Think of this as a day-late Christmas present, and an early New Year's present. This is officially my longest one-shot ever written. Seriously. And it would probably be my last as well. D8 Anyway, since the real story started with them as adults, I wanted to try and fill a part of their childhood. I hope this turns out nicely, since I'm very new to this fandom.
Spoilers: L's name, Watari's name, chapter 58 and a few before that.
Panda3Lawliet3: I'm sorry you got confused, but... there's a date before each entry, so I don't really know how to clear it up for you. 8|
Reviewers and readers: Thanks for taking the time to read my story.
Minor update: Fixed a few typos.
This is my first Death Note story. I also apologise for the length. This is OOC to an extent. The word-count is roughly 8, 700 with the Author's notes.
These Clandestine Calendars
It was neither his title, nor his influence, that had caused me to regret. It was the fact that L had turned out to be my old childhood friend that I have met once before.
It wasn't because L had become my friend; it was because that my old friend had been L all this time.
And it was unfortunate,
To think that I had to throw away a part of my past.
--
Up until he was L, I didn't regret a single thing.
... Up until he was L.
Date: 2007, November 5th
Location: Japan
Region: Kanto
At this hour, at this time, nothing was exceptionally bright; nothing was exceptionally dark, either. Everything was dimly lit, only shedding light unto the existing case that seemed to last for a decade, heavily contrasting with the amount of progress they've made in a time for which seemed to last for so long.
A heavy feeling lingered in the space as each member contemplated — set out on their own to clear their conscience. Their minds were in turmoil, with all of them asking the same questions: So it's over? Just like that?
But it wasn't. All the members — they knew. They knew that it was far from over. Strangely enough, it held the same feeling as that of an untold beginning.
--
It was a grim and rainy day in Japan; dark skies loomed above, as if waiting to pass some faux judgement suitable for matching the weather. Outside, nimbus clouds towered over the building's façade, while inside, the unusually white rooms were tainted with a greyish facet; possibly from the big, dreary clouds that currently lingered in Kanto.
From afar, only the two silhouettes were visible on the rooftop, both of them directly under the pouring rain. One was tall and lean, while the other hunched and lanky. And it seems like the latter is not yet aware of his companion's presence.
"Good God, L. How long have you been up here?"
But that was before Light Yagami had spoken.
The gangly figure — L — faced him and held his hand to his ear; signalling the other that his words were hardly audible in the cold and intense weather. Light then shouted, "Have you been here all this time?!" his words still slurred by the shower.
L just repeated his previous gesture. In response, Light let out an exasperated sigh and took a short glimpse at the sky above. He brought his hand to his face as he walked towards him; Light covered his eyes from the very few rays of sun that the merciless downpour would let him receive and inquired softly, "What were you doing up here, Ryuzaki?"
He didn't respond. L merely craned his neck to the side, unconsciously letting rainwater seep through his clothing, and scratched at the cuff mark now seemingly-engraved onto his wrist. "I thought I heard the bells..." L brought his thumb to his lips, a bad habit he never quite forgot; he always did it unconsciously, whenever in deep thought.
"Light-kun," the addressed teen never saw a faint hint of uncertainty, "do you remember the Church bells?" L looked at Light with such deep, hollow eyes, holding every tense muscle hostage to his gaze; looking for any reaction remote to hesitance and prudence.
Lightning flashed, and noise would soon come.
"I don't remember hearing any bells," Light stopped abruptly. L was eyeing him conspicuously...
He sighed. Was it about Kira again?
Light knew that impression all too well to be deceived. His eyes narrowed, glaring at L, "You can't use that question as a basis for my chances of being Kira. You know that possibly better than I do." True, it didn't annoy him as much as it did before since he is now aware of being Kira, but he needed to act concerned about the fact that L still suspected him even after being told "Light-kun is good company," on multiple occasions.
Sure, Light and L were friends — they reminded each other time and time again. However, Kira was supposed to detest L, and L was supposed to detest Kira. It was their mutual hate of each other that Kira and L had in common — they both knew it. Kira probably hated the detective more, though. Then again, along all that hate, there was bound to be something he liked about him as a person rather than just 'L, the World's Greatest Detective', and the same goes for Light — Kira or not.
But right now, Light Yagami wanted nothing more than to rid the world of L, rid the world of evil, and then afterwards take his place as the sovereign Deity of his New World.
L let his hand down, his thumb free. "You misunderstood. I never intended to use your answer against you. Anything revealed because of it, though, would be pure luck I would gladly accept."
... And the awaited thunder struck.
