Chapter 10: Damn Does it Sting
Warning: I have a nasty case of writer's block right now and have re-written this chapter... I think four times so far, so sorry if this chapter is pretty sub-par compared to the other ones.
This is a one month time skip from last chapter, just to let you know.
Light was in a rather odd situation at the moment. He was on the couch, inside of his apartment, wearing the loose button-down shirt and sweatpants he usually wore when it was time for him to sleep, and sipping a steaming cup of chamomile tea. He drank the beverage that allegedly relaxed you and helped you when catching some sleep was difficult, and with every gulp, a hot, soothing stream of tea rushed down his throat. Light finished off the chamomile tea, and the last of the drink settled into his stomach, were he could feel the sensation of warm, pooling tea collect at the pit.
He had his TV on, and he was watching that boring documentary about grass growing, the documentary he always watched when he urgently needed to sleep. As odd as it seemed, this documentary lulled him off to sleep nearly every time he saw it. This, unfortunately, was not one of those times. Honestly, who the hell could stay awake through a film as boring as a time-lapsed recording of grass growing?! Well, Light apparently could, or at least on this particular night.
He hated this. He hated not knowing why he couldn't sleep, and he hated not being able to sleep in the first place. Light stared at his empty teacup, hoping that the sleepy effects of the tea would kick in soon, and tried his best to listen to the TV blaring in the background of his head. Light turned around to face the wall that was behind him, where his clock hung, and he glowered at the clock, almost expecting it to respond to his glare in some shape, way, or form. The clock read twelve-thirty at night. Of course, with the clock being a clock, the time-telling device had no reaction to Light's frustration.
Light turned his attention back to the television. He debated over whether or not he should make more chamomile tea, but he decided against it. Even though chamomile tea had no caffeine, it wasn't doing much to help Light fall asleep. Giving up on trying to get some rest, Light reached for the remote control and turned off the TV, the young adult accepting the fact that he would probably be a groggy, tired mess tomorrow.
Standing up from the couch, Light had his teacup cradled within his hands, and he made his way to the kitchen of his apartment. He gently set the cup in the sink, and determining that tonight would be a restless one, there was no point in procrastinating with washing the teacup. He turned on the faucet, rinsed the cup under some warm water, and poured some soap onto the cup. After running some more water on it, Light turned the sink off, dried the single object he had washed with a kitchen towel, and put away the cup into his designated cup cabinet.
"Since I'm not getting any sleep tonight anyway, what else can I do?" Light thought to himself. There must've been something he could do to kill time until the morning. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Light pondered over what he could do in order to distract himself from the sleepless night he was having. He paced around for a little while, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check it.
Ever since he exchanged phone numbers with L, L, being someone with a bizarre sleeping schedule, would text Light at odd times of the night, so Light scrolled through his phone to check if L had sent him a message. Sure enough, L had texted him earlier. L would mostly text Light about whatever deductions he had about that murder case he, Light, and the NPA were investigating, and the texting would go from there, each of them giving feedback on the other's deductions.
The conversation would often escalate as well, with Light scolding L about how he should take better care of himself. Light would even point out the bout of fainting L had a month ago, and L would admit defeat and say that he was going to go to bed. For some reason, whenever L said that he was going to get some sleep, it relieved Light ever so slightly, even if Light knew that L was probably fibbing just to get Light off his case. Still, just hearing the possibility of L getting some much deserved rest did wonders to calm Light's nerves, since Light had been consistently concerned about L ever since he suddenly collapsed at the grocery store.
Light slumped his shoulders, then smiled, him having an odd sense of comfort knowing that he actually had someone he could worry about. They had only known each other for a brief two months, but he could already call L his friend, which was new for him. Sure, he knew countless people and was rather popular, but he didn't really have someone whom he could call a friend until L showed up. He would hang out with some people, and Sayu would even set an oblivious Light up for a blind date every once in a while, much to Light's annoyance, but L was the first person that Light could call an actual, true friend.
