When the sun shines, we'll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be your friend
Took an oath
I'm going to stick it out 'til the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella
You can stand under my umbrella
Under my umbrella
Rhianna, "Umbrella"

She didn't think it would rain that day. The morning had started off sunny enough and there were couples in the park, holding hands and leaning against the cherry tree trunks. They made her think of Raito and how loved her hands. He would always say that she had the most graceful hands he'd ever seen.

Naturally, graceful wasn't a word that L would consciously associate with herself, but if her young husband liked to think that, then so be it.

Husband. She couldn't believe it. Raito was her husband. They'd just had their secret wedding two months ago at a local notary office, during his lunch break. She'd met him at the steps and they'd gone inside together. It was the most practical wedding ever, just the two of them signing their names in the register to be officially man and wife. L had never thought that she would be the marrying type, being a world-famous detective and all, but Raito was a keeper and he'd caught her in his web like a spider catches a fly, and she was now forever doomed.

In the nicest way.

She had been waiting outside the gates for him for forty-five minutes now; she'd ever purchased an umbrella for him from a street-vendor, who had no doubt overcharged her for the article. Then again, money was not the issue here. Not with L, at least. On the other hand, she could think of ten different scenarios where Raito would either bargain over the price, or refuse to buy the umbrella because he could think of better things that he'd like to spend his meager savings on.

But why? L would wonder, never asking him directly. Why worry so much about money when I can provide for us both?

Sometimes he would casually mention to her that he was saving up for a nice little house in the suburbs where kids could ride their bikes in peace. She would listen quietly, ignoring the kids part, and think, Why save up for a little house when I can easily buy us a mansion? She was often tempted give him a credit card from her account, drop yen bills in her dearest's lap What's mine is yours, just take it.

But right now, as L stood in the drizzle, Raito's money problems were the last thing on her mind. She was worried about him. He'd been growing distant from her lately, as though he were trying to avoid her. That's what she'd suspected at first but it wasn't long before she figured out that he was disturbed by something. He said nothing about it, until one evening. He was in his room and he was throwing things on the floor and tearing papers apart, an ugly, desperate snarl on his face, like he was looking for something, trying to put the pieces together. Then, at the end of it, he huddled up on the floor, near the bed, cradling his head in his hands and whispering in a low, deep growl, "Why can't I remember?"

L had been...shocked. Helpless. She never thought that the memories he'd given up would still haunt him so strongly. She had always imagined that those memories, the things he'd done when he was Kira, were like a fairy tale to him, something he had no recollection of, and therefore, they couldn't hurt him. But when he'd broken down like that...she realized the truth.

That sometimes even the things that one could not remember are the things one should remember.

Maybe she'd avoided him herself after that. She just didn't know what to say. Granted...in the coming years, she would taunt him about being Kira. But what should she do when it was clear how much this was hurting him?

And so, she finally decided to come and see him...and work something out.

Ah, there he was. She spotted Raito right at the entrance of the building, dressed in a light brown shirt and khakis, carrying his books under his arm. His eyes were narrow, as though with cunning thought but he was only trying to figure out how he would walk home in the rain.
Tentatively, she raised her arm and waved at him until he saw her. He looked surprised, but then those cinnamon eyes turned into slits again, and for an instant, she feared he would ignore and leave to sulk in peace. However, he came towards her and she lifted her umbrella so that it would cover them both like a warm blanket.

They walked silently on the pavement, their shoes making slushing noises in the rainwater. L's sneakers had already grown damp; she had not come prepared for this. Stupid weather. Good for Raito that he was wearing good shoes.

"How long have you been waiting?" he inquired casually, breaking the silence.

She glanced at him, "Not too long."

"How long is too long?"

"About fifty minutes and thirty-two seconds."

"Ah." He didn't seem inclined to say much, with his eyes narrow and his forehead slightly creased. She was almost tempted to say that he shouldn't frown so much for fear of getting wrinkles too early (he was only 20 – what kind of 20-year-old got wrinkles?), but for once in her life, L decided to speak carefully. He was already in a mood and she had no intention of making things worse by saying things to piss him off.

"Let's go to my place," she suggested, and he looked at her as if to say, That's so obvious. Where else would we go? His family had no idea about the match yet (except for maybe Sayu) and needless to say, they wouldn't be very happy when they found out. L herself was reluctant to tell Watari and the others (them being Near, Mello and Matt, the three stooges).

