Characters/Pairing: Watari, L. Mentions of Near, Mello and Matt.
Word Count: 530
Author's Note: I haven't written anything creative for what seems like forever.
The rain. It was always soothing to him, in times of thought. Of need, desperate need. The tiny little droplets from the sky were a little epiphany in each and every splash on his hair, his skin, his shirt, his nose. He never needed to pray [For in his mind God could not exist] but if prayer provided joy and hope to others then the rain was his solace.
L was about to decide upon the futures of his legacy. The word was almost acidic to his tongue. Why would they thought of him as the meterstick to base a so called future L on was ludicrous. Individuality was the core of the human being.
And they were all, in every way, individual individuals.
But one of them would have to give that up.
To be a clone. Did they fucking learn nothing from Beyond?
Not on his ears, but on his skin. His eyes leered upwards to see an arachnid covering him, it’s black skin shielding him from the rain. It was fighting with some warrior, holding a shield, who obviously wanted to kill it when all it wanted to do was run away. To escape, to flee, to be someone else other than him. How exactly it felt to be L, in the early days at least.
Then reality kicked in and it was nothing more than an umbrella. The warrior fighting with it was none other than Watari, the man who kept him sane. If it weren’t for him, he’d probably have left a long time ago in one form or another.
“Lawliet,” he spoke, his soft voice as soothing as the rain was.
“Yes, I know.” It was time to choose. L took the folder from Watari’s hand. Perhaps it could have been a shield in another life. And perhaps he would have been a warrior. And I would have been his…but life wasn’t all an induced fantasy.
He opened the folder, to a mountain of faces. All children, all little L’s in the making. No B’s or A’s. Only possible L’s, after L’s, after L’s, after L’s. He had already picked out a few who showed promise. He had already found their real names.
Nate River had the intelligence but his face was familiar.
Even the hair was like his own.
Strange they had never met. It could only be a conditioning of Wammy’s, there was no other reason.
But there was no history of abuse.
Mihael Keehl. Apparently he loved chocolate as much as L loved sweet things.
Mail Jeevas. He was completely unlike him. They did not look alike, he was fascinated with games, L never played them. But his mother was an addict.
Did they fucking learn nothing from B?
“You don‘t have to pick anyone L,” he stood with a smile on his face. He always knew what to say.
And he nodded, taking the umbrella with him, knowing I wouldn’t need it, knowing what the rain meant to me, yet knowing I would be leaving shortly. Perhaps Watari knew more than me, perhaps he would have been a better L.
In another life perhaps.