He was waiting. Waiting for the crisp sound of polished shoes striding down the hall with a purpose. Waiting for Kira. The God of the New World.

L had grown accustomed to the echo that resounded through the prison corridor whenever Light had decided to pay him a visit. He had made sure to memorize the weight of each step, the pause between strides, and catalog the information into the extensive labyrinth of his mind. The time in between Kira's visits was filled with what you might identify as anticipation, as it gnawed at the very core of his being, and made him wonder what awaited him the next time Light entered his miserable, dark cell. However, anticipation was not to be confused with longing, for in fact, it was the opposite, a fear, a dread, that settled in the pit of his stomach that grew with the length of Light's absence from his lowly prison. As days turned into weeks that Kira had not returned to L, the despair continued to claw at the back of his mind and cloud his good judgment.

Harsh, artificial white light shone down upon the detective, illuminating him in his piteous cell. The walls were 6 mere slabs of thick concrete leant up against each other, creating a small 10x12 room with an iron mesh door. It was nearly stark bare, with only an uncomfortable metal bed in one corner, a stained and cracked toilet in the other, and 8 video cameras peering in on L, watching and listening to his every movement and word. The only company that the thin man kept was his thoughts.

L had been living in these conditions for 3 months now.

He was lying on his poor excuse for a bed when he heard the noise. That clean, decisive clack of expensive shoes on the tile floors. Light. L instinctively curled into himself as the fear paralyzed his fragile body and forced him into silence. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, as the footsteps hit the ground in their regular intervals, gradually growing louder as they approached. L had been waiting for over two weeks for Light to return to him, carefully planning how he would act, how he would respond to his harsh actions, and now that the time had finally come, L felt completely unprepared. It was to be expected though, how was he to remain calm when he was aware of being entirely vulnerable and dominated by someone who could kill him in the most painful way without a moment's notice?

L tried to suppress the violent shudder that racked his body as his captor opened the cell's door, his body casting a dark shadow amidst the glowing light. Any sign of weakness would only encourage Light more and make what was about to come all the more painful. Although his back was to the other, L knew that Light was smirking at the sight of his deathly thin body curled into the fetal position, shaking nervously. When Light parted his lips to speak, his words flowed smoothly and curtly out of his mouth with a practiced ease. "And how is my favorite prisoner faring today, Lawliet?"

L had tried desperately to quell his shaking, but the movements only escalated when he heard Light use his given name so sarcastically. It only reminded him of his severe weakness and lack of control of the dangerous position he was in. L knew that he should respond quickly, but found that it was futile. The tremor that would come out with his words would only provoke Light to be more aggressive with him. L knew exactly how it would work. Light's hunger to demonstrate his power and domination over the once-famous detective would grow until he couldn't hold it in any longer.

After a few breaths, L steadied his voice enough to respond. He chose his words carefully, cautious not to give anything to Light that he could misinterpret as self-pity. "Hopefully as well as my favorite criminal has been since we last talked."

At the familiar sound of Light's footstep, L whipped himself around to see the teenager walking briskly towards him. L's eyes grew wide and filled with dread as he scrambled to the edge of his bed, as far away from the killer as he could get. This action was pointless, he realized, as moments later Light was standing inches away from him. He grabbed the collar of L's tattered shirt and yanked him to sag against his chest. He would have easily collapsed if it hadn't been for Light's grip on his shirt; L's body couldn't take the harsh treatment with how weak it had become.

L screamed. It was an ear-piercing shriek that reverberated through the cell and was filled with what Light could only classify as panic. He smirked and proceeded to wrap his toned arms around the starved detective and pull him flush against his body. Of course, this only caused L to squirm and thrash about even more. He sighed. His little Lawliet could be so difficult sometimes.

He gave L time to calm down and accept what was to come to him, holding his thin frame tightly in his arms. After a few minutes, the thin man gave up and stood rigidly. He expected the other to let him go now that he was cooperating, but Light made no move to release him. Instead, his captor leaned in toward him and brushed his lips against L's ear, an action that was a bit too intimate for L's liking. "You will address me as Kira and nothing else, Lawliet." He released his hold on L and gently lied him down on the cold, unmade bed. It was always like this, Light intimidating L, L throwing it right back at him, and finally L submitting to Light out of the fear of what would happen to him if he didn't.

Light chuckled softly and sat down on the edge of the bed. L met his penetrating stare, watching the other's every move. This was usually the time that Light would begin to strip his prisoner of his clothes and violently pound into him until he bled, then laugh at how pathetic he was. L sat in fear, awaiting the torture that would ultimately come to him in a few moments, before he realized that nothing had happened. Cautiously, he raised his head a bit higher and studied the other's face and body for answers, all the while keeping his own face blank and his body still. Safe.

As per usual, Light was sporting the most expensive clothing that money could buy. He wore a tan sport coat that matched the usual cut; it pinched at his shoulders, and flowed effortlessly down to his wrists. Like all of Light's jackets, this one bore an embroidered "K" on the lapel. His tailor-made trousers were the same color and fabric as that of his coat. All of the buttons of his white shirt were done up, and a light blue tie adorned his neck. And of course, the Italian leather shoes that rang out his warning signal coordinated with his outfit. All of his clothes were neatly ironed and pressed, giving off an affect that made him look pristine and untouchable.