They stood, staring at each other under the loud and incessant rain. Neither budged nor moved from their place. Even in that downpour, there lay a blanket of silence. A silence that meant even nostalgia wouldn't be just an evanescent wisp that remained, made sure that it stayed longer than necessary.
Something about Light Yagami—
"Light-kun, hypothetically speaking," L paused, "If I were a friend of yours from before... How would you react if I were to tell you now that, somehow, we've already met? The same circumstances apply even if you have no recollection of it."
There was something eerily familiar about him. However, 'familiar' isn't nearly as precise as saying you remember every single miniscule detail. Considering it to an extent would be déjà vu, but recalling everything so accurately... When you think of it like that, it may well be the reason why everything was still all so vague. Remembering it too well, almost perfectly, that it could have been easily misinterpreted for a dream.
Light stared at him for a moment, before emitting a wry and guttural chuckle. "Ryuzaki, do you seriously believe that I would forget a person whom I consider a friend? And if that person was you, of all people?"
He smiled. "You're hard enough to forget as a total stranger."
"A reasonable response, I suppose..." L slumped back into his hunched position, visibly eyeing his attire from his soaking wet trainers, to his baggy denim trousers, and unto his sodden cotton shirt. Seeing that, he can't deny that it would be extremely hard to disregard the real L from one's memories. "It would be sad to think of Light-kun forgetting me."
Light sighed and brought his hand to his forehead in a vain effort to relax his temples. Under this storm, it was indisputably cold. He reached out, placed a hand on the man's shoulder, and said, "C'mon. Let's get inside before we get sick."
Light Yagami stared warmly at the detective, in what he hoped to seem like an inviting gesture.
L, however, gave him a short-lived vacant glance before uttering,
"Very well."
--
They were atop the blank, solid staircase, bathed under the coloured lights that the stained-glass gave way to. And, weakly, just outside the tinted windows that overlooked the flights of stairs, a rainbow had formed from prism droplets. Bright as it may seem, it was dull — lifeless — and it disappeared relatively early.
"You're wet, Light-kun. You would get ill if you do not dry yourself quickly."
They were both drenched, their attires soaked from the rainwater.
Light shot him a cynical look, "Whose fault is that anyway?"
L seemed to contemplate his answer; "It was mine... and I apologise."
The youth had not been expecting an answer (much less an apology) since he had asked a rhetorical question. He looked at him and stared, absent-mindedly playing with his chestnut hair, and waved his free hand as if to say it was alright; frankly dismissing L's 'admission of guilt' with "It's alright."
L wasn't much for talking, and that included asking for another's approval of forgiveness.
Forgiveness?
He was sure that he'd read that somewhere before, used in that context — about a Spirit mighty enough to cure and heal the sick, to forgive and forget everything damned and frowned upon. He'd read once, and it was from a Bible; Christian he supposed.
What he recalls most vividly was that of the simple act of humility.
However, that didn't erase the truth that L was no believer, be it a God or Goddess — which may be the reason for his abhorrence of Kira — but still he got on his knees. L knelt, retrieved his towel from his head, and proceeded to dry his companion's foot, just like what the one they had called their 'Saviour', had done. It was supposedly a sign of humility; knowing when to serve and be served. Still in Biblical terms, Light Yagami would be the disciple who still had many to learn.
Judas.
Cold and wet, Light tensed, and an eerie and abnormal sensation ran through his spine — it left an odd feeling of dissatisfaction and treachery, which he hadn't felt for a long time, making it feel like a new response altogether; Light was the disciple who had started out noble, but eventually became sullied with greed.
Sooner or later, he'd regret it. At least, L hoped he will.
L was still wet — with water running down his placid face and settling, dropping, on Light's foot. He tightened his grip, and then released it, wanting the ever-present tension to grow subtler. "It's unfortunate, isn't it, Light-kun?" L stopped and looked at the teen, his hair damp, sticking to the sides of his face and on his jaw.
"...What?" He didn't move. His foot was held by L, but that wasn't the actual hindrance. What L said...
"How ill-fated it is that we have to part on these terms, Light-kun."
In truth, though, it saddened him more than he would let out. Not only had it disappointed L to think that such a person could be corrupted so easily, and so effortlessly, what made it worse was that his own claimed friend, someone with a strong heart for justice, could even think to live with a conscience that wretched.
"Don't you agree?" he continued.
L knew it was near; from the moment Light Yagami touched the notebook, his eyes — his personality — morphed into something inexplicably sickening. Every time Light spoke, he would utter almost every phrase with as much venom as he could without sounding too open. Each word, comment, that comes out of his mouth evolved from the satirical persona Kira had concealed.
