Disclaimer: My name is King, I don't have any furniture left, I do not own Hallelujah, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
III: Devil's Trill
CH18
Three Wishes - pt. 3 (Hallelujah)
The screeching tires hadn't yet come to a grinding halt, and Mello was already out and running towards the damn wreckage L selected as the safest pl-
Fuck that.
Where the hell were they?
Up there.
In there.
Somewhere.
As he ran, Mello considered how L would act and where exactly he would hide-
Fuck that too.
There wasn't time for that. L most likely grabbed the little shit and dragged him upstairs somewhere to the fifth floor. It was his best bet, anyway.
Without praising himself for exceptional baseball skills as cherry topping to his already impressive sports abilities, Mello threw a beer can into the open wall of the fifth floor and ran though the missing door, up the staircase, up, up, up.
A jamming device he stuffed into that can should scramble whatever the hell L shouldn't be telling that filthy, betraying sonnofa bitch boyfriend of his. Hopefully, they were on the fifth floor. Hopefully, Mello made it in time. Hopefully, he had at least a minute 'till the real SWAT team realized they were being screwed with.
He flew though sets of stairs, jumping three at a time.
Fourth floor.
Almost there...
L meant the world to Mello, and despite the bastardocity practically spilling from the man's ears, it was L who pulled Mello half-dead out of numerous burning wreckages. It was L who came when shit hit the fan and when even Matt was using himself to shield Mello from raining bullets – it was L who came.
And it was always L who kicked the shit out of him for having one of his genius ideas that usually led to him to being royally fucked by life.
It was L who took him in from the streets and, and... and all that shitty, overrated soap drama. Woah Mels, sentimental much?
Mello had a crush on L, there. Much better. Mello wouldn't be caught dead being grateful to anybody.
Mello had a crush on L, that's why he was trying so hard to return the favor.
Maybe it would be he who'll be kicking the shit out of L for having an incredibly stupid idea this time around.
Ha, ha, fucking ha-
He was four steps away from clearing the staircase to the fifth floor, four steps: that was one three-step leap and one small one, and it was then when he heard a gunshot.
Gun... shot.
Who the fuck had a gun?
Shit still had to be okay. It was L in there for fuck's sake.
But no, shit wasn't okay.
Fuck thinking about it. Do something.
He got there just in time to see L's body hit the ground, and at the edge of the floor stood no one but the famous Light Yagami, holding a gun and smiling.
The little shit was fucking grinning like a fucking cat.
Their eyes met for a brief second, and the smile dropped from the kid's eyes before it had a chance to leave his lips. He shot L, sure, but L was right fucking there, in front of his stupid face.
Mello read Light Yagami's shooting range reports.
The kid was the worst shot in the whole fucking world. It was pure terror in his eyes as he watched helplessly Mello running towards him. Armed, Light could only do so much. Both of them knew there wasn't a fucking chance Light could fire and actually shoot something more than three feet away from himself.
The little shit still tried in panic. Four rounds penetrated at least three layers of dry-wall some five feet away from Mello's general direction, and Yagami watched each hole in horror.
Mello didn't need to aim, it came naturally, but before he could pull the trigger...
The kid jumped.
Fuck.
Nevermind, fuck that.
L.
L lay on the ground, unmoving, bleeding, dying...
Dead…?
Was L dead?
Was the greatest, most disgusting and dangerous serial killer to touch the holy ground finally dead?
Red blood stained the dirty ground and sipped though cracks in the lightly-colored concrete, webbing into little streams and sipping into pieces of wood... it came from his chest where his black shirt was torn, it came from his back where the bullet left his body, it came from his head were the black mop of hair hit the concrete and the skull got cracked open...
L's blood was everywhere, creating a red halo around his body, and Mello felt his boot stick to it slightly as he unwillingly ran past L to look down and make sure Yagami was dead...
The little bastard was gone, and in the place where he should've landed looked undisturbed. Rushed footsteps came from the floor below.
Gone.
Fuck it all.
Mello prayed he had that minute.
He turned to L.
L wasn't moving.
L wasn't breathing.
Fuck that.
Not good.
That shot definitely deflated a lung.
And most likely pierced his jugular.
This is L.
This is L.
Shit still had to be okay.
L wouldn't die this easy. This was L for fuck's sake.
L's heart was beating, very weakly, but a tiny pulse was still there.
But breathing wasn't.
L wasn't breathing.
If anything, L was about to drown in his own blood.
It was weird, sure it was, and L had done it to him a few times (though Mello was most definitely unconscious and only found out about it from jealousy-ridden Matt), but L needed CPR, and, well.
His open, gloved palm was pressed into the open would, and his other hand was slightly higher compressing the chest, and L's lips tasted like blood, and after a minute or so, L still gave no signs of ever breathing again.
