It was raining. The perfect opportunity to go out, and just stand there, enjoying every second. Well, maybe not to you. You would much rather curl up and read a book, would you not? L wouldn't. He would ruch rather feel the rain on his face. The sky's tears. The Earth's beautiful way of burning off steam and sorrow. Why did he do this? Because he knew how it felt to not be able to handle your life, and just sit there and cry, and when nobody else helped him, he had always wanted to help someone. No one in this world, however, ever shows signs of imperfection or unhappiness. It seems they are all perfect. They don't want to accept the pain, they want to hide it, shroud it in shadow, lock it away, not bow down to it and let it be know. This is part of the reason he became a detective. To help people, and uncover the inner workings of the human mind. The popular girl in school. She seems perfect in every way possible. How would you react if she had been cutting for 5 years, was anorexic, cried herself to sleep every night, and faked a smile in the morning? You would be concerned, and wonder why she never told a soul. Well, actually, to contredict myself, she might have actually shown the slightest hints. In truth, she wants to pick up on them, and she doesn't. She does wants you to know, that she's hurting, and needs a true friend, not a paparazzi, or statue made in her likeness as monument of her greatness. She does not want you to know, because if you pick up the hints, and talk to her about it, her facade will be destroyed. Shattered. She'll cry and never stop. L was once like this, he had now, as a mechinism of self-defence, taught himself the power of empathy. Right now, though, it was raining. It was crying. And L wanted to make sure that he stood there and watched and talked to the sky until it was sunny again, because he would finally know that he, know only as a single letter: L, had made a difference. L changed the world.