A/N
I edited a few mistakes. Personally, I love the mood of this story. It's dark, it's hopeful, it's hopeless; it's chaotic. I would love to hear your feedback. Thank you for reading.
I do not own Death Note, the characters, etc.
It all began this evening. The lights were out, the room was dim, and I sat alone at a metal desk, eyes focused on the screen before me, mind in an entirely different place. From behind, the door opened and light flooded in. I didn't have to look to know who it was.
"Amane," I said.
She, of course, was pouting. Arms crossed, she leaned heavily against the doorframe, trying to decide whether or not to come in. I flicked a hand her way and she popped in immediately. Was the girl not aware that she was a human being, not a dog?
"Light won't go out with me tonight!" she immediately began. "He said he's too busy to hang out and—wow, Ryuzaki. It's, like, really dark in here. What are you, some sort of bat?"
"You were saying, Misa?" I said.
She squeaked a little, "Hmph!" before saying, "Well, anyway, Light won't go out with me so I guess you and I are going to have some fun. What do you think?" Striking a little pose, she pumped her hand into the air, leaving me with little room to answer between her antics.
I contemplated her sentence, a finger pressed to my lip. "Fun?" It had been a while since I'd relaxed from the Kira case. Still, I couldn't afford any wasted time.
Misa, oblivious to my thoughts, nodded. "Yeah, you know, fun. Oh, come on! Don't tell me you've never hung out before. It'll be fun!" She giggled. "Come with me! You're going to love it." She grabbed my arm and before I knew it, she led me upstairs to her floor housing the numerous rooms she had claimed.
It was one of the less furnished rooms, to say the least. Only a couple of couches, a refrigerator, table, and rug. I was happy to note that there was a view of the city through the large bay window overlooking the skyscrapers surrounding us.
We would also be safe. I would be safe. This room was monitored and recorded twenty-four seven by surveillance cameras. Handcuffs rested within a secret compartment of the bookshelf standing next to the table in the corner. Little red buttons dotted the furniture in concealed locations. Panic buttons. One press and security would come, arresting whomever I pointed them to. Whether that would be Misa, I decided we would see.
Pushing me onto the couch, Misa scowled as she ran her fingers through my hair. "This just won't do. We need to give you a makeover." I gently grabbed her hand. Placed it at her side. "Well, why don't we have some dinner? I'm starving."
To be honest, I had expected a meal far less than what she had prepared. A microwavable tray, a pizza, perhaps. Instead, I was again led by the hand by the energetic girl to the little round table occupying the corner by the window—the very one housing the handcuffs—and presented with gleaming porcelain plates cradling cranberry-orange glazed duck, chestnut pasta, and lemon wedges resting atop spears of asparagus.
"And, of course, there's going to be dessert, but we'll save that till after we're finished," she winked. This must have all been for Light, I figured. She had planned a romantic evening with him and had nothing left to do with the food after he'd rejected her.
"Miss Amane, I'm impressed," I admitted, taking a seat and drawing my legs up to my chest. She dimmed the lights and the shadows of the night came out from every corner. Her blue eyes danced amongst the darkness, staring into the storm of the gray eyes now focused on her.
"If you think that's impressive, wait till you've seen what else I brought!" Two glasses were placed on the table and in her arm was a bottle of the finest of wines. She poured me a glass but I didn't touch it. She was much more careless.
The evening hours melted together until I lost track of time. Perhaps, I was having fun? I wondered. Most of the talking was done by Misa while I listened carefully, picking up every word, every emotion to cross her face. Especially when she smiled. It came as a surprise even to me that I looked forward to see her smile but each time I saw her lips pull back ever so slightly, I could not help but to return the favor. She is a killer, I reminded myself. It was difficult to see her that way now, though.
As the hours drained away, so did the wine occupying her glass. After her third round, her words were becoming more rapid and slurred. She giggled profusely. At one time, she even grabbed my glass—which I had still yet to drink—and downed it in one sitting. The second Kira likes to drink, a voice in the back of my mind noted.
"This is so much fun!" she said a little too loudly. "Who needs dumb old Light, anyway? We can have fun together, right? Right! We can drink," she tipped her empty glass to her lips, sad when only a drop dripped onto her tongue. "We can laugh," she demonstrated this by forcing a laugh. "And we can dance!" she jumped off her chair and began twirling next to me. I watched as her skirt swirled against her legs. She was too drunk for her own good, though, and fell. I caught her. She began to laugh profusely. Her giggles dropped to a sigh as she rested her face against my chest. Warm tears stripped her eyes of the mascara she had been wearing and doused my pants with a wave of grief. "Why am I not good enough, Ryuzaki?" she whispered. It was just the wine talking.
I did not answer. Instead, I tried to comprehend what was happening. Dumbfounded. I was absolutely dumbfounded. And this never occurred. Logic told me to leave and reject Light's girlfriend, just as he had done earlier this evening. Humanity made me stay.
"I try so hard to be there for him," she said lowly, "but it's never enough. I'm never enough."
She was on a rope. A rope dangling in a lost void. Rain pelted her skin and loosened her grip further. Standing on a dry cliff, I watched the young girl cling helplessly to this rope and just behind her stood Light, the man of her worship, with his back turned. I found that my hand now rested on her hip and without thought, for once in my life, without a single thought, I pulled her up, right as the rope was breaking.
Leaning heavily against me, trying to decide whether or not to look up, she smiled through her tears. It was just the wine. "Thank you." It was just the wine, I told myself. Then she kissed me. And I kissed her back. The only difference between her and I was I wasn't drunk.
I wasn't drunk.
I pulled away. Her hands gripped my shirt, begging for more, shaking even. She cried harder. Punched me. Kissed me. Between sobs, she hysterically said, "I'm sorry, L! Okay? I'm sorry! I'm…I'm so sorry…"
My hand caressed her hair. "I know."
"Why doesn't he love me? Why?" she screamed. "I—" her eyelids drooped shut and fell, along with her voice. "I even killed for him."
"I know, Misa," I whispered.
Stealing the handcuffs from the bookshelf, I held the shackles in one hand and Misa in the other. Her hands still grasped the front of my shirt. It would be so easy to get her. So easy. But I couldn't move. My fingers gripped the cuffs until they turned white. For the second time that evening, I didn't know what to do. The second Kira was in my hands and I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill her freedom. The agony of her heart split through her chest and burrowed into my own. I allowed the frozen, raw ache to consume the dead heart she had managed to make beat once again.
The handcuffs dwindled in my grip before I let it go. It fell to the floor with a hollow thud. She was too drunk to notice. Should anyone ever discover what I did, what she had confessed to me whereas I had done nothing, I would simply say it was just the wine killing my perception.
It was just the wine.
A/N
How was it? Let me know with review, please and thank you.