I've never been a big believer in love at first sight, or even love in general. It always seemed so far fetched to me, like some fairy-tale story. Always looked at love like unicorns or fairies or talking blue jays or dragons. Princesses in story books could have it without a problem, but here, in the real world?

It was just a myth.

But then, every little girl wants a unicorn, or at least a pony. At one point, too, every little boy wants a dragon, either for a pet or to slaughter in order to become a hero. Every little child wishes for that thing that is right out of their reach. And then, when we get older, the habit just sticks. We keep on longing for that thing we'll never have, that make believe thing that we imagine that, maybe, if we reach out just far enough, we might be able to reach and get our own little fairytale.

I never believed in love. Never even bothered trying to search for it. Didn't think that it even existed, and that if it did, it was only painful in the end anyway, so why bother?

Then I met you, and you flipped my life upsidown.

I'm not talking you just turned me around gently, or spun me around like a twirl. I'm saying that you grabbed my table of life, with all of it's chess pieces set in perfect orderly fashion, and flipped it over. Scattering my life's little play and sending them rolling across the floor, the base that used to hold me up clattering to the floor. The only thing there to hold me up being the very man who stood in front of the table.

The only thing left that I could see was you, smiling coyly at me. As if you knew something I didn't. Maybe you did.

It wasn't like it was love at first sight, not exactly. Actually, the first time I laid eyes on you, I was pretty sure I hated you.

You were just so strange. Other worldly, almost. You stood oddly, one foot rubbing strangely against the other, shoulders slumped. Your hair was unruly and ebony black, falling into your eyes and sticking up everywhere. The eyes they partially blocked the view of were round and decisive, with black around the bottom, like a panda. Strangely the bags under your eyes weren't quite unappealing, though, and only made your endless black eyes seem even darker. Your clothes were baggy, hiding any curves you might have had, what with those loose-fit jeans and unfitted white t-shirt. You weren't even wearing shoes.

Who could fall in love at first with that, really? Not me, anyway.

It was after you talked to me that I realized that you were different.

It wasn't your voice, exactly, though I did love that. It was decisive and coy, constantly analytical and thought-out. Everything you said was clever, too. I could have an actual conversation with you. It was a new experience, having someone who could talk on my level. Even if your views were completely different, even if the very first thing we did together was fight, the fact we could hold an actual argument was a rarity. With most arguments I get into, it's them saying something stupid, me saying something clever but frank, and me winning the argument. Nothing in between.

With you it was… real. Not just going through the actions and movements. Not just saying what was expected. Not just saying shrugging and trying to avoid pressing questions. Not just stating the obvious, not just repeating what we already knew. When I spoke to you, you listened, and what's more, you understood. You actually thought over each thing I said, I could see it processing in your eyes, and I could see that you were surprised that I could comprehend so well as well. And then you would make your argument, which would almost always be just as convincing as mine. And, in return, I would listen as well, and I would consider. Sometimes, I would even change my mind on things because of you. Others, you would change your mind. More often, though, we would stay stuck in our ways.

But that was okay. Because I was more than happy to be your opposite. We fit together perfectly, completely obvious and yet so very the same.

Then there was the Kira thing.

You would think that Kira would be the thing that would break apart our connection. You would think that, because we were leading opposite sides in this silent mind-game, that we would break any chances of having anything remotely close to love.

This was not the case.

Pitted against each other, put against all odds, stuck together in close proximity even under such negative conditions, caused even more sparks to fly. The arguments got more intense, the fights more physical, the shouts louder, the fuming more obvious. The fire that was between us was enough to scorch any man who dared to even think about coming between us in our quarrels.

And oh how we thrived upon it.

It was what we lived for, fighting. Both with the same goal - justice - but each going about it completely differently. We saw justice as a completely different thing, or rather we saw the way to go about seeing it fulfilled completely different. You stayed on the safe side, and I spilt blood. You was pure, and I was plagued. It was simply how it was.

As Kira, I wanted to kill you. I won't deny it - I wanted you dead. Even after I realized how much I loved you, there was still the part of me that wanted to see your blood on my hands. Wanted to see your name on a tombstone and dance on your grave. I wanted to see what friends you may or may not have had grieving and crying and laugh in their faces. I wanted, quite frankly, to murder you, then promptly throw a party celebrating it. Sure, I had convinced myself it was for justice, but that wasn't really the case, not exactly.

I wanted you dead because I wanted to win. You were right in your very first assumption about me, even before you met Light Yagami. I was childish, and I hated to lose. It was something we had in common, and it was much of what kept us together.

We did fall in love. The people beneath the masks, the humans behind the titles - Kira and L - found love with the true selves they were attached to, both metaphorically and because of the shackles. Light and Lawliet found their own selves in one another's arms.

