Might or Might Not
Ryuuzaki!
Raito twisted, looking around the inky blackness for the detective. He opened his mouth, sucking in a deep lungful of what might or might not be air and-
Ryuuzaki!
-called to the person who he might or might not consider a friend. There was no answer to be heard. But that didn't surprise him one bit. He was alone here. Alone. And his only company, if it could be called that, was the darkness. He had learned quickly that darkness is pretty unresponsive.
Ryuuzaki!
Why was he calling to Ryuuzaki? He couldn't remember. It might have been important an hour ago, or maybe five minutes ago, but now he just didn't care. He just wanted to know where Ryuuzaki was. Because that suddenly seemed really important.
Ryuuzaki!
The importance of finding Ryuuzaki weighed heavily in his mind. The genius detective of many names was-
Ryuuzaki!
-in danger. Maybe. Yes, danger. But… He didn't know why. That was what had been so important. Ryuuzaki was in danger, and he had to find Ryuuzaki and-
Ryuuzaki!
What? Help him? Protect him? Save him? Why did those thoughts sound so right and yet so wrong? The thought of saving Ryuuzaki seemed to somehow disgust Raito, but also… something. He couldn't think of the word for it.
Ryuuzaki.
He could see something now. Brightly contrasting from the darkness. White.
Ryuuzaki!
He called, running—floating?—through the darkness towards the limp figure. And there was someone else there, too. Leaning over the oddball detective, hands holding Ryuuzaki up. He felt relief and dread sweep him.
Ryuuzaki! You're-
"Okay…" His mouth formed the word, but the darkness seemed to muffle the sound. Like a thick blanket. He rushed forward, and when he could see the mysterious others' hands, he realized-
Ryuuzaki!
-they were wrapped tightly around Ryuuzaki's neck, choking him. The slender hands squeezing the life out of the detective, who was struggling feebly. Raito's eyes followed the hands to the long white sleeves of a jacket, to a neck just as slender as his hands, and to his own face.
Wha-?
"Kira."
And suddenly, he wasn't ten feet away, but mere inches away, his slender fingers wrapped around a thin, almost brittle neck. And he wasn't looking into his own eyes, which had been so full of malice and insanity, but into the darkly-ringed insomniac eyes of Ryuuzaki—L.
"Kira."
Ryuuzaki was mouthing, and Raito shook his head, denying it even as he squeezed Ryuuzaki's neck harder and laughter bubbled from his mouth—only to be drowned in the darkness.
"Ryuuzaki."
"I'm not-"
I am-
"Kira."
He mouthed and another part of him said, the words seeming to come from somewhere around him instead of from his mouth. Tears were streaking down his cheeks and part of him didn't know why; he should be celebrating because Ryuuzaki was dead, that damned detective, dead, and you didn't cry over your enemy because that was completely contradictory even though Ryuuzaki had been his first real friend and people cried when their friend-
L.
"RYUUZAKI!"
I-
"Kira-"
"Won."
Feeling both triumphant and distraught, he dropped Ryuuzaki, and felt what might or might not be himself—what might or might not be Kira—laughing.
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Well, there's "Fuck Up Fic Two" out of the way. If you can't tell, Raito was just dreaming.
Well, whatever, review, flame, do nothing in particular, just don't ignore me. Acknowledge this fic, whether openly or not, as existing.