He was himself around L, and the figurative mask he wore whenever he was around others was always lifted when it was just him and L. It was funny, really, because before all of this, Light had thought that his mask would be laid on even thicker if he ever got the chance to met L in person, but it was the exact opposite. Around L, Light joked around, was kind of silly, and non-verbally admitted to probably, maybe having a bit of an ago, not that L appeared to mind. They would even borderline flirt, and for some odd reason, Light really, really liked it. As in, really, really liked it, and he didn't know why.
Light sighed, shaking his head as he recalled a particularly playful conversation they had a few days ago, and he read what L had typed. He was expecting for L to just update him on the murder case by texting Light a few more of his deductions, but... something more... interesting was typed in the text-box, causing for Light to widen his eyes for a split second. It wasn't anything strange, it just wasn't what Light was expecting.
"Light," the text read. "How are you?~"
Light raised his eyebrow, a little confused by what L had said. Sure, it didn't sound too unusual, but he knew for a fact that L wasn't the type of person to ask someone how they were. The only reason for him to ask someone how they were at all was if he was messing with them, trying to squeeze a reaction out of someone. L had told Light this in one of their previous conversations. He had told Light that when he interrogated suspects through an intercom, he would ask them how they were, just to unnerve them.
"What?" Light texted back, thinking that L was just being playful. "Am I a criminal or something? :P" Light smirked and chuckled to himself. He didn't know why, but in the rare instances he used emojis and emoticons, they were in texts directed at L, not that he would ever tell him that. Again, he didn't know why. It was probably because he was embarrassed, but Light couldn't figure out the source of this embarrassment.
Light's phone beeped, and Light quickly pulled up the text L had sent him.
"Ah, looks like you've caught onto my little joke," was what L's text read. "But really, I'm not asking you this because I plan to interrogate you and suspect you of being a mass-murderer. I'm just curious as to how you're doing."
"That's new," Light typed as quickly as he could, eager to reply. "Other than the fact that I can't sleep, I'm doing fine, you?" After rereading the message to check for grammatical errors, Light pressed send.
A few moments later, Light's phone buzzed with L's reply, "Am I keeping you up? I hope I am not intruding on your rest."
"What? No, of course not. I'm just having difficulty sleeping, that's all," L wasn't intruding on Light at all. He thoroughly enjoyed every text message L sent him, and he loved the long, deep chats they always had.
"What's causing you to have difficulty falling asleep?" L replied.
"I don't know," Light grumbled at being reminded that he couldn't figure out why he couldn't sleep tonight, even though he knew that L would never see the annoyance etched on his face at this very moment.
"There's not something bothering you, is there?" Light was confused by now. Yes, he could tell that L at least cared about him. They texted each other, joked around when in private, and L even invited Light over to his hotel room a couple times, but L wasn't one to ask someone if they were alright, nor did he regularly ask what was bothering someone if they weren't alright. Although, to be fair, L was being his usual self by avoiding the subject of how he was doing.
"Nothing's wrong. Don't worry, I'm fine. I'm more worried about you," Light typed back.
"Oh, really? You care? ;)," Light could practically see L smirk in amusement, as he knew that L was messing with him.
"Well, duh, you're my friend," Light rolled his eyes as he texted, and he let a smile escape his lips. "Although, I was expecting for you to inform me on your current deductions. Or have you run out?"
"You know that my well of deductions will never run dry," L responded.
"What, can I have not a bit of fun with you?" Light chuckled as he tapped away on his phone.
"Yes, you can. But I believe that I enjoy poking fun at you more than you enjoy poking fun at me," L's response speed through texts always surprised Light. Every time Light saw L type on the computer, he only used his two forefingers, which wasn't the most efficient way of typing. Light took a moment to indulge with the thought of how L would type on a phone; he could just imagine L laying the phone down on a table and pressing the keys with his pointer-fingers.
