Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own any of it's characters. Death Note however has been seriously, owning me lately.
Author's Notes; This story I would say is basically very canon and perhaps could be useful in deciphering and exemplifying Light's character and some of the motives regarding his actions. Reasoning that perhaps he isn't even aware of? I'm not going to flatter myself though.The inspiration of this was my own feelings towards Wednesday's that I used to harbor. That and the song I deviously used for the title. So please enjoy, and tell me what you think. Comments, criticisms and whatever else are greatly appreciated.
You've Got Everything Now.
Friday never failed him because it always failed him.
It was always there.
Every Friday. He didn't have to check a calendar to know where it came from.
He didn't have to do any self searching to know why he felt this way today.
He knew as well as he knew why he knew.
It was plain and simple and you didn't have to be an intellectual to figure it out.
Matsuda could, anyone could if they looked closely enough, but they never did.
Friday was always a glooming beacon of disaster that lurked in the end of every week.
Most people derived joy and pleasure from the satisfaction of the weekend Friday brought.
To Light, it was something to avoid. He couldn't avoid it though, because it always came.
He didn't need Matsuda to announce and remind everyone of what day of the week it was, he was already aware since last Friday that this one, like the last one would make it's appearance as well. His mind no matter how hard he fought it, and tried to get over the intangible residue that settled over his conscience it would prove futile every time. His efforts were in vain and there was no practicality in fighting what you can't control. There's also no sense in denying it, both are equally pointless techniques to handle a situation. He had decided that on the first Friday, the one after the original, November the 5th. At first though, he had admittedly presumed it to be an unnecessary lingering attachment of his psyche. It would leave him, and that would be that. He would cry, and the old feelings would spill out just as the desire that stayed with him would as he worked his hand to a memory that he promised to forget.
He had promised, that would be that.
No more.
Only problem was, things did not go just as planned for once.
The feeling reciprocated itself the next week, and the week after that, and eventually he knew. He knew when he was in a café with Misa sipping coffee, when he swore he saw L sitting next to him like he always used to. Quiet, and ever observant to the point of being exasperating as those dark endless eyes loomed up at you. You could never see through them, just force yourself to retaliate by trying to match your own up to that intensity that was worsened by the ashen skin. Black disarrayed locks poking up from his scalp while being paired with a lopsided smile that was equal in beauty and it's peculiarity.
Except, he wasn't looking at that magnificent creature, he was ignoring Misa and her worries and he had to blink repeatedly at the realization of how his imagination had deceived him.
That was why he had asked her to move in. She could be a distraction and take his mind off all these newfound lapses in judgment. It was the perfect situation, befitting for both parties and all causes….
That was what he had thought though.
He had, almost managed to train his mind to not derive images out of his memory. Whether they be writhing and flushed atop him, or narrowed and accusatory. Or simply the rare ones, where L smiled, which consisted of a slight twitch to his bottom lip, (if it wasn't maniacal or ulterior.)
Friday's still came though and eventually he accepted it with dull realization of the responsibilities his decision entailed. He would owe up to it and face it. It was his only tactic. It was one he managed to commence with all his abundant dignity and eloquence without missing a single smile, or flash of his teeth. After all, he wasn't dense, he knew what Friday was. What it had represented to him over the past four years. How it haunted him, not even with memory but with a feeling that was beyond comprehendible. It was just there and all he could do to accommodate it, was grin and bear it while sipping his coffee and looking at computer screens. At the very least the feeling never worsened, but it never eased up on him either. It simply existed as a constant in his life that never disappointed him. The feeling, or rather lack of, would consume his being with an emptiness that rattled around his skull and his heart. He certainly had a heart, the trouble was remembering and acknowledging it other than a source of blood supply. It was hard to forget it though, because the literal weight he felt in his body astounded him. Of course it wasn't physical, but mental weight is nothing to laugh at as he had previously thought. The fact that his heart was being put to negative uses that he had promised himself it would never be forced to experience was rather precarious. The wear and tear of relationships, and loosing something precious that you believe to be indispensable because you want it to be. It was a burden that he couldn't resolve or go back on. It was done with and the consequences that he had foresaw were there with an intensity he had denied possible. He was still right after all, L had been standing in his way. An obstacle that needed to be taken care of and removed from the beautiful picture that was being interfered with. He couldn't have it, it was putting a dead end to his own purpose. Even still, Friday remained as it did now. It didn't matter how much he revaluated everything, reassessed and tried to override the damage and memories with new, with the good and change that had sprung up from the ruins of self imposed disaster. It made no difference because it never left.
It was worse then any ghost that could ever haunt him, worse then a disease. A disease was always there and you expected it every morning when you woke up. He expected Friday's, but he worried whether or not it would someday seep into the rest of the week. Slowly effecting and enveloping his days in a disease induced state of affairs. Friday was bad enough, he already became dismayed and disgruntled at the mere thought and onslaught of what would occur. He didn't need more but he tried not to think about it and went on shuffling his paperwork, and compiling new reports to continue the façade. The illusion that had sprung up after L's departure and Friday's reign.