"What are you talking about? You're talking as if it's the end," Light looked at him too solemnly, contemplating and analysing every stir the detective had made thus far.
But the detective made no move. "What day is it today?"
The youth blinked in confusion, "November fifth. Why?" as he tried to think of a reason, any reason, to have made the detective ask something so unrelated.
Letting out a light sigh as he said, "We will be parting ways soon."
Shortly after L got up and dusted his denim jeans, his phone rang. "Yes? Alright...
"...Very well. Thank you," he expressed his gratitude and hung up.
Finishing the call, he then started towards the empty corridor joining the main room and the stairwell, not bothering to put his shoes back on. "Come, Light-kun. We mustn't keep everyone waiting.
"It's impolite."
And L did something Light never thought, or dreamt, he would see; L smiled.
Still a bit surprised, he replied, "A-ah... You're right," then Light stood up, fixed his clothes, and tied his shoes.
After every storm comes a rainbow, and wanting a rainbow means putting up with the storm.
But in this case another storm follows a storm, only after a slight interval of colours.
--
A loud thud echoed throughout the whole abode, and following the unnerving the silence was L's haggard breaths, realisation dawning, as his death had come as predicted. Ebony tresses draped on his cheeks, while a single strand fell after every shake Light Yagami gave to his torso.
"Ryuzaki!" Light shouted at the top of his lungs, "Pull yourself together, Ryuzaki!!"
With his face hidden from the others, he continued his act of a loyal and concerned friend; screaming bloody murder at the wretched Shinigami that brought his companion to his feet whilst thinking otherwise.
L's pupils began to dilate; taking in as much of his surroundings as possible, taking it with him into his afterlife. "It's no miracle that... we'd meet again..."
Light's face was almost devoid of emotion, somehow incapable of reacting to what L had just said, if it had not been for the triumphant grin he was bestowed with. "What do you mean?" he whispered, not alerting the other members of their ongoing conversation.
"We've met... Raito,"
That was the time Light Yagami's smirk fell. It was replaced with utter confusion and frustration, his eyes questioning every motive, and every notion, behind that statement L said with his remaining breath; L's low baritone tenor seemed to pine away with each passing second.
"Wh-What are you talking about?" Light's voice barely an audible whisper, as his voice shook, showing the impatience his tone held. His lips were stretched to one side, showing some of his teeth underneath, as he gritted them in annoyance.
What had L meant?
He composed himself and said, "I am Lawliet."
What the hell—
As the teen looked at the man that lay in his arms, his expression became warped with repulsion. The detective scanned Light's face, and the boy's charming demeanour started to crumble, it revealed underneath a visage of disconcerted anxiety; but he still has yet to acknowledge that the Death Note had corrupted his innocence.
Was Light disgusted; appalled? Or possibly... afraid?
And of himself, maybe?
"D-don't fuck around, L!! Stop playing mind games!" shouted Light, the other members long forgotten.
The intervals between L's gasps were becoming shorter and more sporadic, "I've told you... Light."
"But I... Why are you...?" Light showed great uncertainty, picking out his words carefully; making sure that everything was short, concise and easy to understand. "You're my... childhood friend...?" Light recalled. And at that time, atop the roof, L did ask:
"Hypothetically speaking, if I were a friend of yours... How would you react if I were to tell you now that we've already met?"
He never believed a word he said, as L was never meant for telling the truth — nothing about that assertion was hypothetical at all. And Light Yagami doubted a lot of things, but it was then and there that he realised: L had been telling the truth when he said,
"Light-kun is my first-ever friend."
Date: 1993, November 13th
Location: England
Region: South East
In contrast to the cold and freezing weather, it still was a warm and beautiful day in Hampshire, England. The birds migrated to a more humid place, restlessly waiting for spring to come and grace the place of Winchester, while the residents frolicked outside, meeting with their companions.
Close to the centre of Winchester stood an orphanage-cum-educational facility, founded shortly after the Second World War halted. 'Wammy's House', it had been called. It had been established by Quillsh Wammy himself, an elderly gentleman recognised for his inventions.
Wammy's House was a cathedral-like structure, with intricate patterns embossed upon the white concrete walls. And as the stained-glass windows graced its facet, giving way to the early sunrise, it left the impression of a warm place, close to what any child could envision for a place to home.
It was a few blocks away from a church, however not within average walking distance. It had a tower that overlooked the orphanage (similar to that of a castle's single turret) and withheld in it were four bells that danced after each strike, and rang whenever a forceful gust of wind would make them quiver.
