L is Dead

A Story by Mason

A fanfiction drabble from Death Note

Mello was always so tardy. It was an idiosyncrasy of his that occurred much too often for the young boy’s personal tastes, as lateness trailed on the floor after the temperamental blond like a shadow. Whether it be to a class, or finishing a particular examination, everything took ages to register or complete. But if only he could be on time this single occasion, then Near wouldn't be forced to teeter so precariously on the edge of his seat, waiting for this oh-so-urgent news that had been waiting three minutes and twenty-six seconds for arrival. His impatience was snowballing as each second raked its talons over his vulnerable ivory-stained mind, embedding a temple-deep headache that throbbed through his cranium like an earthquake.

Luckily enough, he’d brought along a puzzle to keep himself occupied- or rather, one of the orphanage caretakers had left to fetch one for him and had returned just moments previous. Now, he routinely began to line the pieces up, nimble fingers turning over each shard so it’s blemish-less red face exposed itself to him. Then, ever-so-surely, he began to fit things back together again, beginning with the top-left corner, then building as though he were reading a book. Each methodical click of a puzzle piece soothed his jitters, just as a drag off a cigarette would calm a chain smoker.

However, this couldn’t prevent him from noticing the small details- such as how Roger’s old, worn face was wrinkled up in worry and defeat, while his fingers carded together before his expression. Near couldn’t bring himself to ignore the routine clicks of the head caretaker’s toes tapping against the floor, or the piles of work on his desk that often weren't there. In regards to the papers, were they personal notes, he wondered? No, Near discarded that thought almost as soon as it swept in. Roger’s wife had passed away a few years prior, and he had never noticed any of the telltale signs of kids from his office. Regular work, then. Now that he pondered, the young man realized a sudden, noticeable influx of new children in the building, wandering about the hallways during the times he left his room. And yet…none of them had aliases yet. Piled up work, then. Things the bossy, driven, type-A man hadn't yet finished. Busy with something else?

As he thought, First mechanically dumped the first puzzle from it’s perfectly completed state, back into it’s box, and moving to a more challenging plain white one.

Ever so slowly, his mind rattled off the inferences he’d made. He and Mello both summoned to the same meeting, Roger appearing stressed and deeply unhappy, and putting off normal work in order to deal with some unspoken other outlet.

Just as fluidly as he had with his puzzle, First pieced it together.

L was dead.