A/N: This is not an AU fic, although it seems like it at first. It starts out slow, but give it a chance. I finished this story a good three months after I started it, which is why it's a bit choppy. I't not my best work, I admit, but I liked the idea. Hope you enjoy.

Elijah

It was a nice enough day, on one of those friendly, temperate weekends when it's just warm enough to sit on the balcony in one's boxer shorts without shivering.

They sat together like that; one a little in front and leaning on the other, still not quite awake enough to talk.

The people that walked past them four stories down were more conservatively clothed. The summer hadn't arrived in all its sweltering glory just yet, and it was not universally acceptable to go around half-naked. The two young men on the balcony could get away with it, though; even if the occasional passer-by bothered to look up and catch a glimpse of them, they were still in their own home.

(our own home)

Light could hardly believe it. It was only a cozy one-bedroom flat, but it meant everything to the two of them. It would have caused so much fuss in Japan, two men living together like they were. It was not unheard of, of course, but he knew his family would have raised the roof about it.

(my family)

He couldn't even remember how he had explained this to them. He couldn't remember how and when he had revealed his relationship with El, an American exchange student at To-oh University, and that he was returning with him to California. Strangely, he hadn't the faintest memory of how they had reacted. Maybe he had never told them. He supposed it didn't matter now.

El curled his arms around Light from behind him and blew on his hair. It was his weird way of saying, "time to get moving again." Light yawned, rubbed the spot where El's breath had tickled him, and stood. He offered a hand to El, who ignored it, rose, and headed back inside. Light shrugged and followed him to the kitchen.

When they'd met at To-oh, Light had had the hardest time learning to pronounce his name.

("It's El."

"Eru?"

"No, El."

"Eru. Err?"

"Almost."

"Ellu."

"Yes, that's close enough.")

They had shared a good laugh then, the first of many between them. He smiled now, remembering it.

Actually, his real name wasn't El. He was born, he'd told Light one drunken night, Elijah. He'd never forgiven his mother for naming him that, he said, although he'd had to put up with it because it was his late father's name. He'd never met his father, he said, and his mother had died just before he had graduated from high school, only two years previously. He had fallen silent after that, so Light had just held him, leaning close and smelling his liquored breath until they both fell asleep. That had been before their friendship turned into something more, but not long before—somewhere between the first accidental kiss and the first real one, before they were ready to admit that they were in love.

At that time, there was no doubt that his mother's death had a tremendous impact on El, so much so that it showed in his entire appearance and bearing. When Light had first met El, he looked less than human—pale, almost translucent skin; sad eyes drooping down to black, sagging crescents that looked so out-of-place on a boy of eighteen; the crouched, withdrawn posture of a traumatized child.

"What're you thinking about?"

Light snapped out of his reverie and focused on the healthy, smiling man in front of him. Even the haunting dark circles were gone, replaced by delicate ivory skin decorated with a few subtly placed smile lines. At 25, El finally looked his age. The difference was absolutely stunning.

"Earth to Light…" El joked, his finger prodding playfully into Light's shoulder.

In answer, Light brought his arms around his soul mate and kissed him, slowly, firmly, passionately. As El returned his embrace, Light let his hands roam down El's sides, across his back, exploring down to the backs of his thighs, and returning to rest on his shoulder blades. He was firm in all the right places, young and lush and pleasant like a meadow in full spring.

(a sexual meadow)

They drew apart, El gazing at him the way he always did in moments like these, his eyes shining and

(love-drunk)

smiling his stunning, crooked smile. He was in a playful mood, Light could tell. And he loved him for it.

"Nevertheless, Light-kun still has not answered my question."

The odd phrasing puzzled Light. "'-Kun?' You haven't said that since…" he thought for a moment, "since our freshman year of college."

It was an evasive tactic, one that wouldn't work on El for a second, and Light knew it. He sighed.

"I was thinking about you. Us. When we met at To-oh."

"Waxing sentimental, are we?"

Light chuckled. "I don't see why not."

"I do." El's voice was suddenly cold.

"Why? What do you mean?" Light pulled back and stared into El's face, trying to diagnose the problem somehow. The change in tone scared him. "El, tell me what's wrong."

At this, El wrenched away from his partner and backed up several steps, putting a meter or so between them.

"No, Light. You tell me. Where are we right now?"

Now Light was worried. He hadn't seen El like this in ages. If this was another of his "episodes," the best thing to do was to play along and let it run its course.

"We're at home, El."

"Wrong. Where are we, exactly?"

Light took a deep breath. This was not going to be fun. "We are in our apartment, on the fifth floor, on 23rd Street, San Francisco, California, the United States, Earth."

"Wrong."

"What do you—"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Light Yagami, your boyfriend. And I love you. Stop it, El, please—"

"Also wrong!" El exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch as well as volume. "You hate me, don't you? In life we are enemies."

Light rushed forward, hugging El tightly against him. The latter stood stiff as a post with his arms at his sides. "I don't hate you, El. I would never—wait, what do you mean 'in life'?"

Light pulled back to get another look at El, and wished he hadn't. The sunken eyes, the sallow skin, the empty stare—it was as if he had reverted seven years. "Oh god, El, no. Please god, no," Light moaned uselessly. He ran his hands over El's ruined face, trying to convince himself it wasn't real. It was as if all the health and life had drained out of him. All the health and life and love. His skin was ice cold.

"I know who you really are," the spectre said, his voice equally icy. "You are—"

And suddenly Light knew exactly what El would say, and knew he had to stop him. The only thing he could do was clamp his mouth over El's and hold on. He would do anything to keep that word from being said.

Unlike his voice and face, El's strength was not that of a ghost. Light's world went topsy-turvy as El threw him to the ground and straddled him, pinning his arms to the floor. This was no longer Light's beloved friend; this was something formidable and horrifying. The monster leaned close and spoke.

"Light-kun."

In the face of such a demon, there was nothing left to do but beg.

"Please, El! I'm sorry! I'm SORRY, just let me go, don't say it, PLEASE!"

"You"

"El!"

"are"

"No!"

"Kira."

Light screamed. That one word was where all hope and love and self and sanity ended, and he was left with nothing. There was a great tearing noise, a blinding darkness, and he heard it. Heard them. A thousand screaming dead. Ten thousand. More. And Light screamed with them. Screamed and wept and

(Light-kun)

laughed, if you could call it laughing. It was a

(Light-kun)

bitter, heart-rending sound, and it hurt to make it, but he couldn't

"Light-kun."

(stop.)

Light awoke, gasping and sweating, into another world, one that was all too familiar. An ugly, sterile world of blank walls and security cameras and pages of bleak statistics. And the man who had said his name…

"L."

One letter. Just one, lonely letter. It sounded the same, but it was worlds apart.

"You were shouting in your sleep," Ryuuzaki said quietly. "I thought you might be—"

L broke off because he heard a sound in the room. The sound of sobs. Light was facing away from him in the bed, weeping desperately.

(end)