I do not own Death Note.
Title: Invictus
Special thanks to my beta The Maiden of Autumn for all her help and support!
prologue
Misa loves the thrill of the stage, the glitter, the glamour and the fame it brings her. She adores dancing and singing and allowing herself to slowly unfurl and entertain that masses the look up to her. She enjoys being looked at and being admired—it's why she even became a model; she is a doll even under her layers of make-up and black frill, under her fake handcuffs and plethora of crucifixes. If she does say so herself, she is the sort of girl every man dreams of owning, or toying with and indulging in.
It becomes pointless when she fails to satisfy people though. It's a very simple idea—if she isn't worth looking at anymore, then she has lost her value as a model and Misa has never failed before in this aspect. Even without the bright lights and the smoke-screen effects present on a stage, Misa's face is stunning. Under the plain lights of her vanity, she examines it and it is her pride and joy. Her finger finds a stand of bright blonde hair, her small lips forming a pout. She's oh-so pretty, oh-so addictive to look at. Her colleagues are fakes, resorting to plastic surgery and spoiling their faces with maquillage to avoid degrading into eyesores, but Misa knows she's different and she will always be.
It's Raito she fails to satisfy, one fine day.
He kisses her, then hugs her in the privacy of his room, gentle but distant. He promises her a pure world someday and he tells her, over and over again that he needs a wife for when that day arrives—but he slides further and further away from her with every passing second, moving closer and closer to some corner Misa thinks she won't be able to reach. It's because of college, he tells her sometimes and other times it's because of his duties as Kira and even though he still holds her, it feels contrived somehow; like he's doing it only because he has purposes for her—there is no love behind it, not the kind of love she expects him to reciprocate. He stiffens when she reaches out to touch him, before he relaxes. He sighs when she calls him, before conversing. He moves forward without her, never glancing over his shoulder to so much as ensure that she is alright, to even make sure she's still there, traipsing behind him. He is hurried and rushed even when she asks for the time of the day—I'm busy, Misa-chan, he tells her—no, he feeds her as an excuse (but she doesn't realise that; she accepts dutifully that he really is busy). I need to make the world better. You understand, right? I can't do it now.
I'll be waiting, she promises demurely with her brilliant smile. It could be hours, days, months even for all she cares but the notion of her beloved Raito's love for her keeps her happy and optimistic, keeps her believing in Kira's justice and pushes her forward. Anything, she vows to herself, uncharacteristically solemn, anything he wants and I'll do it. Even if it is just waiting for him.
When he begins looking away from her, captured by supposedly more captivating things she loathes it; she deserves attention. She should be looked at. She wonders what could do to please him, to appeal to him as a man would a woman. Misa dons her prettiest—also most outlandish—clothes and swipes make-up skilfully over her face. The darkest lipstick, the sort of eye-shadow that brings out her eyes, a touch of rouge and no foundation, because her skin is always healthy and moisturised. She approaches him on the street right outside his house, tactlessly as usual, but eager and gleeful. She vaguely contemplates pulling her shirt a few centimetres lower, but decides against it when she takes into consideration that her skirt is shorter than his hair.
"Raito!" She chirps as she latches onto his arm and draws it to her chest. He sighs and turns around, giving her a smile as usual, but Misa wants a kiss—even if it is just on the cheek—like a male is meant to greet his girlfriend. "I just happened to be passing by," a lie he would probably see through effortlessly. "And I thought I'd stop by and see you!"
"Is that so?' There is nothing in his tone; no warmth, no joy—like there never has been, but Misa has always been too blind to notice that. There is no contempt or disgust either, just a robotic emptiness that Misa completely misses as she is too busy adoring Raito's face. "Do you want to come in?"
"Yes!" Misa squeals, thrilled as she dashes to the entrance to take her shoes off. "Oh, oh, Raito, will you come to Misa-misa's next photo-shoot? Misa's been getting lonely there and she wants to introduce her boyfriend to everyone,"
"I can't Misa," he declines softly, leading her inside and asking his mother to make them tea. "I told you, I'm busy. We can't be seen in public together,"
She crawls under her covers that night, her striped negligee leaving her shivering but she could care less about such a trivial detail. Sleep avoids her religiously and her mind reels, trying to veer away from Raito's ignorance of her but returning to it sporadically and tormenting her as a result. She has no questions anymore—there is nothing to ask anymore—but she has found a solution.
Smaller. Thinner. Prettier. That's all there is to it. If she loses a few kilos, she will be all the more appealing to look at and Raito will love her again.
She does not spare a second thought about the consequences of the vicious cycle she traps herself in.
Comments would be much appreciated! (: