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On the day L Lawliet was to die, footsteps came from behind him on the roof.
He sat alone on the roof of a tall building in Tokyo, Japan, staring up at the sky. Normally, he sat crouched. It helped him think; it was comfortable. But today, he sat with his legs dangling off the side of the building, staring up at the sky.
L wasn’t second-guessing his decision.
It wasn’t a rash decision, not necessarily. He’d thought about it on and off for the last few years, thinking through the different details, what he needed to plan, his final decision. The location had always been the least thought-about detail, however. He travelled around too much, never knowing where he’d be next.
Japan was as good a place as any.
The sky had been unusually clear, and when he’d sent his guardian out for a supply run after solving his last case—now his final case—he’d seen the sun begin to set. It had struck him how beautiful it was, and he realized it would be the perfect way to go.
Seeing the natural world in its building before leaving it forever.
L’s death had been coming for years. Case after case seeing the gruesome aspects of the world, the worst of humans, while growing steadily more detached. Only one connection in his life, in the form of the man who had raised him. Not quite his dad, they had never crossed that line.
But his brain always ran too fast, too much. It was torture, this gift he’d been given, this crown of intelligence made from thorns. He’d always, always, been the smartest person in the room, even at only eight years old, when he’d solved his first case. At ten, when he’d prevented World War Three. At twelve, when he claimed the titles of 2nd and 3rd best detectives for himself. At eighteen, when he’d stopped a murderer who intended to copy him, to make him fail a case.
And yet, it was all nothing.
Static noise, by this point.
His cases had been interesting at one point, nearly two decades ago, when he’d started all of this. But his mind continued to evolve, continued to grow, as human brains did. He was smarter now than when he’d been eight, and the cases that had challenged him then he could solve in his sleep. He only took cases that interested him as a way to try and keep his motivation, to keep boredom at bay.
World’s best detective for solving thousands upon thousands of cases. All while his boredom continued to eat away at him.
He didn’t ask for this intelligence.
He’d wished for years to meet someone, anyone, who could actually provide him a challenge.
Beyond Birthday had been closest, but even he hadn’t been smart enough.
L wanted, for once, for his mind to go silent. To not have to think. To be able to, for once, just stop.
He’d never been granted that mercy.
He’d tried. Drugs and cutting, alcohol and the constant sweets. Sometimes it would quiet his mind, give him a moment of relief. But it never lasted, never solved the problem. And he’d never wanted Mr. Wammy to find out, to realize what had happened.
Instead, he started to dream, to hope, of a final rest. He’d been yearning for it for years, to stop the noise, the constant thoughts. To make his mind finally grow quiet—silent.
L had made his plans. He’d put them into place. He wasn’t backing out now.
So now, here he sat. Watching his last sunset before he could finally silence his mind.
And then he heard footsteps behind him.
He didn’t react.
L didn’t know who could have been coming up here at this time of day. It couldn’t be Mr. Wammy—he knew he would be out for several hours.
There was no movement for a maybe a minute or two, then the footsteps came closer. L wondered if it was someone coming to tell him off, to tell him he had stuff to live for.
He didn’t want to live, not when he knew what life awaited him.
Instead, someone sat next to him. L took his eyes off the sunset to see who it was.
It was the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen. Japanese, clearly, but with warm brown hair. The boy was close in age to himself, maybe a couple years younger. His hair was impeccably styled, and his eyes were a chocolatey brown, mixed with gold and ever changing shades of brown.
He was gorgeous.
The boy met his eyes briefly, and L realized he was looking in a mirror.
Both of them looked back out at the sky. The sun was starting to dip fully behind the horizon, but the sky was still filled with the oranges, pinks, and purples of the sunset, the colors reflecting onto the clouds.
“Why are you doing it?” L asked, not looking at the boy sitting next to him.
The boy was quiet for several long moments, but it wasn’t awkward.
They were just two strangers who’d happened to choose the same roof for the same action, this evening.
“I can’t take it anymore,” the boy said eventually.
“Mm.”
They sat in silence for another minute, watching the sun dip further beyond the horizon line.
“I believe I’m supposed to tell you that your family will miss you,” L said, but he couldn’t bring himself to change the monotone of his voice.
“And I suppose I should tell you that there’s still so much to live for.”
L snorted out a laugh and looked down at the street below, gripping the edge of the roof.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” he said. “Death would be mercy. Much kinder.”
“In that, we agree,” the boy said.
L chuckled softly, and looked back to the sky.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty two.”
“So young,” L murmured. “I’m twenty four. Are you finishing university, then?”
“A week ago,” the boy confirmed. “I was hired just out of college.”