That, and he was losing blood at an alarming rate.
Mello's gray jeans were soaked dark where blood seeped between the threads, and his long black sleeves were wet up to elbows.
"Please."
The chest under him accepted every breath he forced into it like it was a lifeless balloon.
Please. One time I get to save you. Don't die on me now.
Was that Matt? Matt had blood coming from his head too.
What was up with all the bleeding people?
"Mello, come on."
"No, I can't."
He shouldn't leave L's mouth. He should be doing CPR.
Matt tried to pry him off, but Mello just pushed him away.
No, no, no.
"Mello, come on. He's dead."
No.
His heart was still beating.
He tried again, with no avail.
"We have no time, damn it, let's go...!"
"It's L, Matt, L! We can't leave him, WE CAN'T LEAVE HIM, COME ON L…"
When did Mello start crying?
This would be the time where Near would preach about his emotions getting in the way, or something, but fuck it all, L wasn't going to die.
"He's dead, Mello."
"His heart is beating."
"Mel-"
"Fucking check it yourself, damn you!"
But Matt didn't need to check.
As Mello pushed his free hand hard against the bleeding chest wildly, a tiny, barely audible cough came from inside of L's throat. Blood started to spray from his gaping mouth, and surely enough, desperate gasps came moments later.
Alive.
L was half-dead, but his heart was beating, just barely, he was breathing, just barely, and he had just barely enough blood left in him.
"We need to get him out of here."
Together, they did.
As far as shit was concerned, ankle transmitters malfunctioned and no confession was ever made. Yagami freaked out and shot an innocent man.
This place, rigged with explosives and 5"10 males was clearly where L was planning to make a switch...
Problem was, Ryuzaki wasn't L.
Mello was L.
Yes, this could just work.
All they had to do was see Mello there... yes. They just reached the van, and a fake SWAT team was already helping them.
"Take him, I forgot something inside."
Before Matt could free his hand from clamping L's wound shut to take off after him, Mello darted back towards the damn building.
All Matt heard moments later were gunshots.
And then Matt realized it was Mello who took charge of the detonators.
Gunshots.
More gunshots.
Explosion.
Light wasn't exactly sure why the red-headed man who looked barely Light's age decided to strike only four days later.
Perhaps it was because he wanted to spend the time with whomever it was that got caught in that explosion, or maybe he simply wanted revenge, and as far as revenge went, leaving Light to spend four days at the foot of his father's bed waiting and praying the old man would wake up was very effective.
Because what the redhead did to him after he got his hands on Light could only be fueled by something as strong as revenge; Light could feel the boy's anger and frustration and even desperation in every punch he took from him.
It hurt, it hurt his body, but nothing beyond that, his soul was already dead.
And all Light could do was take in the soul of the boy, just a kid at that, that very obviously hemorrhaged from pain and worry about someone Light didn't know about.
He didn't know the boy's name.
He didn't know where he was.
He didn't really know what happened to the side of the war that wasn't NPA or FBI, and he didn't really ask questions. Like what happened to L, or Mello, or... it didn't matter, anyway.
Both sides suffered casualties.
Aizawa, who unfortunately happened to accompany the SWAT team that stormed the unfinished building, died. That man hat a wife and two little girls. Dead. Just like that.
Rey Penber, Misora Naomi's fiancé also got caught in the explosion and was burned alive.
FBI, who for some reason did not receive the transmission of L's confession got kicked out of Japan for risking and ultimately being the cause of the deaths of four Japanese SWAT team members, one officer, and eighteen people supporting various degrees of injuries.
A few unidentified bodies were found in the wreckage, burnt to crisp. One of them turned out to be Ryuzaki Rue.
Mello, who in the eyes of NPA became the real L got away in unknown condition. All records of him ever being associated with the L investigation team mysteriously disappeared from all available databases.
Mello was known; he was generally a contracted assassin for hire. His list of crimes was now decorated with an illicit number of killings executed by L.
Light refused protective custody and stayed with his father.
Misora Naomi disappeared.
But this wasn't the end of it.
Far from it.
Not that it mattered, but Light's side hurt. It didn't matter which side he lay on; he had cracked ribs on both sides, and the cold concrete wouldn't get any softer no matter how he turned. Moving at this rate would only cause the bruises on his face to reopen, and if he had to move, he'd have to place unwanted pressure on his snapped wrist.
It didn't matter if he tried to ease his pain, either. The redhead would just come and beat the shit out of him again... speak of the devil.
"Get up," came a harsh bark in English, followed by slamming of the metallic door and heavy footsteps of steel-toe black leather boots Light got acquainted with very well.
And he tried to, God help him if he didn't, but just when he managed to pull himself to his knees, his elbows gave and he collapsed back down. His jaw connected with the concrete and he bit his tongue.
Nothing new.
"Miserable shit."