"Plus, I was afraid that you were disappointed because I didn't share my deductions. ^-^," L continued.
"I'll take your deductions whenever I can get them. If I can't, at least talk to me," Light typed back.
"Awww, that's sweet," the comment made Light blush. L was the only person besides his mother who said that he was sweet.
"You're probably sweeter with the amount of sugar you eat," Light retorted.
"True, true, but your sweetness is comparable to mine, which is impressive. Still, no one can emulate my levels of sweetness, for I believe that no one else can possibly match the amount of cake I put away," L teased.
"So humble..." Light stuck his tongue out for good measure.
"And you are not secretly an egomaniac?" L jabbed back.
"You have me there," Light shrugged.
"Light, I'm quite busy right now, so I must leave you. No nightly deductions tonight, sorry, most likely, though, I will be able to share them with you tomorrow night, if you are not asleep by then, or course," L informed.
"Alright, night, and get at least an hour of sleep!" Light gave L his inevitable words about how he should sleep more, and he clicked send.
"I'll do so for you," L reassured Light.
"Now that is sweet," Light cracked a smile.
"Okay, love ya, goodnight," L texted, finishing off the message with an emoji consisting of a face blowing a kiss. Light shook his head and chuckled. He had gotten used to texts like that, which provided a fine example of how he and L would borderline flirt. It didn't really weird Light out, though, and he attributed the other's flirting to L being L. He even enjoyed it, which was something new to him, because he had never enjoyed it when his female friends flirted with him, especially through text.
However, Light didn't think much of it, and it even felt, in a way, natural, as if it was meant to be. He sent one final text to L to say goodnight, slid his phone back into his pocket, and with L no longer texting him, he would have to think of another way to entertain himself until morning. He set his hand on his forehead and exhaled. This was going to be a long night.
L set his phone down after he finished texting Light, and a light shade of pink dusted the skin under his eyes. He raised his hand to his face, and he gently ran his fingers down his cheek to feel the rouge staining it. He started experiencing these fluttery, strange feelings when he first met Light, but at the time, he was foolish enough to assume that they would go away. He was very, very wrong. If anything, those feelings had grown stronger, and, as he eyed his phone, L was perplexed at what the hell was happening to him.
"Why am I texting to Light that I love him?" L asked himself. He wasn't used to all of this socialization, but he understood the implications of saying that he loved someone. There were different types of love, too, or at least according to what he had heard. There was romantic love, familial love, friendship, among others, and the first time L had texted to Light that he loved him, it was an accident. Light, as expected, was kind of confused, and so was L, until L made up an excuse and told Light that since he was used to saying that to Watari, as a way to show that he cared, he let it slip to Light.
It wasn't completely a lie, as telling Watari that he loved him was one of the only ways L could show his caregiver affection due to the fact that L wasn't one to make much physical contact, but he still hadn't gotten over letting it slip to Light that he loved him. L liked Light, liked his company, and was quite fond of him, but love?
"What does it even mean to love someone?" L asked himself. He hooked his thumbnail between his teeth, and he began gnawing on it to help him think. He knew loving someone meant that you cared about them, but other than that, L didn't really have a clue on how to define it.
"I'll have to think about that later," he determined. Turning his attention back to the laptop in front of him, L resumed the case he was working on, and he grumbled, frustrated that it was taking so much longer than it normally did to solve it. He originally hoped that this investigation wouldn't exceed a few weeks in length, as he had other cases on a waiting list, ready and waiting to be investigated. L groaned as he felt an oncoming headache, then returned to work.
The sound of him tapping on the keyboard filled the room, and L looked over his shoulder every once in a while, to make sure that he didn't accidentally wake Watari up by his typing. L didn't remotely enjoy the prospect of sleeping, but he knew that everyone else did not agree with his stance on the subject of sleep at all. If anything, most humans reveled in their sleep, everyone always desperate to get more.