Those bells are worth more despite its fragile antiquity and aged brass. It was soothing, the resonance of the chimes that lingered after each ring. It represented an accompaniment to joy in the Wammy's House orphanage.
Jovial laughter and merriment seemed to echo, emanating from the numerous amounts of children present in the building's courtyard. There were those who caused harmless yet irking chaos, while others took to a more serene lifestyle and basked in their surroundings. Some preferred to play in groups, and others wanted to be left alone. Some liked to run and play tag, but those mellower participated in the fine arts: painting, sculpting...
"Stop that! Give it back!!"
"Heh, catch me if you can!"
Basically, outside the facility, they were children being children. Inside — being encased in it, however, was different.
Inside Wammy's the bells can represent glee, but can serve well and stand as a reminder to those children who are like Lawliet. For young Lawliet, those bells never meant gaiety, delight, bliss, or anything that resembled happiness. It always repeated itself to him as sorrow; as the solemn ballad of loss and separation, time and time again.
"Mister??"
"Uncle!"
Stepping in, you'd be greeted by an elderly gentleman in his early sixties. His hair had been the shades of black, but now almost white, with slivers of grey on occasional strands. His face was adorned with a caring smile that almost never faltered whenever he spoke; he also had to be strong for the children. He was an optimistic person, and that kept him hoping for the brighter side — the triumph that he believed to have always been right next to failure.
On account of many waifs and strays that resided in the orphanage, Wammy stood and made himself the father figure of this large abode, as he hoped to hinder the inevitable requiem's stride. And it went well, considering his somewhat doting, and highly endearing, character. The children also seemed to accept him, faults and all.
"There..."
He had just finished talking to Lawliet, a reclusive child Quillsh brought to Wammy's at a young age, when the doorbell chimed and called for his attention. He ignored it, as usual, and waited for another person to answer it. But for a long time, it continued its irritating timbre, with the slight rising of tempo to allegro.
"Be good and stay here, alright?"
Whilst the bell rang incessantly, continuously, young Lawliet just stared blankly; watched as the aged man exited his plain, placid room, and then hurried to the main door.
"Please behave yourself while I'm gone."
Despite the closed doors, and the not-so close distance of his room from the main door, the echoes still reached young Lawliet's room. That person must really be rushing, the calls sounding rather urgent. And as those bells rang, he had to admit it reminded him of his parents, though he barely remembered them. Or what they looked like, for that matter.
"It stopped...?"
That's why after ringing so many times, Lawliet couldn't help but notice the abrupt halt of it; Quillsh must have answered it already. Lawliet let his head peek out, eager to know why it stopped. Looking across the colourless hall and resting his gaze unto Quillsh; he was talking to a female in her early twenties, with a child only about three to five years younger than Lawliet.
The woman had lengthy dark-brown hair — the frayed ends until her shoulder — and hazelnut eyes. She sported a crocheted maroon beret that was put on hastily, as some stray tresses cascaded down to her neck and face. She was dressed in her long, beige coat that, following her arm, ended with her thin, white gloves. And last, she also wore a pair of worn-out black boots that were neither exceptional nor intriguing.
That was the woman that escorted the boy to the door; his guardian, he supposed. She stood out, though not gorgeous by normal citizen standards, but the child she had with her was absolutely adorable. The boy had attractive russet hair, and warm golden-brown eyes. He wore a thick, black jacket that covered him from his waist up, a pair of black mittens that gave heat, and a white ski cap that protected his head from the frosty climate of midwinter.
From head to toe, both the lady and the boy wore neutral shades of clothing. The child, however, was less-dressed. And it was ironic that he was the one who looked more captivating and unforgettable.
Simply put, the child was well worth remembering.
"...I'd like to know if it would be safe for this child to stay here."
The little boy clung to the woman – he had called her Lauren. That was her name, they assumed.
Lawliet stepped out of his room and into the corridor. He was curious at why the woman was talking to Wammy, and what aroused his curiosity more was the fact that she was inside 'Wammy's House'. Lawliet couldn't hear clearly, but surely that woman wouldn't abandon her child here...
Would she?
Gingerly, he approached them at a proximity close enough to ear, but far enough to not be noticed.
"If it's alright, I'd like to take my leave." Apparently, she would.
"Are you sure you'd like to leave without seeing the facilities? Or even a quick tour of the lot?" Quillsh asked.
"No, no. It's fine."
"But you'd want to know that your child is—
"Oh! You're mistaken, he isn't my child."
