Disclaimer: My name is King, OUR SHINY NEW CAR PWNS LIFE, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
III: Devil's Trill
CH20
Mirror
"Although I do not place any blame in Light Yagami for his very elaborate plan to kill me, principles aside, punching him in the face a few times seems rather pleasing right about now," L ranted and threw up. Again.
From somewhere not very far above him, from as far above a person heaving over a toilet as an eight-year old boy could reach, a small hand patted him on the head very indifferently.
Near said how the fact L was vomiting cake all morning was L's own fault, and then, somehow, something as insignificant as food poisoning grew into L's faults of having the whole Light thing blow up in his face. Which was typical of Near, because when Near said something that was about the indisputable truths of the world, it always came as a wake-up smack in the face.
It was depressing, it was.
Bending over a toilet with chunks of vomit caught in his long black hair, messy hair with a small child to pat his back and tell him things he did not want to hear.
When there was no more cake to come out the wrong way, L's stomach was empty, but the aftertaste was nowhere near enough letting L think he'd ever eat in his entire life.
He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dark circles under his eyes, pale, the usual package, except for the vomit spit around his mouth and the hair he paid no mind to and collected with a rubber band.
Long hair, hair nobody dared to touch while he slept for four months and recovered for one more.
It was a foot longer than it was last time he remembered, just as unmanageable; expect that this version of him looked nothing short of an ugly girl.
"Near, go fetch me some scissors please."
"About time."
While Near went to look for scissors that simply did not exist in L's room, L locked the bathroom door and hopped into a shower stall to wash the sweat and the acid away from his body and hair, and by the time it took Near to get real sharp scissors clearance from the older girls in the crafts department, L was redressed in a fresh set of clothes that looked identical to his last.
"You are wearing clothes while you are dripping wet."
"It is summer, I will go outside to dry off."
The man staring back at him though the two-way glass was a bad man, a man that should have no business around children.
"I hate this part."
He wanted to stay here for a while longer, though.
So he turned away from the mirror and took scissors to his hair and snipped somewhere around the ear area.
"Oww."
"You cut yourself."
"As Near can tell by the blood."
"Clean that."
Instead, L pinched his earlobe with toilet paper and the long strands continued to fall away.
"It will be easier if you look in the mirror that is right behind you when you are doing that," droned Near.
L only turned to check his work once it was finished.
Kind of short on one side, kind of short everywhere actually, and yet when it dried L had no doubt it would look identical to what it used to be.
L never changed.
Things changed around him, Mello grew up, the children came and went, it was L who was always L.
Though now he was even more of a heartless bastard than ever-
This was a heavy thought, and heavy thoughts like this wasn't allowed at home , so he scrapped it for the time being and walked around aimlessly.
He strolled around the general outside for a bit until he was completely dry, careful to avoid any unnecessary encounters with human beings that were two feet tall at best, and came back to his favorite spot. The floor of the bridge hallway.
He sat down to sulk.
Then Mello came out of nowhere wearing a fresh set of black pajamas he wore in the middle of the day, and offered L a cup of lime pudding.
"Common self-preservation instincts tell me not to take any food Mello has to offer."
"Fine, I'll eat it."
L snatched the pudding.
"You're thinking of your boyfriend."
"What gave Mello that idea," L droned, fiddling with the silver lid.
"You always get that lovesick bunny look on your face when you're thinking about him."
L thought about it, and agreed.
"Seriously? You're gonna take that?"
"Why not, I am in love."
Mello frowned but said nothing.
They were leaving tomorrow. No more games, no more silly punishments, no more waiting, thinking, sulking, no more fragile caring for tiny, insignificant things.
L dragged a fingernail against chipping hardwood under the baseboard. Smell of old wood will be gone, just as the smell of sweaty clothes, home-made food and unwashed hair.
"In love with that boy?"
"What boy?"
"Kira boy."
"No, no Kira is a girl."
"They had a fight."
"No, Kira is his wife."
"Kira is a killer, like him, they had a thing going on."
"Is she pretty?"
"Didn't you hear me? Kira is a boy!"
"Well, does he like him?"
"Who?"
"Well yeah, he's going to go back and make up with her."
