Title: Ningen (653 WC)
Pairing: L/Light/L
Rating/Warnings: None really. Existential angst? A tiny bit of blood?
Summary: Kira is experiencing self-doubt. L speaks to him about humanity.
Disclaimer: Do not own.
A/N: What is UP with me writing highly ambiguous oneshots?
Not beta'd. It's a bit of an impulse-fic.
NINGEN
"You hate weakness."
It wasn't a question. L pulled the dressing tighter around Kira's shaking knuckles and the red seeped through in Rorschach-like splotches. As he busied himself with the belt of linen, he didn't need to look up to know the other's expression—to know those prideful eyes were smoldering with hatred and mortification.
"You hate imperfection."
The scent of antiseptic was heavy. The bathroom vent on the ceiling seemed to hum in anticipation, but it did nothing to clear out the hot, suffocating thickness in the air. L noted absently that he should have turned off the empty shower, but the bleeding hand—the very human hand that belonged to the boy who thought he was God—was swilling down his attention. He was crouching next to Kira as he wrapped the appendage, being mindful that the pads of his bare feet fought shy of the glass that littered the floor. The remains of the mirror hung splintered on the wall.
"Humans are weak. Humans are imperfect." Kira snorted bitterly at the words, but kept his face turned from the detective in shame. "That's why you hate them."
The rushing water of the shower beat into the tile, having nothing to breach its fall. It was starting to cool, and the steam was letting up. Without the blanket of heat to insulate him, Kira felt chilled. He shivered at the exposure. He shivered at the hands that treated his wound much too gently. He shivered at the undue kindness.
"It must be a quandary for you, to be human and hate humanity—scary to know that hypocrisy is the foundation of your beliefs."
Was that a scoff or a sob? L couldn't tell, but assumed it was the latter.
"I'm not sure if you will believe me, but I understand what you are feeling."
A metallic snip abridged the bandage, and a small metal clip fixed the tail in place. L rotated the remedied hand by the wrist to inspect his handiwork.
"Because I hate being human, too."
Kira's head lifted from its bow, revealing bright eyes from angry, world-weary tears. He saw L's sad smile—one of empathy and understanding—and felt both horrified and mollified. It was fleeting, though. L turned to tidy the floor, picking up the larger pieces of the mirror with careful, deft fingers and sweeping up the smaller flecks of glass with a towel. Kira didn't make any move to assist him and settled on simply observing L perform this menial task. He was sick of thinking about things, so sick of feeling and doing and just wanted to watch for once.
"But there is a difference between the two of us." L kept speaking though he was still facing the other direction, scrubbing at the drying spots of vermillion that spackled the floor. He then dropped the reddened washcloth in the waste bin.
"I can forgive myself for being human. For being weak, imperfect—or mistaken, you could say."
The faucet gave a tired whine as the detective turned the knob. He lathered and rinsed his soapy hands under the spray, and curls of rusty color were whisked away by the drain.
"You do not forgive yourself, and you operate under the fallacy that perfection is attainable."
L pushed the shower curtain aside. He reached through the sheet of water, flinching a little at the frigidity, and turned off the shower. The jet wilted until only a few drops fell. His job was now finished—the injury was treated and the damage was taken care of within reason. L headed for the door, but not without taking one last backward glance at Kira. That human who glared at him through those angry, world-weary tears.
"It is quite okay to be human, Raito-kun. Now I'd rather you stop punching the mirrors. They are my property, as you are aware."
He shut the door behind him, leaving "God" sitting on the floor.