DN: land where no one smiles 3

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Send the spent ghost on its way to that soothing oblivion. The miracle ending.
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Light stared blankly down at the casket, at the cold, lifeless face of the man he’d grown to hate – the man he’d been driven to kill. Beyond Birth Day. Beyond was donned in his Sunday best – a dark, pressed suit with a white button-up and a maroon tie; Light mentally toyed with the idea that the suit was newly purchased, as he had never seen Beyond dress in anything other than oversized jeans and long-sleeved, plainly colored shirts (a style that L adapted for himself as well over the years).

As he stared at the corpse, he couldn’t help but think that, besides clothing choice, there was very little difference between the living Beyond and the dead one. Both sent shivers down Light’s spine; both filled him with repulsion and contempt; both made his fingers twitch with the desire to grab the nearest pen and scribble down that odd English name over and over and over until the lead ran out.

Both made L cry.

Light tried to ignore the muffled sniffles (L hid his face behind his hands, his cover up as fake as the makeup he wore to conceal the fading bruises) but it was difficult. Worse, Light didn’t know what to do to make it stop. L was crying because his brother was dead, and his brother was dead because of him; and even though L had no knowledge of that, what could Light possible say to him?

Normally Light was very good with words, and comforting people (comforting L) usually came so naturally to him. But the circumstances were drastically different from any other day. He couldn’t just wrap his arms around L and tell him that everything would be fine, because things were anything but fine. L was an emotional wreck, having just lost his only remaining family, and it was Light’s own fault.

I killed him, Light thought, momentarily losing the ability to breathe; I killed him.

It would take L months – years, maybe his entire life – to get over this. Beyond was so terrible to L – he abused him, slapped him around, raped him – and yet... L did not hate him, as Light did. L would never wish him death, as Light had. L loved Beyond, loved him more than anything (though Beyond once said that L loved Light, only Light).

Light didn’t think he’d ever regret using the Death Note. After first writing Beyond’s name down, he’d felt a strange surge of pride rushing through his veins – because he’d done something right, something just and good – and that feeling stayed with him until he received the hysterical phone call from L that confirmed Beyond’s death by heart attack. Upon receiving the news, he felt cold (and dirty and disgusting and he was a murderer!) but that feeling subsided once he was able to yet again assure himself that what he had done was right (because it had been done for L, only for L, and only to protect him).

He knew L would be upset, and that he would cry, but Light hadn’t expected such an extreme depression to settle over his friend. L hadn’t stopped crying in more than a week; every time Light saw him, there were always tears in his eyes (but no emotion).

He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he?

There had been no other way. The moment Beyond laid a finger on L with malicious intent, he was past the point of reconciliation, too far from redemption, in Light’s eyes. And the Death Note... the Death Note gave Light the means to make sure Beyond was taught a valuable lesson.

(He would burn in the fires of Hell, far from the mercy of God, like the sinner he was.)

When the wake was over, Light waited behind for L to finish paying his last respects, lingering by the door of the small funeral home and all the while rethinking his actions. Had be been too rash?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted L moving closer to the open casket. With a morbid sort of curiosity, he watched, transfixed, as L clutched the rosary (red, like Beyond’s creepy eyes that would now and forever remained closed) and leaned over the coffin, lowering his head to brush his lips gently against those of his dead brother’s – the very lips that once kissed him so savagely.

“Don’t leave me...”

The whisper echoed in the nearly empty room, causing a chill to crawl down Light’s spine. He tried to tear his eyes away from the disturbing sight, but they remained persistently glued to the scene.

L was holding Beyond now, grasping his stiff upper arms and squeezing them tightly as if he believed the warmth of his fingers could somehow bring a dead man back to life. He sobbed quietly, repeating variations of that same desperate prayer several times.

“Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. You said you’d never leave me!”

Light shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, growing steadily more uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be watching this, shouldn’t be listening to L’s broken pleas. It was too private, too personal, and it made Light second-guess his actions out of guilt – something he was not used to.

“What am I supposed to do without you?”

This was going too far. L spoke to Beyond’s corpse as if the man was worth something. What would L do without Beyond? He would finally be free! He wouldn’t have to be afraid of being touched in an inappropriate way, he wouldn’t have to worry if people at school were beginning to form theories about the type of home he came from; he wouldn’t have to waste his money on makeup, because there would be no more bruises to hide.

So why was he mourning? He should be rejoicing, praising whatever God was responsible for liberating him. L should be thankful. Light damned his soul for him, so that he could be happy; he would never be allowed into Heaven or Hell as a price for using the Death Note – he had accepted this punishment for L, and L... L was still crying!

“L,” he called, taking a step away from the doors and making his way toward his friend. “We have to go.”

“No,” L said, shaking his head frantically, tightening his grip on Beyond. “No, no, no, I can’t leave him.” Light placed his hands gently on L’s shoulders and L flinched at the contact, jerking away from him. “You go,” L told him. “I’m staying. I have to stay with him. I can’t... I can’t just leave him here like this.”

Light’s eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke again, this time in a much firmer tone. “Beyond is dead, L. There’s nothing you can do for him.”

L was quiet for a moment before replying so quietly that Light had to strain to hear the words. “You don’t understand... You can’t possibly understand.”

“I do understand,” Light assured.

“No,” L disagreed, “you don’t, Light-kun. Beyond...” L stared at his late brother, lips trembling along with the rest of his emotionally taxed body. “Beyond was my only family... I’ve already lost my parents, Light-kun, and that was horrible enough, but at least I still had Beyond. And now... now, he’s gone too, and what do I have? I have nothing...”

Light’s eyes remained on L’s profile as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Hesitantly, he took another step forward, taking a chance and placing a hand down on L’s shoulder again. “You have me,” he said. “You’ll always have me, L.”

L turned his head to look up at him, his bloodshot eyes boring into him, skeptical. For a while, neither of them said anything, only continued to stare deeply into one another’s eyes, attempting to exchange thoughts without the usage of words. Light gradually shifted his hand from L’s shoulder to his wrist, and slowly he led his friend away from the casket.

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“Are you comfortable?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

L turned his head to the side to look at Light, whose head rested on the pillow beside his. “Yes. Are you comfortable, Light-kun?”

Light smiled and nodded in response. “I’ve slept in the same bed with you enough times to become used to it.” Only after the comment left him did he realize how it could be interpreted and his cheeks reddened slightly. He opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but L spoke before he had the chance to.

“I’m sorry to be an inconvenience.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Light insisted, propping himself up on his elbow, staring down at his friend. L stared up at him with a face as emotionless as ever; with his free hand, Light reached over and touched that face, caressing the flushed cheeks that were stained by dried tracks of tears. “I don’t mind staying with you like this.”

“I won’t be staying long,” L promised. “I’ll start looking for a place tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you live here?” Light suggested.

“I couldn’t. I... I couldn’t take advantage of your family’s generosity more than I already have.”

“Taking advantage...?” Light sighed, moving his hand into L’s hair, brushing back the thick black strands. “L, we’ve known each other for eight years; we all consider you family here.”

L stiffened at the comment, his wide black eyes locking on Light’s momentarily before he closed them tightly. When he spoke next, it was in a rushed, pained tone of voice. “I apologize if it seems rude, but I cannot bring myself to think of Light-kun and his family in the same way.”

Light blinked and pulled his hand away, hurt by L’s words. After all the years they spent growing closer together – after everything they’d been through, all those times Light held and comforted L – L didn’t think they were that close? L didn’t consider him family?

“You love him, you want him to touch you...”

Beyond’s voice is the last thing Light wanted to hear at the moment, yet the words the man had spoken that one night (the night that changed everything, the day that led to Light’s becoming a murderer) echoed in his head, casting a glow of enlightenment over his foggy mind.

Oh... oh.

“...Right.”

L did not love him in the brotherly sense that Light loved him; rather, his love was something much greater than that.

“Please do not take it the wrong way,” L said in his soft whisper of a voice. He was no longer looking at Light, but at the window on the far right wall of the bedroom. “But my family is dead, Light-kun. I feel as though it would dishonor their memory to now consider other people my family.”

“I understand.”

“Do you, Light-kun?”

“Of course... But I still hope you realize that you’re welcome to stay here, even though you feel that way.”

L gave a faint smile, reaching one of his hands to the side, brushing it against Light’s and gently curling his fingers around his palm. Light glanced over at him, smiling as well and holding L’s hand tightly in return.

“Thank you, Light-kun.”

“You’re welcome. Please try to get some sleep now.”

