AN: Oh my, two updates in one day and this one wasn't planned! Hmm, being the insomniac I am and listening to "A Song For You" by Finch, caused this little ficlet to be born. It's my (very emo) rendition of the rain scene between L and Light because that's the image the song plays in my head and the plot bunnies attacked. Ah well, I do hope you like it!
Oh yeah and I DON'T OWN DEATH NOTE. Sure you knew that, this being fanfiction, but I keep forgetting it. On with the story
A Song For You
The rain lashed down in torrents in the pitch black night, clouds covering the darkened, wintery sky in a thick and heavy veil and obscuring the lonely moonlight from view. The rain was efficiently covering the ground in a slick wet coating and soaking the two men who sat still on the cold steps right through to the bone. The only sound to be heard was the slight dripping as the frigid water made contact with the dark concrete rythmically. It was the last signal to them that time was ever slipping further away from their grasps, never to return.
The moment was perfectly peaceful in its entirety and both knew better than to spoil it with petty words and conversation. There was nothing left to be said for a catch 22 had been reached, no matter how unwilling either participant was for it to happen; it would. It all came down to a battle of wills that only one contestant could hope to win. It was his word against the other's at the end of the day and merely sticks and stones in the grand scheme of things. But it meant everything because, one of them was fated to die soon, the only way out of the terrible situation they were in.
And Light had to admit, he would genuinely miss the dark haired detective who sat stoically beside him. He respected him greatly, having found perhaps the only person he deemed to be at his intellectual par. He had grown accustomed to his gauche tendancies and strange appearance, the way he goaded and baited him into philosophical discussion and the way he pushed him to be better. He had started to become strangely dependant on his company, perhaps a side effect of his lengthy and trying confinement. Stockholm Syndrome.
It was strange for him to think that all they had would soon be gone. He would miss nights such as these, which were always spent in this rather solemn and retrospective fashion, as if paying respect to events long gone, or perhaps merely reflecting on them. Looking across at him now, the man's pale face was a blank canvas as he stared straight ahead, his eyes a dull black and far away. As it was his looked so... distant, cold. This both entrigued and enfuriated Light immensely who wished nothing more than to touch him, hurt him, do anything to make him call out his name in submission. How strange.
He wondered if L knew he was going to die. He supposed he must, being as perceptive as he was, but then again, he didn't seem to mind, nor pay the slightest attention to it. Maybe, just maybe, he was so prepared for the eventuality (surely being in such a position of responsibility had monumental risks) that he had become numb. This saddened Light, to think that someone so brilliant could be so isolated from the world, and also worried him greatly, seeing all the misanthropic traits in the older man's behaviour start to be mirrored in his own. Perhaps, Genius was more a curse than a gift.
The cold was setting in now, chilling his blood in his veins. Light didn't mind all that much, to him the burning sensation was healing, purifying him bit by bit. It was religion he supposed. He was religion. He was God now. But what did that make L? If he opposed the God of the new world, did that make him the devil? Light shook his head unconciously, small droplets of water falling from his rain matted fringe. No, L could not be evil with a face like that, just misguided and too stubborn to change. It would take its toll on him eventually, and he would have to pay the ultimate price.
L looked back at Light now, wondering just what the boy was thinking. He smiled slightly to himself; the boy had such a look of utter concentration on his face, his expression stony and his amber eyes blazing in the dim light. As much as L didn't want to admit it, Light reminded him of himself, albeit perhaps a younger and more volatile version of him. He wasn't sure if he should abhor or adore such a fact, or neither. Perhaps it didn't require question and was one of the rare things that simply just was.
He suddenly felt very old then, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. It may as well have, the Kira case was bogging him down, proving the most difficult thing he had had to face in his quarter of a century on earth and he was pretty sure he would not live to see it through until the end. Such cruelty was life and he didn't let it affect him. What quality was his life if he was so isolated from the world he had not been on a single date in 25 years? Hadn't kissed someone, loved some. He had lived more in the past few months than he ever had before.
But, it made him stop to wonder just exactly what Light was to him. He had lied when he had said the boy was his first ever friend, since every fibre of his being opposed the teenager, yet he still craved his company all the same. L was obsessive by nature, childish and competitive and had had dreams and thoughts of what the boy had said run through his head relentlessly, tormenting him and teasing him. He couldn't understand quite why but knew that he wanted nothing more than for it to stop but wasn't quite ready to let it go.
In the distance, bells sounded in piercing contrast to the silence. The tune they played was so sickly sweet to his ears, so morbidly familiar that he stilled instantly, straining to listen to the melancholy tune. The resonance moved right through him, calling up distant memories to his vivid mind, which replayed with horrifying clarity. He was back in the snow outside the orphanage, couldn't be more than 5 years old and was holding on to Watari's warm hand with a sort of desperation. He flexed his fingers, the warm feeling gone from the palm of his hand as the memory faded.
