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It was wonderful. The joy of completing my goal overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but gloat. I couldn't help but rush to his dying figure, to let him know that he lost to his opponent whom he had been so bent on defeating, who now stood over him with a defiant smirk as the last breaths of his life faded away.

Those eyes. The black orbs, deprived of sleep, staring emotionlessly back into my own. Silence. The lids slowly cover those deep, dark eyes. Silence. The body is limp. Silence. The breathing is stopped. Silence.

L is dead.

Silence.

I've done it. I have killed him. There is nothing to stop me from my goal of creating a new world. I am now a god.

Joy. Exuberance. I am so filled with happiness that there is no containing it, and I scream out over his motionless, pale body.

As the days and months go by, the joy that I felt in that moment never mount to the same peak again. I rise to leave the room and tug at empty air where I expected the tug of a thin, silver chain. I realize that there hasn't been a whisper of accusation in my ear for a while, and turn to find an empty chair and an inoperative laptop. When there are no sweets left on the counter I worry that a certain black haired pale faced man will give a fit, only to realize that there is no man of that description anymore. I often find myself wishing to play chess or discuss the case, but am put in a depressed mood when I discover that there is no one to play with or talk to who will put up a good fight on my own level.

And then I daydream. About his voice. His face. His hair. His lithe fingers, intelligent mind, thin frame, unique habits... Those annoying habits. But I find that I love those things that I no longer have to appreciate. I know now that I loved those things that I no longer have to appreciate when I first saw them. I know now that I loved... him.

But now is too late. This realization has come too late.

And I am left alone to live out my life in the misery this realization, which came too late.