"Him."
"I like red skittles."
"Who is she?"
"Kira!"
"Is that a bug?"
Mello's laughter rang over the quipping, and the school of small children didn't disappear when L hid his face in his knees and counted to ten, wishing they turned into fish and stopped talking in favor of gulping for air at L's feet.
It didn't help that L was sitting on the floor, and their snotty little noses and big loud months were on the same level with his head when they surrounded him like bees like this. L flailed his hands around and when that didn't help, he hid his face in his knees and counted to twenty.
"She is the one that made him sick though the spring."
"He had the love bug."
"Should we get the nurse?"
"Get Near, she's the same color as the nurse."
"He is a boy though."
"Near is a girl."
"WHO ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?"
L couldn't take it anymore. He uncoiled from his position and using Mello as leverage tore though the crown of small children piling on top of him and pulled himself up. The children clung to his jeans, clutching the worn denim with their greasy hands and if left alone, they would have hung there until next Christmas, and L had to hold his jeans by the belt rings because he liked his jeans loose, and the children were heavy, and his pants were falling down.
"He is leaving."
"What? Ellie is leaving?"
"Don't leave us, Lily!"
"Luu is leeaaving!!"
And then they started crying. At the same time, collectively, as a single item, and their cries and shouts became a single sound in L's ears, and his eardrums threatened to give out.
So he plugged one ear and reached out for a child while shouting, "ENOUGH! FIRST ONE TO MAKE A SOUND IS A ROTTEN EGG!"
The sudden silence left clear ringing in his ears.
"ALRIGHT, you," the child he grabbed was no more than five and had drool all over his shirt. L tried not touch the drool when his large hands wrapped around the tiny torso under the arms where there was sweat, and the boy went up in the air. "little boy-"
"I'm a girl."
"Girls don't drool or sweat."
"That's right. We perspire."
Clever little beasts.
Of course Mello was long gone, and there were at least ten pairs of impossibly large and expecting eyes staring up at L.
"Little girl. What do you want to play?"
The girl thought about it for three seconds, "put me down, I have to think."
"You can think fine up here."
"My thinking ability drops 40 percent when I am three feet above the ground."
Little brat.
L put her down, and her boy shoes barely touched the ground when she slapped L's upper calf because it was as high as she could reach, and all ten to fifteen children scattered like cockroaches when she screamed, "TAG, ELLIE'S IT!"
L could just walk away.
Instead, he chased a boy he was sure was actually a boy, poked him on the top of the head and ran away.
A school of ten to fifteen children grew into horde of twenty to thirty children, and before he knew it, the game of tag grew into a mass chase after L by thirty five to forty very small children who kept tripping over themselves, picking themselves up and laughing though tears and dashing after L across the entire orphanage.
At around seven, when the dinner bell rang and L walked into the dining hall, he held his pants up with both hands to keep them from being dragged down by Near, who of all the children, managed to catch L and attach himself to L's pant leg securely. Not by running, Near didn't run, or even playing with everyone else, more like, by hiding behind a doorway L would sure pass though eventually, and leaping.
"Doing a little bonding, yeah?" said Matt around a spoonful of mashed potato.
"He won," L stared down at Near who stared up at L, "where is Mello?"
"No idea. Out."
"Matt doesn't know?"
"Nope."
"And Matt doesn't want to come with us tomorrow."
"Nope."
"Why, again?"
"The Star Trek con."
"Of course."
"So Mello's out, and I figured you'd wanna talk to someone-"
The tray.
Old silver tray with L's china, tea and biscuits.
Right next to a plate of mashed potatoes and boiled chicken, just waiting for L to eat it.
Oh God.
"Yeah, I thought so. You're not gonna eat that, are you?"
L looked at it and his eyes watered.
"Absolutely not." Matt happily moved L's plate into his own eating proximity.
"Right. So tray with tea, you, old man, take, talk about your boyfriend you will, young Skywalker…"
"What?"
"Go with peace, but go..."
So L went, or maybe, ran away from the boiled chicken.
A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he wouldn't be able to walk into the Yagami household and whisk Light away into the indefinite sunset, no matter how much he hoped it would be the case.