Quillsh looked taken aback, but was not entirely shocked. It wasn't that he didn't want to appear disturbed, it's because he had no reason to. He'd talked to people — both men and women alike — that have left their children out of their own accord. They leave them here for the most absurd and ludicrous reasons. It was either they couldn't afford them, they didn't want to take care of them or, the more appalling yet not wholly gone, they purposely disown them because of reasons unknown.
"If he isn't your child, what is your relation to him?"
"I am the nanny of this boy; I'm Elisabeth Lauren Mierr. 'Laura' would suffice, too."
"I see."
The said child furrowed his brows in confusion, wondering why he was at a strange place in the middle of Winchester, England, and tugged at the cuff of the woman's sleeve earnestly, almost apologetic. It looked immoral to a small extent, since he has done no sort of injustice, and yet here the boy was, looking thoughtful and sorry.
"Lauren... When will we go home??"
And heart-wrenchingly perplexed.
Lawliet thought about hearing some bells earlier, and now noticing the silence, he was sure they had been ringing. He turned to Quillsh and whispered out his thoughts. "I hear bells, Wammy."
Is there a wedding? Or is it a funeral? If it had been up to Lawliet, he'd definitely say it was a funeral, but what are the odds of there actually having one at this time, and at such a beautiful day?
"Oh, we wouldn't... You'd be safe at this place," the woman smiled warmly. "I'd take care of things at the manor. You understand, don't you?" She looked really sad and regretful to leave him here, but it looked like she didn't have any choice.
"I hear the bells, Miss," he called out. Lawliet couldn't stand the pressure of being quiet; standing by the sidelines when he could be of most use in sorting out and understanding a situation like this, so he came closer to them. "Had something happened? It seems unreasonably loud today. A special occasion; like a wedding, maybe?"
The lady's visage seemed abnormally disturbed and concerned. She glanced at her companion, the boy, and back at Lawliet, her eyes flooded with apprehension. "That's not the case... I'm willing to think that it's..." she tightened her grip on the child's hand and squeezed tightly, as if not wanting to let him out of her grasp lest something grave would strike yet again.
Quillsh watched, silently urging her to continue.
"A tribute to his parents," she continued.
Tribute? Was he an illegitimate child? Or simply that his parents were being set off somewhere... far away?
Lawliet didn't know how to react; didn't know whether to sympathise or pity – whether to help him or leave the boy be. Quillsh had been quiet; listening intently, watching where the conversation would go. He would intervene, as he usually did, when things got out of hand and went nearly past the point of recognition.
He, the Wammy's founder, interrupted, "What's your relation to — Light, was it?"
"It's... It's complicated." She looked sad as she replied, and judging by the way she said those words, she obviously didn't make any attempts at masking it. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel comfortable answering that."
Quillsh let out a soft sigh and muttered, "I apologise for prying."
"No, that's quite alright," she smiled. "But if you would excuse me, I would like to take my leave," the tired woman bowed and exited the foyer. She went out of the building through the main door, and sauntered down the white concrete steps. She never looked back even as the boy, Light, did.
"Lauren?" Light called out to her, but alas she didn't stop as she reached, crossed, the pedestrian lane. He turned to Quillsh, "Mister, what time will she fetch me?"
"It's rather indefinite as of now, Light, m'boy," Quillsh crouched down and looked Light in the eye, "Your caretaker would be, how should I put it — temporarily out of distance."
In order to soften up the meaning of 'leaving', Quillsh changed a few words to fit the idea of 'your nanny wouldn't be coming back, if not gone for a long time'. But in order to do that, he had to use words out of range to a normal child of seven years. Then again, one look at the boy screamed untapped potential as Light didn't seem to flinch at the words he used.
Light frowned. "She won't come back...?"
In response, Quillsh shook his head slowly. He stood up, looked at Lawliet, and instructed him to guide Light during his stay at Wammy's House. "Lawliet, you help him feel at home, alright? I would expect nothing else but complete hospitality, understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Very well. I shall be off, then. I have a meeting with some businessmen curious to endorse a few of my works." The elderly man put on his coat and hat. Before going out, he took his umbrella with him, just in case. Lawliet waited for the distinct sound of the orphanage's creaking gates, listening to it intently before coming to face his younger companion. He heard the main door close and, very faintly, the slight tweaking of hinges that have rusted.
Lawliet stood in silence; in whole honesty, he didn't know what to say. The anti-social preteen that Lawliet is, being left alone with someone peculiarly quiet unnerved him to such an awkward state. Especially if that said quiet child was the boy who... Lawliet tried his hand at conversing. Light was fairly smart, he presumed, and so could understand him on a consistent basis.