Light saw them then, from his horizontal position on the floor a pair of very heavy black leather boots towered over him. He closed his eyes before he felt one make impact. The force sent him rolling off.
Left foot. Redhead always kicked with his left foot.
Light's beaten, bruised body rolled a few feet and stopped limply on his stomach. He coughed, but didn't make effort to move beyond that. He just didn't have the strength.
"Y'know what really pisses me off?" the redhead started another session of his rumbling, and Light didn't respond. Hell, he hadn't even said a word to the boy yet, had he? Since... how long was he here, anyway? Two days? Three? Beatings were nearly hourly, anyway.
Whatever was left from his collar chocked his throat as his broken body was lifted and he was thrown towards the single metallic chair of the room. Of course he didn't land perfectly, and the fixed chair only gave his shoulder a sizable bruise before Light simply didn't pull himself up and let his body slide to the foot of it.
"Come on, get up," again he was yanked up, but this time he sat, and waited with his eyes closed, "so y'know what pisses me off?"
A punch. A painful, jaw-cracking, tongue-biting, nose-bleeding punch to his face.
"You, you fuckin' shit, don't even know what ya in for."
Light didn't say anything, not that an opportunity to speak was given to him when the second punch followed.
"And don't give me any shit how you can't speak English. Sure you can."
One more.
"Say something!"
Light spat blood to the side, to a degree afraid of what would happen if he tired spitting into the redhead's face.
"So you know, I'm gonna tell ya if you ain't gonna ask. Mello. You're here for Mello."
Ah. So it was Mello he wronged.
Figures.
"Y'know what else?"
That it hurt?
"You fucking know I don't consider it your fault in the slightest, right? Nothing personal."
"So you get off at finding scapegoats?" It was the first time in days he'd heard his own voice. It came in waves of harsh whispers; he tasted blood coming from his throat and it was the only thing to ease the pain of speaking though sandpaper. He hadn't had water in days, either.
He didn't receive a blow to the face, instead a heavy boot kicked him off the steel chair and another most likely cracked his skull.
"Hey, look at that. You do speak English. Never would've guessed."
"Come on, Matt."
Ah.
The woman.
That blonde, American bomb-shell type woman Light saw at the train station when L took him on a little eight-hour train ride was here too.
The whole world seemed to be working for L at this point.
When she came, it usually meant it was over for a while.
"Fuck that, Weds."
"No, really. Cut it out, honey. It's not going to help him."
"Yeah, well it helps me," a kick. A weak kick, one where the redhead hesitated not as whatever killing machine he was in L's personal arsenal, but he hesitated as a human being. And Light understood that the minute he was forced onto a motorcycle and got knocked out. This boy was just a hurting person.
"You should really leave him alone."
"Nah, I think I should beat him till he fuckin' dies."
"I don't think you will, you poor baby."
Matt's foot stilled in mid-air, and instead of finishing the blow to Light's gut, he spun on his heel and took a few steps away, only to heavily collapse into the metal chair.
"Yeah," Matt sighed. "I don't think I will."
"So just let him go."
"Who? The little shit or Mels?"
"The boy. Mello is going to be alright."
"No he won't."
"He will, he is a fighter and you know it. My job is to keep you from destroying yourself while he's sleeping."
"And who the fuck made it your job?"
"We just worry about you, boys."
"'Boys'? Fuck it Wed, it's only me who's left. You meant to say, 'boy', right?"
"L will be okay, too."
L.
Light's head unwillingly jerked up from the ground to stare into nothingness. Matt shot him an annoyed look. The beautiful woman pitied him.
L?
What happened to L?
L was… L was alive?
No.
"See? Even he has it in him to care. A little. I think that's caring, anyway."
"Nah. Watch this," and Matt screamed, "L!"
Light's body unconsciously shuddered and he curled up into himself despite the pain.
"See?"
"Ah, I see you know what he's thinking. You made a friend, how cute."
"Bitch."
The woman laughed.
"Cut it out though, before you end up doing something you'll regret."
"It's because of him!"
"No, it isn't, Matt. He did what he could to protect himself. You can't blame him. Mello went into that building to protect L. You went in there after Mello to protect Mello, and that's the end of it. You got burn scars to prove it to Mello when he wakes up."
"Weddy, he's not gonna-"
"Matt. If you want to kick something, you should beat Aiber. He makes a lousy nurse. If it helps, he was groping around where he shouldn't have when he was changing Mello's bandages."
"Fuck! I told him not to do that! I fuckin' do that!"
"Okay, okay. Get him for it later. That's not why I'm here, anyway. L is calling for you."
"What for?"
"Don't know," the woman shrugged flamboyantly.
"You didn't tell him about… that, didja?" Light received a pointed stare.
"Oh don't worry. I told him all about it, a while ago." she sang.