And oh, he hoped.
The tray wasn't heavy and L was used to balancing things like sugarcube towers and licorice wells, but he was sure when it came to carrying trays with fine china, tea cattle and diabetic biscuits, Near would do a better job.
But L lost Near somewhere between the food and leaving the food behind.
Or Watari could carry it.
But having Watari carry the tray would defy the purpose since the second cup was for Watari in the first place.
Just the tea though. Not the biscuits. The biscuits were L's.
L didn't knock on the heavy wooden door before jamming a toe into the crack and prying it open with his foot, but his manners were at their peak with the tea and the biscuits, and the highest courtesy anyone could ever hope for was when he announced his presence.
"Mr. Wammy?"
"Ah?" Newspaper. Fireplace. Old plush chair that was as old as the man in it. Books. Book cozies girls of the Wammy's orphanage made a habit of giving Watari. Coffee table.
A bit of pie on the table.
L wondered if Watari would trade or share.
"I have tea," he announced as if declaring a VIP pass and softly pushed the door shut with the sole of his foot.
This room did not have a lock or even a doorknob. It was always open, for everyone who wanted advice.
With proper offering, of course.
Hence the book cozies and doilies and knitted toys. Love advice. All these were payment for love advice. From eight-year old girls who should really never knit in their entire life.
L sat the tray on the table while Watari folded the newspaper.
"I was wondering when you'll come, Lawliet."
L's hand stilled for a moment.
"Mello and I will be leaving in the morning."
"Yes, I've heard from Matt."
"Matt is not coming. Sugar?"
"No, cream as usual please. Thank you, L," at least Watari knew not to push it with the name, "are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
"I have not asked, have I? I am more than capable of dealing with this on my own."
"I don't doubt that at all. You may need someone there with you depending on what you decide to do."
"I have Mello," L sipped his bitter very lightly-sweetened tea and grimaced.
Watari laughed with that throaty good-natured laugh and L wanted to cling to the wood leg of Watari's ancient chair, scratch it until old paint got lodged between his nails and flesh and be happy.
Instead L civilly sipped the tea like a grown man.
He wasn't five years old anymore.
Or eight.
Or ten.
"What should I do?"
Watari smiled.
"You should always do the thing that makes you happy."
So he should scrap the whole professionalism of altogether and go for it. …like he had any.
"Mr. Wammy has been saying that for years."
"And you still aren't happy."
L gave Watari's pie a glare.
"I would be happier with that."
"Ah. Biscuits please."
They traded. L's pie turned out to be butter-and-nuts, and kind of old and crusty. It was sweet though.
"Oh, aren't these just delicious. The baking club?"
"I would think."
"L."
"I left stickers for whoever made them, in exchange."
L gnawed at the edge of the dry nut pie in deep thought.
He would not turn red.
He would not.
I traded this thing for the chocolate Mello smuggled in for me, L meant to say but instead, of course, he lied, "I also made this."
It was worth a chocolate bar, and even without the fasting order in place chocolate was worth hella-lot in L's book...
…so L pulled a crumpled toaster cozy out of his pocket, smacked it on the table and stared straight ahead and not at Watari.
The man in the nicer chair than L gave another throaty laugh.
"I will accept this, although I can't think of a book big enough for this. This is for a book, yes?"
"It is for a book," L lied.
"Who made this?"
"I made this." Linda did.
"Which Linda?"
"Me."The little Linda.
"The little Linda is six."
"She may be six, but her toaster- ah, book cozy is better than that one."
"Matt made that."
L eyed the bright blue jumble of yarn around an unfortunate book that will never be opened again unless the cozy was massacred.
"That... he used knots and his hands for that, didn't he?"
"I can't imagine him using anything more than that. Although by the looks of things, Linda used chopsticks."
L looked down at his cozy. He'd seen worse.
It was the best his chocolate could get him, anyway.
"Matt-"
"-it was chocolate roses this time, L. Are you sure you want to know?"
"No," L shrugged, "anyway, my question."
"Of course."
"Yes."
"Your question, L?"
L looked around the room.
"I don't know what my question should be."
"It's about Light I assume?"