"So," Lawliet dug his palms inside his pyjama pockets.
"Uhm..." Light couldn't really understand what Lawliet was trying to tell him, and so couldn't force out a straight answer, "Uh..."
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the brunet. "Anyway, please follow me to your room." Lawliet started walking, but Light seemed to be glued to the floorboards. The younger was honestly perturbed, but he excelled at concealing it.
"Is there something bothering you?" It was just that Lawliet was better at detecting it than Light was good at hiding, "Would you like to say something?" He didn't stop walking even as he said those words.
"Um," the boy fidgeted for a while, and then smiled shortly after he said, "Thank you."
When Lawliet heard his 'thank you', he halted for a short moment and his pace faltered; impatiently trying to wait for the said boy to catch up with him. As soon as Light reached him, Lawliet resumed walking; his strides were slightly wider than before.
"Wait for me...!"
Lawliet continued his pace, albeit slowing down at times only to walk faster the next minute. It was silent as they walked, but not altogether intimidating. Lawliet looked back to see Light frantically chasing after him and — he wasn't able to stop it — he smiled and quickened his pace further more.
"He-hey!"
It amused him when he saw the boy smile for the first time today, and so he thought, what harm could be done if he were to do it for the second time?
--
After a few seconds have passed, they reached a mahogany door. The dark, reddish-brown entrance to their room; Lawliet opened it and let Light go in first — what met Light was a big room, complete with the feeling of it being lived-in. The spacious area was cluttered with plastic and aluminium wrappers from various kinds of food, and it had just the right equipment; it had a bed, a computer, a telephone, and even a quaint medium-sized television (which Light could live without) was housed inside a tall redwood cabinet.
It was beautiful, yes, but very untidy. And a little colour on the walls and ceiling would have been appreciated, instead of the white, blinding pallor that welcomed their eyes the moment they stepped in.
"This is your room," he scratched at the back of his head, but his gaze never wavered. "Well, technically, our room." Lawliet wasn't quite sure whether Quillsh would let Light room with him, but his room was far too large for just a single person. Furthermore, he'd wanted a smart companion and Light had, fortunately or unfortunately, been the only candidate.
"Our? We're roommates, then?"
"Yes."
First glance at Light, you'd think about a quiet, mediocre, and uninteresting little boy. But in whole honesty, he wasn't. Light was loquacious and quiet at the right time, he was far from mediocrity, and he was nowhere near disposable — he wasn't boring.
"Why is there only one bed?" he pointed to its rosewood stature.
"We'd have them bring your bed to this room. Also, that computer is free for you to use as you please."
Light seemed to think about it as he stopped near a glass table parallel to the settee. "What about you? Don't you mind sharing a computer?"
Although he asks a lot of questions, and would sometimes be silent for shifting periods of time for no reason at all, he was fun to be with and brought some sort of realism Lawliet couldn't explain.
"I do, and that is why I use a laptop. It's a tad slower, but highly convenient." He was still leaning on the door's arch, training his eyes on the boy. He watched as Light ran his hands through the glazed coffee table, the closets and the cabinet handles, touching and looking at them as if they were so foreign to him. "I see..."
--
Light had taken off his shoes as he reclined down on the soft, sturdy bed.
They were resting for the day and Light had resided atop Lawliet's bed, clutching the pasty-white sheets while he was loosely draped upside down. Lawliet lounged on the sofa with one leg propped up, his laptop precariously perched on his stomach as he used a maroon throw pillow as support for his back. Lawliet didn't seem to wear socks, or any kind of footwear, for that matter.
"Hey, I've been wondering..." called Light. "Why do you know my name, but I can't know yours?"
Lawliet stopped typing and looked at the brunet with an expression that could be labelled as dull, if it weren't for the lopsided smirk that was sent the child's way. "Well, you never asked."
"Oh," said Light, feeling rather stupid. "Well then, what's your name?"
"Lawliet."
"Nice to meet you, Lawliet," he tiny gave a grin, "I'm Light."
They exchanged smiles.
"Same here."
--
"How old are you now, Lawliet?"
"Eleven."
"Hm... Then that makes us four years apart."
"...You're seven? I had never noticed before."
Light grinned. "You never asked."
--
Date: December 23rd
"I've always wondered..." Light pondered then asked, "What's your last name? Is Lawliet really your whole name?"
Lawliet didn't really want to answer that question, but he did.
"Yes—
It was a lie, though. "What about you?"
"Funny. Now that someone actually cared to ask me,
"I don't think I remember my last name," said Light with a grim, regretful smile.
