Paint Me
Disclaimer: I don't own Deathnote.
A/N: Okay, you caught me. I'm working up my nerve to write Soichiro/Lawliet and need this to explain to myself how they'd end up in each other's bed while still retaining Big Daddy's squeaky clean image.
(Which admittedly might be shot to hell just by being called that. "Big Daddy". I'm hilarious.)
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
~red
Sachiko was not just a faithful wife. She was his best friend. No, that term didn't quite do her justice. Even the best kind of friend wouldn't have made the sort of sacrifice Sachiko had for him. She had dedicated her entire life for his happiness. The day they'd married had been the most bittersweet day Soichiro had ever tasted, but the birth of their son and subsequently their daughter had erased all doubts from his mind that he had made the right decision in that age and time.
The decision he'd made...
To stay in the closet.
Japan in those days wasn't the warm, accepting place it was now (...) it was frosty and bleak for men who loved men. Soichiro's parents had been orthodox. He had been a coward. His best friend had been a woman of brave determination to not live her life as the indentured servant of a misogynistic bastard, and so they had married.
For love.
Of a type.
~orange
Sleeping with Sachiko was strange. But they wanted children, so they did it.
Raising children was hard. But they wanted to give the world responsible young adults, so they did it.
Dealing with a genius for a son was demanding. But they thought they could cope.
Teaching a daughter to be a woman was tricky. But they still had faith left in themselves.
~yellow
Of all the things Yagami Soichiro had to suffer as he bore the masquerade of a normal man, it was the casual jibes at fellow faggots who had the guts to come out that drove him mad. Working as a police man was such a macho thing to do but Soichiro didn't do it because it fit his lifestyle; he did it because he wanted to. Protecting people had been his dream, even before he began dreaming of a place where he could unburden Sachiko from her thankless role as yamato nadeshiko.
A place where a man could be a man with another man. Sachiko teasingly called it fruitopia. Soichiro didn't much mind.
Before that! He wanted to be a savior who kept the peace. And so he kicked some serious criminal ass while Sachiko stayed home as the perfect housewife. He worked hard to not let her sacrifice be in vain. That just wouldn't do, would it?
Oh, and there's one other thing Yagami Soichiro had to suffer as he bore the masquerade yadda yadda yadda.
The pangs of adulterous attraction.
~green
It had been a mistake to come here. He had been a fool to think of getting away from it all. 'All' was his life and was he the worm to want to turn his back on Sachiko and Light and Sayu even for one evening...
Just the one evening. Just a few drinks.
Just checking out the appearance of the legendary gay bar that was like the promised land of AIDS and hemorrhoids drenched in young men reveling in their freedom.
It wasn't often that Soichiro felt disgusted with himself. He didn't like it here. He was too old to be here. This wasn't his idea of a good time. He'd imagined an environment like a traditional teahouse and somber men passionately debating politics and free practice. Feeling fifteen years old again with the crushing humiliation of naivete, he slammed his bill's payment on the table and drew his teenaged son's hoodie closer around his face and made for the exit.
Someone else was also leaving.
"Oh. Sorry." Soichiro held back as they reached for the door at the same time. The other, a pasty young fellow with...eyes like a panda's...and a frightful shock of dark hair...Soichiro ogled...
"Are you going to open the door?"
"Eh?" Soichiro damned himself. The brunet raised his eyebrows.
"The door. Shall I open it, then?"
"N-no. I can do that."
"I understand."
They stood.
The brunet was barefoot. Clad in a long-sleeved white tee and...were those pyjamas? Soichiro stared. At the shirt, first, and then his gaze, um, slipped. Legs! Legs! Legs!
"Mister. Do you want me to open the door?"
"Ah...yes! I mean, I can do that."
"I understand."
But his hand reached out to the man instead of the door. "I..."
"I'm opening the door now."
And then he was gone.
~blue
Lol jk, he was standing right in front of Soichiro because the brunet from the bar was L.
"I am L."
Told you so!
Soichiro gawked. Ryuuzaki pretended ignorance. Soichiro was humbled. Ryuuzaki suspected his son. Soichiro scowled. Ryuuzaki smiled. Soichiro faltered.
Ryuuzaki knew.
Soichiro was at a loss.
Pangs of adulterous attraction he resisted by sternly telling himself that Sachiko didn't put their facade in jeopardy by seeking solace and he should live up to her example. But then those pangs for strangers were for strangers and easy to resist when faces and bodies were forgettable; it was so different to be exposed continuously to Ryuuzaki who knew his secret and appeared quite content to not divulge.
Divine punishment?
Ryuuzaki locked Light up tight. Soichiro was blue. Ryuuzaki chained Light to himself. Soichiro was lonely.
Divine punishment.
~indigo
Black! Why wasn't black a color of the rainbow? Black was the color of Ryuuzaki's eyes if you ignored the cataract ringing his iris. Black was the color of his hair if you got past the venomous smell. (Genius boys, he was surprised to learn, didn't wash themselves often enough. Light was clearly not a reliable archetype.) Black was Ryuuzaki and black was Soichiro's heart as Ryuuzaki breathed his last.
There had never been a special word passed between them but Soichiro felt an acute sense of loss. No man had ever known his secret before. No man ever would again.
(Little did he know Kira who was Light thought the exact, same, murderous thing. Different secret. Same story.)
Hadn't Ryuuzaki been such a privileged young man?
~violet
Death!
In a great ball of fire swallowing him up like homph and nom and...Ryuuzaki, is that you?
Soichiro thought, Sachiko I'm sorry.
Soichiro thought, Light make me proud.
Soichiro thought, Sayu I love you.
Soichiro thought, Ryuuzaki you should've blabbed.
If Ryuuzaki had told everyone what a sick creature Soichiro was then Soichiro would have admitted it. He would've hollered it from the rooftops. He would've looked Light in the eye and told him what a fake his father was. He would've bought Sachiko a kimono and told her to live her own life and stop killing him with her kindness. Her protection, under which he had lived for so many years, for the hugs at night when they should've been kissing, for the bento lunchboxes sent without fail when he worked overtime. He would've told Sayu...would've told her...something profound. Something worth listening to.
He would've told Ryuuzaki thank you. A million times over, thank you. For forcing me out of my cowardice, thank you.
But Ryuuzaki took the secret to his grave, and Soichiro did too.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Oh, sorry. Yamato nadeshiko is the ideal woman as thought up by patriarchal Japan. She's a housewife who knows her shit.