Title: Discordant Harmony
Chapter Twenty-Five: Giving More than Enough
It was a strange feeling, to say the least.
The feel of the younger artist's head against his shoulder as he slept, enigmatic sepia eyes closed behind a shroud of long lashes, and deep sleep was not out of the ordinary; at least, it had not been before the two weeks they had spent apart.
No, the physical sensation was the same. It was the emotional aspect that somewhat bothered the older painter as he shifted on the bed, his abnormally-normal insomnia kicking in at the worst of moments.
What L wouldn't give for just one night of nothing but complete unconsciousness...
Oh, what a happy perverted artist he would be.
The soft music coming from the radio contorted, the sound of electric guitars hollowly ringing throughout the room as L blinked in exhaustion, not daring to get up and change the station to something a bit more mellow.
"Catch me as I fall... Say you're here, and it's all over now."
A soft exhalation of breath against his collarbone disrupted L from his brooding, his dark murky eyes narrowing down at the source of his distress, rather vehemently.
Yet, even if he could manage to pretend to be mad at the situation at hand, L knew it would be fruitless in the end.
The glare slowly melted off his face as he continued to stare down at the boy's mop of sleek auburn hair, a burst of unknown emotion filtering through his chest as a hand involuntarily made its way into the soft tresses. This boy was an official part of his life now…
L wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.
Tired eyes, so sick of the life given to them, slowly closed against L's better judgment. The deep breathing of his lover's gentle slumber calmed his mind as memories long buried began running through the artist's mind, not so unlike an old Rocky movie, except much slower and no awesome seventies soundtrack to accompany it.
"Don't turn away- (Don't give in to the pain) Don't try to hide- (Though they're screaming your name)"
The refrain run within his ears as L sighed into the pillow, the weight against his shoulder pulling him away from the land of the conscious and into another world he did not want to enter.
"Don't close your eyes- (God knows what lies behind them) Don't turn out the light- (Never sleep, never die...)"
Without actually meaning to, L made one more grasp at consciousness, trying to hold onto the feeling of comfort that came along with being with Yagami Raito, who understood him better than even the one man who had both molded his talent and saved him from his own aimlessness.
'I must be a masochist…'
That was L's last thought as his world faded into inky darkness, the movie that was his life then flashing in front of his eyes in a haze of chaotic organization and cloudy remembrance.
You would think he couldn't have remembered much from that night.
And it was true; he didn't.
Not any of the menial details, anyway.
L could not remember what day of the week it had been, nor could he remember exactly what time of night the robbery had taken place. Nor did he remember why he had gotten out of bed, or how he had managed to get his parents out of their own beds at the same time.
He did remember how long it had taken before the first shots had exploded within his family's home.
There had been exactly five gunshots fired that night; consequently, two of them had been aimed at him.
His mother had been valiant in trying to save him, even if for the briefest of moments.
It was her face that would forever haunt the young five-year-old that would someday become a man…
That horrified expression mixed with so much pain.
L had never been so scared in his life.
The screams had locked themselves into his throat as he crawled inside his dear mother's cold embrace, her blood smearing across his arms and shirt as the woman's still bleeding torso spilled onto her son's still live body.
Maybe it had been the shock that had instilled in him the burst of calm that sprang from his chest as his father's life-less body fell next to him, tears not yet trekking down his cheeks as the young boy tried to block it out.
"Mommy…" The small child whispered as he sniffled, the smell of burnt wood filling his nostrils and taking over…
Charred walls encased the small boy as he limped out of the room, his survivor's instincts kicking in the moment he realized he could die.
Lawliet stopped thinking, staring at the blackened walls, not knowing what to do.
He was trapped in a house with his dead parents and a burning fire surrounding him from all sides, and he did not know what to do.
Lawliet had to think…
He had to hold on.
"It's the kid!"
"Oh shit! Didn't you cap him?!"
"Fuck…"
Lawliet stared at the men slowly coming towards him, his small face full of fear and panic.
The smell dusky smoke hung off his body as smudges of dark charcoal black ash streaked across his face and body rather irritatingly. These men were not in the mood to play around, however.
They knew a fresh kill when they saw one.
And Lawliet knew danger when he saw it coming.
"Please…"
"Oh, you poor thing…" One of the men mocked, a small smirk perched on their thin lips. "You're gonna wish you stayed in there with your mommy and daddy…"
Luckily, Lawliet couldn't remember the rest of that night.
At least, he liked to pretend he couldn't.
L Lawliet almost immediately noticed three things as he groggily woke up, his head pounding relentlessly against his temples as a low moan of agony escaped his bloody, chapped lips…
One, it was freezing, yet his body felt like it was on fire.
Two, he was not wearing any pants.
And three… well, three, he was lying against the cold gravelly pavement in a place that was most definitely not his house when he should have been at home and in bed.
This was all too much for a five-year-old to take in at once.
Luckily, Lawliet was no ordinary five-year-old.