“And yet, it’s too much.”
“...I can’t take the repetition,” the boy muttered, and L looked over at him. There was a hopelessness in his eyes that L recognized all too well. It didn’t suit such beautiful eyes. “No stimulation… the same thing for the rest of my life…”
“I feel the same,” L said. He leaned back, as the sun was about to disappear on the horizon. His suicide note would be on the screen in maybe an hour, and his bank account would be closed, the money prepared to be divided. “I was a detective. But nothing could ever hope the stimulate me.”
“I was hired by the NPA,” the boy said. “My father gave me a note of recommendation. I’ve spent my whole life being perfect, working towards this point, and now I’m here, and…”
“It all feels rather worthless.”
The boy laughed softly, and L smiled.
This was insane.
Two boy about to jump off a building, talking to each other not out of a desire to stop each other—simply because they could.
Maybe this would be the last mystery he’d ever solve, just before he plummeted to his death.
“I’ve been a detective a very long time,” L admitted. What did it matter if this boy learned who he was now? Neither of them would be around much longer. He could almost see a clock ticking down to the end of his life. Less than an hour, now. “I started because it was fun. Because it was stimulating. Because I liked helping people.”
“And now it only serves as a thing to do?” the boy asked. “No longer any of those things it was when you started—just easy?”
“Exactly.”
He remembered A. How the boy had been slowly cracking under pressure, invisible fissure lines that burst when too much pressure was applied. He’d been found hanging from the bell tower.
L had been so very mad after that. He forced them to change the successor program—a program he’d never asked for, never wanted. He’d spent years trying to figure out how he felt about it.
Maybe he should’ve made a decision sooner. He’d been asked time and time again who would be his successor, when his answer truly was he’d never wanted one.
He’d never wanted another person to break under the pressure.
When he’d changed the program, he hadn’t expected the next person to be himself.
He could only hope Near and Mello and Matt weren’t too mad at him for wasting their time all these years.
“I’ve been the smartest person in any room for as long as I can remember,” L said.
“...me too.”
And they shared a long look.
L recognized it.
The intelligence, trapped among normal people. Forced to play for them, to perform, to remain just as intelligent when they didn’t understand the levels. Smart, yes, but they could never comprehend how much. How idiotic they all were comparatively.
A god amongst mortals. A human among plankton. The creme de la creme, the best amongst the best, better by so many degrees. Left alone forever with your own mind, with no one to ever compare to, compete against, relate with.
It was ironic, L supposed.
For the first time, he was possibly meeting someone who could stand on the same level as him. Here they were, the tallest building in the city, with everyone below them.
Here they were, about to jump.
The other boy seemed to come to the same conclusion, giving him a smile as well.
The sun had disappeared, now.
There was no more reason for delay.
He slowly got to his feet, the window stronger up here on the roof than it ever was on the ground. Perhaps he wouldn’t even need to jump—simply let go and let the window send him to the ground, to return, as all things do, to the Earth.
L wondered what would have happened if he had met this boy sooner. He’d been to Japan before, afterall.
Then again, it could’ve made everything worst. Given him a taste of what it meant to truly live, but if he’d lost him, he’d never have recovered.
The boy held out his hand, and L took it.
“Light Yagami,” he said, giving him a smile. Light’s smile was sad, and L wondered if Light had the same thought that he had.
He probably did.
“L Lawliet,” he responded.
He could see the realization in the boy’s eyes at his name, at what he meant by detective.
L the detective would die with him.
He wasn’t choosing a successor, and he never would. The role wasn’t one that should be passed on. He didn’t deserve a successor. A had died trying to live up to it, B had almost died trying to destroy it, and L himself was going to kill himself after living it.
His successors, the children, were never going to be him. They would be forced into a mold, to a path they didn’t get the chance to decide if they wanted. They’d been raised to want it, but he’d seen where their talents lie. In writing, in tech, in science. None of them in investigation.
None of them deserved the gruesome reality of a detective. Not when they were children.
“I wish we could’ve met some other way,” Light said, dropping the hand he’d shaken, and instead taking his hand so they could stand side-by-side on the roof, looking out on the Tokyo skyline. The lights were on by now. The city was beautiful.
“Perhaps this was the only way we could’ve met,” L said.
If he’d met Light sooner, would he want to live?
Now that he had met him, did he want to live?
He squeezed Light’s hand and looked at him, and the boy smiled at him. L rested his head on the other’s shoulder.
His toes were on the very edge of the roof. It would barely be a step to plummet off it.
L’s hand in Light’s was firm, and he knew both of them had the same idea.
They were going together, no matter what.
For the first time in his life, L’s brain went quiet.