He hugged his knees tighter to his chest, his jeans heavy and sticking to his thin legs in combat with the moisture. It was a reaction to the cool night wind that ruffled his slick black hair which stuck to his neck. He felt so lost in the moment, like a small abandoned child. He let the feeling wash him away. He had never had a childhood, he had grown up far too quickly, spending all his time in the company of adults. Now he felt like the child, a feeling both alien and disconcerting to him, especially in the company of someone nearly ten years his junior. L sighed audibly.
He was not afraid.
He was tired.
He was confused.
He couldn't give up now, after all that had occured. He had to win the game, he knew that much. But he didn't know quite which game he was playing anymore.
He knew. Bells were a signal of impending death, rang out from the gallows on the day of execution. So this was his reckoning. He spared a glance at the boy beside him once more who locked his steady gaze with the facade of naivety and innocence which L saw right threw. He knew. Light Yagami would be the one to lead him up the steps and pull the lever. The beautiful boy would be his partner and his executioner. It could be no other way. But L was superior in the end and would beat him, because he knew something he didn't.
The silence was simply defeaning. Unbearable and lonely.
"I hear." L stated his tone deep and sombre "The bells" the statement, although simple in structure, spoke volumes to Light who watched the older man whose expression were so far away and whose face had such a picture of perfect serenity on it that it was painful to watch. He looked almost holy, with the moonlight reflected in his dark and endless eyes, Light thought. His heart was both soaring and sinking at the sight of the man who looked both prideful and broken in the dark. He looked so heartbreakingly human in that moment that Light desperately wanted it to stay forever, resisting the fleeting nature of time.
Unconciously, he reached his hand out and brushed the dark strands of hair from the man's face, stroking his damp cheek lovingly. L still stared on, emotionless at the gesture. Light continued his motions, tracing small patterns in the pale flesh across the man's thin collarbone in an almost methodical fashion. He just wanted to hold him now, tell him it would be all ok, but knowing it wouldn't. He settled for his placating and almost hollow gestures. Suddenly, thin spindly fingers caught his wrist and held it in mid air.
"Stop." L intoned, cocking his head to the side and watching Light's reaction. The boy tensed, as if stung by the words and preparing for the worst. There was nothing more that could be done now. L smiled softly, to no one in particular in his own solemn fashion, much to Light's discomfort. Without saying another word, he carefully laced their fingers together so they were holding hands. He was icy cold to the touch, but Light did not mind, being in a similar state.
Slowly and tentatively, the two males bridged the gap between their faces until their lips were touching softly, moving against one another in time to an unspoken beat. Tongues danced around each other in a battle for dominance, safe behind sharp teeth and bone. The closeness was comforting, as L's hair tickled the younger man's cheeks softly, his chest slotting against him so perfectly as it were fate. They were a pair of starcrossed lovers then, but never destined to go down in the history books, never even destined to be recognised. The anonimity of it all was just so beautiful.
Lightly, L pressed him down on to his back, against the cold concrete surface. His lips nipped lightly at the pale flesh on his neck, making the younger man moan softly. He continued his ministrations smoothly, like a light feather touch to the skin. A kiss. It was both innocent and menacing, meaningful and meaningless; a sign of betrayal and both loyalty, just like Judas, that rogue saint had done before his master had been put to death as a result of his hands. History had a funny way of repeating itself. People never did learn from their past experiences.
L stopped suddenly, earning a small whine from his partner, who stared up at him, his amber eyes bright and shining with want, need and desire. It was strange to see someone normally so dominant, be so dependent on him and gave him a little sense of sadistic joy to think on it. The black haired detective quietly placed a thin hand on the auburn haired boy's chest, watching it move in time with the his heavy and quick gasps for air, his fingers lightly drumming on the prominent ribcage as he did so. He could feel the vibrations which ran under the skin easily.
"You're heart is beating so fast, Light-kun" he said softly. The boy seemed to snap out of his daze then, shifting slightly to sit up.
"We... should go home, L. It's late" he replied, looking into the dark sky.
"Yes. You're right. We should" he grudgingly agreed, pulling the boy to his feet and linking their fingers once more as they walked off down the rain spattered alleyway.
L never did die. L was not a person, merely a letter and code for people to live up to. Lawliet however, died shortly after; an unsung and unnamed victim of Kira.
It could be said that Light Yagami was never quite the same after that.
Please Review! Even it is a one word one. I haven't received a single one yet! It's kinda disheartening :(