"And...?"
"And he didn't say anything. That was two days ago, anyway, just when you brought him in. Don't worry about it, though I think you should still let him go."
"So what does he want?"
"To see you, I guess."
"Huh."
"Matt, his heart is failing. He just wants to see someone. Don't hold Mello against him, of all people, not now."
This was the last Light heard of L in a long while.
Matt ended up coming back a few hours later. He gave Light water as his birthday present, and dropped him off at the front steps of some hospital in Osaka, which was very far from Kanto.
Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you;
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
***
The first thing L realized after he woke up was that he couldn't feel his arms or legs, and that it took enormous amount of effort to pry his eyelids apart.
He couldn't even think at all, and so the first thing that registered in his mind that wasn't related to not feeling his limbs at all was that Mello's face looked kind of cool.
And then he blacked out.
When the time came for him to wake up the second time, he could understand slightly more. He was hooked up to machines that beeped so loudly it felt like L's skull was pounded with a hammer every time something made a sound.
He was in a room which wasn't a hotel room. In fact, it looked far from being a hotel room. The old wallpaper bubbled up at the edges and the furniture wasn't crisp and black or white, but warm, worn and brown.
And there were things, his things, things that actually belonged to him, his books stacked into tall haphazard piles against the walls, and brown wall shelves packed neatly with pretty China.
L was... home.
And then he blacked out.
The third and fourth times were frustrating.
L woke up to realize that he had been passing out left and right.
He also realized that he could not in fact move his legs at all, and his arms were lead-heavy and he just couldn't get them to move properly.
Mello didn't answer any of his questions, most likely because L's mouth wasn't obeying him either, but the way Mello explained it made it sound like L shouldn't stress himself. Obviously the Barbie failed to realize not telling L anything made him even more stressed.
The first question he tired asking Mello was just what the hell was up with that really awesome-looking scar.
What came out of his mouth was this:
"Mellll… scaaa…- cooll …caaake?"
Mello giggled, practically danced to L's IV and L blacked out again.
"You were in a coma," Mello finally spilled his beans a few more episodes of waking-up and blacking-out later.
"Huh?" L said intelligently.
"You were in a coma. The kid got your lung, your lung collapsed. We managed to inflate it and save it, but your heart just kinda gave out. And then you went into a coma."
"Heart?"
L managed to get his hand to cooperate enough to push the paper dress his was wearing and look at his chest. A scar – a fully healed long surgical scar decorated his chest right next to another perfectly-healed scar of a bullet entry.
"Yeah. Your heart gave out. We got you a new one. It's pretty cool."
The idiots gave me a heart transplant?!
"Don't look at me like that, it's not a real heart anyway. It's like this half-plastic one. Still in trials for public, but you know how all doctors have their secrets, right? The thing's called MagScrew, how fucked up is that?"
"Plastic-"
"Yeah, plastic. Total Artificial Heart. It's really cool-looking. Kinda like my scar, yeah?"
L nodded in complete agreement. Mello's fully-healed scar that webbed though about two-thirds of the left side of his face was the most amazing, bad-ass thing Mello could ever get. Even better that that 'M' tattoo, or that piercing L was given absolutely no prior warning to seeing… and considering where that piercing was...
"Oh god, Mello..." L groaned his first coherent sentence.
"Yup. So anyway, you got the fake heart, and then you went into a coma."
Coma. Mello's scar was healed. L's scars were healed, too.
External ones, anyway.
It must've been a long time.
"You took a four-months nap, L. Makes up for about a year of not sleeping like ever, right? Which reminds me. You need to re-learn how to walk and stuff. It's gonna be the cutest shit ever."
---
L watched the large black irises survey the room. Near never reacted to his surroundings; the boy just looked with frightening observance at everything there was to observe: numbers of nails L's bed, color ranges on his China, unknown boxes and what the size and shape of each suggested was inside.
It was because of this anal attentiveness to everything that wasn't really that important that L guessed little Near was the most naïve and vulnerable of the bunch. The boy shuffled and fidgeted if he was thrown in any given room and forced to do things without taking full five minutes to stare down every power outlet.
Watari and Roger said it was something akin to safety precaution, and L never bothered correcting them. It wasn't L's China and inconspicuous boxes Near was afraid of, no. Fragile cups and headboard nails had everything to do with how much visible these things would make Near look.
It was safe hiding places Near was looking for when he surveyed rooms.
A mental image of the pale, white boy hiding in one of L's China cups made him want to giggle, so he rolled his legs from his usual perched position to rest on his body on knees and reached out from the edge of his bed to the soft white hair.
"For the last time, L. I'm not a dog."
"Ah, of course." When Near was still a relatively small size, L made a habit of picking him under his belly and carrying him at his hip very much like a dog. Problem was, L came home annually at best, so no matter how typical the sight was, it was still very random, and every time L would do it, Near got bigger than the previous time.