L nodded his head, replying that he would try. Light took this to mean that L would probably remain awake for the rest of the night, but he didn’t say anything further to his friend, only closed his eyes and attempted to fall asleep – because unlike L, he knew he needed it; he needed the answers to his problems to come to him in a dream.

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The next day, L returned from the several day vacation that the school had allowed him due to the circumstances. Whispers followed him everywhere he went – L didn’t seem to take any notice of them, but Light (who was at his side whenever his schedule allowed) did. Light caught on to the fact that whenever he and L entered a class, a hush would fall over the room and last until the two of them took their usual seats; after that, a low hum of conversation would steadily rise once again. Most of the conversations began the same way.

“His brother died, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just last week. Dropped dead out of the blue.”

“Freaky.”

“Tell me about it. Weirdest thing I ever heard.”

And most of them ended the same way, when Light would overhear a comment such as: “Do you think L...?” and interrupt rudely by either coughing loudly or slamming his textbook down on the desk.

They still talked, and the rumors still spread – (“That foreign boy is a witch; he killed his brother, I swear it! Cast a spell on him and gave him that heart attack!”) – but at least Light could get them to shut up a majority of the time.

If L was hurt by what was being said about him, he didn’t let it show. He went from class to class, face unchangingly stoic, saying nothing other than quiet expressions of thanks whenever someone offered him their condolences.

During lunch hour, L and Light sat on top of the roof of the main school building, across from each other – L facing the wall and Light facing the sky. They sat with their legs outstretched and the tips of their shoes touching. Two small bento boxes sat in between them, filled with rice and an assortment of different rolls lovingly prepared for them by Light’s mother. L picked at the food sparingly, obviously hesitant to eat a lunch made for him by someone he wasn’t used to. Light knew that making L’s lunch was something Beyond had always done; it was one of the things he had actually enjoyed and insisted on doing for his brother.

After swallowing a bite of salmon, L reached down with his chopsticks, his hand seeming to have a set destination before stopping suddenly over a rice ball. “Oh... no jelly rolls,” he said to himself, looking into the contents of the lunchbox as if make sure he they really weren’t there.

Light blinked, glancing into the lunchbox as well. His mother never made jelly rolls; what was L expecting? “I’ll ask my mom to make them tomorrow.”

L shook his head and set his chopsticks down. “No, no, it’s fine.”

Sighing in exasperation, Light set his own chopsticks aside and folded his arms across his chest. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, Light-kun.”

“Don’t give me that.”

L looked at him but didn’t say anything. Frowning, Light drew his legs back and crossed them. L stared at his shoes as though surprised that their connection had been severed.

Light exhaled loudly, not knowing what to do. He knew what the problem was (the problem had not changed; it was still Beyond, it would always be Beyond) but the solution alluded him this time around. He couldn’t hold L, couldn’t really comfort him while he was weighed down by the guilt of being part of the problem. The Death Note was of no use to him anymore and, really, as Light thought about it, he couldn’t really say that it had been useful to him at all. The prospect of the Notebook was great; it provided an instant answer to a fetal dilemma. But had it really helped him? L was no better off now than he had been while Beyond was alive, and if anything his and Light’s friendship was more strained than it had ever been.

“Talk to me,” Light pleaded.

L pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees to lock them in place. “There’s nothing to talk about, Light-kun. I’m just not feeling well.”

“You need to get over this.” It was a selfish thing of him to be saying, Light knew that, but the only reason he said it was because he hated to see L so depressed (and over the likes of someone like Beyond).

L gave a tiny half-smile. “Give me some time. Please, Light-kun.”

“What happened that night?”

The smile disappeared, L’s expression darkening somewhat. “Stop, Light-kun.”

Light shook his head. This had gone on long enough and he needed answers; if L wouldn’t tell him willingly, then he would press on and on and he would force the truth out of him, if need be. “What happened?”

“Light-kun, I’m asking as your friend, please stop.”

“As your friend, I have a right to know!”

“No!” L cried. “No, you don’t. I don’t have to tell you anything!”

Light was unable to grasp why L was pushing him away like this. In the past, L always came to him, to cry on his shoulder (in a sense). Why was he suddenly putting this distance between them?

“Why can’t you talk to me, L? You always used to talk to me.”

L bit down on his lower lip before bowing his head, hiding his face against his knees. “This is different, Light-kun.”

