So I have a fever and this is my answer to that stupid fever. I should really be updating my other stories, but gahahaha fever.
I just really love Mello. And L. And Near. And Matt. And pretty much everyone except Takada and Light.
And gahahaha Death Note? Truly, nostalgia has caught up to me at last.
Mello had met L. Once at Wammy's, that place he used to call 'home'. He would've gloated to Near over meeting L, too, except that L had specifically told Mello not to tell anyone.
And when L talked, Mello listened.
Matt was coming, to join him in this mad race to capture Kira. Matt, his friend, his rock, his conscience, his weakness. When Matt was here, Mello would become sane again.
Hopefully.
But for now…
Who was L? To be like him was impossible; to like him, even more impossible. The Wammy children might have admired L, even worshiped him, but even the most devout ones couldn't help but dislike L, if only a little bit. Mello had seen L as almost invincible, this superhero fighting fire and horror and cruelty with a computerized voice and arrogant logic.
Mello had met L, and he had known that L was not a hero in a storybook.
L was a person.
Maybe Near had known that from the beginning. Maybe that had helped Near be the best. In idolizing L, they had dehumanized him. In all reality, wasn't Beyond Birthday's consuming desire to step over L, really, to step on L, a form of admiration in the extreme?
The scar on his face burned, and a headache was coming on, but all Mello could think about was L, L, L.
Who was L?
What was L?
Mello had tried so, so hard to be like L, but Near never had. Near was always just himself, just Near, understanding emotions and comprehending them but incapable of actually feeling them. Just Near, with a puzzle (or two) as blank as his appearance eternally on the ground in front of him in varying shades of completion.
And somehow, Near was still First.
L stood for 'Lost One'. It stood for 'Last One'.
Because no matter how hard they tried, they could never be L. Trying had almost killed Mello, fueling the inferiority complex that had, in turn, fueled him.
Mello was accustomed to his way of doing things, diving headfirst into the world and getting out alive through sheer courage and insanity. He had always cut a trail of fire for himself, often leaving Matt in his warpath. Blazing, addicting, risky in the extreme, crimson-and-charcoal way only Mello could be.
Yes, that was Mello.
But what was L?
Mello didn't know who L was, not really. But he knew what L was.
L was a liar. A person. The three best detectives in the world locked up inside one slim man with eyes too big for his face and a brain too big for the world. L was the modern-day Sherlock Holmes without drugs (but for all Mello knew, L did drugs too, and if he did, so what?), the brilliant eccentric cynical sarcastic possibly-a-little-crazy L.
Why did Mello even want to be L?
Why did Mello even—oh, Matt was here. Mello dragged his body, scar, headache, and all, over to meet him. But even as his eyes took in red hair and goggles and a lopsided cigarette, he was still thinking about the place he used to call 'home'.
L had met Mello. But Mello was not entirely certain he had met L.
This is a mess bahahaha.
But I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback of any sort is always welcome and appreciated.
Star xx