wouldn't.
Even is he was the god of the new world…Kira, even if…
Oh, now he'd never get to wear his mother's dress, because it was dirty now, because now there was no one to wear it for.
Sachiko was never one to eavesdrop, but upon hearing a sound from her room, she opened the door slightly. In there she saw her little boy, wearing the dress he;d told her numerous times would be his someday. Now he was sobbing into the fabric. Poor dear, she thought, losing that friend of his must have been hard.
She shut the door quietly. Perhaps it was best if Light could be alone to grieve.
The end
A.N. Short, simple, and tinsy bit choppy, but I don't care, do you? I'm in love with 6 year old Light. I need to write a little book of his adventures…
I'm sorry I've been gone! I have a lot of work to do, but I'm trying to get things updated! I promise! (MS, I will get you that Imaginary Proportions soon!)
Please review…