Character(s)/Pairing(s): Light/Sayu.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings/Notes: Incest. Nothing sexually explicit, but there's romantic stuff going on between two siblings. This may very well be squicky to you, which is understandable (and, you know, it being messed-up is kind of... the point)! So please, if it is, just don't read it -- or, at least, be aware that, yeah, this is the nature of the fic.
Disclaimer: The characters' perspectives are not my own, and I do not condone incest IRL. I also do not own Death Note, Light, or Sayu.
Genre(s): ... I don't even know.
and i know you're near me, i know you understand / say that you're with me; so i know your face like the back of my hand
When she's so elated she could burst, and needs someone to let in to her happiness, he's always there to listen; when she's so tired she thinks she'll fall over on her feet, he's always there to hold her to him and let her pillow her head on his shoulder; when she's cut up deep, hurt by the world for no good reason, and just needs to hide away and weep, he always comes to find her and kiss her tears away. She remembers the day that his kisses first moved from her cheeks to her mouth - a balmy September day when she was fifteen and had had yet another screaming match with okaasan. He had crept into her room and stroked her back with gentle hands, twining his fingers through her hair, kissing, kissing, kissing. He tasted like salt, but it was the sweetest thing she had ever felt lingering on her lips; and somehow, he seemed so vulnerable with love, cupping her face in a well-manicured hand, eyes fluttering closed, skin of his neck soft beneath her fingers. It hadn't been planned, hadn't been something he had intended to do, as she knew the moment he jerked back, looking horrified - looking ready to scream or bolt.
(But she had wrapped her arms around his waist and begged him to stay, it was all right, it was all right - "but it's sick, Sayu, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have" - it was all right. It was wrong to want it, but maybe the world wasn't right, maybe it wasn't meant to be right - with everything so jumbled-up and confusing, all the stress and pressure and she had said "do you ever think that maybe the universe is sick, Light, not us?" and he had gone very quiet.)
She adored him. She adored his strength and intelligence and drive, adored how he always made time for her, adored the way his adoration tumbled over her like a waterfall (his fingers dancing up her spine, his heart beating against his chest beneath her hand like an imprisoned nightingale trying to break free, his lips brushing over her temples), adored how he was always there. Always. When everything changed and shifted and she didn't know where to stand he could lift her clear of it all, taking her to a singing white-tinged place where she didn't know her name and she didn't know his and so they weren't as wrong as everybody would say they were if they knew.
She even adored the way that sometimes he got exhausted and worn-out and gray, and cynical, and angry, and so close to the brink of giving up - adored the way he let her see that he got that way, see him in his entirety, even though he hid from everybody else (and it was fair: when she ran away, he came to find her, so she returned the favour, she gave everything, heart, body, and soul, back to him - and he, he let her, he never rejected her, he never misunderstood as if he thought she was a bad small-minded person and not just someone who made mistakes; or turned it away as if it was worthless). She adored the way he let her pull him back and make him better. Make him whole. Both of them were missing something, something their parents had never given them, and only they could complete each other. Only they knew. And when he got hesitant, frightened, regretful, uncertain of what they were doing, she just told him that she loved him.
Because the world was sick and rotten, but they'd be all right, together.