Our love wasn't the love of myth. It isn't the blissful walk off into the sunset after that the princess gets at the end of the story book, there was no innocence, there was no sugar-coating, there was no prince coming to the rescue. Our love was cruel and merciless, our love was a blood-soaked passion that dove down to the very depths of the human soul in such a way that it was impossible to break free of it, even when it hurt so much it sometimes made me want to just give up and die myself. In our fairytale, there was no happy ending.

If we were a fairytale, we would go something like this.

The prince fell in love with the princess, who suspected him of being a monster, but loved him anyway, because there was no way to save him. The prince was the monster, but he didn't realize it himself until it was too late, and the monster had taken over completely. The princess knew that the monster was back, deep inside, but tried to ignore it. Tried to tell himself that the prince would turn around for the princess (him), but the princess was lying to himself. He knew it too. The prince, the monster, snapped and killed the princess in the cruelest of ways. Not even having the grace to do it himself, no, instead getting the witch to do it for him, and then killing her off, later. Letting the princess die in his arms, so that at that last moment, watching the life drain from his love's endless eyes, the princess would look up and see the monster looking back instead of the prince. And then the princess would be dead, and the monster would be there until he died himself.

The End.

No sugar-coating, no pretty red bow, no mercy. Life.

Try telling that to your seven year old at night, eh?

So no, our love was not the conventional love. Every second, it seemed, was filled with analyzing. Trying to figure out percentages and scenarios; every moment spent together was a test, everything being watched, every move another part of the game. A million questions just begging to be answered. Who will come out on top, Kira or L? Who wins this war?

I couldn't answer that question, even though I was the sole reason the war even existed at all. I couldn't tell you who won, because the truth is, there really wasn't a victor. I thought I had won, for a while. You were dead. I killed you - or rather, Rem did, but it was because of me, anyway. But then he had successors, M and N (and a third who I was unaware of except for like two seconds with the Takada incident) who took me down. Sure, I killed Mello and Matt, but Near - with their help - caught me in the end. And then Matsuda, the man I always called a fool, who I always disregarded as not being a threat, shot me over and over again. And then Ryuk, my own shinigami, ended it.

So who won, really?

You didn't win. You died, so your indivudual fight for justice was ended. Sucks for you, but I really can't say I'm sorry, because it was all a part of the game. I know you'll understand and forgive me for saying that, because I'm certain you would say the same thing in my place. I'm more sorry for the rest of the world. They lost truly a beautiful person.

I didn't win. I died, and Kira's kingdom crumbled afterwards. You already know that shitty story, so let's skip it.

Mello didn't win. He lost three times - he lost against me, he lost against Near, and he lost in love, when he lost that Matt kid. I suppose he was just born to lose.

Matt certainly didn't win. He lost his life because he was following some crazy bastard around like a puppy, mindlessly doing whatever he told him to. I'm not sure if that's love or just stupidity, but I guess Mello won a little bit, when he got a guy like that. Better than L did, anyway, since his guy (me) slaughtered him.

And no, Near didn't win, either. He survived, of course. But he lost everything else. He lost L, he lost Mello and Matt, his only almost-friends, and he lost Watari. He lost any hope for gaining any sort of good personality. Maybe with that Gevanni guy, though, there might be hope. I don't know. I honestly don't care what happens to the creepy N guy, actually, but you might like to know that he didn't win. He didn't even succeed in what little he did accomplish without the help of the M's, which had to go practically commit suicide to do it. So no, he didn't win. He just got lucky.

The game was, in it's essence, pointless. What's the point of a game if everyone loses?

But the love, if you could even call it that, was priceless. Every kiss, every touch, every look, every smile. Every fight, every bicker, every punch, every scream, every glare. Every time we truly made love and every time we fucked just to prove we could damn well do it whenever we wanted. That's what I remembered when I died. That's what I cared about, in the end. That's what mattered.

Sure, Kira cared about justice. He cared about the people as a whole. He was God after all.

But the human part of me, the little Light Yagami that was still deep down in there, somewhere, cowering like he was afraid of the dark, too scared of the monster inside of him to creep out anymore without you to protect him. He cared about you. He wished you hadn't died. He cried because he knew that wherever he went, it wouldn't be with you. He begged for a do over. He thought back to that day when I first picked up the death note, and wept, because he could have never went back and gotten that damn notebook.

Fate brought us together, and fate tore us apart. Made us meant to be in love, then pitted us against together in a fight for our lives. Let us fall in love then put justice between us. Gave us passion with a side of hatred, served on an all too tempting silver platter.

Fate gave us our lives.

Fate's a bitch, isn't it, Lawliet?

A/N: I'm going to write some pointless just-for-kicks happy/fluffy shit now, to make up for all this emo shit. Kkthnxbai. Also, if it accidnetly says "L" or "he" or "him" instead of "you", i'm sorry, i edited this at 1AM. I'm going to have a few typos. I'll fix it tomorow, if i remmeber. XD