Never expected this to be as popular as it seems to be. I feel loved, lol. Thank you all.
...
I stare at my plate, disgusted by the food Aiber ordered for me. We are having dinner in the ornately decorated first-class dining parlour, and I hear laughing all around me. I ponder my life and what has become of it. Earlier in the evening, as I was in my quarters staring at one my paintings, Aiber came to my room…
(Flashback)
I sat on the bench to the vanity, facing towards my Degas of a ballerina mid-spin. I turned as I heard the door to my room open and see the man I loathed standing there arrogantly, like a king.
I looked away from his smirking face and stared at the painting once again, thinking about the boy from that morning who'd stared so openly at me, looking so enchanted. I wished I could have seen what he had been drawing…
"I know you've been melancholy." Aiber said quietly from the door. "I don't pretend to know why." He looks down and moves into my room, I flinched as he walked up behind me. He pulled a large black velvet jewelry case from behind his back and moved to kneel down in front of me. I stared at the box disinterestedly, as I did everything else, and refused to look at Aiber's surely smirking face.
"I intended to save it for the opening ceremony next week, but I thought… tonight." He said as he opened the box suddenly, I couldn't hold back my gasp of horror, which he took as one of joy I'm sure…
"Perhaps this is a reminder of my… feelings for you." Aiber said, trying still to have me look him in the eye.
"Is it a—?" I began.
"Diamond?" he finished for me, "Yes." He said, as if it should have been glaringly obvious. "Fifty-six carats, to be exact." He mentioned as he removed it from the case and went behind me to place it around my neck, turning me towards the mirror. The silver-and-diamond chain went well with my skin and the deep blue diamond set off my pale features perfectly.
I hated it immediately.
"It was worn by Louis the Sixteenth," he said lovingly, gazing at my reflection which stared back at my own eyes blankly, "and it was called 'Le Coeur de le Mer'." He explained.
"The Heart of the Ocean." I repeated in English. "It's overwhelming."
"It's for royalty, L," he responded, and I despised him for using my beloved nickname, it sounded like poison from his lips, "we are royalty." He told me, and knelt once more in front of me.
"There's nothing I couldn't give you, L." he said, and I finally looked him in the eye, as I had realized what was going on. "There is nothing I'd deny you, if you wouldn't deny me." The lust was obvious in his eyes as well as in his words. He wanted my body. "Open your heart to me, L…" he said, placing a hand on my cheek.
I looked in the mirror again at the necklace. I didn't hate it so much anymore. It was like me. One of a kind, cold and hard, with things hidden that no one would ever see…
(end flashback)
I'm seeing my whole life as if I've already lived it… an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches… always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I feel as if I'm standing on the edge of a great precipice, one leg hanging off, with no one to pull me back. No one who cared, or even noticed.
My grip on the fork I hold under the table tightens, and I poke the small crab fork into the pale skin of my forearm, harder and harder until it draws blood.
I excuse myself from the table, the only person even acknowledging my departure being Mr. Wammy.
I walk along the ships corridors, smiling at stewards who nod as they pass me, my mask not slipping a bit till I get to my rooms.
I stand in the middle of the room for a while, staring at my reflection in the large vanity mirror. I walk closer to it slowly, observing my cautionary movements in the glass, before running forward and knocking the vanity over with all my strength. I start grabbing anything I can reach, throwing it all in random directions. I stare at the disaster that is my room and run out, as fast as I can, along the B deck promenade.
I shove past people, not caring any longer about social appearances. Not one person stops me to ask what is wrong, although I am clearly disheveled; hair flying everywhere and my face streaked with tears.
...
I lay kicked back on one of the many benches on the stern deck, staring up at the stars blazing gloriously overhead as I take a lazy drag from my cigarette.
Hearing something, I turn as the beautiful boy from this morning runs passed, quiet sobs issuing from his mouth. He doesn't see me in his rush, so I rise to follow him, curious to why he is crying and wanting to comfort the angel.
I follow him quietly across the deserted fantail. His breath hitches in occasional sobs, which he suppresses. I watch as he slams against the base of the stern flagpole and clings to it, panting, before walking ahead to the white-painted railing. He starts to climb over, and I approach slowly, not wanting to startle him into letting go.
He is facing toward the water now, his back toward the railing, facing out to the blackness of night as he looks down into the vortex the propellers create sixty feet below. He leans further, and I panic.
"Don't do it…"
He whips his head around in surprise at the sound of my voice, his beautiful grey eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"Stay back!" he says, "Don't come any closer!"
Although I am mesmerized by his smooth baritone voice, the adrenaline in my system forces me to focus. I see the tear streaks on his face in the faint glow from the stern running lights.
"Take my hand," I offer, sticking it out towards him, "I'll pull you back in." I say, praying he will come to his senses and accept.
"No!" he shouts, "Stay where you are… I mean it. I'll let go…" he threatens. I hold out my burnt-out cigarette, motioning to throw it over the railing. He nods and I move a couple steps closer to the suicidal raven.
"No you won't." I say, keeping up the conversation.
"What do you mean, 'no I won't'?" he asks indignantly, "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do! You don't know me!"
"You would have done it already." I reason, "Now come on, take my hand." I say, still holding it out to him, much closer now than before.
He glares at my hand and faces back to the abyss. "Go away." He demands, "You're distracting me."
I look at him softly, although he can't see. "I can't." I say, "I'm involved now. If you let go, I'll just have to jump in after you." I say with conviction.
He looks at me like I've lost my mind.
"Don't be absurd, you'll be killed." He says unconvinced, looking at me now as I remove my jacket.
"I'm a good swimmer" I say, unlacing my left shoe.
"The fall alone would kill you…" he sounds less sure this time as he attempts to reason with me.
"It would hurt." I tell him, removing my left shoe, "I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest, I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold." I say, beginning to unlace my other shoe.
He looks down, the reality of it all finally sinking in as he asks "How cold?" in such a quiet voice I almost can't hear him.
"Freezing." I say, removing the other shoe, "Maybe a couple degrees over." I reason as I look down at the churning water, leaning on the railing now, prepared to grab him should he release. "Ever been to New York State?" I ask, thoroughly confusing him.
"What?" he asks, perplexed.
"Well they have some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there, around Niagara falls." I say, looking out into the blackness of the ocean. "Once, when I was a kid, my father and I went ice-fishing out on Lake Ontario." I look at him and see his still-confused face. "Ice-fishing is where you—"
"I know what 'ice-fishing' is!" he defends vehemently.
"Sorry…" I say, surprised at the emotion in his voice, "You just look like kind of an… indoor guy…" I explain, and he looks back toward the water, so I quickly distract him. "Anyway, I fell thru some thin ice, and I'm tellin' ya, water that cold, like right down there," I say, looking directly in his eyes now, "it hits you like a thousand knives, stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe, can't think… at least not about anything but the pain." We both turn to the churning deadly waters below, "which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said…" I pull the straps of my suspenders down now, letting them hang at my hips, "I don't have a choice." I look at his beautiful face hopefully, "I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and let me off the hook here…" I give him a crooked smile and he stares at me incredulously.
"You're crazy…" is all he says, still looking at me.
"That's what everybody says," I tell him, "but with all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship here." I move closer to him and offer my hand again. "Come on." I prompt, "you don't want to do this… give me your hand."
He stares at me for a long time, his eyes so deep, it feels like he's staring into my soul.
"Alright." He finally agrees, and takes my hand, turning to face me carefully. I hold his hand in mine and smile at him.
"I'm Light Yagami." I say, holding him steady.
"Liam Lawliet… I prefer L." He tells me.
"Nice to meet you, L." I say and he laughs. He moves to take a step onto the railing and his slickened leather shoes cause him to lose his footing, he shrieks and fumbles to grab my hand more firmly. "I've got you." I assure him, using both hands to hold onto him as he grabbed for the railing with his free hand. "I'll never let go." I promise him, "Now pull yourself up!" I urge, getting fatigued from holding his weight, even though it was minimal.
He began using his free hand to pull himself up, me pulling along. Once he got close enough I wrapped my arms around his tiny waist, pulling him back over the railing, both of us falling to the ground panting, myself on top of the immensely relieved L.
I lift myself up to ask L if he is ok, he nods, the blush on his face deepening as he notices the position we are in.
"what's all this!" I hear and look towards the voice. It is a burly officer glaring at me with disgust. He grabs me by the back of my shirt, hauling me away from L with ease as two other officers arrive. They look at L now sitting up on the deck, face streaked with tears and clothing rumpled, his dress shirt half untucked, and then to me, the shaggy steerage man with my jacket off, and they draw their own conclusions.
"Fetch the Master at Arms!" the large man holding me orders them, and they obey immediately.
...
Couldn't find a good place to stop. Is L starting to sound too much like a wine-y teenager? Hope not. Tell me what you think :)
Anyways, this is the last chapter I have on reserve, so it'll be about a week before the next one is up.