L had no idea how he would pick up the seven-year old anymore.
Or was Near eight?
"Near, how old are you?"
Near sighed, mimicking frustration he learned from staring at people for eight? years. Actually, when Near was frustrated, he stared at people. In turn, when he was happy, he stared at people, and when he was feeling rather breezy on a sunny day, Near stared at people. So it was kind of hard to guess, so...
"I am ten, L."
"Ah? Aren't you a little too small for being ten?"
Near actually did stare at L then, and L guessed Near was feeling bewildered by L's amazing China.
"I am not going to dignify that with an answer," the white boy droned in that girlish voice of his L suspected would never crack.
"If you aren't going to dignify that with an answer, it makes for a better effect if you don't to say anything at all. That way, you aren't dignifying that with an answer and not dignifying it with an answer at the same time. Want to try again?"
Near stared at L.
"Ah? Aren't you a little too small for being ten?"
Near stared at L.
"Very good."
"Why do you have these?"
"I like them."
L's China. Near asked about L's China every time he entered L's room, as if any answer given to him was nullified after the boy in white pajamas shuffled his sock-clad feet through doorframe.
And every time L answered him, a stare of dissatisfaction crossed the pale face.
Near always looked for something, for some answer, some heartfelt, dramatic thing that made L fall in love with fragile China cups to this point of obsessive collecting.
Whatever wasn't normal surely must have been triggered by something so awful or so good that L hid it deep inside himself and kept it precious enough to never tell anyone.
Same with the killings, the massacres. L watched Near drive himself up a wall as the white boy tried to figure out what made L do it. Had someone wronged little L in such a vile way that made him hate humanity altogether? Or was it some debt to the mafia he had to pay?
Near looked for something that made L special; he was just too young to realize what he was looking for was actually something that made what L did bearable.
Near was looking for a traumatic experience that must have triggered all this... all this horribleness not because collecting China or killing people were unusual hobbies for an adult. Near was looking for an excuse to give L. An excuse that would make L appear a slightly better person.
At some point, Mello looked for that, too.
But there wasn't anything. No dark past, no child rape, no parents dead in a fire, no mafia debt, no poverty, no stalkers, no dead friends, not a single thing.
Near would be very disappointed once he realized what he was looking for for all these years simply didn't exist.
L collected China because it was prettier than stamps and it made his tea look beautiful. L ate sugar because it was the most amazing thing in the world. L put half of the world though hell because it was more fun than watching Korean drama all day.
L did things because he was bored.
It was a shallow reason, but it was the truth.
Near on the other hand, figured some pedophile lured L out of his China-loving grandmother's house with sugarcubes.
At some point, Mello actually thought space aliens brainwashed L to do their dirty work for them, so in that respect, Near's theory wasn't that bad.
Things in the past shouldn't matter, anyway. It was only now that was important.
"L."
"Yes, Near."
"Stop having digressions; it isn't polite when there is someone in the room with you."
"Ah."
"Roger sent me to take you down for breakfast."
L wrinkled his nose.
"Porridge, L. Yes."
"I miss it when they brought food up here."
"You can walk now."
"It was still very kind of them, considering I fund this place and all."
"Get up."
L rolled his eyes at the bossy white protégé, but he hung his feet off the edge of the bed nevertheless where they dangled until he found the hardwood.
He didn't like hardwood. It was hard against the bare soles of his feet, and cold in winter. L imagined it wasn't all that fun for Near either: the boy must shuffle to avoid slipping.
Eww, socks.
His heavy legs were still slightly wobbly when he tried running, but other than that, he was in great shape. It was as if nothing ever happened, take a few scars and the heart.
He purposely shuffled past Near, just to stress how much taller he was.
"How childish."
Well I may be childish, but I'm still taller than you. By a lot.
Near rolled his eyes and reached out his thin, pale hand, and L pinched the long sleeve between two fingers. Near allowed to be tagged along.
The windows in the old bridge hallway plastered angled square beams of yellow light to the floor. Unlocked and open, summer breeze came in and played with the silver strands of Near's hair, surrounding the messy head of curls with a halo. Even the dust, caught in the pleasant rays of sunshine was given a halo.
L always thought about how everyone who walked these hallways and got caught in square sunlight seemed to have a halo.
Everyone except for him, that is.
Though L couldn't see his own head, he was sure he had horns.
"How long are you planning on staying this time?"
Which in Near-speak roughly translated to, 'You aren't sick anymore. Go away now.'
So L replied to what Near really meant to say.
"Who told you I am not sick anymore?"
"You are walking."
"Bu that does not mean I am not sick anymore."
Near paused, much like he did when he backtracked to some conversation he memorized word by word.
"Ah, yes. You are 'hurting inside'."
