SMILE (Death Note - Mihael, Mail, G)
Disclaimer: Death Note is (c) Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.
Mihael is eleven years of age. It is Christmas at Wammy's mansion and there are hundreds of children running around opening gifts, trading them, and completely abandoning themselves in the warmth of each other.
The room may be warm from these children spirits but Mihael stands alone by the lit fireplace, his own present being held loosely at his side. He could care less about the package, or its content, and instead has his attention solely on Roger and Watari who are surrounded by twenty children each. Each child is jumping up and down for their turn to receive their gift and some are even grabbing at others' presents from over-excitement. But it isn't that that interest Mihael. He stares at each persons face and ponders yet again at the answer that has alluded him.
"What is that on their faces? Why can't I figure this out?" he ask himself. He looks to each face, twitches his fingers, goes to the next and repeats. He stops on his friends, a redhead named Mail that he met just four weeks ago, his face is blank until it too lights up to look like the others when Roger hands him a rather obvious wrapped present.
The boy bows and runs out the room. Mihael glares and strides over, still holding his neglected package, to the one boy who should know the answer. As much as he'd like to figure it out himself, the answer has alluded him for far too long and he's sick of not being able to understand or do what everyone else seems so capable of doing.
"Hey, big-head. What was that thing Mail just did with his face?" He looms over a small almost fragile white-haired child who's been sitting in the corner since everyone was herded inside the room. Only now he's crouched over, working on a five-hundred piece puzzle.
The boy ignores his question and probably doesn't even acknowledge Mihael's presence. Mihael grits his teeth and curls his fist, tearing some of the pretty wrapping of his still unopened present. "Fine! If Mr. Smarty Pants is too busy to answer me, I'll go find out myself!"
He storms out of the room, pushing away any kid who tries to tell him about their cool airplane or yo-yo. His destination was already set and finding the redhead was no trouble at all. He was inside the big play room just a few doors down, sitting in front of the small television. Mihael walks over and plops down right beside the boy, ignoring the fact he just sat on the crumbled up wrapping paper. He sets his present down in between them and looks straight at the other boy.
"Mail, I got a question and you better answer." He pauses to see if the boy has even realized he's here. He does, looking over quickly to look at Mihael for a brief moment before returning to pushing away on his shiny black controller. Mihael smiles approvingly.
Satisfied he continues, "I want to know what that thing is you do with your face. You and everyone else here do something strange to your lips. Here, let me show you."
He moves closer and with both pointer fingers places them at the corners of Mail's mouth and pushes up. "This right here. What is this?"
Mail blinks, almost disinterestedly because Mihael sure is one odd person. Mail finally answers, "It's called a smile. When you experience happiness or joy your lips curve upward in what they call a smile to signal you are happy inside." He then returns to his game.
Mihael is staring at his fingers still holding the redheads lips up. "So... how come I can never smile?" He looks back up into Mail's eyes, expecting.
"Probably because you aren't happy."
Mihael finally releases Mail's lips, and he sits there absorbing.
After a moment he scrunches his face up. "I don't get this! I'm not unhappy. I'm far away from my stupid parents, I get to do whatever I really want here, and I'm under the same roof as the great L. I'm not unhappy. I'm not unhappy!"
Mail pauses his game and looks at blond, unfazed by his distress. "Open your gift. Maybe you'll find happiness."
Mihael looks up and then over to his abandoned present. He blinks and picks the box up, tossing it by his ear. He looks to his friend who nods and starts to tear into the wrapping. He gasps at the sight of a beautifully glossed wooden box. He lifts the lid eagerly and his lips do that thing he did to Mail as he pulls out a ten pack of chocolate bars so neatly wrapped with one red ribbon.
Mail smiles in response and returns to his game. He'll tell Mihael, when the boy is finished eating, that he can too smile.