PERFECT MATCH
a drabble by 'spanish techno'
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"You're sure you want to do this, Ryuzaki?"
"Hai . . ."
"You can turn back at any time. Just notify me."
"No . . . I'm fine. I'm positive that this is what I want to do."
"Alright then . . . let me change. I'll be back in a minute."
"Raito-kun."
"Yes?"
"Thank you very much."
". . . Mmm. Any time."
Wait.
That was what he wanted to shout out to him then, managing that elusive smile of his before exiting the room. Wait, he thought, almost aloud. Wait for me, Raito-kun. Hah – now, the 'kun' was unecessary. It was sort of a running joke between the two, like calling your best friend 'Mister So-And-So', or bowing to them while you asked for a Coke. It wasn't like him, either. That is, pleading for his return. He was just . . . antsy. Anxious, really, to just get the whole thing over with. He lay on the bed, both pale arms spread in an angel's embrace across the snowy sheets, and somehow managed to close his eyes. The whole thing was absolutely petrifying.
"Ryuzaki!"
"Mmm . . . hai? What is it, Raito-kun?"
"I was just wondering . . . if, you had the 'equipment'."
". . . Ah. Yes, it's all here. I've checked it beforehand, as well."
"Good. I'll only take another moment . . . contain yourself, will you?"
"I've been doing a fine job of that, Raito-kun. No need to worry about me."
"I'm not."
Silence. Pure, unadulterated silence followed Raito's less-than-optimistic remark. Was he confident in himself? Did he truly believe he'd overpowered L, finally forcing him to give into his unholy wiles? His charm, though eccentric, was undeniable – even the gloomy detective found himself quite moved when they spoke. Was this really a good idea, though? Were either of them ready to face one another, bearing their weaknesses for all to see?
"I'm done," Raito sighed, holding the cool, yellowing brass of the doorknob between pasty fingers. L crossed one leg over the other as he lay, motionless. His arms were behind his head now, absently scratching at an itch deep within the mass of tangled black hair. Raito smirked.
"You look hot."
". . . As do you."
"Why don't you take off your shirt? It's sort of warm today, especially in here."
"I'm fine this way. After all, you were the one who said, 'I look hot', and yet you're commenting on my exterior."
". . . Is that so . . ."
"Do you really believe it, Raito-kun? Am I hot?"
"Ryuzaki . . ."
"Regardless, your opinion doesn't affect me. Come, sit next to me. We'll get right to it."
As if realizing in a fleeting moment that L was, indeed, somewhat frightened, Raito's demeanor changed. "You're not scared, are you, Ryuzaki?" he taunted, raising a finger to lightly poke L's chest. "Don't worry – I'll be gentle."
"I'm not worried about your roughness, Raito-kun. I'm certain I can handle whatever it is you have in mind."
"And if you're out first?"
"I'll accept my fate. That is, after all, what we have both agreed on. That, and the fact that I am hot."
"You're certainly sure of yourself."
"Why is that?"
". . . Mmm, nothing. I'm getting the equipment now."
"It's under the bed."
Strong arms, weathered by a constant mental strain, reached beneath the fluffy white mattresses. "Look for a large, rectangular black box," L commented lightly, sighing at the end of his sentence. Raito hardly thought this was a game – it wasn't monumental or anything, but it was testing them both. If he wasn't dominant by the end of this . . . well, he'd have to think of another way to properly best L. And there was no telling when another opportunity like that would arise – L wasn't the easiest person to outshine.
He was a tad emotional, though. "Raito-kun," he whispered. "I'm confident that you'll be a worthy adversary."
Raito surpressed a haughty snort. God, L was annoying. "It's not a big deal, Ryuzaki," he muttered, releasing the tattered chess case from the clutches of the bed's catacombs. "After all . . . it's only a game."
"Would you like me to play as red, or white?"
"White, preferably. I'd enjoy representing the dark side of our game."
"Fair enough."
FIN.