Categories > Anime/Manga > Death Note > Rewrite
Disclaimer: Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba, and Takeshi Obata. Neither of whom are me.
/Author's Note: /This fic was originally written for the LiveJournal community of 30kisses. Yes, it was approved. We could all use some L/Misa love, let's be honest. This is an AU, and dabbles with the idea of Misa meeting L before Light. Still with me? Good. Let's go.
Rewrite
Theme 10: #10
The night Misa had been assaulted by a stalker she had locked herself into her apartment, and had huddled herself into a corner of the living room, a kitchen knife held tightly in her hands as she watched the door intensely. The man might have stumbled away before he could attack her, but that didn't mean he couldn't have followed her home. She wondered if she should've gone someplace else, but her apartment was the safest place in the world to her. At least, it had been.
The second day after the assault, when she was sure the man wasn't going to come jumping out of the shadows, Misa called her older sister and spilled out each horrifying second to her. Her sister demanded that she call the police. She reluctantly agreed after a long argument, and found herself in the familiar situation of giving a statement, and the new situation of looking through photos. She had found him in the second row of the fifth set of pictures they had shown her. A man no older than thirty, who apparently had been arrested once before for assaulting an ex-girlfriend, but had no other record. Misa decided that she hated him, and secretly wished horrible things upon him.
The third day after the assault, Misa called her manager and told her she needed some time off. When she was yelled at, Misa managed to explain the situation in the only way Misa could; by screaming as high-pitched and squeaky as possible. With a couple sniffles in there for good measure. This method was rewarded with the time off she desired, and a murmured, "Come back soon," before her frazzled manager hung up.
The fourth and fifth days after the assault, Misa held up in her apartment, huddled underneath thick blankets that she had pulled out of her closet. Somehow, when she cocooned herself in the comforters, when she made it impossible for her to see the outside world, she found a bit of safety in the allusion that she was the only person who existed.
The sixth day after the assault, Misa got a phone call from the police. The suspect she had pointed out to them had died of a heart attack only a few hours after she had been attacked. They apologized that they couldn't question him, but if she was still positive that he was the man who had assailed her, they would consider the case closed. Feeling numb, Misa told them that yes, she was sure he was the attacker, and then hung up. Death. He had died. The numbness slowly made way to a morbid satisfaction. Death was its own justice.
The seventh day after the assault, Misa went back to work in full force, proclaiming that she was better than ever. She smiled brightly for any camera that popped up in front of her, and she agreed to any audition her manager suggested. Life was good for Misa-Misa.
The eighth day after the assault, Misa found herself glancing at her cell phone more often than usual, waiting for it to ring from a caller that was unknown to everyone around her but herself. But it never rang, and Misa found herself bitterer over it than she cared to admit.
The ninth day after the assault, Misa celebrated her mother's birthday by making herself a single cupcake, that she ate sans icing because that was fattening, regardless of how a certain someone who she was very angry at for the moment would say. She sang happy birthday to an empty room, and blew out the candle in her mother's stead. As the smoke rose, she could almost hear her mother tell her she had such a pretty voice.
The tenth day after the assault, Misa's phone rang, and a deep voice greeted her in its usual way. Misa answered back with screams and accusations. Why hadn't he called earlier? Didn't he know what had happened? He was the genius who knew everything, wasn't he? So, how hadn't he known to call her? How dare he not call her?!
And after a good ten minutes of verbally ripping him apart, with her voice sore and her eyes puffy from tears she was glad he couldn't see, he finally replied, "Happy birthday, Misa-san."
Mind swimming, she muttered, "What?"
"Misa-san's mother's birthday was yesterday. And Misa-san's birthday is today. Correct?"
"Well," Misa closed her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts. She had forgotten, hadn't she? She used to be so good at these things, too, because it meant a big double party for her and her mother. How had she remembered her mother's birthday, but not her own? Was she losing herself that much? "Yes. You're right."
"Right. So, I bought you a cake."
She blinked. "Misa doesn't eat cake. And Misa isn't there to see it, anyway!" she added, confusion making way for the usual irritation she felt when talking to him.
"That's why I shall eat your piece for you," he explained. "Wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good cake."
"You're too kind," she told him, flatly.
"Make a wish, Misa-san."
"Huh?"
"A wish. You have to blow out your candles. Or rather, I will," he admitted. "So, a wish is in order."
She pictured him hunched over a cake topped with inch thick icing, and blowing out little pink and blue candles for her. Misa fought back the urge to giggle as she listened to his breath softly caress the receiver, and she dutifully made her wish.
"Did you make your wish, Misa-san?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, eyes opening again.
"What did you wish for?"
"For you to be here."
A silent beat, then, "You're not supposed to tell people your wishes, Misa-san. They won't come true."
"Then you shouldn't have asked. Besides, Misa knows that," she told him. "But I already know it won't come true, so it's okay to tell."
"Ah."
"Misa is used to false wishes, you see."
"Misa-san?"
