Part One: Beyond the Mirror
Beyond Birthday was going to prove himself to L. He was going to make L love him. Beyond Birthday's love was to die for.
Beyond glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror of Blues-harp Babysplit's apartment. He tried to picture the expression on L's face. Would it look something like what was staring back at him now? A man haunted. L's every waking moment was soon to be governed by thoughts only of him. He would consume L as L had consumed him. Yes, he would obsess about the deeds of Beyond Birthday until he had nothing else left but to admit defeat. It would twist inside him slowly like the blade of a knife. It would cut him to the core.
Such a pity he thought, that he would never get to meet him. But he didn't have to actually see the man in flesh and blood to know him. All he had to do was look at himself. Beyond knew himself very well. To know Beyond was to know L. To love Beyond was to love L. To destroy Beyond was to destroy L. That stupid woman who claimed that she knew him would never understand. Would never be able to figure it out. He clutched the canister of gasoline tight in his hand.
He walked out into the spacious living room and found a patch of carpet to lay down on. Anointed himself from head to toe. Took the matches from his pocket. The smell of sulfur hung in the air for a split second. He placed the small flame to his drenched shirt. Beyond was burning for L's love.
It was funny how it didn't seem to hurt. Despite the blazing inferno, he felt surprisingly cool.
"I've won," he whispered through failing breath.
But he hadn't won. There was Naomi standing in the doorway, gun in hand. She locked eyes with his. She knew.
"No," he said but no words came out. "Don't take this from me."
He could no longer feel. The room was closing in around him. Then darkness.
"You lost, B."
A voice rich and full. And strangely familiar.
He was standing in front of a full-length mirror. Wide eyes looked back at him from the glass. Not his eyes.
"I won," the man in the reflection said.
Beyond placed his hand up against the glass. The mirror image did as well. The same hair. The same slouched posture. That telling smile. They belonged to him. But those eyes. They were filled with triumph and conviction.
"L," he said.
He felt himself falling. Strong arms caught him around the waist. Cradling him. Lowering him gently to the ground.
"You're such a fool," L said.
He was on top of Beyond. Pinning him. Looking down on him.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," B replied. "I wanted to tell you. To show you."
"Then tell me," L replied.
His breath felt hot on the nape of Beyond's neck.
"Show me."
The sensation of L weighing him down suddenly did not seem all that unpleasant. In fact, it was oddly arousing. He raised his head as high as he could and locked mouths with the other man. The taste was sweet and sticky like strawberry jam. Like blood. He let out a low moan.
"I submit," he said in a gasp. "I give in."
"You're beginning to understand," L replied. "But you're a criminal, B. And criminals need to be punished."
"But it was all for you, L," Beyond replied.
"Then I'll be the one to decide your sentence."
"Yes. Make me pay. I was insolent to think I could ever achieve your level of greatness."
His body was aching. The blinding pain of love.
"Help me," Beyond begged. "Make me yours."
"No," L said. "You're not worthy of my love."
Tears streamed down Beyond's cheeks. He turned his head away from L and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His black hair was nothing but burnt cinders. His lips blistered and red. His face distorted. Half melted like dripping wax. His charred body prone on a white sheet.
He woke up screaming.
He was covered in bandages. IVs pumping clear fluid into his veins. Tubes extending from his seared flesh. The whir and blinking of machines keeping him alive. He tried to move, but found leather straps binding him to the sides of the bed.
No.
"He's awake, Doctor."
No.
L's sentence had been crueler than anything he himself could have devised. He had even managed to outdo him in that area.
He had lived. But inside he was as dead as those he had killed.
Love could reduce a man to ashes.