L was tired himself, the grogginess in his mind as strong as ever, but that wasn't enough to get him to sleep. L was pretty sure that nothing would get him to sleep more than a few hours a week, even if his poor sleeping habits would cause him ill health in the future. He would give pretty much anything for him to not require sleep, because... because... well, L didn't want to think about it, but no matter how hard he tried to avoid the subject, it always kept creeping up in his subconscious.
"Why does my own dad hate me?" L thought bitterly. He gritted his teeth, and his muscles tensed. Where was his father now, anyway? Was he even still alive? L didn't want to know. He didn't want to remember. It was too painful, and when he slept, when he was in the one state where he was completely helpless to his thoughts, it reminded him of all the grim things stewing in his mind.
"Why can't I stop thinking about him no matter how hard I try?" L asked, careful to not let the words slip out of his mouth. Not only would that probably wake Watari, but it would most likely cause for Watari to keep pestering him about the subject as well, which L hated. He didn't want to think, much less talk, about his childhood. He was not, and probably never would be, ready to confront the topic.
Grumbling, the detective attempted to shift his thoughts back to the case, but he couldn't. He mind was a jumbled mess, and the only thing he could think about was his father.
"Why? Why, why, why? Why must my own mind be so stubborn?" L hissed internally, him being mad at himself that, sometimes, he had no control over what his brain thought about. He forced his hands to type on his laptop, his forefingers gradually spelling out letters, but he just couldn't concentrate on the case. There was no room in his mind for him to think about the case; every region of his brain was taken up by one thought, his past.
In frustration, L threw himself down onto the couch cushions, and he landed face-first after the fall, his screams muffled by the pillow he buried himself in. He flailed his fists around, which was rare because he rarely displayed this type of anger, but he couldn't help it. His thoughts were in chaos, them all racing around him at the speed of sound, and the before mentioned headache loomed over him, ready to strike him at the most inconvenient of times.
L tugged at his hair, him being tempted to pull the strands out, but he decided against it because the last thing he wanted was for Watari to be panicked over why he had pulled his hair out. L swung his legs around, not caring whether the motion of his feet would cause for his laptop to clatter to the ground or not. L continued struggling, not paying attention to how exhausted his limps were growing. He just kept flailing and flinging his body parts around. He needed to get out all this pent-up rage within him. He needed a way to let it all out until the storm inside of him died down, and as much as he would never admit it, it felt kind of satisfying to let it all just hang, to express some sort of emotion.
"Silly emotions," was the last thing L said before his eyelids closed, him being completely unaware of how tired that fit of anger had made him. With that, he drifted off to sleep, fulfilling his promise to Light of getting some shuteye. Although, that didn't stop the nightmares, which were the reason why he hated sleeping so much. They haunted him. Memories and nightmares, they were all the same, and they caused him such misery that he could barely stand to sleep anymore, no matter how dark the bags under his eyes had gotten or how lethargic he felt.
As soon as L left the world of the awake, the horrible, horrible dreams begun.
"L Lawliet! Where the hell are you?!" the voice, even though it was no longer shouting, still lingered in the air, and it was filled with nothing but anger and animosity. L was hiding under the torn, dirty bed that his father slept on, and it was in such a need for repair that springs were sticking out of it. For L, though, he didn't even have a bed, and would sleep on random surfaces throughout the house.
Shaking and scared out of his mind, L was curled up in his usual crouch, his tiny body being small enough to fit in the narrow space underneath the bed. He bit down harshly on his lip, to prevent a whimper from escaping his mouth, and silent tears dripped down his face. He couldn't take another beating now, not now when his father was drunk. Drunken beatings always hurt the most, and the small child was perfectly aware that even if he was able to escape, the sting of his father's slaps to the face and the pain of the bloody punches would always remain, always be there to torment him no matter how many years had gone by.
