There is a fine line between love and obsession.
I have learned many things in the years since I accepted my calling, but this has been the single lesson that has always remained with me, the enduring truth that infects my mind and stays in the forefront of my conscience, no matter what I do. I cannot afford to be taken in. I cannot afford to be distracted, and love becomes obsession far too quickly, considering my personality and habits. I am not a particularly strong man. I do not have the capacity to resist certain urges. To minimize distractions, I choose to eliminate my exposure to potential threats to my concentration.
This does not always work.
I knew, quite well, that what may appear as harmless love would undoubtedly turn into an unhealthy obsession. However, I did not count on the converse being true as well. If one spends too much time obsessing over another, too much time scrutinizing them and their motives, then it advances beyond that. Once one understands another, once everything falls into place and the analysis is complete, it is impossible, I have discovered, not to love them.
It is sickening.
I feel ill when I think of such consuming feelings. My stomach physically begins to pain me, and I cannot eat any more sweets. Mr. Wammy notices. He always knows when something is wrong.
It is difficult to love someone with such intensity. Is it passion? I have rarely exhibited passion. But I cannot explain the way my blood moves through my veins, the way my determination rears its head and the way that, when I look at him, I feel alive. More alive than I have ever been. This is it. This is the case that will break me. The thought excites me.
I recognize that this is unusual; indeed, one could say detrimental to my health. Such apparently masochistic thoughts always bring me back to the A case, the case back at Wammy's House. The case that had been ruled a suicide. Sometimes I feel a kinship to the boy who is now dead. Do I want to die? No. But if I do, I want it to be at the hands of him. Not Kira's hands, no. I want to die in his arms.
Light Yagami.
The very name thrills me beyond anything I have ever felt before. What is this? No woman or man has ever affected me so.
I feel no boyish motivation to flirt, no sexual hunger or desire that I can detect. I have searched myself and my psyche for these feelings and I have found nothing. But I am far more than innocently interested. I am fascinated by him. By the way he reads things; his eyes scanning across the screen, a hand at his chin, his lips pressed together tightly. The way he stands affects me. His back is straight and erect; his posture is impeccable. His legs are long, his shoulders broader than mine, and despite being several years younger than I am, he appears as my equal. No, more than that. He is my equal, in a way that I have never found before. For every move that I make, Light responds with alacrity, instantly analyzing the situation and choosing the best course of action. I can see it in his eyes, how they flash when he sells me a particularly vicious lie. A true genius. He would have done incredibly well at the House, where they would have developed these skills, pandered to his needs, honed him like the tool he would have been better off as.
Honed him to be a tool just as I am. Oh, what a glorious hammer he would have been. A hammer of justice, exactly as the role I am playing in our little game. But instead has decided by his own choice to become a puppet-master, the wielder of such tools. He would have done so much better if the world could have wielded him as a weapon against crime and hate.
Many nights, I think this thought exactly. He should have been at Wammy's House. He could have rivalled me, in a way that A and B never could, and that M and N never will. I would have welcomed a challenger.
And he would not be a killer. His soul and conscience would be clean. I would not be trying so desperately to prove his guilt, and he would not be doing his best to end my life.
I sometimes thank whatever higher power I may believe in that Light Yagami was never a child at Wammy's House, because if I were not so sure that he is Kira, I doubt I would ever have felt real love at all.
First of all, my apologies for posting so much lately. I can't stop writing Death Note. Darrrrn youuuu Alexandra!
Second of all, first person, what? I never write in first person. But L was too tempting. I had to try it at least once.
Third of all, this is barely a fanfiction. But I wanted to explore more what I believe the relationship between L and Light to be. It's not a love that's anything romantic or sexual. It's more of a fascination. This was highly inspired by Ender's Game, particularly the idea that it's impossible to understand someone, their motives and why they act as they do, and not love them. That's what I feel like is going on between L and Light. Does L count Light as a friend? Not in the traditional sense. But he identifies with him. He feels something deeply. I believe L would not accept death except at the hands of an equal. And that was enough explanation for me.
Your thoughts?