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30_kisses: BB/L prompts / #25 - snowflakes
This will be the official post containing all my BB/L drabbles for 30_kisses. The table down below shows each prompt; when a prompt becomes a link, it will take you to that drabble. Drabbles may or may not be posted in this entry only, depending on their length.

I've decided to try to write one at least every two or so days, if not whenever I am in the mood. :P

Each prompt goes as follows: starting from the time they first meet and ending with their last moments after Another Note. The prompts themselves will be mixed up, depending on how they fit the situation.

DEADLINE: 10/18 (?)

summer rain	apples	trial and error
reunion	beyond the blue	up
hourglass	to each of their own	mardi gras
childhood	wrath	ray of light
journeys	mistakes	silhouette
windchimes	passing by	shine
je ne sais quoi	out of reach	sacred
wonderful days	grey	the fall
snowflakes	war without tears	explosion
sandman	the moon and the sun	kiss

9/21: Added 'war without tears' prompt.
9/25: Added 'ray of light' prompt.
9/28: Added 'mistakes' prompt.
10/3: Added 'je ne sais quoi' and 'hourglass' prompts.
10/4: Added 'up' prompt.
10/6: Added 'trial and error' and 'mardi gra' prompts.
10/12: Added 'passing by' prompt.
10/31: Added 'grey' prompt.
1/16/08: Added 'the fall' prompt. [Originally written 11/25]

Title: Pale September
Author/Artist: temptationwaits
Fandom: Death Note/Another Note
Pairing: Beyond Birthday/L
List and #: Alternate #25 - snowflakes
Rating: PG (talk of suicide, that's it)
Disclaimer: Death Note, L, etc. © Ooba Tsugumi, Obata Takeshi, etc. Beyond Birthday, Another Note, etc. © Ishin Nishio.
A/N: Spoilers for L's real name, as well for Beyond Birthday. I'm taking the anime's scenario of the day L arrived to the orphanage and tweaking it for the pairing. No yaoi or shounen-ai; just some slight pawing, haha. Title comes from the song by Fiona Apple of the same name. It does not equate the actual date of L's arrival, haha.

The weather had been cold and frigid the past few weeks. Ice licking at the windows, snow piling up in thick mounds of ivory white, tiny flakes of ice carelessly drifting to the ground from the thickly quilted gray clouds above.

A few of the caretakers would go outside every morning to shovel snow the best they could out of the driveway. Dressing the kids in scarves and jackets and mittens and all other means of warm clothing, they let the orphans run outside for an hour or so to play in the huge piles of snow.

Building snowmen, having snowball fights (they would be broken up soon after due to the kid's rough enthusiasm), making snow angels, et cetera. When their little bodies were cold and worn out from play, they went back inside for study time.

Beyond Birthday hadn't gone out with the other children. He never went out with them. Never went out with anyone, for that matter. On the rare case he did step outside his room, he preferred being alone. He didn't play in the snow, didn't run amuck, didn't do anything except stare at the cold earth and mutter various mathematic equations under his breath, which came out in puffs of white heat.

This would be one of those days, but something so much more. A day of fate, a day of remembrance, a day when the dominos started to fall.

Ever since A had committed suicide, B became more recluse from the world around him. Not that he really cared much for A, but A was the first generation of Whammy children; B was second, and thus, they were pretty much the beginning of this orphanage. A was smart, he was talented, he had charm and grace, and B was smart and talented and if he wanted to, he could also have charm and grace.

The thing that differed between them both, perhaps, was B's ability to withstand pressure where as A folded beneath it. This was evident when A was found hung from the ceiling fan by his bedsheet. Couldn't handle the pressure, that's what everyone said. It was probably true; A was a genius in his own right, but being a genius does not equate being immune to things you're damn good at.

B knew this would happen, though. It wasn't a matter of when, but a matter of how. The former had all ready been covered. When A first met B, and B first met A, it wasn't A's face B saw first. Rather, it was a morbid collection of numbers and his twisted name in red floating above the young boy's head. His name, and his death date.

When B was brought to the orphanage, it was agreed to keep his extra "talent" a secret. For the most part, everyone kept their word and didn't say anything to anyone. But A was, after all, in the running to become the greatest detective known to man, and figured out B's dirty little secret soon after.

"You can see the dates when people die?" A asked.

"Yes," B replied a moment later.

A swallowed. "When will I--?" He hesitated, stepped back, clenching a fist over his heart.

"--Die?" B finished for him, and it sounded dark and scary and full of nightmares.

"No! It's not possible!" A snapped. Numbers and letters made sense, but illogical things like psychics and palm readers were completely out of left field. "It's all a lie! You're just making it up to get attention!" he shouted, before darting off down the hall.

B watched him disappear then went back to his book. It didn't matter to him whether A believed him or not. Because in the end, the numbers stay the same.

After that, A and B never spoke to one another for a whole month. B knew A was terrified of him, and that was all right. B didn't care to be anything to anyone, but fear was better than pity and surely he had enough of that.

B did manage to speak one last time with A the night he died. A had been sick, physically and emotionally, B overhearing him throwing fits and crying in his sleep; it was understandable. He had been given a case that was all too unbearable for his mind. Not that he couldn't do it, but when a system is overloaded...