He silently wished and begged to every single god, lord, and deity out there that somehow, someway, the pain would end. He didn't care how it would end, either. Whether it be by death or by running away or by someone finding him, he didn't care; all he cared about was if he could go running and screaming away from this life or not.
'Daddy, why don't you love me?' L pondered, his tiny hands wiping tears away from his eyes, which were red and puffy from crying. 'What did I do to you?'
L shivered because the house he lived in had a heating unit that was either broken or shut off because his father hadn't paid the heating bill, and he needed warmth badly. He pulled his legs closer to his chest, rocking himself back and forth to calm his nerves. Unfortunately, the rocking did nothing, and L soon stopped moving in fear that his father would notice the movement.
"L, come out wherever you are! You can't hide forever! You made daddy very, very angry with you tonight, and you know what happens when I'm angry, don't you?!" that was what L thought his father had said, but he wasn't one-hundred-percent sure. His dad's voice was slurred, a telltale sign of his drinking, and L heard several crashes and thumps, probably from his father drunkenly stumbling around.
At least none of his father's drinking buddies were in the house right now. With them around, things would get really awful, as three pairs of fists would hurt more than one.
His heart beating so fast that he was paranoid that his father would hear it, L brought his thumb to his lips and started chewing on and around the nail, and he nibbled on it until it started bleeding. Trying his best to swallow the hiss of pain rising in his throat, L forced his trembling muscles to stay still. Maybe if he stayed here the whole night, daddy wouldn't notice him, and this could be dealt with in the morning, when his father was sober. The beating would still hurt, but not as much, and that was good enough for L.
The smell of alcohol tainted the air, producing a foul, putrid stench, or at least the smell was revolting to L. The smell reminded L of his father, of how his father was much, much more violent than usual when intoxicated, and L had sworn a long time ago that he would never touch alcohol, much less drink it. He didn't want to become a constantly drunk, child-beating man, the man who his dad was.
He knew that when he got older, he would vomit from just the smell of beer. L hated alcohol so much, hated what it did to people, hated how it ruined people's lives, but he wasn't talking about the drinking habits of most people, because most people would only have the occasional drink now and again to socialize. That, he didn't mind. What he did detest, though, was how much his father drank, detested how much misery it had brought onto his life.
There was the sound of someone turning a doorknob, and L perked up a bit. The click was followed by a loud, ear-shattering slam, and L waited. And waited. And waited. There was no sound, none at all. He had done it! His father was gone, at least for now, and he could safely travel through his own home. Crawling from his hiding spot underneath the bed, L winced due to his muscles being contorted in such a position for so long. It didn't matter, though, he wouldn't get a beating tonight, and for that, he was grateful.
Relief washed over him, and L, who was tripping every few steps because his legs were numb from being in that tight space for so long, made his way into the kitchen. He looked around, hoping that there was something to eat, and he shyly walked over to the fridge, his steps careful and slow because he was scared that his dad would come bursting in at any moment. The front door to the house remained unopened, though, and L felt elated that he had the whole night to himself.
Opening the fridge, L peered into it to take a look at its contents, but he closed it in disappointment. There were only beer cans and wine bottles, and he wouldn't drink that stuff if his life depended on it. Giving out a dissatisfied sigh, he closed the door.
L pressed his back against the fridge, feeling his shoulder-blades, spine, and ribs poking the surface he was leaning on, and he slid down the refrigerator door, rubbing his arms because of the chilliness of the autumn night. It was so rare that his father left him alone like this, so he would have to make good use of this time. He rested his chin on his knees, which were now pulled up so that they were close to his chest, and he looked out the kitchen window, which showed that it was raining and thundering outside.
There were rumbles and moans, as if all the sounds of a storm were mixed into one big, groaning pot, and L did his best to put on his brave face as the storm drew nearer.