“If you just talked about it...”

“It’s too personal.” Sighing softly, L’s eyes darted upwards to lock with Light’s momentarily. His lips twitched downwards as he noticed that Light was glaring back at him. “Light-kun –”

“Forget it. If you don’t want my help, then fine.”

Without another word, Light took hold of his back pack and stood up, slinging the strap over his shoulder and beginning to storm away.

“L-Light-kun, wait! Please...”

But Light didn’t wait, only allowed his feet to carry him back to the door that led to the stairwell. Once behind the safety of the door, he slammed his fist against the wall, cursing to himself and trying to ignore the pain that shot up his arm as a result of the rash action.

Things weren’t supposed to be like this! His sacrifice... his sacrifice... L was supposed to be happy. And instead, they were both miserable.

Slowly turning to face the door again, Light watched through the small rectangular window as L – now kneeling humbly on the pavement – carefully packed up the lunchboxes left behind by Light, going as far as to even wrap them back up in the silky blue and read cloths that Light’s mother covered them with that same morning.

Closing his eyes, Light moved away from the door, making his way back downstairs to the classroom, unable to help thinking he’d made yet another huge mistake.

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Light didn’t speak to L for the rest of the school day. L, for the most part, didn’t seem to mind this as he’d been so silent as of yet anyways, but still Light could tell that receiving the Cold Shoulder bothered him.

On several occasions, he made blatant attempts to capture Light’s attention – gazing at him intensely, flicking notes onto his desk, and even sending text messages to his phone – and each time Light stared coolly back at him and either crumbled the note in his fist or deleted the text without even reading it. It was childish of him and it wouldn’t solve anything, but Light never claimed to be the most mature person in the world. He was hurt by L’s refusal to tell him about what was really going on, offended that L didn’t trust him enough to confide in him.

After L spent so much time ignoring him when he wanted to talk, why should Light turn around and open his arms now that L had something to say? L was his best friend, but Light didn’t think he had any reason to be nice to him right now. Beyond was dead (thanks to him) and Light supposed that it was awful (and that he never should have written his name in the Death Note, never should have even touched the Death Note) and that L was allowed to grieve for a while; but to push him aside, when all he wanted to do (when all he’d ever done in the past, what all he wanted to continue to do) was help L...

They clambered onto the bus at three-thirty that afternoon, and since there was only one seat available Light allowed L to take it. L, however, remained standing, staring at Light while chewing absentmindedly on his thumbnail.

“What is it?” Light snapped, hating to be pinned under that black-hole gaze.

L smiled, or tried to at least. “I want Light-kun to talk to me,” he admitted.

“Why?” Light replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not like we have anything to say to each other. Every time I try to talk to you, you brush me off.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

L lowered his gaze sadly, making no effort to deny it now and Light rolled his eyes. They both stood before the empty chair, both too stubborn to actually sit down on it and yet never offering it to anyone else.

Several minutes passed in silence between them, which Light spent staring out the window, watching buildings and other vehicles zoom by, until he felt a gentle tug on the cuff of his shirtsleeve.

“What is it?” he asked, quietly, shifting his backpack from his left shoulder to his right as he noticed that they were nearing their stop.

“Can we go to the park?”

Taken off guard by the strange question, Light’s brows furrowed. “Why do you want to go there?” They hadn’t visited the park in years; the last time Light could remember going there was when they were still in junior high school and a part of the soccer team made up of all the boys from the neighborhood.

“To talk,” L answered simply.

Shrugging his shoulders, Light replied, “fine.”

They didn’t get off at their usual stop, but rather waited until the next one before exiting the bus. The park was a full two minute walk from the bus stop, if even that; L and Light made the short trek in silence, and once they reached the park both automatically headed in the same direction – the spot where the old playground used to be, where they first met all those years ago. The playground had long since been taken down, a large tree was planted in its place.

The two friends sat side-by-side in the long shadow the tree cast, neither looking at the other and instead opting to focus their attention straight ahead. The minutes ticked by without either of them speaking, and Light wondered what was going through L’s mind at that moment. Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask, however, L suddenly spoke, blurting out exactly what had been troubling him so much the past few days (aside from the obvious fact of Beyond’s death).

“I think I killed him.”



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Send the spent ghost on its way to that soothing oblivion. The miracle ending.

...But then what?
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