Boy I'm having a bad evening…so to cheer myself up L, MATSUDA FLUFF! Yayz. Ok well this chapter is kind of…angsty rather then fluffy….but in the long run ^^ this will be fluff!
CHAPTER ONE = London, 1994
High school, whether it is private school, Public school or home schooling, high school, is hell. Even the brightest of students can find it weary, boring, or a waste of time and the same went for fourteen-year-old L Lawliet of Whammy's house. He found most of the classes boring or other wise a waste of his time, but he did the assignments with out complaint, most of the time.
"It was an urge, a strong, strong urge, and the longer I tried to let it go, the stronger it became. It began eating me up inside, I had to kill him, even though I knew it was risky and I knew I might get caught!" That is what many criminals say in their own defense, that it was an urge. Where does this urge come from, and why is it so powerful? If we all, experience this urge, would we all be able to resist? Is it hormonal, genetic, and biological or a cultural condition? Do serial killers have any control over their desires? We all, being human, experience rage and in appropriate sexual instincts, yet we have some an internal cage that keeps our inner most fears, desires and monsters at bay. Call it morality or social programming. These internal blockades have long since been trampled down in the psychopathic killer. Not only have they let loose the monster within, they become virtual slaves to the monsters ever growing appetite. What sets them apart?—
"What's this?" L sat there and starred at the wood of his desk as his paper was pulled from him mid stroke. A chuckle escaped his assaulter.
"Listen to this." He laughed as L slowly turned around in his chair and looked up at the three boys he'd grown to despise…the only ones he despised at the Whammy house, and ever wished misfortune upon.
'Sonnet, Samuel Broker,' his eyes drifted to the other boy. 'Polorode, kain Matthews.' And finally his eyes rested upon the leader of this group of bullies, who currently held his paper. L's eyes narrowed. 'Jack Homes.'
"'It was an urge, a strong, strong urge, and the longer I tried to let it go, the stronger it became. It began eating me up inside, I had to kill him, even though I knew it was risky and I knew I might get caught!'" He laughed making a face and crumpling up the piece of paper and tossing it across the room. "What a load of crap." He said, L flinching as he felt a fleck of spit hit him in the face. Jack often reminded him of a horse, one who sprays it and says it. "That is a loud of shit! Do you actually believe that criminals say that crap! If I where the teacher I'd bleed all over you're papers with a red inked pen saying how worthless and horrible your reports are!" L knew what would come next, it always came, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
As the laughter of the three boys died L poked his head out of the trash can before climbing out, scraps of papers, pensile shavings and spit wads falling around him as he crossed the room and picked up his crumpled paper, uncrumpling it before smoothing it out on the edge of his desk. He sighed and took a seat. It happened often, the bashing, the verbal abuse, it was nothing new to him, and yet, it still stung. He hurt to be told you where worthless and your ideas no matter their value where stupid, or horrible or lame. It hurt, and he always told himself, he shouldn't care, he shouldn't care what they said, shouldn't care, and yet, he did. He often wished to retort and point out his abusers faults, for he could list far more then they could ever dream of listing for him, he longed to get the satisfaction of hurting his abusers as much as they hurt him, and yet…he always told himself, it wasn't worth it, he would be the better man and do nothing.
'That's the problem with an 'eye for an eye' after a while, everyone ends up blind.'
"Matsuda, are you, ok?" Aizawa questioned as he passed his friends desk. Matsuda had a distant look in his eyes and a sad expression on his face. Aizawa frowned. "Hey, Matsuda!" He said flicking Matsuda on the head.
"Huh ow!" Matsuda rubbed his head gazing up at Aizawa. "What was that for?"
"You didn't answer me dumb ass." Matsuda made a face.
"What was the question?"
"Are. You. Ok?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah…it's just, it's the first year anniversary of Ryuzaki's death." Aizawa's expression softened slightly.
"Oh, I see." He patted Matsuda on the shoulder before moving on. Matsuda sighed.
'If only there were away for me to see him again.'
"Hey, Ryuk, what are you laughing at?"
"Look's like things could get a lot more interesting around here."
"Good night chief!"
Matsuda made his way along the street heading for the bus stop feeling unusually sleeping. He rubbed his eyes as he stood at the bus stop awaiting the nine-o-clock bus. He yawned widely bowing his head and closing his eyes before opening them and shaking his head.
'Why am I so sleepy all of the sudden?' He thought before his mind went blank and he passed out, falling to the cement with a soft thud.
"A lot more interesting."
Well…yeah…more L, Matsuda fluff…though in a different type of wrapper. Just to let you know, this will be yaoi. So if you don't like, then don't read beyond chapter five…which is when the yaoiness will be introduced.