Lightning cackled through the sky, a bang of thunder not too far behind, causing for L to jump and squeal. He darted out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, where he slammed the door shut with a loud crack. Frightened of whatever monsters that might've been roaming through the rain, through the pitter-patter of droplets and booms of lightning, L fiddled with the lock in false hope that it was fixed. As expected, though, the lock to the bathroom door remained broken, and, while sitting down, he pressed all his weight against the wall just as more thunder came crashing down.
L jumped again, his startled and rattled mind hyper-aware of every sound, every flash of lightning, every clap of thunder around him, and he curled up into a little ball with his face in his hands. L was an intelligent child, and his understanding of things was far beyond his years, but he was still a child, a child who was afraid of lightning and thunder and storms. Wind scraped against the brick of the house, making L afraid that the house would be blown down even if he knew that was irrational, and the rain poured down so hard that it sounded like giants up in the sky were dropping down buckets of water.
Werewolves, giants, goblins, ghouls, the rain made it sound like all these monsters were out and about, the sound of falling water similar to that of thousands of terrifyingly huge footsteps, footsteps of nightly creatures that L's young mind still believed in.
There was an unsavory howl that echoed through the night, and L swore that he heard a loud, shrewish laugh whenever there was lightning, and despite the fact that L knew that all these creatures and monsters were only figments of his imagination, that these demons and beasts only existed inside of his head, it didn't stop him from letting horror and distress rattle his bones. Even in the dark bathroom, he was convinced that he could see the shadows of closet monsters and evil witches mingling with each other, waiting for him to come out so that they could devour him.
Drawing his arms and legs even closer to his core in some form of protection, L closed his eyes and hoped that both the monsters of the rain and his father wouldn't find him in here. He hoped that they wouldn't find him in this leaky, smelly bathroom with a broken lock. He wanted to just stay here forever, really, away from all his tormentors, whether they were real or imaginary.
"Rain, rain, go away, and come back another day..." L sang softly in a fruitless attempt to get the rain to stop, but, as the rational side of his brain kicked in, he realized that the rain wasn't going to stop no matter now much he sang. If anything, the song probably made the rain angry, causing for it to rain harder.
L finished off his little song anyway, "Rain, rain, go away, so that I can have a sunny day..." L sighed, and there were dry, crusty streaks on his face where his teardrops had been.
BOOM! Out of alarm, L nearly jumped out of his skin, and, without thinking, he slammed open the bathroom door and scampered out. He ran around the house, panic growing inside of him. His screams pierced the air as his nerves fired at a million miles per hour. There was a pulsing sensation in his chest, and L clutched it, trying to get himself to settle down. It was no use, though. With his brain on autopilot, L sprinted towards the front door.
He had no idea what he was doing, not a clue, but there he was, opening the door that lead into the harsh, unforgiving rain. He tried to stop his body, he really did, but he couldn't help it. He just had to get away. Not bothering to close the door behind him, L's bare feet pounded on the wet cement. It only took a matter of seconds for him to get soaked, and the rain made his hair droop in front of his face, partially obscuring his vision.
With no plan and eyes blurred from the rain, L ran as fast as his smalls legs could possibly carry him. He flapped his arms around, as if they would become wings so that he could fly away, and he continued sprinting. Sweat poured from his forehead, his eyes were wide open yet exhausted at the same time, and his lungs felt like someone had set them on fire. It was horrible, absolutely horrible, but what was worst of all was that L was perfectly aware that his course of actions made no sense.
"What am I doing?!" L asked the rain. It only replied with the hiss of water.
Then, after he had been running for who knows how long, he stopped. The rain had gentled a bit, but it was still pouring. L looked up into the sky, only to be greeting by gray and water, and he blinked in an attempt to get the water out of his eyes. He sniffled and sneezed, and he hugged himself, the outside being much colder than his house, even if his house had no heating.
