Disclaimer: Death Note is copywrite Ooba Tsugumi and Oobata Takeshi.
Raito shifted slightly, further constricting himself in the thin, white sheets. He could see straight up the rest of building and into the grey, snow-laden clouds that had taken precedence in the sky this morning. They muffled its blinding, light-tinted depths.
He cast a downward glance at the sleeping form to his right. Black hair sticking out at odd angles beneath the corner of a sheet, back exposed, shoulder blades and vertebrae casting stark shadows over pale skin in the early-morning light.
The night before, he had been too exhausted to do much of anything, let alone contemplate where his relationship with L now stood.
He was compelled to think that it didn't really matter, that whatever he had had with L before was inconsequential, that he was Yagami Raito and he was above whatever this was. It had no effect on him. This reasoning was, of course, completely false. Whether or not he was willing to admit it, he had begun to garner feelings of friendship, of camaraderie, of companionship for L over a space of time that Raito could not determine.
Although he wanted to say that this was merely the result of their confinement to each other's company, rationality told him that this had started long before, that the cogs had started turning back when Raito was still disgusted with the disheveled classmate, Hideki Ryuuga.
Now, though. What was this now?
Flustered, Raito shifted his eyes to the walls, blank and grey. To the cold, grey metal of the chain that joined them like Siamese twins. To the thick, grey clouds that obscured the sky, snow now lightly falling from them, separated from him by a thick pane of freezing glass.
He heard L exhale heavily and shift, tightening the sheets that already bound Raito's legs and hips. Thin arms enclosed him possessively, and he continued to stare at the clouds. He felt the wetness of a tongue and, soon after, the chafe of teeth beneath the base of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he made a small, indistinct noise.
That's what this was. It was neither here nor there. It was the grey area, the place where light and dark met to form something new and ambiguous. It was empty fulfillment. It was twisted completion. It was silent speech.
"Ryuuga, fuck me."