Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

A/N: Woo! Yeah, I'm cleaning out My Documents. Editing the heck out of things, finishing things that I thought I'd given up on... good times.

I got pretty in tenth grade.

Before that I kind of looked like the lovechild of a cactus and a hamster. A particularly pointy cactus and an unusually fat and greasy hamster. I didn't even like to look at myself in the mirror, so you can imagine how other people felt about looking at me. I was short, fat, and my hair did some kind of greasy thing that I couldn't control no matter how much I washed it. I showered twice a day but I always smelled bad. My ears were too big for my head and I had the worst acne that you have ever seen, guaranteed. My hair was long and tied back because I didn't see the point in getting it cut- not only would it be a waste of money since it sure wouldn't help me look any better, but it would mean that I would have to go out in public, an activity which I avoided like the Bubonic plague itself. Anything that got me out of my room besides school was out of the question. For about ten years, my only friends were online, because they couldn't see or smell me. I gave up on that after a while, however, when it became clear that they were all idiots- by which I mean they were all of disgustingly average intelligence. They were never able to hold my attention. Of all the people I met online, there was simply no one up to my level.

My online people were scared of me because I refused to dumb anything down for them, but people in real life treated me like I was retarded. And, no, I'm not being a jackass; I'm saying that they literally treated me like I was mentally handicapped. I am not and have never been an idiot. I've always been brilliant, this brilliant, in fact, but I guess I just appeared to be really stupid. People were bewildered when they found out that I was in honors classes and got all A's. People were even more bewildered when they found out I was first in my class. People just about dropped dead from shock when they found out I was first in Japan. I also had a speech impediment, which didn't help. It was a terrible lisp, which tied in wonderfully with the next reason that people hated me:

I was clearly gay. I've always been a bit on the feminine side- I mean, I've always known I preferred gentlemen- but in junior high being a girly man is the worst possible thing. It wasn't so pleasant in high school, either, but something about middle school was really terrible. Random passersby without a gaydar would instantly know that I was gay, just from looking at me. I have absolutely no idea how, but they did and I'm not gonna lie: it got me beaten up more than once. It was yet another reason not to go outside.

But seriously. Imagine being a hideously ugly, effeminate, supposedly mentally challenged, probably gay kid named Light Yagami. Lightbulb Imagay. At the time, I suspected that my parents must have hated me to give me that name. There are just way too many puns available. So even if the physical abuse diminished after a while, the verbal abuse was constant. Every day, day in and day out, just... constant. And you know how it is. If someone tells you something enough times, you eventually start to believe it.

And then there was Tatsuki.

When you picture the guy you don't want your daughter to date, you picture Tatsuki. Tatsuki was twelve years older than me when I was fourteen. He was the classic image of a trucker, right down to the speed he took to stay awake while driving. I met him at a convenience store. He would be in town for a week and it literally only took him two minutes and a few compliments before I was on my knees in the bathroom. When I was done, he told me he thought he was in love with me, and for some extremely stupid reason I believed him. He took my phone number and left.

During the week that he was in town, we got together 5 times. He was my first kiss, my first experience with nudity, my first... well, my first everything. I gave it up in every way possible to a guy I knew perfectly well would be gone in a week.

And that's just about all I have to say to make clear exactly how little self-esteem I had at the time.

Then it changed.

I don't know how or why, but the summer before tenth grade everything violently reversed. Because I'm a very intelligent guy, I noticed right away and jumped on the opportunity. I noticed that I was getting taller, so I aided the natural slimming that came along with it using exercise and a dietician. I got prescription-strength acne medication. I begged money off of my parents- who were more than happy to provide- to get a really expensive haircut, and the stylist introduce me to a shampoo and body wash combo that would somehow stop the chronic body odor. It worked wonders. I grew about a foot and a half in only a few months, so between that and all my exercise, I was suddenly toned. The shampoo got rid of the grease. The strange proportions of my face evened out. I took speech classes and got rid of my lisp. I got my teeth whitened. I got a whole new wardrobe to fit my new body, and my parents nearly cried with happiness when I told them I wanted to go to the mall and get some clothes.

Basically, I got really, really pretty. When I went back to school, people didn't even realize that I was the same Light Yagami, and I don't mean that metaphorically. They literally asked- hey, are you related to some freak with the same name?- because they thought I wasn't him.

Of course, when I say 'pretty,' I'm being modest. What I mean by 'pretty' is that people stopped me on the streets and stared, and asked me out if they could work up the courage. People begged me to be in their modeling agencies, and I refused with a beautiful, sparkly grin. Girls and guys alike followed me around, jaws on the floor. I had a date every night that I wanted one, and I successfully buried all memory of Tatsuki in a pile of nameless, gorgeous male bodies, and the occasional girl if I was bored. I caused three physical fights and six slander-based chick fights that I know of, and probably more that I don't know of. I could talk my way out of anything if I applied the right tone of voice and the right tilt of my head, talk my way into anything if I added just the right promise of a sexual favor. I came to understand that anything my mind couldn't get me, my body could, and that, compared to me, there was no game in town.

I've got three years of practice being God's gift to mankind, but I still never admitted to being the same kid, even though I know that it wouldn't matter at this point. Now, I'm that beautiful.

And that right there leads me to one of the best things about L.

Because L? He doesn't give a flying fuck.

I know for a fact that if I still looked and talked like 'Dim' (as I like to call the 'me' of a few years ago), L would still have looked at me in exactly the same way.

When I walked into the room, the first time we ever met, I was pleased to note (and I had learned to read people, as well) that even The Great and Powerful L was raping me with his eyes. And I welcomed it. I gave him a very, very blatant once-over, then I smirked, then I stared him in the eye, making sure to smolder. And I thought I had him in the palm of my hand, as usual.


Maybe it's because he's so socially crippled and asexual, but he didn't even notice how hot I am. That is not what he was looking at. He saw straight through me and knew immediately that I could be Kira... probably was Kira. He knew that a person would have to either be incredibly arrogant or incredibly insecure to do what Kira was doing, and I was both.

That was what made him want to get into my pants.

He likes the extreme arrogance- which I'm perfectly conscious of, thankyouverymuch- with the shatteringly unselfconfident freak underneath. He's into the fact that I wear a very, very sexy mask so successfully that no one else ever sees through it, because it allows him to possess me utterly. For whatever reason, that is what gets him.

Um, yeah... fucking take that Tatsuki. One of the smartest human beings to ever live, sexy as hell, richer than God, and the world's three greatest detectives, and he's mine. Completely and irrefutably mine, forever.

And for some reason, he loves me. Like, actually loves. Actually loves me, for being absurdly complicated and interesting enough to keep his attention.

Now I sound like a horrible person. Granted, I am a horrible person, but I'm not with L because he's sexy and filthy rich or because of his reputation.

I'm with him because of the first thing. That mind of his that allows him to love someone like me, that makes him my equal and my opposite, that makes him the only person like him to have ever existed.

I just... love him. For a lot of the same reasons that he loves me.

And stuff.

However, even if L doesn't notice, I'm really fuckin' pretty.