Hope
L's breathing hitched as Light traced a cool finger along his jaw.
"Ryuuzaki…," Light whispered softly, his warm breath ghosting across L's pale skin. Their lips were only centimeters apart now, their bodies pressed up against one another. A shiver traveled up the detective's spine, and his eyes fluttered closed as Light pressed even closer.
"…Trust me."
Yes, L wanted to say, I trust you. But he didn't. He couldn't. Because, somewhere in his mind he knew; Light Yagami was Kira.
There was something, though, in the small space between their lips, in that electric little bubble of air which seemed to envelop them, that made him forget Kira. In that space there was only Light and L and nothing else. He could forget his perfectly calculated percentages, ignore the carefully crafted logic in his head. There was no room for reason in the space between them. And, more than that, he needed to forget. He needed to pretend that Light wasn't Kira, that he wasn't simply manipulating his emotions. His need was so sharp and acute, to the point of pain, that there was nothing he could do but let himself forget, let himself pretend that Light Yagami loved him.
It would only hurt him, and he knew that. He knew how foolish it was of him to hope. But, try as he might, he couldn't suppress the little spark that built up inside of him. There was nothing he could do against it; this hope, this love, however irrational it may be…it was all he had.