The Last Summer
Credits for Death Note belong to Obha and Obata-sensei.
-
By early morning, Winchester would be obscured in a thick fog in late July. Slowly, it will shake its cobwebs and crack an eyelid to see the sun slowly making its way to where the sun met the sky. By noon, it will be covered in a perfect, sunny atmosphere. The weather would be just right for open-air tennis or a nice picnic on the park.
The Wammy's House is located in the outskirts of town and farther away from the business district. It stood quietly by the side of a lake, which would normally be frozen by late January until early March and the leaves will sprout back on the unfrozen barks and the wild marine life on the water will come again.
Often, the children in the orphanage would play around the patch or dive in the lake for a swim. Summer seemed to be Christmas to them because they can get away from too much school work. Not that they minded a lot, but it's nice to have some break once in a while.
A man stepped out from the back door of the kitchen and breathed in the fresh morning air. Sunlight broke its way through the horizon and he let the first beams hit his pale skin. He curled his toes against the freshly-mown grass and took in the pungent whiff of nature. He was barefoot.
He was a strange man. He stood with an obvious crouch, which seemed to have been like that for too many years. His hair was a mop of messy jet black and his eyes were too deep. Perhaps they hold too many secrets. A dark patch tinted his large eye bags that must have told anyone he hasn't slept in weeks.
He was only known to be L. Even in the orphanage he grew up in since he was a child; no one ever knew what his real name was. Even for him, he wondered if he still knew what his real name was. Even if had too many aliases, he was only used to being simply L. It didn't matter all the same. L was simpler and easier to remember. It was just another letter on the English alphabet, after all.
L just held too many secrets--just as how his onyx eyes did. His identity was indefinite, and little was known about where he came from. Basically, he was just a man people knew who had changed the world.
He was the world renowned detective L who had un-cracked countless of cases and helped too many, saved billions and sent thousands of criminals behind bars. He comes in with much honor and prestige a man could ever hold. And now, the man of much prestige and honor is scratching the back of his head with a stray twig he got from the clutter on the ground. Too much for being the world renowned detective, huh.
He almost yawned--something he hasn't done for as far as he could remember--and basked in the morning sunlight. He hasn't slept in three straight days. Not because he had too much to do, but because his biological clock has gotten used to being awake for long stretches of time because of his job. The world should be put first before anything else.
L had taken a week off from his headquarters situated deep in New York. It was summer and perhaps he can be selfish sometime. Just for seven days and he'd get back to work. He'd brought a couple of case files along to study over his vacation and by the time he could go back to the US, he'll flop back on his office chair, munch cakes and pastries, and start with business.
He'd been away for so long. Winchester has changed a lot over the few years he'd been gone. In a good way, it has become much nicer and more homey. The orphanage itself albeit Watari reporting to him, gave him a few surprises. The children have grown a lot; he almost smiled remembering when they were still little kids with snot dripping off their noses. Matt has become taller, he observed. If L could stand straighter, he would only be an inch taller than the kid. Matt and Near were the same bickering couple still, and Linda (who pulled a few strings for the boys to fall over her feet) has become more attractive than he last saw her. Her drawing also improved, and she handed him out a caricature of him over a turtle's neck. It was a metaphor for his being too boring. As far as he remembered, he hasn't laughed that hard for so long.
The same picture frames and child drawings adorned the walls of the hallway. For Wammy, it has become a habit to preserve important works of his children and have them displayed. Perhaps to tell the orphans that someone (Wammy) was very, very proud of them. The orphans were Wammy's children and he never failed to let them know that all of them together were a family. As L walked further down the hallway, he'd seen the first drawing he sketched on an onion skin paper. He was four then, and he was new to the orphanage, scared and suffering the solitude of losing his parents. It was mostly lines and circles drawn on random colors. Wammy had to admit L won't do a good artist. L has to agree.
He almost smiled. He almost wanted to laugh, actually.
L is not a stone--as most people imprint him as. He's human. He can smile at the most appropriate times. He can be happy or dismal or angry. In other words: behind that blunt face, or that genius perspective he influences on people, he's just a plain human being with fitting emotions, just like other people.
-
L tore his eyes away from the sky. He's been feeling nostalgic ever since he set foot back in his home. The memories flooded in, the emotions perked up and he was being overwhelmed.
And as if out of the blue, the gates of the orphanage opened and a girl stepped inside. A carry on clung carefully on her shoulder, and a large suitcase rolled to her side when she stopped. She aimed a look at the reticent home in front of her and a smile painted her lips.
L squinted closer, but the figure remained unfamiliar. He turned to his side, and decided to walk in and welcome their visitor.
-
She wore a white floral dress with the matching shoes. Her hair, now shorter than he last saw it, shot down into random curls and her bangs parted to the right. It's been so long since he last saw her. They haven't seen each other in eight years and here she was, standing right in front of him, merely inches away. He could almost touch her hair.
Her smile was directed to him. Her smile has always been so contagious and he never gets tired of watching it. "L! It's been so long!"
He almost jumped when she reached for him with her arms. No one has touched him this close for so long. She buried her face against his shoulder and spoke. "I've missed you. I've missed Wammy! I've missed everyone!"
If one could die for forgetting how to breathe, L must be dead in her arms right now. He could stay in her arms for almost forever but she pulled away almost instantly.
"You were gone for eight years," his voice was blunt but he didn't intent to sound that harsh.
She looked down to her shoes with a poignant smile. "You know I left for ballet."
