FicWad

Ah, good old beige prose. How we love you ^.^
Beyond writes in purple, A in beige XD

~oOo~

Anyone who knows me (and there are very few people who do) will recognize me as A, the first one in line to succeed L.
But that's not important right now. I am here to tell the story that has never been told before.
Mine.
My parents named me Aden Armstrong. We lived a nice, quiet life in a tiny village in Scotland. It seemed like nothing could go wrong. They were kind to me, and to each other. Even thought we really didn't have much money, it seemed like we always had just enough to get by. For the first three or four years of my life were like something out of a fairy tale- they're the best memories I have. Even though they have dimmed with time, I doubt that I will ever truly forget.
Just like how I'll never forget how my parents died.
Now, before I hear anyone chiding me, saying things like "nobody is that perfect," let me assure you that I know that. However, I only have memories of the good times. Unfortunately, what I remember the most is their deaths.
We were going to visit my grandmother, who lived somewhere in America. We boarded the flight, and it took off without any issue. The problem started after we had been in the air for about an hour or so, flying thousands of feet above the ocean. The engine stalled, making frightening clanking noises. Then it stopped completely. Fear prickled inside me like barbed wire. I began to tremble, and passengers began to panic. My mother and father tried to reassure me that it would be alright, though I saw fear in their own eyes as well.
I saw out of the window that we were rapidly losing altitude. My panic escalated. I clung to my mother in a vain attempt to hold my terror at bay.
The captain told us to prepare for a crash. I was terrified. I cried, just as any child would. It was too much. I was sure that I was going to die.
We crashed.
I don't remember much after that. We floated in the water for God only knows how long. Some of the survivors may have been eaten by sharks, but that may very well have been my imagination.
The water was cold. My mother's skin slowly turned blue, and she eventually drowned, along with my father, who tried desperately to save her.
And just like that, I was alone.
My mind was completely blank by the time help arrived. I said nothing as I was brought aboard a rescue helicopter and wrapped in a blanket. Only when a paramedic asked me where my parents were did I cry. This had to be a bad dream…it had to be. There was no way this was real! This had to be a nightmare…yeah, that's what it was. This was just a nightmare, and I would wake up any second…
I didn't, obviously. This was reality, whether or not I chose to accept it.
I was put into foster care after all of my relatives were deemed unworthy to take me in.
I didn't make it easy for the families who took me in. some of them were bad- others were mediocre. But even the best families didn't keep me for long. I would throw violent temper tantrums whenever they tried to tell me that they loved me, or did anything kind for me at all. They wanted to love me, but I wouldn't let them. I was too afraid to let anyone close to my heart again.
The various therapists I encountered all said that I was brilliant, and a good kid, but I had some issues to work out. Yeah, they could've gotten that much information for free. Still, I lived that life for three years, until I was sent to an orphanage called Wammy's House. I stood before two old men and a boy, who seemed older than me.
The men talked to me. They asked me questions. The boy remained silent.
"L? Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"
The dark-haired boy looked up at me with curiosity.
"Hello," he said, offering me a smile. I glared back at him in a way that said; to use a common phrase, "Don't fuck with me."
L continued to fix me with that friendly gaze. He got up, walked closer to me, and gave me a hug.
I was taken by surprise. I didn't expect this.
Slowly, surely, I raised my arms and hugged him back. It had been too long since I felt this safe, wanted, and loved. And, for once, I accepted this gesture of affection given to me by a stranger.
"It's okay," he told me. "If you're sad, that's normal. I think you'll find that everyone who lives at Wammy's House has a story to tell, each with their own heartaches and sorrows. You don't need to hide it or be ashamed by it. it will never go away, but it does get better."
I had never heard such wise words spoken. I hugged L tighter.
"Will you let me be your friend?" L asked me. I nodded fervently. Watari smiled at Roger, who smiled back and nodded.
Just like that, I had a new family. And for a time, I was happy.
If only for that time.