Maybe the worst part was the fact that no one else knew that it occurred. No one could tell, not even because they didn't care, but because they simply could not locate a reason as to why it would matter. It shouldn't, but it did.
He knew Misa was oblivious and through all her love and consideration she was dubious.
She didn't realize why glasses would be thrown at her and why his temper would occur more so than usual. His nonchalance and dismissal of her existence and clingy behavior would turn into resentment and bitterness at her sentiments.
Hatred for how submissive and weak she was.
Never fighting back, never believing in anything other than what she was told to believe by him. She didn't have a functioning, complex mind of her own.
She wore her thoughts on her face, and with this she chose to express them verbally as well.
Except -
He didn't need her praise and adoration on Friday, he didn't want it.
He just wanted silence, like when L and him would sift through the papers on Sunday as if they were some sad parody of a married couple that were planning their outings for the day - instead of a genius detective and his chained-to-him suspect.
The thought makes his mouth twitch in a combination of approval and disapproval, only intensifying as Matsuda confesses the real reason as to why he's late, again.
Matsuda is oblivious too, and far too optimistic and easily deceived by everything.
It doesn't bother him, he's gotten used to it and his antics.
He always seems more moronic and immature on Friday's though.
As if his IQ has decreased by several crucial points. As if he's intentionally stupid and useless.
It's alright though - , he can continue watching the news feed, and reading saved documents.
At least it's always dark in the head quarters room and he doesn't have to make excuses for wanting to draw the blinds. On Friday the sun always seems to shine an outrageous amount as if trying to compensate for some sort of loss. The weather is always beautiful, not a cloud in the sky. It's always lovely, and everything goes right and perfectly well. People on the streets are cheerful, anxious and waiting for their beloved weekend starter.
Maybe this annoys him too, although he never actually viewed the day in an overtly pleasing manner. It was all the same to him, but now maybe it's because it is different.
He's sick of all the smiles, and false senses of hope and security. That's why he urges everyone to work harder and buckle down.
To make Matsuda stop talking with Ide over senseless things.
He bets the grass around L's grave glistens under the rays and people walk through that cemetery and visit their loved ones and place bouquets of roses on their graves to remember them fondly.
Just to spite him.
He scribbles something down as his eyes idle on a wrist that has been bare for quite some time. No mechanical metal clink alerting him of his counterparts activities.
That's why he keeps his hands busy with anything he can find.
Pencils, papers, pens, in his pockets, in his hair.
It doesn't matter.
He had held L many times in his arms on a Friday, and ran his fingers through his hair.
The sensation is still visible as he feels his teeth clench and nobody sees.
He still isn't entirely sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, but he has decided he prefers being here all night rather than pacing the floors of his apartment. Or laying in bed, tossing and turning and having Misa trying to coax him out of his worry as if she knows.
She knows nothing.
Yes, he much rather prefer the dull illumination of the computer screens that surrounds him as he feels Matsuda pat him on the back and joke about how he's turning into L.
Then as he fumbles over what he's saying because, - "You technically are L now though, but you know what I meant - not to be disrespectful to L but -"
A laugh escapes him, entirely too wry but that's how his laugh has always been.
No one could tell that sort of thing, the soft deviation in tone and intensity that varies in the slightest from the usual one.
L could tell though, he was keen on those insignificant details of human nature that no one else bothers to pick up on. Maybe that's why he tells Matsuda that he should be heading home, and he does go much to his relief.
He's glad no one else is like that because it was infuriatingly accurate and he wears his usual thin line of an expression as he gets up and stretches before returning to his seat.
It's not an act though, his apathy it remains long after everyone leaves and he is alone.
He doesn't feel sad, or remorseful. Not even regretful. No tears fall, nor do they threaten to.
That only happened once and it wasn't even his own accord but he's careful not to let it. The mind can be an amazing thing once you train it properly. He is well mastered in that art, that's why he barely blinks in acknowledgement. He feels no blame, he's certainly not depressed or anything of that context. It's not as if he can't go on, or is so very heart broken. That's laughable and it's quite the contrary. There's no pity, it's no tragedy, everything doesn't remind him of L or anything equally teenage but -
The feeling just remains. It refuses to leave with such an insistence that it has to correspond back to L, to stem from him.
It's because he can't brush it off and shake it that it must be. So, all he can do is just go about life like he always does - because, he won't let it matter.
L wasn't always there, and he never thought he would be.
It's the loss though, he can't escape that.
So, big deal. Maybe it'll never stop, but he'll get even more used to it with the passage of time.
He's prepared for that, everyone deserves punishment for their crimes and he suspects this is perhaps his. Silent, and unnoticeable but a threat nonetheless.
Worse than anything L could scheme and connive up against him.
That's why he makes sure to continue the killings if not increase them on Friday's because god dammit he needs that, that little victory that doesn't even matter either. Needs to be reminded that he's supposed to have everything now.
But really -
He just needs to fill these days with something.