He already knows that. She'd explained everything on the last letter she wrote for him. By the time he read it, she was already gone.
It was a question about trust, loyalty and friendship. The thing is: she had betrayed him. He had trusted her and she was the only one who received his trust after Wammy. He's been loyal to her but she let him down by dodging that promise. They were friends, but to lose trust and loyalty in a friendship, everything else fails.
She had failed him.
She was the first friend L ever had. Summer, as what she was used to be called, was three years older than him. He treated her like a sister, and offered her hand to this little boy who was struggling to find a life in his new home.
He doesn't realize it, but gradually, he was falling in love.
L would enjoy the free evenings with her when they would crouch together by the fire, reading a book or two about dolphins and meteorites.
L would enjoy the free mornings with her, when they would walk together by the park hand in hand while she talked about her favorite ballet recitals she ever wanted to see.
He was a child, struggling to find a life in his new home. She was a girl, helping out this little boy to find a life in his new home.
Until he engaged on activities involving case files, mystery and logic. There were millions of puzzles to solve, thousands of case files to un-crack. They were together, doing these things and helping each other out. She promised not to leave and he held on to her words. Well, promises were made to be broken after all.
She left for ballet. It was her dream right from the start. He was about to complain but he was not in the right position what she can and cannot do.
L shot her another glance. He shoved his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and spoke. "I should be going back inside."
They haven't spoken properly in eight years. The situation was awkward and the accusations L wanted to shout at her were held back on his tongue.
"Well, I suppose . . ."
Before she could finish, he turned to his heel and walked away. Just like what she did eight years ago. Just like how she left him.
-
The suitcase was mostly packed with toys and chocolates. She didn't pack any clothes. She planned not to saty for too long. Just say hi, catch up with what's been going on, reminisce, and then go back to New York for her Swan Lake recital.
She's been very busy.
The children almost mugged her down. They ran to her arms for the presents, as they rained her with their wet kisses. She almost disappeared as they attacked and pinned her to the floor for a hug.
Of course, they were happy to have their sister back.
They grunted in disapproval--especially Mello--when she told them she wouldn't be staying long. It was necessary for her work and she needed the time. She'd say hi to Wammy, walk down a few corridors where the paintings and drawings hung carefully, and catch the first flight for New York.
She would be gone in nineteen hours.
o-o-o-o-o
L hasn't spoken to her since their first meeting after eight years. She missed him a lot, but he didn't seem to care.
Silence and body language didn't give away much of what they wanted to say.
They met on the hallway that night. The kids were tucked carefully in bed. She'd already prepared for her leave. Her carry on was draped carefully on her shoulders.
"My agent suddenly called," she said to him, as if trying to explain. "He's looking all over for me and I should be in New York."
L stood rooted by the stairs that led to the foyer, as if trying to stop her from going away again. He remained silent as he bore his dark eyes on her green ones.
"I should be going." Summer shuffled forward and walked past him. Their shoulders almost touched, and L supressed from pulling her wrists to pull her back to the hallway. He didn't want her to go.
"There should be more of a reason why you came back." It was a statement rather than a question.
He saw something he shouldn't and he knew he would only hurt if he would hear the words from her.
"Please don't tell me you were eavesdropping on me and Wammy," she spoke carefully while climbing a few steps back so she can see his face.
"I saw it on your finger this morning," he said. "You didn't bother to hide it."
She glanced down to her hands; the princess cut diamond ring hugged her finger very nicely. She tried to explain, "He's a really good man. He's a painter in L.A. and we make each other happy."
How ironic it actually sounded.
"When are you getting married?" he finally managed to ask.
"This fall," she told him.
He nodded quietly, as if in understanding, as he turned his head to his side to hide the emotions his usually blank façade was beginning to express. He swallowed carefully and his eyes darted to the drawing he did years back when he was a child. The lines were ragged, the circles off-shape and the colors seemed out of place.
"I don't draw really well," he contemplated loudly and Summer's eyes moved to where L was aiming his gaze. Silence followed and surprisingly, L was the first to break it. "Am I invited?"
Her answer was not quite expected, "No."
But L wasn't at all surprised. She added, "But knowing as you're really stubborn, you'd go even if I don't invite you."
He looked at her and onyx eyes met sea-green. His eyes were sad, but they were unexpectedly smiling.
-
He was secretly night-blind but he would never tell anyone about it. He's been afraid of the dark when he was a child but gradually and thankfully, it eventually faded away.
The hall was enveloped in darkness and the only source of light was provided by the dim, orange lamps stuck on the wall. The dress suit was uncomfortable and the tie was a little too tight. He hooked a finger on the knot and loosened it slightly.
The show was about to start but it was too dark, he couldn't even find the aisle. Be he wasn't complaining. He was only there to watch.
When the music began, the show opened and L watched back as the ballerina began to move gracefully, like an angel hovering on the stage under the blink of the overhead lights.
A tug on his right sleeve caught him of guard and he looked down to his side. A little girl at about five, clad with a white cotton dress looked at him with curious eyes. He blinked once and after a moment, he turned his attention back to the show. Another tug caught his attention.
"Mr. Gentleman, why do you look so weird?" L raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Summer," she said.
It was funny how fate gets in the way and plays with people's lives. Funny how coincidence plays a big role.
"It's always sunny during summer," she continued. "And the nights are shorter."
"I know that."
"Do you love summer?"
He gave the child another look and his smile was heartbreaking. "Yes, I love summer."
-
End