"Who told you that?"
"Mello."
"You should tell Mello not to tell you things he knows you wouldn't understand."
"No, I understand. You are hurting because you got 'owned by your little boyfriend'."
"Matt told you that one."
"Yes."
"Well, as you must know, that isn't right."
Near took in the information much like a camcorder.
"So you aren't 'hurting inside' and you didn't get 'owned by your little boyfriend'? Then why are you still here?"
"No, those are correct, but not the reason I am still here."
"Are you going to tell me?"
"I am here because this is my home, Near."
"...and once you leave here, you will be hurting more."
"To a degree, I guess. Once I leave, I will have to do things to fix it."
"You will not do anything bad to him."
"Near does not know that."
"You will not want to do anything bad to him because you love him."
"Ah. And I love him because...?"
"As a reciprocal; because he hates you."
L rolled his eyes.
They entered a small and mostly empty dining hall with long tables and many old kitchen cabinets at the back.
First thing L did was drag Near to where Mello was devouring chocolate cereal.
"How many times have I told you not to tell this one things you know he wouldn't understand?"
Mello said some incoherent number with his mouth full and slurped down some more brown milk.
"I am more than capable of understanding things, thank you L," said Near.
L patted him on the head and with a gentle shove to the back told him to go play with someone else. Near, of course, shuffled off to a deserted area of the hall.
Mello, still engaged by his chocolate breakfast indifferently pushed a plate of cooling oatmeal to the empty seat next to him bar-style; the small crowd of teenage children usually flocking around Mello (most likely pretending he was a girl) knew to back off, and much like in a western cowboy movie they hung their heads low and inconspicuously busied themselves with their breakfasts at comfortable hearing distance of five empty seats away, stealing occasional stares to the shady character of L who was trying to sit weirdly in a too-small chair intended for kids.
"Howdy partner," said Mello with flawless Texan accent in spirit of the atmosphere.
L failed sitting in the chair.
"I never liked these chairs."
"You know, Roger picked these crappy chairs with you in mind so while you're here, you can at least be forced to be like a normal person. Nobody else minds them."
"If I sit normally, my reasoning ability drops-"
"I didn't know you were so dumb that you need those 40 percent to eat, L."
Much called for, L admitted, dropped his feet grudgingly to the ground and started pushing his unsweetened (and already disgusting by itself) food around the bowl.
"I want cake."
"So you've been saying."
They weren't giving him cake.
Not a single crumb. No cake, no pastries, no Boston cream pies, no sugar cookies, no sweetened tea, not even a crumpet.
The most he could hope for was that sometimes after dinner, if he finished his steamed vegetables that tasted very much like salted cardboard, they'd let him have some pudding for diabetics.
"They don't know if your new heart can handle your daily ten pounds of su-u-ugar." Mello sung.
"It can, they checked it, its fine."
"You have to start gradually-y-y."
"This is not 'gradually', Mello."
"Yes it i-i-i-" Mello had his breath knocked out of him along with his stupid song when L planted his foot in the middle of the blonde's flat chest and sent the Barbie trampling to the floor.
The boys spying on them either giggled or gave L dirty looks, and while Mello colorfully cursed L out in front of a relatively large group of small children while picking himself up from the floor, L grabbed whatever was left of Mello's chocolate cereal in chocolate milk and vacuumed it up quickly.
Needless to say, Mello was outraged and told on L to Roger, who in turn assigned L with potato-peeling duty as punishment for breaking his no-sugar fast.
This was how daily life went at Wammy's.
This was home, home for many kids who had no secrets, because through one way or another, they stole records and hacked databases to find dirt on each other. They were smarter than their caretakers, and at the same time they all were just little boogers.
Just like Mello, who was Mello, ended up having to mop the hallways for making a little girl cry by stealing her dress and wearing it openly, just like when he was just a little snothead , L, the L, was peeling potatoes, and Matt was busy having a heated argument with a first-grader over why the hell FF13 was so damn late in its release, and Watari was having tea brought to him by L for once, because L wanted company, and L sat with his back against the wall in the bridge hallway, hugging his knees and staring - just staring because looking ended up being staring when L did it - at little children as they passed the old bridge hallway and had their innocent little heads light up with halos of holy sunshine.
It was his home, and every time L was home, he didn't want to do bad things.
That was why he wanted to leave.
---
It was something akin four in the morning when L noticed the doorknob of his locked room tremble and turn. His lock snapped open and Mello tiptoed into his room with a large box and hairpins.
L just watched him, not bothering to move from his curled up position under three thin blankets.
"Go away, Mello."
"Oh, did I wake you up?"
"No. Go away."
"Oh, good. I brought you something."
And then L smelled it, though he should've realized what was in the box sooner. Lemon cream, vanilla. Chocolate base. Cinnamon. Strawberries.
