I'm so sorry for taking so long to write part two. That was because of two reasons. One, I wanted to post it on a certain date. Two, something happened on the real life that this is based on, and I lost some motivation. This is now going to be a three part series, and this is part two. Please enjoy. And, as always, this is dedicated to Raito.
L was starting to consider tearing out his own hair in utter frustration. If he had to sit and watch Raito go out with another one of those harlots, he would start to consider homicide as a possible option. He was starting to understand where Kira was coming from, some people just deserved to be killed, he thought as he watched the redhead laugh and place a powdery pink painted nail on Raito's arm. Raito was his, dammit!
He paused. Where had that come from? Well, he shouldn't be surprised, thought like that had been jumping into his mind whenever it wandered to his partner, which was increasingly often. He couldn't help but feel that Raito was his, and he didn't want to share.
But share what? It's not like we're dating or anything. . . he felt a sense of regret follow that thought, and had he been any less in control of himself, he would have hit forehead with his open palm. What did this mean anyway? Clearly his subconscious was trying to tell him something, and it was getting increasingly impatient with his utter obliviousness.
But what exactly was it trying to say? That Raito was his and his alone? But the whole kissing thing. . . Not that he hadn't thought about it, but he felt neither a burning desire for Raito's body (which was admirably nice), nor could he find a reason to leave the security of what he did have. Not that he didn't want to, the thought never left him.
He was always thinking that he should tell Raito, but how could he, when he couldn't even tell himself. Perhaps it's natural to constantly think of someone who you suspect of mass homicide, but he somehow doubted that his emotions behind those thoughts were very common.
Well, what if he did love Raito, which was becoming an ever greater possibility by the day. What if he was still uncomfortable with the whole physical contact thing? What if Raito had moved on, he certainly had more than enough girls to do so with? L himself never saw any signs that Raito might still feel the same way, Kami knows he looked.
It made sense; he hated how much sense it made. Why would anyone fall in love with him in the first place? He was weird, eccentric, and funny looking, not to mention paranoid, and let's not forget a famous detective of homicide cases, whose name no one even knew.
So why would Raito still care? No, Raito had moved on, it would be impossible for him not to. L had turned down what he now realized was the one thing that could really make him happy, and it had taken over a year to realize it. For him to realize that he wanted to be first and foremost in Raito's mind. For Raito to think of him as he thought of the brunet.
But clearly, Raito had better things to think of; Misa, Kira, his girlfriend, and hell, the cat on the floor below probably generated more thought than he did. Raito had been the one to claim true love, but it was L who's thoughts were always occupied, L who tried so damn hard, L who seemed to be the only one to even care about that distant confession.
Maybe it was natural. Did he always think of his suspects this much? No, he couldn't, or he would have solved every case in just a day or so. But he usually relied on his decisions and impartial judgments, and with Raito he was finding such impartialness difficult.
Glaring discreetly from under his bangs at the pretty red-head, he took a bite from his triple decker chocolate cake. He hated girls. He saw absolutely no point in their existence, other than reproduction, and the world had far too much of that anyway. Yet here Raito was, laughing and flirting like he never had with L. Not that L wanted to be flirted with, his mind supplied helpfully.
But why couldn't he get the other boy out of his head? Well, he was sure that being handcuffed had something to do with it, but such thoughts were hardly helpful to his constantly fluxuating opinion of Raito's guiltiness as Kira.
He wanted to tell this to Raito, wanted Raito to know, but he couldn't tell him. He knew what would inevitably happen. His words would get twisted in his throat and come out sounding wrong, and Raito would never be able to comprehend the depth of his vastly mixed emotions.
Raito was his. Raito was Kira. Raito liked physical relationships, which L wasn't sure he could give. His heart said he could, but his mind balked. And that was if Raito still wanted him.
He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and a corresponding tug around his wrist, and looked up. Raito and the girl had stood up, clearly ready to leave. Raito was watching him (and his uncharacteristically unfinished cake) with a bland look. L sighed with relief. This dating thing sucked.
Raito dumped her a few days later.
"I don't feel any thing with her." He intoned. "And I knew that the longer I put it off to spare her feelings, the more that it would hurt her in the long run."
L nodded distantly. He had a point there. Not that he would complain anyway, he didn't like it when Raito dated. He added that to his mental tally of Reasons He Was In Love With Raito, as opposed to the reasons he wasn't. So far, in love was winning. Now normally, this would be a happy revolution, had it not been next to his list of Why Raito Is Kira.
He had been researching love stories (not romance novels, which are mostly sex) and had come to the conclusion that he had to be in love with Raito. Raito was the person that he cared about most. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, solving cases forever. Hell, they could even keep the handcuffs, though he sincerely hoped that Raito would not be the main suspect in all of them.
Clearly, L was one of those people who preferred a romantic relationship to a physical one; he just wanted to move slowly. He knew that such things were possible. Most girls, though not the ones Raito dated, were like that, and even though he hated comparing himself to a girl, the stereotype fit. But that wasn't what Raito liked. He should know, he had sat through every one of those stupid dates.
He was starting to think that the problem had not been exactly what he had originally thought it was. It wasn't that the thought of kissing disgusted him, it was simply something new and frightening and unlike his partner, he lacked the confidence to do it anyway.
He knew now that if Raito had kissed him then, he would not have protested. He probably would have enjoyed it. But Raito had done exactly what L had asked, givin him time and space to over think it and worry and stress and make himself to nervous to even try.
This was no longer the problem that he stressed over. What if Raito no longer liked him, and L only burdened him with these feelings. What if Raito still cared? Was L hurting him further by hiding his feelings, mixed though they were?
What if Raito did still like him, and they did get back together, but later, Raito felt tied down to his relationship with L (handcuffs notwithstanding). What if Raito liked other girls, but could do nothing because he was dating a strange, childish, sweet-loving detective.
He wanted so much not to hurt Raito, even though there was a 46.3 percent chance that Raito would kill him givin a chance (or a name). But that meant that there was a 53.7 percent chance that Raito wouldn't. And he had a right to know L's feelings towards him. He had, after all, told L his own feelings.
Well, to be accurate, Misa had told him Raito's feelings. L briefly considered this option, but immediately rejected the idea, he wouldn't trust her with his laundry, much less him emotions. That only left the option of sending Raito a letter.
Letters were great for this kind of things, they were physical, they could be burned, reread, saved, destroyed, or any number of other things. Then it was decided. He would find the nerve from somewhere and tell Raito what he felt as best he could. After that, it was up to Raito.