--
Date: 1994, February 28th
"—!!"
At midnight, whenever the moon was evident and luminescent, Lawliet would always stir in his sleep. He would have dreams, and sometimes nightmares, that he never saw to the end. In those nightmares, it would start with ghostly laughter, and soon would follow the sound of something hitting the cold, hard pavement. He would then wake up after seeing some dark red entity pierce and castrate an apple with a blunt pen. Normally something so simple like that wouldn't wake him, but that particular dream always had him on edge.
"Haah..."
And most of the time he woke up Light would be awake to ask whether it was a bad dream or otherwise, and then smile regardless of the nature of Lawliet's answer, wanting to take the burden off his friend.
--
Date: March 15th
Lawliet rubbed the corner of his eyes. When his gaze landed upon the occupied bed, he felt satisfaction run in his veins, drugging him.
For the first time ever since Light had stayed here, he woke with Light still asleep.
--
Date: April 22nd
One night Lawliet didn't dream of anything. And even if he did, he didn't remember it.
He rubbed the corner of his eye to try and wake himself.
Lawliet lifted his head and craned toward the study table where his companion usually resided. He wanted to walk, pace, but as he stood up from the couch, something below his right feet crunched; it felt like some rough cardboard sprayed with sawdust, kind of like sandpaper. Lawliet glanced at the wooden floor; he checked his right foot to check for any wounds — be it bruise or scratch — and saw that what he stepped on was actually a painted canvas. One of Light's, he mentally noted.
"Painting."
He turned his head to the bed. "Doing something productive would be more rewarding."
As Lawliet watched the boy sleep, Light's russet hair covering his amber eyes, he couldn't help but wonder, for the fifth time that night, why any parent would want to disown Light.
"What kind of lout would renounce their own child?" Lawliet asked to no one in particular.
Light was smart; he would have had a bright future if given the chance.
This world is such a mess.
--
Date: 1995, October 31st
Light found it quite annoying. People kept knocking on their door.
"Hey, it's Halloween. Wake up!" The ones who came and went near their room all had the same results: Lawliet gazing at the door, then closing his eyes after.
Light rolled his eyes and waited for the knocks to subside, then went to him with a comforting smile and greeted him merrily, "Happy birthday!"
Lawliet stirred in his bed and turned to look at the brunet and stared. He had every reason to be surprised — no one in Wammy's House knew of his birthday, excluding Quillsh and himself. After some time, he acknowledged Light's smile with a curt nod and an uneven grin.
--
Lawliet didn't really feel like talking so early in the morning, so he looked at Light, showing something that he hoped was an inquiring gaze, 'how' coming as the unsaid question.
"I asked Wammy," Light faced him with a wide smile, "It took some time though. I had to ask him repeatedly."
Light shoved a wrapped box into his friend's lap and looked at him expectantly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"
He unwrapped, ripped, the plaid paper, and what was left were three bars of sweets.
"...Chocolate?"
"Yeah. All you seem to eat are hard candies and cakes, so I thought you'd like to taste chocolate.
"And it is Halloween, after all. The time of rotten teeth."
Lawliet seemed to acknowledge the gift and took a bite. "...Thank you."
But Lawliet wouldn't want anyone to know that he thinks Halloween is more like the time where the boundaries of the living and the dead wear thin.
--
Date: November 5th
Location: England
Region: South East
For young Lawliet, those bells never meant gaiety, delight, bliss, or anything that resembled happiness. It always repeated itself to him as sorrow; as the solemn ballad of loss and separation, time and time again.
--
He was wearing the same thing he had worn when he first came to Wammy's House. Lawliet watched his auburn-haired friend pace; pack the last of his things as he slung his backpack on his shoulder.
"Five days after my birthday, and you leave," he said, more of a statement than a question.
Light clutched the bag's strap tighter. "I'm sorry, L, but it's not my fault."
He decided to ignore that last part. "You know, you don't have to call me that, Light."
"Since you're now an anonymous detective, I can't use your name in public, right?"
"I never said that it was a precautionary requirement."
Light sighed and placed a hand on his companion's shoulder; a gesture most commonly used either for confrontation, or for comforting a friend. "C'mon, stop being so melancholy. It's a small world, L. We'd meet again."
"...I know, Light. But you are my first-ever friend."
Light smiled, it being one of those that he actually meant. "You'd be hard to forget, too."
The brunet started towards the door Quillsh had opened. Outside stood a couple, probably Japanese.
