Author's Note: Story takes place after the conclusion of the Kira case, and is taken from Misa's point of view. It also assumes that she and Light have been close friends since their adolescent years.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of its characters. However, this particular story is mine.
Please review if you like – I always appreciate feedback. Hope you enjoy it.
End of This Road
We were driving up the highway. The windows were down, and there were no other cars around us. The 80s' music blared, a mix of Chromeo and Madcon, and I felt so free, uninhibited. It was a good feeling; I'd almost forgotten what this sort of open feeling felt like. Light and I had been so caught up with life after the Kira case was closed, and had hardly any time to see each other anymore, let alone the rest of the taskforce. It seemed like decades ago, or perhaps a million phases of life ago, that we had nothing else to do than sit around outside his school on the sidewalk, discussing trivial love matters of his then thirteen-year-old sister and my newly blossoming modeling contract. The entire reverie was now no more than just that – a faraway dream of innocent memories.
I recalled Light's face from those years as I so blithely gripped my steering wheel. Its image in my mind looked so much younger now, so much more carefree in the peak of youth. After all, he had only been seventeen then. I could picture him smiling, his caramel-brown eyes glittering atop an altogether angelic appearance. His face was smooth and clean-shaven, absent of that slightly rugged look he had on him now. Without having to look at him, I had his spitting image plastered into my mind's eye, and mentally compared the two images. What I was really admiring was how far we'd come from back then, and how we'd left trails of episodes of growth, memories, and maturity portrayed through metaphorical footprints along the way. What I admired most was how we did it together, despite how often we were apart nowadays...
I was now smiling; I couldn't help it. I turned to the right and looked over at him – that goofy closed-mouthed grin of mine stuck across my face – and he returned my grin with a subtle one, his brown eyes still glittering through thick eyelashes. He reached over, removed my right hand from the wheel, and pulled it up against his lips in a kiss.
'But I know my temper's been kind of crazy...'
Perhaps the wind-filled music induced this inhibited ambiance. And it felt good to have him sit next to me after so long.
"So, have we decided where we're going yet?"I asked him over the electric guitar solo as it gradually subsided.
"No, we haven't," he called back. "Let's just get to the end of this road and see where it goes."
I felt his fingers glide through my own. He flipped my hand upside-down and right side-up now and then, playing coolly with it. It brought me slight shivers, and I let out an open chuckle. The goose bumps quickly spread across my arms and shoulders, and I cast a quick glance over at him without turning my head. I threw back whatever glint of mischievous knowingness I saw in his eyes when he glanced back at me, and then veered the car to the far right of the road. I parked right there.
"Parking on the highway, Misa?" he teased.
I leaned over to him slowly. Yes, he worked with the police, but that was another matter. "No one has to know." It was more true than not. Nobody ever took this road.
He followed suit and lifted his hand to caress the side of my face. My skin chilled immediately at his touch, the touch I knew so well. He used one hand to slowly pull me closer to his face, the other pressing against the back of my head, and then kissed me with deep pressure at once, without hesitation. I kissed him back, our lips dancing furiously against one another in a familiar rhythm, neither one leading nor following.
The sunlight was the brightest I'd ever seen it, and shone through the inside of the car invasively. It was warm against my back, and its warmth chased away the last of my goose bumps as the cardigan on it leisurely peeled off underneath Light's lean hands. I slid my fingers beneath his unbuttoned, collared shirt and let my hands trail down his broad, lean arms, slipping the shirt off and exposing his broad, hard chest underneath it.
He came over to my side from the passenger's seat, his lips never parting from mine. I reached down to the side of my seat and pushed against the automatic lever, which slowly lowered the seat all the way down until I was almost lying flat on my back against his forearms. Light climbed on top of me to the slow, sensual rhythmic beats of the R&B music still blaring around us.
My lips were heating up, sending down a burning sensation that threatened to burst inside my entire body. They felt softened from the strength of our pressure, and a jolt of pleasure shot down through me as our lips opened and closed, kissed and parted. His rugged facial hair lightly grazed against my face, and our kiss lingered for a moment before he pulled back slightly and merely looked down at me, unmoving. We gazed fixedly, almost threateningly, at each other for a short while without blinking. I knew him well. Our thoughts, the way we grew up and influenced each other, our memories, our ambitions and the core of our passions were drastically intertwined with one another. I've never known a similar connection between two people before, two very close friends that have witnessed loss, death, and change together over the years. I stared up at him a moment longer before suddenly motioning to sit up with a swift movement, twisting his legs with mine and pushing his chest down against the seat in an aggressive motion so that our positions swapped. It happened so rapidly that he didn't know what was happening. He blinked, his guard let down for a brief moment, before slipping back into that relaxed stance of his.