"Yes?"
"You still should be careful what you wish for. You never know, after all."
/Author's Note: /This fic was originally written for the LiveJournal community of 30kisses. Yes, it was approved. We could all use some L/Misa love, let's be honest. This is an AU, and dabbles with the idea of Misa meeting L before Light. Still with me? Good. Let's go.
Rewrite
Theme 10: #10
The night Misa had been assaulted by a stalker she had locked herself into her apartment, and had huddled herself into a corner of the living room, a kitchen knife held tightly in her hands as she watched the door intensely. The man might have stumbled away before he could attack her, but that didn't mean he couldn't have followed her home. She wondered if she should've gone someplace else, but her apartment was the safest place in the world to her. At least, it had been.
The second day after the assault, when she was sure the man wasn't going to come jumping out of the shadows, Misa called her older sister and spilled out each horrifying second to her. Her sister demanded that she call the police. She reluctantly agreed after a long argument, and found herself in the familiar situation of giving a statement, and the new situation of looking through photos. She had found him in the second row of the fifth set of pictures they had shown her. A man no older than thirty, who apparently had been arrested once before for assaulting an ex-girlfriend, but had no other record. Misa decided that she hated him, and secretly wished horrible things upon him.
The third day after the assault, Misa called her manager and told her she needed some time off. When she was yelled at, Misa managed to explain the situation in the only way Misa could; by screaming as high-pitched and squeaky as possible. With a couple sniffles in there for good measure. This method was rewarded with the time off she desired, and a murmured, "Come back soon," before her frazzled manager hung up.
The fourth and fifth days after the assault, Misa held up in her apartment, huddled underneath thick blankets that she had pulled out of her closet. Somehow, when she cocooned herself in the comforters, when she made it impossible for her to see the outside world, she found a bit of safety in the allusion that she was the only person who existed.
The sixth day after the assault, Misa got a phone call from the police. The suspect she had pointed out to them had died of a heart attack only a few hours after she had been attacked. They apologized that they couldn't question him, but if she was still positive that he was the man who had assailed her, they would consider the case closed. Feeling numb, Misa told them that yes, she was sure he was the attacker, and then hung up. Death. He had died. The numbness slowly made way to a morbid satisfaction. Death was its own justice.
The seventh day after the assault, Misa went back to work in full force, proclaiming that she was better than ever. She smiled brightly for any camera that popped up in front of her, and she agreed to any audition her manager suggested. Life was good for Misa-Misa.
The eighth day after the assault, Misa found herself glancing at her cell phone more often than usual, waiting for it to ring from a caller that was unknown to everyone around her but herself. But it never rang, and Misa found herself bitterer over it than she cared to admit.
The ninth day after the assault, Misa celebrated her mother's birthday by making herself a single cupcake, that she ate sans icing because that was fattening, regardless of how a certain someone who she was very angry at for the moment would say. She sang happy birthday to an empty room, and blew out the candle in her mother's stead. As the smoke rose, she could almost hear her mother tell her she had such a pretty voice.
The tenth day after the assault, Misa's phone rang, and a deep voice greeted her in its usual way. Misa answered back with screams and accusations. Why hadn't he called earlier? Didn't he know what had happened? He was the genius who knew everything, wasn't he? So, how hadn't he known to call her? How dare he not call her?!
And after a good ten minutes of verbally ripping him apart, with her voice sore and her eyes puffy from tears she was glad he couldn't see, he finally replied, "Happy birthday, Misa-san."
Mind swimming, she muttered, "What?"
"Misa-san's mother's birthday was yesterday. And Misa-san's birthday is today. Correct?"
"Well," Misa closed her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts. She had forgotten, hadn't she? She used to be so good at these things, too, because it meant a big double party for her and her mother. How had she remembered her mother's birthday, but not her own? Was she losing herself that much? "Yes. You're right."
"Right. So, I bought you a cake."
She blinked. "Misa doesn't eat cake. And Misa isn't there to see it, anyway!" she added, confusion making way for the usual irritation she felt when talking to him.
"That's why I shall eat your piece for you," he explained. "Wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good cake."
"You're too kind," she told him, flatly.
"Make a wish, Misa-san."
"Huh?"
"A wish. You have to blow out your candles. Or rather, I will," he admitted. "So, a wish is in order."
She pictured him hunched over a cake topped with inch thick icing, and blowing out little pink and blue candles for her. Misa fought back the urge to giggle as she listened to his breath softly caress the receiver, and she dutifully made her wish.
"Did you make your wish, Misa-san?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, eyes opening again.
"What did you wish for?"
"For you to be here."
A silent beat, then, "You're not supposed to tell people your wishes, Misa-san. They won't come true."
"Then you shouldn't have asked. Besides, Misa knows that," she told him. "But I already know it won't come true, so it's okay to tell."
"Ah."
"Misa is used to false wishes, you see."
"Misa-san?"
"Yes?"
"You still should be careful what you wish for. You never know, after all."
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