Large ebony eyes hidden beneath shaggy dark bangs glanced up at the murky gray sky, buildings hovering around the small boy as he fought for clear consciousness. Gritted teeth and shivers of pain escalated as the poor child attempted to sit up, only to wheeze out a gasp out of unexpected agony against his left side of his body.
Before Lawliet passed out from the burst of sudden hurt, a tear rolled down his cheek, joining the many dried tracks already smudged across his face.
"Who's that?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"I don't know…"
"Think he's dead?"
"Looks it. Maybe we should call the cops…"
"And have 'em think we did it? No thanks."
"But-"
"I'm leaving. If you want to call the cops, go right ahead. Just leave me out of it."
"… … Hey, wait up! Don't leave me behind, you ass!"
"Thought so. Stupid brat."
Lawliet slowly opened his eyes as he saw two new blurry forms run away from him, the street they entered from the desolate alleyway looking oh so inviting to his prone gaze.
Maybe…
The five-year-old sighed as a dull ache shuddered through the left side of his torso.
Maybe the pain had gone down some?
Lawliet carefully sat up, putting only a bit of weight on his left side-
"AH!"
Or maybe it hadn't.
A loud gasp then reverberated throughout the small alleyway as a large shadow fell over the boy's small broken form.
"Oh dear!"
Lawliet leaned his body back, supporting his weight with one arm arched behind him as an elderly woman (Or what Lawliet thought might have been an elderly woman. His distorted vision made it tough to see.) caught sight of his bruised and battered body.
'About time…' The five-year-old thought to himself as he flopped backwards once again, the exhaustion of not eating for three days and constant wavering in and out of consciousness wearing thin on the poor child's body as he fainted once again, seeing the destitute walls of the small alley one last time.
'Good riddance…'
Which was all Lawliet thought before all he saw was nothing but black.
It was dark in that room.
Lawliet couldn't stand the darkness.
So he left.
He let them patch him up, mind you.
But he didn't (couldn't) stay.
The hospital room was so quiet…
He felt dazed and confused, the drugs pumping through his body, combined with spurts of pain making him feel even more disoriented than usual, yet even worse than the silence of the room and the agonized confusion of the chemicals running in his body was the darkness…
It made him remember.
And Lawliet didn't want to remember.
So he left.
And he refused to go back.
It was tiring at times.
Watching so many people walk by you, and no one acknowledging you even exist.
Lawliet was still not used to the lonely feeling.
A part of the young boy, only the tender age of eight, wished someone would just reach a hand out and tell him it would all be alright. That he wouldn't have to feel this way for long.
He still dreamed of his parents.
Over time, the dreams, however, were becoming less and less frequent and less comprehensive.
Their faces were slowly blurring over, their bodies melding along with the array of colors that made up his once-lively imagination. Lawliet knew if he just reached out a little bit further…
He would truly remember.
The small boy cringed as he anxiously dove behind a garbage can, tiny body cold from lack of warmth in the snowy city he now resided. He didn't even know its name. It seemed strange to think that Lawliet was now a wanderer...
And he couldn't really bring himself to care.
Obsidian eyes wearily glanced around before trudging upwards, ratty oversized sneakers stumbling over his petite feet as he got up, knowing he had to run; had to stay warm.
Maybe it'd be different one day.
For now though, this was his life. Whether it was a life well-spent was a question left for another day.
"Yo, kid!"
Lawliet tiredly looked back, his lanky pre-teen body weary from exhaustion and lack of nutrients.
Nobody ever said it was easy living on the streets.
Five years had passed since that fateful night, a now ten-year-old Lawliet standing on a street corner, dirt encasing every visible (and non-visible) part of his body. Long bone-skinny arms hung by his side as a pair of tattered jeans hung half-hazardously on his barely-there hips.
A pale gaunt face hidden by the dirty strains of gritty hair turned to the side, ebony eyes shallow against the dark sockets that enveloped them.
"KID!"
Lawliet stayed silent, just staring at the clean clothed man running towards him, screaming at him.
He begged his feet to run, but they just wouldn't listen.
Not anymore.
The ten-year-old was tired; tired of running, tired of lying, tired of sleeping in the bitter cold and drowning in the sweltering heat, eating nothing but smallest of insignificant scraps…
Lawliet just wanted it all to end.
"Kid…" The man gasped, rasping from the sudden sprint as he put his hands to his knees and tried to catch his breath. "I just wanna… help…"
Maybe it would be better to put it in someone else's hands for once.
"I'm sure you'll love it here, Lawliet!"
'That's what they all say…' The small 13-year-old thought to himself as he solemnly took in the brightly colored room, nearly gagging in the cheeriness of it all.
Lawliet was going to hate it here just as much as he hated the last five orphanages he had been in within the span of the last three years.
It was a curse to be as smart as he was.
"What do you think, Lawliet?" The woman beside him continued to prod, her overly-enthusiastic smile almost making his eye twitch.
Almost.
Lawliet said nothing as he simply walked to the farthest corner of the room and crouched down, thumb automatically coming to his mouth as he owlishly blinked.
