I can't believe so many people actually like this! Loads of apples to everyone who reviews!

"Look! L's top of the class again!"

"L's so smart!"

"L, will you help me with my homework?"

L Lawliet moved through the group of orphans as though there were a fog, eyes fixing on the test results that had been written on the chalk board. After a moment he smiled and took a marshmallow from the pack in his pocket and threw it into his mouth.

"Every answer right." He said softly, more to himself than the group of fans he seemed to have acquired, and began the walk back to the play room.

He liked it here, at Wammy's. He liked the big grassy garden that reminded him of his home in Yorkshire. He liked the other children, who didn't bother him for being so smart. He liked the smell of sweets that came from every room, because all the children had secret stashes somewhere in the building. He liked the challenging lessons that actually forced him to think.

He raised a hand to touch the wood-panelled wall and smiled.

He liked the fact that no-one forced him to eat 'real food'. The only condition on that was that he took good care of his teeth and kept fit.

He liked the smell of flowers in his always freshly-washed clothes, even if his wardrobe consisted of several pairs of the same baggy blue jeans and short-sleeved white t-shirt. The only variation was the sweater he'd been given last Christmas, white, with a big black L on it, in an ornate font that he had no name for. He wore that all through the winter.

He especially liked that Quillish, or rather 'Wammy' as he and the other children called him, would give him private tutoring sometimes, when he came to subjects that he excelled in.

The years had gone by so easily and gently. Now he was fifteen, and happier than he had thought he could be. L gave a happy little sigh, yes, it was safe to say that he liked his home here at Wammy's House.

"L? L, will come here please?"
He turned and looked around.

Roger was calling him from his office.

L walked over, "Yes Roger? Can I help?"

Roger smiled fondly. He could see why Quillish liked this one best. One could get the impression that the child was cold, when in fact he was one of the warmest and kindest children there. Always eager to offer help to the other children with their homework, never once thinking himself above them despite being top of all his classes. Rather, he seemed to enjoy trying to make the other children as intelligent as he was. And he seemed to have infinite patience with the littlest children, who often got him to fix their broken toys for them.

"Yes, please come in."

L wandered into Roger's office and let his eyes quickly scan the room.

Two things had changed since he was last in there.

There was an open file on the manager of the orphanage's desk.

And a small blonde boy sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. He looked about four years old, and terrified.

"L," Roger began, "this is Miheal Kheel."

L nodded, "Hello Miheal. I'm L."

"Mello."

L blinked, then looked at Roger. He could surmise from the name that the boy was German, and that was one of the five languages he was fluent in, but he wasn't sure what the boy was saying.

"I… excuse me?" He tried.

The little boy blinked and pointed sharply at L's pocket. "Mello!"

L smiled faintly. "You want a marshmallow?" he asked, while taking out the packet and offering it. He was a little taken aback by the little boy grabbing the whole thing from him and pulling it to his little chest.

Roger tried to smile a bit, "Ah, Miheal doesn't like to share very much." He cleared his throat, "L, this little boy took one of the Wammy's house exams and passed."

"Obviously." L replied, taking the free seat in front of the desk. "Or he wouldn't be here."

"You don't understand, L. He passed with full marks."

L blinked. He knew for a fact that he had been the only one who managed that so far. His coal-coloured eyes fixed on the blonde boy, who was shoving marshmallows into his mouth.

"And?" he managed, finally.

"I was hoping that you might keep an eye on him, show him the ropes, so to speak." Roger concluded. "He's a bright boy, but he needs guidance. I believe you had a little brother before?"

L flinched. Then nodded, "Oliver's in another orphanage, because he's not a genius."

Roger swallowed. Of course they'd meant to tell L the moment he settled into the house about his brother, but Wammy said that telling the boy might well send him over the edge. So they had waited.

"Yes, well in any case, I thought that you would be the best person for the job." He lowered his voice a little; "Miheal could certainly use a big brother."

L blinked twice, then stared back at the little blonde boy.

Miheal stopped stuffing his cheeks with the sweets long enough to look back. He tilted his head.

"L my friend." He stated calmly, then stuck out his hand, sticky with the sweets. "L will look after me?"

L smiled and nodded, taking the tiny hand in his bony white one. "I'll look after you, Mello."

When he was 15 ½, L discovered he liked tennis. It started because Mello was demanding to be played with outside. And strictly speaking L didn't really enjoy outdoor games, but he was trying to please the little blonde boy, because he always worked hard at whatever assignment was given to him, and Mello was one such assignment.

And he'd accidentally smashed a window when he hit the ball.

He was told off for that, and his sweets were suspended for a while. But then the next week Quillish took him to a proper tennis court.

After that first time, they went every week. Sometimes Mello tagged along, wanting to watch his 'big brother' play.

It became apparent he was good enough for competitions. So Wammy's house had a mini-tournament of their own. L beat everyone, even the more athletic children.

So they entered him in real tournaments.

Now his room had trophies on one of the shelves, and L was considering playing professionally when he finally left.

But then again, his view of the future was always horribly unfocused. Most of his peers knew by now what they were going to do, but L's ambitions changed on a weekly basis.

It didn't help that he was embarassingly good at everything. The only trouble he had was communication with other people, and even then, only adults. The children, he found, were easy, because they were straight-talking, and didn't hide behind lies.