The woman had a diamond-studded ring around her finger. The woman looked genteel; she had dark hair with mixed shades of brown, possibly from repeated dyeing, which peeked from under her beret. She also wore a tan blazer and a pair of dark denim jeans. The man was tall and bulky, having a head full of black hair left an intimidating impression; he had a thick black jacket over his red polo, and wore a pair of khaki pants. They looked responsible, mainly because of the business-associated look they sported.
Light turned around and waved, slightly smiling back at the teen with raven locks. "Chocolates aren't good for you..."
And as Light smiled for the last time, he told Lawliet: "Don't overdo it."
As the main door closed, Lawliet muttered under his breath, "The next time we meet, I'd have eaten countless of chocolates."
Date: 2010, January 28th
Location: Japan
Region: ??
"Ah, Light Yagami. So it seems we've met, yet again."
Perhaps Light Yagami did not believe that his intricately woven naivety was not anymore pristine. Perhaps Light Yagami had not yet learned enough to accept that, upon receiving the Death Note, his purity had been tainted.
"It's ironic, isn't it?
"That you had to depart atop these flights of stairs."
But it doesn't delude the fact that he had been good; it wasn't his fault that his silver-plated armoury had been corroded rust, having an insatiable desire for power as its drive.
"It was just like when we last conversed, Light-kun."
Date: 2010, February 1st
Location: Unknown
An eerie gust of wind blew, dragging with it fine particles of sand and dirt; coating the dwellers with grime and dust, also buffeting its inhabitants. Whilst he attempted to frown at the man that looked straight his way, he—reacting to the temperature — immediately used his hand as a temporary visor in an attempt to protect his face from the sweltering heat. The silhouette stood hunchback, eating some sort of makeshift jam straight from its glass jar.
How revolting.
The figure's lips stretched, almost sadistically, and it slowly turned into a slight smirk.
"Ah, and who might you be?"
He had bloodshot eyes, with bags sharpening his gaze, as if yearning for murder.
"Excuse me, but do I know you?"
"No, you don't—
The man brought out an adequately-sized pocket knife and dipped it in the sweet, fruity preserve. He brought it up to his parted lips and licked.
"Shit..."
He started at the hilt, licking the stainless steel slowly, and gradually moving towards the pointed silver end. The man seemed to relish the feeling of metal on his skin. He looked at Light with eyes almost covered and half-lidded, his bloodlust not looking to be quenched.
"But would you like to?
"You were the one who brought me here, after all."
Date: 2010, November 13th
Location: Unknown
Noticing the sun, he shielded his face using the palm of his hand; he didn't want to wake up in some hellish desert like he did these past few months. He didn't want to walk for eternity, watching over surroundings that never seemed to change... That was their situation in the other side.
"Hello.
"It took you relatively long to find your way, Yagami-kun."
Surprisingly, a kinder facet, unlike before, loomed over him. Half welfare and concern, half glee writ on the face.
"Damn it...
"Why you, Lawliet?
"Why you, L?"Light muttered under his breath.
He didn't answer; Lawliet merely smiled as he laid out his hand to Light, attempting to help him to his knees. But having his pride injured, he did what L expected him to — Light swatted the offered hand away and stood up, his chin up and his head held high. L grinned inwardly, as if understanding why, and wiped his hands on his worn out trousers, trying to get rid some of the nonexistent filth.
"Have you been well, Light?"
This is my first Death Note story. I don't know if I interpreted their personalities as near-canon as possible since I never [read the manga or] finished the anime, but I hope it turned out alright. Was it too OOC? I know there are a lot of mistakes [grammar, plotting, and characterisation], so criticisms are very welcome.
Clarifications:
1) L's D.O.B. here is 1982, Oct. 31. [He was 11 when Light first arrived.]
2) Light's D.O.B. is 1986. [He stayed at Wammy's for two years; 1993-1995. Light was 7 at his first appearance in Wammy's.]
3) L didn't become the great detective that he is by wishing he was. I pictured him starting small, only helping out from time to time.
4) Some parts are intentionally vague. I want the reader to imagine things for themselves, rather than having me lay it out for them to take. Though, really, they're as clear as day here!
5) Most of the dates aren't random. Biscuits to those that understand the connection! Actually, nothing here is random.
--
I found it hard typing an innocent Light as a child without using 'nee-san' so I gave the nanny a quick name: Elisabeth Lauren\Laura Mierr. I'm not really good at making names up, so pardon me if it doesn't suit your taste. Feedbacks and\or criticisms about characterisation, plot and story flow are highly appreciated and well-loved. 8D
And thanks to those who read and put up with this fanfic to the very end, to reach this part [the 'author's notes'] of the story.