"Well I am in love with Light, aren't I?"
Sure, L believed it when everyone around him told him he was in love.
Just... not the absolute love but some other kind of love.
When someone was in love-in love with someone else, the person who was 'loving' would constantly think of their loved one; if L was in love-in love with Light, he would've been thinking of Light and nothing else in the world. He would think of Light when he woke up and when he went to sleep, he would see grass and think of Light because Light surely walked on grass... L would see Light's image in his oatmeal for Christ's sake.
He didn't.
L thought of cake and Mello and Hong-Kong and orange things and cats.
His mind wasn't completely preoccupied with Light Yagami, and sure as hell he didn't want to spend every waking second in the presence of a person who would vacuum under L on impulse.
So L wasn't in love-in love with Light, just... some other kind of love.
He hoped that he could get out of this particular kind of love, too.
So L told Watari all of that.
"I would think not."
"So I can't get out of it," L droned.
"Love isn't a death sentence."
"I may not be sentenced to 'love' though either, as everyone who is five and has no business gossiping about my private matters seems to think."
"You don't think he's important to you?"
"It's not that. I have been 'in love' before, have I not? That went nowhere."
"Indeed it had."
"But this one wasn't even supposed to be anything, I wasn't' even trying for 'love'."
"Wasn't it?"
"I just liked the way he looked! I mean, he can put any man to shame with his looks alone, and his mind can put his looks to shame."
"Yes?"
"And he was trying to be better than me, and if it wasn't for Mello's fixation with Amane, I would have paid no mind to the Kira thing at all. And if that saved me by a fluke, his whole performance with the FBI was nothing short of brilliant."
"Oh?"
"...and I lost to him, fair is square. I was debating if I should just lay low and leave him alone because he won his freedom."
"He won it alright."
"But then I thought about it and decided that being impressed with him almost killing me is not right at all and I should be angry, and almost doing the job is not the same as doing the job, and I'm doing well, thank you, and I am a sore loser, and as such I shouldn't admit defeat until I can't deny his victory, which will be when I die."
"That's drastic."
"And he is pretty and smart and he pretty much won me over, and..."
"Yes?"
"…and he is pretty much everything I want-"
"Well there you go, son."
L thought about his own conclusion.
"…if all Mr. Wammy has to do is listen as I vent, I would like my toaster cozy back."
Watari put his empty cup on the tray, stood up and under a watchful stare patted L's shoulder with a broad smile, declaring the discussion officially over.
L stared at the hand, then at Watari's mustache.
Mr. Wammy's mustache.
"Mr. Wammy?"
"Lawliet, I'm proud of you."
"Why?"
"You want things now; you finally, truly want things."
"I wanted things before."
"Not like this you haven't Lawliet; this time you're willing to pay for the things you want."
L was willing to pay for the things he wanted.
Alright.
Watari smugly showed L and the empty tray to the door, "run along now, Linda is waiting for some advice regarding Near. Poor boy is hiding from her, but I hear she will be bringing me some fine Swiss chocolate."
Hours before the sunrise Mello crawled into L's room and stole L's blankets. L claimed he wasn't sleeping anyway, grabbed his backpack, and they left. It was the middle of the night, and instead of projecting bright squares of rich, yellow sunlight, the windows turned into mirrors with pitch blackness behind them, daring L to just take a peak, almost whispering, ' just one, not a big deal, check if you're a saint, L, check, you'll see, you'll see…'
It was the forbidden fruit to look, L never looked, L would find nothing holy in his own reflection, L stared straight ahead, L always stared ahead.
"I'm gonna tell you something L, and don't get mad, okay?" Mello muttered from somewhere behind him.
"You think I am doing something stupid."
"Well..."
"Mello -"
"No, listen. You should know this. Whenever you talk about him, you don't sound bitter and wistful. It's in the sound of your voice. You sound sore. Like, from defeat."
"Mello could have said this sooner, could he not."
"Dude, easy. Just saying something you should know before you meet him again; you should meet him again. When you think about him... L, what do you think about when you think about him?"
"I think about what he is doing. A lot."
"That's it?"
"And how I will get him."
Mello sighed.
"Mello, what?"