A was walking down the hall to his room, quiet, his head hung low as it had been doing a lot lately, clutching a stack of reference books to his chest like the teddy bear he never had. B had been sitting with his back to his open bedroom door, making numerous origami cranes in a matter of seconds.

The moment A passed his door, B said quietly, "Tell me what it's like when you get there." He then looked up and back at B. "I have to know if it's real."

A just frowned at him, but there was no trace of disbelief in his ashen gray face. He pretended he heard nothing and continued onward. Around midnight, B swore he heard a loud thud and crack from the room next door but he just shut his crimson red eyes and rolled onto his side.

Nonetheless, A never told him what the afterlife was like.

If you accept nothing, you expect nothing, and if you don't know anything, you don't feel anything. Numbers, letters, they don't lie, they don't die, they don't hurt or love you. If you've never had something, you'll never miss it. B never really had any sort of connection with his parents, and even if he had wanted to, knowing they'd be dying so soon in his childhood would only be a burden to his emotions. If you don't have emotions, you don't have a need to feel hurt or sad.

Things would change. They always did. It was imminent and no force on Earth could stop it. Even if it meant destroying everything you've built, it'll come and it'll come delicate and slow and sneaky like a snake or hard, fast and cruel like a hurricane.

In this case, it came in the form of a little boy with black, baggy eyes.

It had stopped snowing for some time. Perhaps an hour, maybe more. He wasn't keeping track. Beyond Birthday sat quietly outside on the stoop of the orphanage. Dressed in a simple jacket and pants, he didn't care much that his fingers were stinging in the cold weather. It was a feeling of realness that B hardly ever felt or knew.

Just then, with a gust of cold air that blew B's hair into his alabaster face, the snow started up again. Soft, frail snowflakes of blue and white, falling like intricate stars from the stratosphere.

B looked up; a snowflake that seemed to see only him landed on his face, kissing his warm check and melting.

Suddenly, the gates across the lawn creaked as they opened. B looked aside, his eyes widening. There was Quillish Whammy, the owner and caretaker of the orphanage, dressed in a thick black coat and hat, as if attending a funeral. And with him was a child B had never seen before in his life.

Small, a few inches smaller than B, perhaps a little younger, with messy black hair, his face tucked deep in the collar of his coat, one gloved hand clutching Whammy's. For the first time ever, B had seen him, not his numbers, not his name. Just his face.

B watched this little boy with interest. He looked somewhat peculiar, but nothing else physically stood out. Just then Whammy lead the new boy inside, up to B and said, "Ah, B. Are you out here alone?"

B didn't reply. He hardly ever replied to anything anyone said.

Nonetheless, Whammy held the boy forward. "B, I would like you to meet Lawliet. He'll be staying with us from now on," the old man explained, smiling sweetly at the child he held, Lawliet. "Lawliet, this is B, or Beyond Birthday."

B felt something rush down his spine when Lawliet slowly rose his eyes and met B's. Deep pits of black, with shades of purple lingering just beneath. B had never seen such dark eyes; they were like obsidian, pure obsidian. All he could do was stare, trying to mask his dumbfounded gaze, snow collecting on top of his mop of hair.

Just then, Lawliet stepped forward, took off a glove and, without a word or warning, reached up and touched B just beneath his left eye. B flinched, his pupils dilating briefly. His fingers, they were so warm. Soft, gentle, kissing his cold, pallor skin. Lawliet didn't say anything, didn't do anything but move his fingers up and around B's eye.

"Ahaha, Lawliet, you should ask people before you touch their face," Whammy chuckled deeply.

"They're real, aren't they?" Lawliet inquired, softly, his eyes never unlocking with B's red gaze.

"Yes," B retorted.

"I wonder," Lawliet hummed, withdrawing his hand, "what do your eyes see?"

B didn't say a word. Whammy took this moment to step up to L and take his hand again. "Come now, let's get inside. It's getting quite chilly out here, what with the snow starting up again," he suggested, looking between L and B. He didn't wait for a response, just took L to the front doors.

L turned and blinked blankly at the red eyed orphan. "Are you coming?" he inquired. Then all too quickly he added, "Beyond Birthday?"

"Mm," B mumbled lowly. It had been a while since someone used his full name. Always B, nothing else.

Nonetheless, he followed Lawliet and Whammy inside. As the two shook off their snowy coats, Lawliet turned to B and inquired, "If you don't mind, may I call you B? Or would you prefer Beyond Birthday?"

"Either or, I don't care," B answered dully.

"All right," Lawliet agreed, nodding. "And from now on in , please address me as L."

And in the wee hours of the night, B found himself sneaking into L's room. This would be something rare, seeing L asleep. It would be days later when L would sleep again. Perhaps it was the trip, the entire ordeal of losing his family and becoming an orphan that exhausted both his mind, body and spirit. Maybe, maybe not.

B stood by L's beside and watched him sleep, watched his chest heave in and out in gentle strokes. What a beautiful sight... B envied that face, envied everything, though he knew nothing.

B touched L's tiny fingers. Warm, they were still warm. He couldn't help but place them against his cheek again and wonder, It's been a long time...