Title: A Bad Day
Rating: Teens.
Pairing: LxLight
Warning: None.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Yup, I obviously own Death Note. I also own the Eiffel Tower and in fact the entirety of America. Whatever.
Summary: I always say how I don't need you, but it's always gonna come right back to this. Can't you tell that this is just a contest? The one who wins will be the one who hits the hardest. LxLight
Author's Note: I'm an arse, I know. No need to drum it in.
L had never figured out what made him snap that one night as he stared at his computer screen blankly, his mind anywhere but where he was and where it was meant to be.
Maybe it was the distance constantly between them that had caused them to drift apart, or maybe it was Light's ability to cope much better then L. L found that infuriated him.
Maybe it was both their lack of efforts to see each other – 'for-sure' dates got pushed back and broke hearts and L, even over continents, could understand the suffering that both he and his koi shared every time they postponed the next 'certain' and 'definite' visit, shoving them back to "next time" and sealing it with a half-arsed promise that was never lived up to.
Overseas with thousands of miles of landmass between them couldn't stop the sound of a heart cracking reaching L's ears when he rung Light across the sea to tell him Watari and himself had been talking...
Watari had made it crystal clear to L that he wasn't being fair to his boyfriend, yet L knew his boyfriend well enough to understand that Light thought differently, even if that was merely because Light was blinded by the naïve idea of love that they had, supposedly, found between each other.
He was still an inexperienced child at heart perhaps; a youthful soul, but Light, like L, had never been able to keep his relationships stable or long. His paranoia and secretive nature playing about with his ability to keep things steady, and making him almost self-conscious and wary of his actions and the thoughts others had on him. Yet, with L he'd opened up easily like a cooked Mussel and allowed L to eat away at his insides greedily, as if a starved man. L hadn't meant to, he really hadn't meant to bring the man so close into his life and force himself into the other's so readily, but Light had not told him to stop; had never denied him it, and this was where it all fell apart.
So many other factors played into it. Open human contact and the force of continuous social activity had caused L to face too many people, and this caused him to find too many people whom he saw as just as attractive (or perhaps even a little more) than his boyfriend. They were also conveniently there, and Light, although there was so many times L wished he was, just wasn't. L was always country hopping, hotel hopping, and Light had his own career to take by the horns, his university to finish, his degree to attain, his own name to make. He didn't want to be standing in L's shadow as much as L didn't want him to be, so they had agreed to each other to let it slide. They had to continue with their own lives, but would always return to one another. Another half-hearted promise, which was now to fall around their feet.
It would break Light's heart, L knew, and he wished he could avoid it. He called himself out on his own faults effortlessly and guiltily a thousand times over as he flew to Japan, beating himself up on the plane ride, and if Light were here he would be quick and effective in rebutting them, denying them and refusing to accept L as anything less than perfect, at least in some aspects. Like he always did. L didn't know whether that was because the boy was too stubborn for his own good, or if he was just blind. But Light wasn't there, and L was allowed to mentally torture himself on an imaginary image of a delicate, handsome Asian face falling in horror.
L hoped to himself that Light had told the truth every time he'd denied L's insults he shot at himself, as if that were true L could move on to the next person, move away from the guilt and pain and Light.
Light, unfortunately, had no reputation for truth telling, and L was well aware of that, as he himself was just as apt in the specialised art. Light and L often both found their own friends wondering out loud whether they were expressing complete honesty. Yet, Light pleaded constantly and repeatedly, at least to L, that he always told the truth... or, at least, he told the truth more often than people cared to admit. L hoped that Light, when he'd confessed this desperately, was telling the truth then, and wasn't just another of his pretty lies. Lies that L had helped him construct by believing them.
Light's paranoia affected his ability to trust. Similar to L, Light longed to travel so not to make these long term connections, or even short term ones. He wanted to keep the few who refused to budge from his life, and also lose the stragglers that clung on but made him feel uncomfortable and uneasy. The only inconsistent in his life that Light refused to let go of was L, and L didn't know why. In some ways, he didn't want to know why, in case it was a sign of Light really loving him, really caring, really wanting him, as L wanted to keep Light. But he couldn't. It was tearing them both apart.
L didn't want to know what Light's reaction was when he told the younger male he was flying to Tokyo because they had to... talk. Talk had seemed such an ugly word, and the moment he uttered it, he knew Light caught on. Light was hardly stupid – one of the main reasons L was dating him – and was quick off the mark. For once, though, L wished he wasn't. L wished he could remain blindly oblivious, so he could be happy for the final time with the prospect of L coming home. But he wasn't. And L could see the sad face before him as he looked out the window like Light was actually there.
The stone at the bottom of his stomach labelled 'guilt' hung heavy and it failed to fade as Japan edged closer with every passing second – he could practically feel the pain growing stronger as he approached, and he knew it was not just his own.
At his destination, L was similarly aware of the fact that Light had metaphorically swallowed a similar pebble, this one called 'dread', which was making its presence known in his uneasy guts.
Light had been speechless and dry-eyed as L had come straight out with it in a truly Lawliet-manner, which Light had expected but had never grown used to as he perhaps should have. He knew what to expect, L had seen the tension in Light's face as he'd answered the door and admitted L into what used to be their shared apartment. He had made L a cup of tea and patiently waited, staring into his own coffee mug most of the time, his face blank, his eyes showing nothing, and his posture prim, perfect, but still as stone. Then L had told him, and Light showed no reaction, and L knew that if this had been the other way around he too would have done nothing but stare, not at the other – rather, anywhere but.
Several long, unbearable minutes of silence encouraged L's decision to leave. Just as he was at the door Light's voice finally managed to make its way out of his mouth to speak, and L paused to hear.
"Please don't leave me." He said, almost as if a delayed reaction, his voice hardly mistakable for anything but his usual strong tone. L felt the guilt pile up again on his shoulders, and unconsciously, he slouched that bit more towards the ground. He wanted, in a brief moment of pondering, to turn around, to go to Light, to tell him he didn't mean it, to take him back, to have that body against his, that mind against his; melding. He wanted it all, and he couldn't stand the thought of leaving Light behind in an apartment full of empty memories.
But L continued on his way, despite his inner struggle, his mind made up, his path set. It was pointing away from this house, away from the country, and away from the most perfect being on the face of the earth. He heard Light turn on the sofa to watch him leave, and it almost destroyed his resolve. But L was firm to himself and as he closed the door behind him he didn't look back.
-
End.
Author's Note: I'm not apologising.