I positioned myself over him, on my forearms and knees, my right knee lightly sliding up and down against his middle while simultaneously kissing him. His lips moved down to the side of my neck, sucking gently against it, the warmth of his breath coating it. I groaned quietly at the sensation. There was a strong, mutual bond of protectiveness between each other, an unspoken urge we both had to protect each other, to only want each other to depend on and no one else. We were both jealous beings, and wanted no one else to have any part in this, in our mutual needs and well-being.
I gradually grazed my lips down the nape of his neck, and felt his hand glide up underneath my beige spaghetti strap to the hook of my bra. His other hand lingered against my chest, lightly gripping the large medallion I wore on a long necklace. He lifted it around my head and removed it, jerking it onto the other seat. I was unhooked at the same time my necklace landed, and I quickly removed the bra and threw it onto the other seat as well. He grinned up at me, and then slid his strong fingers under my top, along my stomach, up to my chest. I softly moaned with pleasure, my own middle suddenly throbbing. As if in response to him, I unbuckled his belt and slipped my hand down his jeans against his lean midriff.
"Light," I said absentmindedly.
"Misa-chan?" came the answer, sounding concerned. It was loud and out of character. I flashed open my half-closed eyes, and looked down to examine Light's face. What I saw shocked and horrified me.
He wasn't there. The seat beneath me was empty. I quickly jolted in an upright position, sitting back against my heels to look around the car in search of him.
Light?
Then I noticed the shadow of another individual to my right, just on the other side of the car door. A man stood there, against the blinding sunlight. His face was half-hidden under a cap, and I had to squint a little to recognize him as the head of police, a close family friend.
"Shiro-sama," I breathed, suddenly frightened.
"Are you okay, Misa-chan? What's the matter?" he asked. "Why are you parked on the side of the road?"
I glanced over at the passenger's seat. My bra and necklace were no longer there. I looked down at my chest, and saw the medallion still dangling, the small silver studs on it glinting brilliantly in the sunlight. My shirt and cardigan were still on. I adjusted my position and sat normally on the seat, waiting for things to make sense, and gazed up at Shiro's face intently as if it would somehow produce answers. What I saw spilled across his features was an expression of apology, perhaps even of pity. And that was enough to make me sink in realization once again, enough to make me cry out in the shock and pain that my mind had long been trying to repress. Denial, they say, is the first stage of grief. Denial and hallucinations. I was merely remembering.
"I'm sorry, Misa-chan," Shiro told me, reaching an arm over and gently rubbing my back. "You shouldn't be driving. Let me take you back home."
I rested my elbow on the top of my steering wheel, and banged my head against my arm. I suddenly remembered the recent events of my life once again; everything came rushing back to me in powerful waves. I often forgot that Light was gone, but each time my memories came flooding back, it was like experiencing the pain I first felt over and over again, as if it were still for the first time. It wasn't fair that I had to go through this repeatedly. It ached too much, much more than I should be able to bear. But I bore it perpetually, and the exhausting ache I felt over Light's death made me weaker instead of stronger with time.
"Come, let me drive you back home," Shiro repeated.
After a moment, I pulled my head back from the top of the wheel and glanced over absentmindedly at the passenger's seat. For a brief second I thought I saw Light sitting there, looking at me with an expression of deep regret on his face. And then he disappeared again. If this was to continue happening to me, I was sure I would soon go insane – if I wasn't already.
Hot tears seeped down my face, and I turned back to Shiro and nodded in agreement.
"Alright, let's go," I said quietly.
He called for a police officer to take my car back to town, and gestured for me to follow him back to his. I turned up the windows and got out of my car, locking it as I followed Shiro to his police car. I looked down, still completely bewildered and depressed at what just happened and tried to shrug off the strong feeling that Light was just behind me, the warmth of his presence still hovering over my back.
Just to make sure, though, I glanced over my shoulder just before getting into the front seat of the police car, but saw nobody there.