Mello had a whole cake.
L threw the blankets off and made a grabby-hands motion towards the box before he knew what he was doing.
"There, there," Mello cooed, crawling up over L's blankets and handed L a plate, "you're way more agreeable when you've just woken up, and I figured if I bribed you with cake you'll beating off the palm of my hand, so like-"
"I was not asleep, Mello. But do give it here." L insisted.
"Right," L felt his mouth water when Mello seductively lifted the lid off the box and carved out a large piece of the beautiful cake. "I wanted the chocolate one, but it'd be just obvious that I stole it, so I took this one 'cause it's the one you'd totally steal."
L didn't care. He didn't' even bother admiring the pretty slice with four layers of cream-soaked sponge. He generously gave the plate to Mello and dug into the remaining 5/6 of the cake straight from the box.
"Disturbing."
It wasn't that Mello came to beat around the bush; the cake had its limitations time-wise. As in, how long it would take for L to consume it.
So Mello started talking about Light.
Light Yagami.
It was the first time L said that name within the walls of Wammy's. Without a doubt, Light was the main subject of every piece of gossip that has been floating around, but it didn't seem all that long since L had spoken to Mello about Light.
To Mello though, it must have been very long.
So L engaged him, because he owed Mello a lot more than a conversation that was done for his own good anyway.
Somehow it drifted to L being only himself to blame.
Mello didn't agree.
"Dude. Come on, you roughed him up once time. Once. You tell me everything, remember? I know for a fact you're as fuckin' harmless as a ball of yarn in bed."
L should really stop telling Mello everything, but instead of stopping he ate some more cake. It wasn't pretty, in fact four layers of icing were a complete mess with an gaping crater in the middle. There were just edges left.
"It's amazing what one time can do."
"You'll puke that out if you keep that up. Anyway, I still think it was kind of ungrateful of him, you know?"
"I ruined his life, what should he be grateful about?"
"Well he knew you were gonna take him away, and he knew the two of you were like one person, and he knew you actually cared about him but had to act all badass so you won't be suspected, so he should've... um, welcomed you with open arms, and been fuckin' happy about it. Yeah."
L's mouth was full and busy with cake to stop Mello from his tirade, and after a mighty swallow L stared at the blonde owlishly.
"Mello's thought process is not normal."
"That is not normal." L finished the cake. Just like that. Gone. There were crumbs and icing smears on the cardboard bottom, but no cake left.
L got up, stretched and dumped the box to the hardwood floor and without licking the icing off the box, it splattered. It was just hardwood. He'll clean it in the morning.
"Come on," he motioned to Mello just when the blonde thought L was going to leave him behind in his bed, and let imagine disturbing things.
Mello could be very creepy sometimes.
"Where to?"
"I believe Mello said there was another cake in the dining hall's fridge."
There was. And it was chocolate.
"Oh, no you don't!"
It was sunrise. Early summer five-something in the morning sunrise. Mello skipped ahead of him and walked backwards though the bridge hallway, trying to talk sense into L about the chocolate cake, but L wasn't listening.
He never listened to anything anyone said when they passed the bridge hallway. Mello was approaching one, and yes, there he was. Bright orange, rich as butterscotch box of light traced the outline of Mello's fine honey hair, lit up every curve and fold of that scar, as if reading him and scanning him for sins accepted him, and Mello was bathing in gold.
Mello had one of the most purest halos in the orphanage, and it never dissipated.
Mello wasn't the one to hold grudges..
L sighed bitterly.
They made it to the kitchens, and by scent alone L determined which of the numerous fridges hid his target, and then he looked expectedly at Mello.
"Fine."
The cake was brought out, and shamelessly, right in the middle of the most surveillanced area of the whole orphanage, they sat civilly at a table and started eating it.
This would get them into so much trouble it wasn't even funny.
Mello finished his slice and rested his head on his elbows, while practically lying on the table.
It took L half of the cake for Mello to start ranting about how he would get food poisoning, and eventually it spun into a half-screaming, half-scolding rant on the blonde's behalf while L just nodded dismissively.
"You're lucky you're alive!"
"Really."
"It's been fun and games L, but you survived thanks to a freak accident. A freak accident, L. You were so close to death, it's kind of ridiculous you actually survived."
"And now I am going to die from food poisoning, I repent, I am sorry to have wasted your efforts."
"- that point blank shot? Thank god the kid is the worst shot ever. He pulled the trigger while his hand was still loving. Had he actually stopped it, it would've been lights out, and any lower and it would've gotten your heart."
"Then he ended up nicking your lung. Higher and he would've got your artery, lower and you would have one lung if it didn't get your heart. Instead of ten minutes, you would've had three at best. If I didn't get you breathing, you would've had brain damage. Then Matt was there. There would've been no way I would've gotten you out myself, without him. Then after the… you know, explosion," Mello hesitated there, "we got you breathing but your heart failed. Your heart!-"
"Roger insists it failed because of sugar, though that makes no sense whatsoever and he knows it..."
