Shattered Porcelain
I do not own Death Note, nor the characters.
Chapter five: shattered porcelain
Beyond Birthday is a terrible name to have, Beyond Birthday, the terrible name to precede the terrible man. Beyond Birthday, the little boy with his knives and obsessions and broken dollies, all around him. A smear on the paperwork. Barely a blip on the radar.
And he had to kill Light, because he was just like every one else. Light wanted to be like everyone else, he wanted to be not special. He had to watch Light fade, watch it happen with the curious fascination that always seemed to touch him when such things happened. He had to. It was what he told Light would happen, and what he told himself would happen.
It would hurt. It did hurt. It hurt to see Light look at him and know, know that even if he wanted to help him, he couldn't. And then, Light, beautiful dolly Light, he would look at Beyond like everyone else, like he was an awful monster. Then he would smash Light.
Shattered porcelain, all over the floor.
--
Light knew that this was happening. He knew that there was something in the tea the man made for him. There was something in the way it glistened, something that made him cry and cry. It looked like L's eyes, god, he missed L's eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Beyond."
"Beyond, Beyond, why am I going to die?"
"Because you're beautiful Light. And beautiful people die."
Light looked at Beyond and fell into his arms, sobbing.
"I don't want to die Beyond. I want to be alive."
Beyond touched his back softly and sang to him in soft Italian. It was a lovely sound, the way it fell into Light's ears like bits of honey.
"When am I going to die Beyond, how, where?"
"You already died Light. Two hours ago, you were dead."
The tea. L's eyes. He always knew that detective would be the death of him. He looked at Beyond and Beyond smiled. It wasn't the smile of a killer. It was the smile of a sad little boy, a sad child who was losing their favorite toy. Hungrily he reached for Beyond's lips and tried, tried to kiss him good bye, but, but it was too late.
He slumped forward and the world went up in butterflies, beautiful black butterflies.
--
Letters were a rare occurrence, but still reached the Lawiet residence from time to time. This one was thin, with a plain stamp and address, with not a hint of a return address upon it. The envelope was stained and smelled like tea and faintly of spoiled milk.
L opened it, thinking it was another strange piece of evidence sent to him in hopes of making him take the person's case. It was a small piece of hotel memo paper, with a little note written on it in familiar scrawl.
"Dear L,
To find your gift, follow my map. To follow my map, read the rules.
Then you can have your gift.
-Beyond"
The map was a poorly written thing, but L recognized the streets quickly. He called his men and sent them to the place, riding with them.
A special gun sat beside him in the car, tilted against the glass of a photo frame. The gun was for Beyond. The kiss, the kiss that L had in his cheek, was for Light.
If they got there in time.
--
It was all very sudden L remembered. He walked in, a small dingy apartment that smelled like cleaner and old coffee. In the center of room was a box, wrapped in paper that had little angels carrying gifts and harps. It looked like a gift.
He knelt down next to it and carefully unwrapped the box, until it was just a cardboard box taped closed. He kept his gun in his hand and tore off the tape, pulling back the flaps.
It was Light's head, cut off and still warm, blood soaking through the bottom of the box.
L began to throw up.
--
The men would search the home. They would find Beyond, silly Beyond, in his study, surrounded by Light's body, chopped up in to bits and pieces. They would find him smiling in a puddle of milk, making swirls with his fingers and the red, red blood. The men would glare. Beyond would smile. Light would be dead. It was a terrible mess, a horrible mess, all covered in milk, blood, and spit.
They would take Beyond away, cuffs and take him past where L was sobbing and throwing up. Beyond would laugh and laugh and
laugh
laugh
because
it was the only way he could
cry.
--
After the cases was closed, the coffee was drained, and the computers shut off, the L would sit and look at the picture and look and wonder and feel hopeless.
The people would come and ask, ask the great detective if he cared, if he felt saddened by this poor boy's murder. L would try to answer, but he didn't have answers. He didn't know what to feel. But they kept asking and asking and asking, like it was their business to know.
No one bothered to ask Beyond.
Lana grew up and married. She had two children.
One she named Elle.
The other she named Light.
The end
A.N. Well that was angst fest I don't want to re-live.
Ever.
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