He did not want to be here.
Not now, not ever.
"Lawliet?"
Yet still, no words escaped the boy's lips as he simply stared up at the woman with ghostly blank eyes, hoping she'd leave him alone if he stayed quiet enough.
They usually did… after awhile.
"Look at him! He's so creepy…"
"He's so quiet all the time. Sort of reminds me of that movie with the kids that controlled people's minds."
"Wouldn't doubt that."
"God, I think they took him out of a garbage can with the way the boy looks all the time."
"Looks like it."
"I hear he gets thrown out of every orphanage they send him off to because he's secretly psychotic."
"Wouldn't be surprised."
"I feel sick just looking at him…"
"What a freak."
"Stupid mute retard."
14-year-old Lawliet pushed himself further against the wall as the children continued to point and stare at him, words spilling from their mouths in a succession of discordant harmony.
Still his own lips stayed shut.
Still his agony lay cleverly hidden.
Still his heart refused to actually heal.
"Maybe his parents just didn't want him anymore?"
"Who would want a kid like that?"
"Probably threw him out after some freak accident."
"He's nothing but bad luck."
Ebony eyes closed as the boy slid down to the floor, the rest of the other children's voices drowning out against the pounding in his head.
"He's nothing but bad luck."
They had no idea.
"He's refused to say one word in the last five years, no matter what methods have been appointed."The stale voice spoke as if the fifteen-year-old was not in the room, shadowy eyes deceptively void of emotion as they blankly stared at the middle-aged man behind the desk in front of them. "I doubt he's really what you're looking for in a student."
The other man in the room simply shook his head, his dark hair swaying against his shoulders as the teen continued to ignore him.
"I think he's been misunderstood." The smooth-voiced man answered, sitting down with a small amount of flourish. "I've seen some of his artwork, and I think I truly see potenti-"
"Please, sir." The patronizing social worker shook his head as he tapped his pen against the mountains of paperwork scattered on his desk, perpetually unfinished. "You have to be reasonable. Even if what you say is true, what use is an artist with a broken mind and a silent voice? He wouldn't even be able to properly present his works of art to the world at hand!"
"I would rather try to speak to him myself and decide whether or not he could be managed, sir." The sharp edge in the long haired man's voice was not missed as the social worker stood up, rather huffily, and paced out of the room.
"Fine. You try reaching the impenetrable."
Narrowed eyes turned their full attention to the boy beside them, Lawliet still gazing at the desk in front of them as he began to gently gnaw on his thumb, not actually acknowledging the last man left in the empty cold room.
"I know what you're doing."
If Lawliet could have felt shocked, he would have.
He would have.
"Pretty smart for a kid of fifteen."
But he would not be fooled by anyone ever again.
He would not feel attachment of any kind towards any other living person.
Or dead for that matter.
"You can't possibly think this place is the worse place to be…"
Lawliet's eyes traced the desk as his thumb began to bruise from the constant chewing.
A notebook, several pieces of lettered paper, pens, pencils…
"But I can show you something better if we just make a deal."
Lawliet stopped chewing his thumb, but his eyes still continued to slowly peruse the items on the small tableau in front of them.
More paperwork…
"You won't ever have to see another orphanage for as long as you live. Hell, you wouldn't have to see another person if that was what you wanted."
Obsidian orbs then made their way to the older man as Lawliet's interest was finally piqued.
"I think you could be the best. I've seen it in the paintings you've done, and they're amateur for you at best. Let me be your teacher… and you'll get all the solitude you'll have ever wanted."
This had to be a joke.
But the look in the older man's eyes…
"All you have to do is shake my hand." Hazel eyes came ever so closer as the man leaned in, face to face with the stoic teen. "What do you have to lose?"
What did Lawliet have to lose?
He'd been through all nine Hells and had come back up each time. And if this man was being truthful…
A lean pale hand lightly grasped the other man's grip as Lawliet continued to stare down at the ground, wondering if this was really the best thing to do.
"Good choice, kid. My name's Reiji Namikawa, by the way." The tanned hand tightened over Lawliet's own hesitant palm as the man's voice spoke of nothing but satisfaction.
Lawliet finally looked up, his dead gaze catching the older man off guard as Lawliet finally opened his mouth for the first time in nearly ten years and spoke, if albeit hesitantly.
"Law… Lawliet. My name is Lawliet L."
Reiji smirked, dropping the boy's hand as Lawliet dropped his head down, wondering if he had just made a deal with the devil.
"Very nice to meet you, Lawliet. Very nice to meet you, indeed..."
Disclaimer: I do not own "Whisper" by Evanescence, which was recommended by my beta, Kitsune55. Yay!
And I live. Lol! Sorry, but you're getting this chapter after a very exhausting week. And an equally exhausted writer. And exhausted beta. Lol! Thanks to Kitsune55 for beta-ing the chapter, and thanks to you guys for reading. And by the by... HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILY! MOMMY LOVES YOU! ((ahem)) Yeah. Just ignore that. Lol!