All of a sudden, the revelation hit him. He couldn't go back, not now, not after he had gotten this far, but there was also another reason. His father was most likely back by now, and if he discovered that L had tried to run away... L... L didn't know what he would do... but whatever it was, it sent horror slinking up his spine and made him feel slightly sick. There would probably be a lot of blood involved, too. And pain, lots of bone-crushing, jaw-breaking, nosebleeds-filled pain.
L swallowed the lump in his throat. He was all alone now. No matter how inadequate the care his father provided was, at least there used to be a roof above his head. Now, though, there was literally no roof above his head, and he would probably be running around dressed in soaking wet clothes for the next few days in the cold fall air. Then there was also the daunting prospect of getting food and finding somewhere to keep dry. There was also the problem of avoiding everyone, and L meant everyone. A wet, emaciated, dirty child with no guardian that was scrambling through town would look more than suspicious, so L would have to be careful not to stir up any attention, especially around adults.
"You can do this," L told himself. His stride suddenly gaining an extra edge of strength, L took a step forward, and what a step it was. It was a step away from his abusive home, away from his constantly drunk father, away from his old life. This was a fresh start for him, L decided, and despite the obvious fact that this wasn't the smartest choice, far from it, actually, L would take it. It was better than rotting away in some house where your father always locked you in and beat you half to death every other day.
This was the beginning of a brand new life for him, L determined, and he was now unstoppable. Now that he was free, he could do anything. Anything. He could be anything he wanted now that his father was no longer breathing down his neck. He was going to do something with his life. He was going to do whatever he could to stop suffering, to give justice to the helpless, to the ones that needed it, and he was, most of all, going to become something great.
"Watch me, world, because you'll know who I am soon enough. Just you wait," L balled up his hands into fists, determination burning within his eyes, and he found a stick laying in the mud. With the stick he found, he drew a big, capitol, Gothic letter "L" in the dirt, and his voice, although soft, rang with an air of aplomb, "My name is L, and I will bring justice upon this world." With that, he threw the stick into the dirt and walked off, no longer caring about the rain running down his tattered shirt or how heavy his legs felt when he lifted them up to move.
CRASH!
L yelped and jumped, scrambling away from the source of the sound. Even with his newfound identity, he was still scared of the witches and goblins and monsters of the rain. After all, he was still a child.
"AH!" L woke up in sync with the clap of thunder and lightning that sounded outside. After his eyes snapped open, L darted his head around, the weight of sleep still heavy on his shoulders. "W-where am I...?" It took a few seconds for him to realize that he had just had a dream, and he sighed in relief after his breathing slowed and he wiped the sweat off his brow. It was only a dream... Well, okay, his dream was technically a flashback of what had happened years ago, but at least it was that, the past, something that L would never experience again... or so he hoped.
He then peeked into the other room, where Watari was sleeping, and thankfully, he was still fast asleep. Glad that he hadn't woken Watari up, L check the time. It was five in the morning. Just how long had he been asleep?
L eyed his laptop and sighed. He still had a case to solve, so he opened it up, but not before checking his phone.
A small smile curled onto L's lips; it looked like Light had sent him a text while he was having his nightmare/flashback.
Reading the text, L scoffed. It read, "Goodnight, sweet dreams. :)"
"Oh, how ironic," L grumbled as he recalled the nightmarish dream he had. Well, admittedly, it did get a little better at the end, but that didn't do much to lift L's mood. L was still shaken from being reminded of his childhood, and damn did his childhood sting. He could still feel the slap of his father's hand. He could still hear insult after insult being hurled towards him. He could still feel the coldness of having no one love him. And damn, it really, really stung.
Well, sorry if nothing much happened this chapter. As I said earlier, I have a very bad case of writer's block, and I'm generally just very busy right now, but I hope you still liked this chapter. Sorry for taking so, so long to update, too, and if there are a lot of grammatical errors in this chapter, it's because I was editing it while half-asleep. I hope that I can update sooner once I get acclimatized to high school. See you next chapter (which hopefully won't take as long as this one)!