"-right, it was 'cause you're like a fuckin' ninja man. Lots of blood, not enough goes to the heart. If you were bigger and just as agile, your heart would've been fine, but if you were bigger that bullet would've went straight though your heart so it wouldn't have even mattered. Freak accident, L, I'm telling you. Then you can't get a regular transplant 'cause you suck and you reject anything. So we went and got you that fake one. And what you do then?"
"I go into an anesthesia-caused coma right on the operating table. Not uncommon, actually."
"Right, and most of the cases end with brain-damage!"
"I am lucky."
"L, this is the only second chance you get. The only one. You avoided death eight times, just from that one gunshot. Karma says he really wanted you dead. All your luck's been used up."
"I was lucky."
The chocolate cake too was disappearing at a very alarming rate.
"You're a freak of nature."
"More cake please."
Mello promptly shut up, realizing just how far he drifted off-topic.
"Fine," he rolled his eyes and plated him another slice of the chocolate cake without even making a comment this time. It wasn't that L was clueless; he knew this enormous amount of sugary cake after having had none at all for the longest time would do a lot of damage. He didn't care.
He dug in, again, and Mello hid the last slice away in the fridge. L promised himself he won't take it, for everyone's sake
After a pause dedicated to chewing, he decided his question worth asking, just for the sake of hearing someone caring for him.
"If you thought what the boy did was so wrong, why was it that only Matt beat him up, and from what I heard, relatively lightly?"
Mello tried dancing around the question, slightly embarrassed, but then again he got embarrassed around L a lot, and eventually L always got what he wanted anyway.
"Well... 'cause killing him was as good as expecting to get no consequences for killing him. Consequences from you. Killing him was as good as accepting you were dead. Like... like you would never wake up to beat the shit out of us for doing it."
L smiled behind the cake, but kept a straight face otherwise.
"I see."
"...'you see'? That's all you're gonna say?"
"This is it, yes."
"Don't you fuckin' feel cheated? Just a little? He wanted you dead, for fuck's sake!"
"No," L shoveled a forkful of cake into his mouth and enjoyed the rich cocoa texture when he rolled it around his tongue, "Also, it doesn't matter what he wanted or wished for, not anymore."
"Doesn't matter? He wished for your death! As Ryuzaki and as L! He as good as betrayed both of you, if there were like two of you, anyway, and you kinda didn't wanna kill him and shit."
"It doesn't matter what he wished for."
"No?"
"No."
L ate the crumbs of his slice without concerning himself with what Mello saying, and Mello calmed down.
"So... you're gonna do what, exactly?"
L stared at the ceiling, and the ceiling encouraged his decision. He got up and shuffled back to the fridge for that eighth and last piece of Mello's chocolate cake.
He plated it, feeling a childish grin of appreciation dance across his lips.
Delicious chocolate.
And then he said,
"It's my turn to make wishes."
A/N: First of all, wow. I was all hyper as I watched the reviews for last chapter pour in, but at some point I started crying because there were so many, and lots of them were these teary NOOOO things that made me cry; I felt like I ended some people's world.
It was premature to end the story there though, it was never meant to end there. There are way too many loose strands left. L needs a portion of the story to himself, too. Light had like 17 chapters.
And, don't feel disappointed. A point-blank shot would've been very deadly, and well, hopefully this chapter made you realize how ridiculously lucky L had to be to survive it. Pay attention, this is the only second chance he'll get-
L: And whatever shall I do with it?
A/N: Uhh, no. This is my time to talk. You had 9.5k words to yourself. Go away, I'm talking for once. I deserve it.
So!
THANK YOU, THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH TO EVERY SINGLE ONE WHO REVIEWED LAST CHAPTER. THANK YOU.
YOU ARE THE BEST.
This update wasn't going to come for another two weeks (like mid-July), because literally every room in my house is getting knocked down and renovated. I mean our cable plug-in thingie was dead for a few days. It's just hectic and I had absolutely no time to do this chapter. But, staying up 'till 4AM and working for the past week sure paid off. I mean, it was overwhelming how many of you needed this update badly. This update is my sincere gratitude, and it's all 'cause you've reviewed like you did.
I actually have no idea how I got this chapter out this soon, even if it's been like 3 weeks. Ugh, I really want a bed. I don't have one anymore.
You guys were/are the motivation, really.
So thank you, my readers.
Thank you.
...
Umm, but 'cause I'm a bastard like that, DO IT AGAINN, WITH HAPPINESS, CAUSE L'S AT LEAST ALIVE, SORT OF?! ;D /fail
What is this? You want to click this thing, yes?
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