"You don't think about the future with him, do you?"
Mello was implying L just wanted Light for triumphant revenge. This wasn't difficult to see.
"I will think about it when I get him," he said. Mello was wrong. Wrong.
But the blonde pressed.
"You know, you don't look like a lovesick fool when you think about him. I lied."
Mello was wrong.
"You can tell when people are feeling when you look at them. I don't think you look in the mirror much. So think about him and look in the mirror. You'll see a frown. It's ugly."
'Yes, look, L, take a look, just one look. It won't hurt you. He says it's okay, just turn your head. You'll see, you'll see.'
L grit his teeth and walked faster.
"Watari said I was ready to pay for the things I want, Mello. Watari has experience on you."
"Yeah, L. I know. Just think about what you want him for."
L turned his head, but caught himself in time and instead of looking sideways, he glared at the cracked ceiling of the bridge hallway where a yellow water stain framed the deep crack in plaster as he passed it. That water stain had been there for years, and before it got there, there was a spider web there every summer, but after the roof leaked during a summer flash storm, the spiders never returned to their crack in the ceiling.
The roof was repaired and never leaked again, but nobody touched the interior of the bridge hallway. It smelled old, the paint peeled and the plaster chipped. Glass got broken and replaced; a soccer game knocking out a window or two was no big deal and the windows everywhere were always new, but the hinges and the window frames and the wooden sills and the rusty heaters were the same as they were twenty years ago.
L didn't need to look at them to know this.
L was always Mr. Wammy's favorite. Mr. Wammy was always in charge of renovations, and L liked the old bridge hallway just the way it was, and if the too-small chairs were strategically placed to piss L off, the old bridge hallway was never renovated preserve L's only place of solitude.
L knew how he felt towards Mr. Wammy. And Mello, and Near. And the hallway.
But these were old things.
Light was new.
"Mello, we are going to grab Light and ask him what I should do."
Light would most likely tell L he should go and jump off a very high building, but it was the only choice L really had. Watari said one thing, Mello was saying another thing, and L hadn't the faintest idea what to do with Light when he got him.
"That's new."
"It's logical."
"Two minutes ago, you were gonna just take him to Australia."
"I will ask him before I do that."
"Snatch him from his home just to ask him."
"Yes. He should be under house arrest awaiting trial right about now."
"So we grab him and ask him, 'cause he's at home, waiting for his trial."
"Yes."
Mello said nothing, giving L time to lay flowers on the graves of his best hopes.
"He is awaiting trial. We may still catch him-"
"Not a chance."
L rubbed his forehead and gave up completely.
"He is so going to run away."
A/N: THE RECESSION/DIGRESSION CHAPTERS ARE DONE! TADA! Short break is over, back to heavy plot now lololol.
I love everyone who reviewed last chapter! Thank you shoutouts to Dacara, isamu-michi, incandescentglow, Nardaviel, ellan54, Sovoyita, rain angst, Anna Marie Lynn, Purple Glass, music-is-luv, Rose, happyalien, Myuberry, Annonimous, lil joker, fluffy2044, IsobelAnis, ssjRaina, It Which Lives Under Your Bed, Favorite Crooked Smile, evil anon lili, pixie-lyric, Not Yet Knowing and HoshitheHors with fireworks!
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY GREAT AND WONDERFUL. ILU! DO IT AGAINNN…! OTL
L: Oh no, I see what you are doing there. And I know what comes next...
A/N: I would like to introduce you to our new guest speaker for the Author's Notes!
L: You can't be serious…
Chapter 21: Hello, I am Chapter 21. I contain L's return to Japan to where he finds something he had NOT expected. I am the beginning of a very heavy set of trill chapters that make Three Wishes look like peanuts. I hold L's shocking conclusion to his own feelings as well as hints of the final chapter of DT (which is still very far away).
Currently, I am being held hostage by Miss King. You better do as she says, or something bad will happen to me. :(
A/N: If you want to see chapter 21, you will review. Or else I will sit on it for more than a week like I did with this chapter. Ho ho hoo.
L: That is low, Miss King. Very low indeed.
Free Chapter 21! Press the Magic Button!
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