Here we are again, you and I. We're sitting at our respective spots at the desks, typing away at the computers and researching the latest news about Kira. Or lack thereof.
This has been going for a few weeks now, after the capture-- and murder-- of Higuchi Kyosuke.
I do remember that fateful night, when I was reunited with the Death Note. And my memories. At first the impact of so many memories felt as if I was knocked in the occipital lobe by a baseball bat; the pain was sudden and explosive. Afterwards, everything was a blur. From picking up the Death Note, to meeting Ryuk, to being challenged by you of all people.
Killing the FBI agents.
Meeting Misa.
Devising a plan to be rid of you once and for all.
Being confined.
And putting said plan into action.
I remembered everything.
Yet, here we are weeks later; back to the same old pattern. I have my memories back, as do Misa, but you're not dead yet. And somehow, I cannot bring myself to send death your way.
It's quite frustrating, I'll have you know. I want to strangle you, suffocate you, initiate something that will get you away from me. I want Misa to write your name in the Death Note so this could end once and for all. But I do nothing.
Why do I not do something? Why must you make things so complicated for me? You're nothing but a thorn in my side, whose purpose is do nothing but rip at the skin and become a nuisance.
I glance over at you, and watch as you type away at lightning speed. You seem so engrossed in what you're doing right now that I don't believe you even notice my eyes boring into your face. I scrutinize your features - your sickly, pale skin, the hideous bags under your charcoal eyes, your unruly black hair that never seems to be combed, and that ugly posture you put yourself in; may it be standing or sitting. There are times when I think you have a disorder due to the lack of care you provide for your body. And you don't seem to care either. It's very strange. I'm uncertain if you're even aware of how much of a freak you are.
You definitely look the part.
However, these are only surface features, and they are rather misleading if I do say so myself. After all, our eyes do the judging - it is how we capture our first impression of a person. It is up to the rest of our senses to delve deeper, past the appearance, and into a more whole being underneath.
And boy did my senses delve.
I remember first experiencing you as a human being, and not some surreal, robotic organism.
Your body against mine.
My lips against yours.
Our senses becoming one.
I remember my hands slipping up your shirt to caress your back. The discoveries I made were intriguing - though I could feel some structure of bone, you were not sickly; your skin, though pale, did not feel unhealthy. In fact, it was soft. Smooth even. I had not expected that. Ad though you come off as rather cold, your body felt quite the opposite.
I don't know what I was expecting when I inhaled your scent, but you didn't smell like roses or vanilla. Instead I took in the scent of fresh laundry detergent from your clothes, and the scent of strawberries and pancake mix after your meal. You smelled fresh, and that was good enough for me.
When we kissed, I was met with soft, luscious lips that were not chapped at all - another feature I found surprising. I remember kissing you slowly, savoring this experience with every minute that passed... but no, you would have none of that.
I remember our tongues battling strongly for dominance, trying to outdo the other in deep, passionate kisses. You tasted like the surprisingly good pancakes I had cooked for you.. Your breathless statements nearly drove me over the edge. I enjoyed listening to you, hearing you so close to my ear. Soft whimpers and sighs, mixed with our breathless attempts at conversation while being so intimate with each other... it was so exhilarating.
For once, I felt lost.
Lost because, though I loathe to admit my miscalculation, your appearance says little about your mind. Yes, your quirks of eating nothing but sweets come off as extremely strange but you are highly intelligent. Other than myself you are the most intelligent being that I have encountered. You analyze and deduce so quickly it makes the average mind spin. You're intellect and wit are near flawless. Despite your little episode at the suggestion of Shinigami, your imagination is vast and wild. You are a master of liars and of manipulation. Your sense of Justice is incredibly strong and unyielding. You are headstrong and confident in your abilities.
It's funny. We are so incredibly similar, yet different at the same time. We are two peas in a pod, yet polar opposites. We share similar views, traits, and intelligence, yet we are enemies.
I am Raito.
You are Ryuuzaki.
Yet I am Kira.
And you are L.
But whether we play the role of friends, or the role of enemies, our interaction is virtually the same. We attempt to fool the other, but we're able to see through the façade. When our differences clash, we fight. And somehow, you are always able to provoke some sort of emotion out of me. You anger me, frustrate me, push me past my limits. You make me feel. With you, I don't have to act most of the the time. I can unleash the side I keep hidden from my family, my acquaintances, from Misa and the public.
I can simply be.
Perhaps that is why I haven't killed you yet. You have accomplished something that no one else has ever been able to accomplish. You have gained control of my emotions. And oh, how I abhor you for it.
Because of this small, yet significant control you possess, I have begun to question myself regarding your death. Should I kill you, or should I not? Logically speaking, with you out of my way, I am free to take the reigns as L and kill criminals as I see fit.
But with you out of my way, there will be no one else on my level whom I could converse with. There will be no one else to have intelligent conversations with, no one to play mind games with.
No one to make me feel again.
Those thoughts bring a cold, tightening sensation to my chest. The more I think about future years without you, the stronger that sensation becomes. And the stronger that tightening feeling becomes, the more I want to tell you how much I value you. I want to tell you why I cook for you, why I want to touch you, what your touch does to me--
"Raito-kun."
Your voice snaps me from my reverie, and I blink a few times as my eyes refocus back to your face. You finally recognize my penetrating gaze, challenging it with one of your own, and I nod, apologize, and turn back to my computer screen.
However, even as I am typing away at my own keyboard in an attempt to discover more evidence against Kira, my thoughts are on you. I'm already planning what to cook and when, how to coax you into letting me hold you, how to plan my moves just right so that I may be able to touch you. I pause again, and sneak another glance at you. Once again, you're typing away, but this time you know I'm looking and acknowledge that fact. I turn my head slightly to send you a polite smile, and you blink owlishly at me before reverting your attention to the computer again.
This time, however, I don't stop staring.
And perhaps... when the time comes, I will tell you, L.
...
Author's Notes: This one-shot was inspired by a roleplay-in-progress between one of my roleplaying partners and I. The mentioning of pancakes and the romance scene were included in said roleplay; I am well aware that they didn't occur in the manga/anime.
I am uncertain if I will create another one-shot, or continue this one. It all depends on where the roleplay takes us.
Anyway, thank you for reading. Reviews are definitely appreciated. Thank you.
P.S. One-shot was beta'd by a good friend. Worship her.
- Rain