-Paused- The past is the past (Death note L x reader x light)

1: Broken heart

AN: (important)
This is very long and confusing but outlines the rest of the story.

Enjoy~

(You are five years old)

My mother sat at the fireplace, warming her bare legs up in the heat. Oddly on these cold winter nights, she never covered herself up in more layers. always a simple silk nightie that made her glow. Instead, she lay down upon the floorboards and watched the twirling, fluidity of the flames hypnotise her into a comforting state of sleep...She forgot to tuck me into bed again, this had become a regular habit for her. I'd wait and wait until the night got dark and scary and my imagination would run wild. when the shadows of the trees outside morphed into large menacing beings. The tree branches groaned up against each other, It sounded like voices from a distant world, and I believed that these trees that flooded our estate were alive for the longest time in my childhood. On this particular night, the groaning was so loud that every little movement the branches made as they swayed in the icy wind sounded like...

It sounded like danger.

I found her by the fireplace, looking so peaceful and beautiful in the glow. it calmed me for a moment before I remembered the danger.

"Mother...Mooootherrrrrr."I said quite loudly, my mother didn't open her eyes, she just smiled at my presence. her arms wrapped around my small body and pulled me close to her chest, it was comforting, just like a mothers touch should be.

"Shhhhh. look (Y/N)"her whisper tingled my ears as she pointed to the fire. Her cuddly arms embraced me and I found myself in the brightness of the flames. and we stayed like that for a while. "What do you see?" She asked. My head raised to see her blue eyes.

"Fire?" I spoke. My mother erupted in laughter. I couldn't hear the trees over it, I smiled.

"Of course you see fire sweetie, but what do you see in the fire?" I took a look again and squinted my small eyes.

"I just see fire mother, nothing else." My mother patted my head and I turned myself over to face her.

"Do you want to know why I fall asleep like this?" She asked. I nodded my head. "Well, because it gives me inspiration. do you know what that big word means."

I thought over the word for a short while. "is it like having an idea?"

"Yes darling, it's quite like that, now, when I do my paintings I have to find my ideas of what I want them to look like. Then suddenly, I see something in the fireplace as I fall asleep, I dream about what I saw and then wake up ready and energised to get started on some new work."

"That's weird mother." she laughed once more and place a lovely gentle kiss against my forehead. "Your father taught me this."

Mention of my father made my throat tense up. For months it felt like he was gonna come through the door any moment. But my mother said he was in 'a better place' which was what some people call heaven. It made me want to know what heaven was like, although if I went to see dad there mother would be sad...I still don't understand.  Why do people say heaven is a wonderful place but never want people to go there?

"What is the matter my beautiful (Y/N)? does something trouble you." her voice was slow and encapsulated her tiredness.

"I heard the trees talk again, they're louder tonight." My voice strained a little when remembering the volume of danger that the trees called of.

My mother brushed my hair with her fingers as I frightfully hid into her chest as a boom of thunder shook the atmosphere. She chuckled. "Oh my dear," My eyes rose to meet hers. "Why, there is nothing to be afraid of. The trees get very...excited in the wind. They try to use their branches to talk to people. They are lovely creatures and are grand protectors of our place. why if there were no trees life wouldn't go on." Curiosity made me question further. Trees surround our vast area of land, my mother is a famous painter and musician, the trees must hide us from something called the 'papa artsy' she spoke about these people to me once before, she said that sometimes there are people that love you a bit too much. So the trees. they must be good.