L watched his captor for a few moments, noticing that his eyes were clear, free of the lust and hunger that usually tainted that beautiful hazelnut color. To anyone else, his calmness would be a relief, but L took everything as a warning. Everything that Kira does has an ulterior motive, and just because he hasn't hurt him yet, doesn't mean that he wouldn't. Kira's ultimate goal is to harm, to abuse, and as far as L was concerned, letting his guard down would be like writing "for sale" on his forehead. Which is why as soon as Light moved to get closer to his prisoner, L hurled himself against the wall and pressed his palms roughly against the cement, taking up a defensive stance.

L's eyes were wide with terror as he stared at Kira, who was slowly crawling toward him. His blood ran cold and his heart pounded uneasily. After a few shallow breaths, L mustered all of the courage that he hadn't already lost and poured it into a single word. "No."

He said it with confidence, a stark contrast to the begging that Light always desired from him. It was a challenge.

Light eyed him for a moment before smirking and chuckling lightly. It was evident that he was enjoying himself. "Oh? And who are you to stop me?"

Nervously, L spread his fingers against the cool cement of the wall in attempt to calm himself, an action that did not go unnoticed by his captor. After an awkward pause, L replied simply, "Who are you to do this to me?"

Light let a breathy laugh escape his lips before smoothing back his hair, where it fell perfectly back onto his forehead. He gave L a sympathetic look before answering. "It seems as though you have forgotten your place, L. As you may remember, I am Kira. Everyone in the entire world is my hostage, even though they don't know it. With the help of Misa's eyes, I could kill off our entire species one by one." Light licked his lips tentatively and continued. "But I would never do that. I am a savior to these pathetic people, I am their one true god. You're a miserable failure that lives in his own shit, and everyone knows it. I have every right in the world to do what I wish with you, and you have no right to resist me." Light finished off his speech with a smug smile on his face, amused with the way the detective's body went more and more rigid as he went on, as if they were punches thrown instead of words spoken.

L knew he was shaking, but he was too frightened to care. He noticed his captor's eyes flicker to his trembling body before returning to L's distressed face. The worst part of Light's speech was that each word that rolled off his lips was horribly true. It would be all too easy for Light to kill off the human race if he desired to do so. Just a few pages from the Death Note and we'd all be dead. Kira was holding the world prisoner. And L could do nothing more than pace around his dark cell. Hot tears brimmed L's tired eyes, but he didn't dare to let them fall. Light had never seen him cry, and there was no way that he would give him the satisfaction.

Light saw the change in his demeanor and the wet gleam of tears on his captive's black eyes. He felt his heart twist and a small lump grow in his throat. For some reason, pangs of guilt hit him whenever Lawliet was on the verge of crying. To distract him, he softly spoke his name. "Lawliet. I need you to listen."

The detective gulped dryly in response. Light continued, maintaining his gentle tone. "I'm not here today to hurt you." To prove his point, he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned in toward the trembling man. "See? I came here today to tell you that you'll be leaving this cell tomorrow and relocated to a new one. I know how you like to be warned about these sorts of things, and since I haven't seen you in a while, I figured that I might as well deliver the message to you myself."

Slowly, almost lovingly, Light leant in and ran his calloused thumb tenderly underneath his prisoner's dark eyes to wipe away his tears. L shied away at first, then involuntarily found himself leaning into his captor's touch, savoring it, as it was the first action of comfort he had felt in months.

Light abruptly pulled away from L and quickly turned to leave, maintaining his ever-perfect posture. Before closing the door, he turned his head back to look at the disheveled detective and smirked. "I also wanted to tell you that I love you."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly down the prison corridor, leaving a shocked L in the darkness.


It had taken L a few moments to process Light's words before he flung himself onto his bed and burst into tears. The sobs racked his body in violent waves as he wet the thin, scratchy sheets with his tears. He knew that the video cameras could catch all of his actions, but he couldn't find it in his heart to care. How could Light lie to him on such a fragile subject? His only companion, Watari, had been killed before his own eyes at the hands of Kira. It was also Kira that executed the Task Force before a crowd of cheering people, while L was chained and handcuffed and forced to watch. Numerous times the boy had hit him, kicked him, even raped him, and suddenly he had the heart to tell him that he loved him?

When he had cried himself out and his body stopped shaking, L curled up under the tangled sheets and began to think of the reasons Light would have for moving him. Possibly he meant to execute him? No, that couldn't be it. Light wouldn't make such a confession to L and then kill him. L was his prized possession, a toy, the once-great detective that he could flaunt to the world. There would be no reason in killing him. Perhaps he meant to break his spirit. He might send him to an even darker and smaller room and cut off his food supply. L wouldn't be all that surprised, actually. Light was just the kind of cruel person that would do that to him.

These thoughts in mind, L squeezed his eyes shut and fell into an uneasy slumber, preparing for the worst.


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