Raito made no attempt to take the umbrella from her; he was not his usual gentlemanly self, although he knew that L had no cares for such social etiquette. They could be themselves around each other and not have to worry about what other people thought. Well, usually. L never cared about what other people thought (most of the times, anyway) and Raito was too used to donning a mask in public, playing the role that society expected from him.

She was staying at the Four Seasons this time, still in the habit of changing hotels, though not as often as before. She wondered at times if she'd ever feel comfortable staying in just one place. She'd always assumed that maybe Raito would get used to her lifestyle and that was how they'd live. And as they walked on, she thought of hailing a cab but he didn't say anything and so, she assumed that he preferred to walk. Hmm, that was fine.

It took them half-an-hour to reach the hotel. She wouldn't have been bothered so much about it if it weren't for her wet sneakers. They entered the lobby and people turned to look at them, an odd pair with a handsome young woman and a weird young woman.

As L closed the umbrella, he asked her, "Where did you get this anyway?" There was something about the way he was speaking...like he was keeping up a facade, being too artificial in order to hide something. And as much as L hated to admit it, this was probably the way he used to carry out his daily activities while he was Kira.

"It was being sold outside your university," she replied.

"Hmm," he said dismissively and they went together to her room. She was glad once they got inside, for she was now able to kick off her shoes. Raito was neater in this aspect, and he even shook his hair – like a model in a shampoo commercial – to get rid of the deposited raindrops.

And he called her graceful.

She hesitantly walked up to him, very much wishing that she had a handkerchief to twist like a worried wife (she hated thinking like that). "Would Raito-kun like some tea?" she asked.

"No," he replied, that grave look returning to his handsome face. "I'm all right."

She could do with some tea. If she weren't so damn nervous, that is. She watched as he sat on the bed and looked around, as though admiring the expensive furniture. Finally, she brought up the dreaded topic.

"Would Raito-kun like to talk about it?"

He looked at her sharply then, as though she'd broken some unspoken agreement that they were never to discuss this matter. And then his eyes were cast down, fixed on the leg of a coffee table. "No," he said softly.

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

Raito didn't say anything for a few minutes, as though he were trying to process everything in his head, trying to find away that he could express in words the pain that was haunting him. "I think about it sometimes," he murmured. "Think about everything that I – that I supposedly did."

L...almost...froze on the spot.

"You know," he went on, "I still can't believe that I would do something like that."

Again, she didn't know what to say. Why did she have to feel so helpless?

He met her eyes, desperate, searching. "How could you fall in love with someone like me?" he asked in a choked voice.

And for the umpteenth time in this had started, L felt lost, unable to offer him, the one she loved most, any words of comfort. She stared at him helplessly. How she wished there was something she could say to offer him solace, but rather, the frightening thing was that something rose in her to 100 per cent.

"When we were handcuffed together," said Raito. "I would get so irritated when you were so sure that I was Kira. It was such a great fear of mine. And now, I see my journal. And it's my handwriting but I can't accept that I could've done something like that. And I can't even remember," his voice was strangled here. "I have these...chunks of my memory missing. I can recall some things. But not others. And yet, I know that the things I can't recall are the things I should – they're the most important."

An awkward silence passed. L heard a shuffling of feet and realized it was hers. Then she gathered the courage to say something.

"You're being too hard on yourself, Raito-kun," she said, almost half-heartedly. "Just stop thinking about it."

"And it doesn't bother you that I'm a mass-murderer?" he returned without missing a beat.

That took her by surprise. "Used to be," she corrected him. "Used to be."

Raito stared at her for a moment. And then motioned her to come closer. She complied. When she was standing in front of him, he took her left hand in his, and gazed at the plain gold ring on her finger. L had obviously no interest in jewelry and rings made her feel confined, but this was one gift of love, a symbol of his commitment to her.

"Do you regret this?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

She looked back. "No."

He said nothing, but something in him looked satisfied.

Some time alter, L suggested that he get some sleep. He lay back on the bed, settled on his side beneath the covers, soon falling fast asleep. She crawled in beside him, slipping an arm around his waist.

She recalled those days, the dark moments, the confrontations, the sufferings, things that she would rather not remember. Raito was lucky because he had the choice to forget those things once and for all. And as she drifted off to a restless sleep, she wished that she had the luxury to do the same.