Woah. Would you believe I was trying to write a crack fic? xD
This was supposed to be a humorous fic where L has embarrassing dreams and Watari takes him to see a counsellor. But instead it turned into this depressing thing.
I know this sucks, but I guess it gives me practice writing in different genres.
At the end, he isn't dead (I'M NOT GOING TO KILL L D;) but I couldn't be bothered sticking around to see what happens when he regains consciousness. Haha XD.
And I suppose this would have to be before the Kira case, or at the start. No, before.
I look forward to your flames/no responses and this fic being completely ignored TT^TT. Crack is what I'm best at writing, not angst (is this angst? e_e)...
L shifted awkwardly in the oversized cream armchair. It was a comfortable piece of furniture, one that was supposed to make you feel relaxed and at ease. It was just like the rest of the room's decor. But it was all having the opposite effect on L.
Never had he been in such a situation.
Throughout his entire life, people had accepted him as himself. Throughout all his days at the orphanage, and in his career as a top detective, people had let him do his own thing. They had never questioned any of his unusual habits or quirks. He had been left to his own devices, because he was L, the world's greatest detective. Of course he knew what he was doing. He had to. Millions were counting on him, most unknowingly so. He saved lives daily. He was L, and he did things his way.
He had never been told he needed help, never been told he had a problem. Never.
Until now.
Next to him, in an identical cream armchair, sat Watari, the man who was to blame for the current situation. He patted L's shoulder in a way that was meant to be reassuring, but L just flinched. There was nothing wrong with L, nothing. Watari was worrying about nothing. This was all a waste of time, a waste of valuable time that could be used solving almost impossible cases and saving countless people's lives.
The counsellor sat behind her desk, leaning forward to show she was interested in whatever L and Watari had to say, wearing a friendly smile, palms open, head cocked slightly to the right.
L knew all her tricks. She was using friendly body language. She was a fake. She and Watari were trying to reassure him, trying to get him to open up about his "problem". But it wasn't a problem. Nothing was wrong with L. Everyone was against him, he couldn't win.
"Now, Ryuzaki, I understand you have an issue you want to talk about?" the woman spoke softly, not too loud, that might startle him, make him not want to open up about his non-existent problem. And the "Ryuzaki". Approaching him on a personal level. Trying to make this seem like a conversation between two friends, like they had known each other for more than five minutes. Tricks, cons, scams, she was trying to manipulate him. But she would not succeed. She would not break him.
"I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I have no current "issues" that I wish to discuss."
Even if he did have issues, he could handle them fine on his own. He could handle everything. L wished everyone would just leave him alone, he was the world's greatest detective, he didn't have dilemmas outside cases. There was nothing wrong with him.
"Ryuzaki..." Watari begin, in a voice as gentle as the counsellor's, "I don't think that's quite the truth..."
But it was the truth. L was telling the truth. Why would nobody listen to him now? Why did everybody doubt his sanity all of a sudden? He solved cases thought to be impossible in a few hours, he was capable of sums that normal people needed calculators to work out, he could speak 27 languages fluently. His mind was one of the world's greatest, and here he was, in a room themed for comfort, being doubted by some idiotic counsellor and the closest thing he had to a father figure about his mental health.
"I think you'll find that is 100% the truth, Watari." L turned to the counsellor. "I apologize for wasting your time, but we must leave."
L began to rise from his chair, but Watari put his hand on the young man's shoulder with a pained expression.
"Please, Ryuzaki..." the elderly man pleaded. "Sit down."
But L couldn't sit down, he couldn't, he didn't belong in this place, he wasn't insane, he had to escape before they could get him!
L knew once you were branded with a mental problem, that was it. That was the end. You could never escape from that stigma.
It would follow him everywhere. He would be told he was no longer fit to work on such important police cases, with his damaged state of mind. His reputation as "L, the world's greatest detective" would transform into "Ryuzaki, the crazy mental patient".
The pain coursed through his arm at Watari's touch, but it dulled the pain he was feeling inside. No, he wasn't feeling pain inside. He felt nothing, he couldn't feel anything, he couldn't afford to have feelings.
"NO, I REFUSE TO SIT HERE AND MAKE SMALL-TALK WHILE THERE ARE CASES TO BE SOLVED, WATARI! I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM!"
L leapt out of the armchair, and made for the door, but before he could reach the handle, a firm hand grasped his arm and pulled him back. Searing pain ran through his entire body as he hit the floor with impact, the sensation making him cringe in agony. But the physical agony distracted him, it helped him, it was his only real friend, his ally.
"RYUZAKI, YOU'RE SICK!"
Watari was near tears, and L felt a twinge of guilt when he saw his mentor's face. But he couldn't help what the old man was feeling, Watari was wrong.
"Please, get up and discuss this, we're both here to help you, Ryuzaki."
Help. He didn't need help. If he had needed help, he would have asked. He wouldn't have been forced into Watari's car and taken here, to this room, with this woman.
This was no help.
It was all too much, the room began swirling, his eyes began clouding up, his insides churned and constricted, there were too many emotions, they were overpowering him.
He had to get rid of them, his emotions were ruining him, they were destroying him. He couldn't have emotions. He couldn't be like this. He couldn't be human.
The red spread from his shoulder, and down his arm, he felt the hot wetness spreading on his back, the pain feeling good, numbing him from everything else. He concentrated on just the pain, the sweet, physical pain he deserved so much.
The fresh wounds must have opened again.
The last thing he saw was Watari's torn face, looking down at him with a helpless expression.
And then even Watari became a dizzy blur, and L floated into unconsciousness, where nothing could hurt him.