Disclaimer: I don't own anything in Death Note.

In L's Point of View

Music to My Ears

"That'll be 1.25$," the cashier recited mechanically, handing L a cup of steaming hot chocolate. He pressed a few coins into her dark hand, and strode off towards the black leather chairs he occupied every other Friday.

"Have a nice day," the robot cashier called, in the same dull tone.

Grunting, he pulled his legs up to his chin, taking a sip of the scalding hot liquid. For a moment, he just sat there, silently enjoying the atmosphere of the small coffee shop.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Looking around, L realized the mellow tone came from a female, about 17 or 18. She had a newspaper resting on her knee, which was propped up upon the small table in front of her.

"What is?" he asked lamely, thinking of nothing else to say.

"The music, silly," she laughed, her shining green eyes staring up at him.

Music? He had never really though about the music. Or anything music related, to be precise. For him, there had never been any need for music. He had everything he wanted tightly wrapped around his finger. Never had he needed to rely on his music skill to save people's lives, or to dissect a crime scene. To L, music was nothing more than a scratch on the DVD of life.

"What's music supposed to do for you?" he questioned, turning his body to face the young girl.

"What do you mean?" she asked. No one had ever asked her this question before.

"Well, let's say, hypothetically, of course, that you've never been introduced to music. There are thousands of careers that involve saving lives and coming up with new ideas to protect the earth. Music can't save people's lives."

"You're being closed minded about this," she said, a hint of frustration apparent in her voice. "For most people, music is a source of entertainment, not a life saver. Just like TVs and computers. Listening to music all day is much better for you than watching TV all day. And if you think about it, going to a movie, or to a musical wouldn't be the same at all without the music. Music is everything, and it's everywhere. You just have to listen." She stated confidently. She flipped to the next page in her newspaper, taking a moment to sip at her dark coffee.

He took her words in, opening his mind to the idea. He wasn't used to being called "closed minded". Come to think of, she was right. No movie, stage show, or even some websites would be the same without music.

"You know, you have to open your heart to the music. It's not always something you just hear. You can feel it, too," she muttered, her eyes fixed on her newspaper. "Funny though, because no one else seems to feel the way I do."

"I'm sure you're not the only one who feels that way. The world is full of dedicated people, just like you." He said quietly.

She must have not heard him, or cared, because she had pulled out a large textbook, and had started to scribble down what looked to be math problems. He finished his hot chocolate and stood up, stretching, and began to head off to the trash can.

"You know," she said, just loud enough for L to hear her, "I come here almost every Friday. And I have to admit, I had fun arguing with you." She laughed, turning her attention back to her textbook.

A smile worked its way onto L's lips, trying not to laugh at her. She definitely had character. "You only had fun because you won the argument," he laughed, "but we'll have to see about next time."

"It's a date then," she giggled, not bothering to look up at him. After a few silent seconds, she was absorbed once again in her studies. And with that, he headed out the door and began the short trek to his current hotel.

He took this time to really think about what the girl said, about how music was everywhere. Listening, he noted the sounds of tweeting birds and splashes in a nearby pond. A middle aged lady, who just happened to be walking past him, muttered to no one in particular, "I've always hated walking through here; it's so quiet."

L held back an obnoxious response. She knew nothing about the beauty of the quiet. Stopping himself, he realized how the girl in the coffee shop must have felt. Shrugging it off, he sat down on a wooden bench, simply listening to the wind.

"Ah," he said, wrapping his arms around his folded knees, "music to my ears."