ANALYSIS ON DISAPPOINTMENT
Light thought, this must be the original sin, and he knew that this sin originated from God, a disease He did not wish to pass on to humans but did. In reality, reality was what it was. In reality, Light saw in sepia details the truth of human nature and knew that things now were as it was since time immemorial. The original sin was not borne out of action but out of perception, and the moment Light touched his pen to the Death Note he also knew what they meant by salvation, by cleansing. And fuck Macbeth, this was the perfume that sweetened the hand.
"I think, Raito-kun," said L, "that Kira is not doing this for the world." And he said this with elaborate slowness, without question because L was L and he knew what he was talking about. Actually knew, without a doubt. Light looked at L with faint interest, eyebrows furrowed. Light's face was starting to pale from exhaustion, and L thought, he is such a consistent actor.
"What brought on that conclusion, Ryuuzaki-kun?," asked Light, and there was a faint note of irritation in his voice because he knew L wanted him to ask; he also knew the answer to it. They both, in fact, knew it too well.
"Narcissists never do things for others," said L, letting the silence grow, watching Light who watched him with understanding and disbelief in his eyes, both furious and respectful. L turned his swivel chair back towards the screen and Light resumed reading in silence, shoulders tense and wary. Everything, since the confinement set him on the edge, teetering on familiarity, wanting to cross a line he wasn't sure existed.
Disappointment was an emotion as potent as love, as constant as hate and even more solid than apathy, and this L knew without a doubt. This was the only emotion he allowed himself to acknowledge personally, allowed himself to understand completely because it was an emotion so unfamiliar to most people in its purest form. In the greatest of people, it was their strength and their weakness, looking around and knowing absolutely that one was right. There was no respect in knowing absolutely. There was no humanity without respect, and L was left floundering as a child.
In the comfort of Wammy's orphanage, learning and unlearning all at the same time, looking out at the other brilliant kids before him, L knew, that this feeling would never be sated. The world had nothing to offer that he didn't have in his DNA, and this was the extent of God himself. Funnily, there was no comfort there.
When Light looked at L asleep, the rare moments he saw him sleep, Light thought that this was the person God tried to create the first time. This was the perfection born out of a series of mistakes; him and L. He thought himself the only creature intelligent enough to exist without mercy for the longest time. He knew, without a doubt, that this world was made for only the most brilliant people and the rest were mongrels begging for attention. Light knew he was a step up these people.
L was the only person he allowed to share that platform, the only person who understood the natural incompetence of people. L was the only one with the patience to silently endure, and Light knew that they were really in this together. God brought them together for a reversal, even though, at times, Light saw in L the only God he might ever acknowledge.
And this was the thin line between man and God, Light knew, as he stood over the corpse of L, looked down at the man that he could have been or could have been him. There was a line there once but Light had never been too sure what kept the monster from the man as scripture deemed it. But he stood there still, looking over the corpse and he knew, he knew with the absoluteness that was constant to him, that the devastation on his face wasn't as much a lie as he wanted it to be. And he thought of Gods, and he thought of death, and they spiraled before his eyes into the eyes of L, the only human ever worthy of his Eden.