"Dancing slowly in an empty room
Can the lonely take the place of you
I sing myself a quiet lullaby
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again

.

Too afraid, to go inside
For the pain of one more loveless night
Cause the loneliness will stay with me
And hold me till I fall asleep"

-Christina Perri, The Lonely

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Light sat at the desk in his dark apartment. It was the place where he and L had spent so much time together investigating the Kira case. Standing, he silently turned around to face the king-sized bed, and stared at it with his cool mask. There, there was the bed they had made love on so many innumerous times. Looking to the spacious living room outside the bedroom door, he saw the couch where L had perched curiously, bidding him good morning after those special nights he unlocked the handcuffs. That first time was also the morning Light knew he had taken their relationship too far. It was such a simple act, something Light had asked for since the key first clicked and sounded his doom. But he never expected to get it. And when he did, it took his breath away, and he had avoided L that whole day.

And then he looked at the coffee table in the center of the living room suit, and he swore that—just for a moment, in the blink of an eye—he saw the surface dappled with pastries from every culture on planet Earth. But they weren't really there. Not anymore. Not ever again.

Light felt something sick inside him yank at his heart. He felt the furious tug, felt the swell of hate, loss, grief, love, regret, victory, and indignation all balled into one thing. The power within him shoved its way through his throat and seared his eyes. He hissed under his breath, angrily wiping at his wet eyes. He turned around and sat at the desk, then held his face in his hands. He sat like that for a very long time, until he felt L's hand ghost the back of his neck and reach to mousse his hair like he did when he craved Light's attention. He swiveled around in time to dispel the specter from the room. But there was only the empty silence that made Light feel so cold and lost inside.

Ever since pen was cast to paper and L's true name had been written, nothing was the same. It was like a switch had been flipped in Light's life when L passed. Nothing was like it ought to be, or as he thought it should be, or would be, or as he wanted it to be. The world was askew with L's absence. His death had caused a stunning chasm to appear in his chest and stole the life from everything, leaving a bleak void behind. What did the mouse do when the cat was away? Play? But the mouse and cat had grown so accustomed to their senseless mind games. Was L on the other side of some unknown realm, wishing he could come back to torture Light with his unfounded percentages and sugar addiction? No matter the case, L was gone. L was gone.

Light knew he could never be normal again after L's passing. He knew the game would be over, and he knew that everything would be his. After L, he could do what he liked with the world, to the world, keep fooling everyone. And get away with it. But where was the fun in that? He was bored once more, and this time there was no L to make it better. With L, it was all theoretical and experimental and cat-and-mouse galore. He had spiced up Light's life. He had given Light something no one else had. In so many different ways.

Staring down at his notebook, the notebook in which L's true name resided (which he did not know, because he had always been too afraid to look), Light felt a cold chill dribble down his spine and irk his collected mind. All he wanted was L back. All he wanted was his presence; he didn't even care for the games anymore. He wanted his lover, his reason to live. Or at the very least, he wanted that initial numbness back. When L first died, Light couldn't feel a thing. It was hard enough to tell the difference between hot and cold, let alone his feelings. But now he was hypersensitive. Every touch, sight, smell, and sound was acute (why couldn't he feel L, see L, smell L, hear L?). Every feeling was amplified tenfold, pushing Light closer and closer to the brink (why couldn't he share his heart with L anymore and escape this madness?).

Light's shaky hand reached for the drawer to his right. The mahogany slipped open soundlessly, urging him to move forward with urgency. Several pens caught his attention. He brushed them aside, and reached into the back of the compartment. Clumsily groping through empty space, Light eventually heard the clatter before he really felt his saving grace. The steal. The barrel. Then the hammer, and Light manipulated the gun so he could pick it up and pull it out with ease. Somehow, he had managed to sneak this silver maiden into the headquarters L had built. It was an unlikely scenario, he had thought, actually going through with something like this. But he had always prepared for every possible scenario. And now it was reality.

But what would he choose?

It was already loaded. There was just the formality of pulling the trigger for something to actuallyhappen—for the reaction of the hammer tripping, the ignition snapping, the bullet taking flight. The plain silver ring perched negligibly on his thumb tinkled as it shakily tapped against the gun. Light couldn't for the life of him stop shaking. He was unsure of himself, which never happened. He was uncomfortable with what might happen after he set the muzzle to his temple and pulled the trigger, but how could he live the rest of his tainted life? Ashamed to admit it, he didn't have the solution to that looming question.

He held the gun in his lap with both hands, and stared at the shining instrument. The only light in the room was given from the crooked desk lamp, but that was enough to illuminate everything that mattered right then. He closed his eyes and sighed. Would L be on the other side with wide open arms? Or would there be nothing? Would Light stop? Or would he find hell? Hell was where he belonged, after all.

That, and in L's arms.

He sighed for the last time, and opened his eyes once more, feeling the weight of the gun heavy on his legs.

Decisions were worse than the reactions that spurred them.

"Soft spoken with a broken jaw;
Step outside but not to brawl.
And autumn's sweet;
We call it "fall".
I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl
With the birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah.
With the birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah.
With the birds I'll share this lonely view.

.

Scar tissue that I wish you saw.
Sarcastic Mr. Know-It-All.
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you cause with the birds I'll share.
With the birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah.
With the birds I'll share this lonely view, yeah.
With the birds I'll share this lonely view..."

-Red Hot Chili Peppers, Scar Tissue

Author's Note: Every hear of the Lady or the Tiger? Read that years ago, but it's still inspiring me… Just wanted to write something! Felt bored and sad, so I did.

Hope you enjoyed, and please review.

Peace.