Because sometimes cheesy pop songs make me think of L?
(And because it has been far too long since I've written something for this site.)
The new record was fifty-four. Fifty four times today, Light made some sort of indication regarding his displeasure for L's...quirkiness.
L didn't know why today was different, or why it was imperative to his mind that he catalog the suspect's personal feelings regarding a trivial issue, but it vexed him to know that Light was more flippantly bothered than normal. If L was the sort of person to process information verbally and with another person, he would've asked one of the task force members about Light's behavior. However, that was not L's nature, yet the fact that even if it was, it would be unhelpful because only the detective could see his snide behavior bothered him. Whether they believed L or not hardly mattered, but it would appear petty to them, and L didn't need another reason for the police to question his judgment.
L knew full well he wavered between lofty, strange brilliance and absurdity in the eyes of the task force, and it was almost certain that, besides his reputation and achievements, the one thing that most kept them respectful and diligent was the approval and obedience of Light's father.
Complaining about his son's rudeness regarding unimportant behavioral quirks, whether directly or indirectly, would not be met well. For all his trust in L, his father would not appreciate more scrutiny of his son, even if it seemed like it didn't have anything to do with suspecting him as Kira. Of course, like all good detectives, he took L's criticism with a grain of salt, but his loyalty to his son was unquestionable and not easily swayed.
And, like nearly everything L scrutinized, there was a deeper reason; as Yagami-san would suspect, Light's rudeness was another indicator of guilt in L's eyes. There wasn't anyone he could properly talk to about this, besides Light himself or maybe Matsuda (but he would be more of a nuisance than anything else), so L stared blankly at his computer screen, continuing his analysis of Light while glancing over his research.
Not only was the suspect's rudeness more annoying simply due to it occurring more often than usual, it was strange; L wanted to know what he would gain from being so blatantly bitchy. Usually, the indications of Light's disapproval were subtle, and a day only held ten to twenty glaringly obvious signs of disdain. The other Light would've been petty for a reason, if only to spite L on the off chance the detective's ire let something slip. Of course, L didn't let anything slip that he didn't plan on revealing, nor did it offend him in the slightest to have his habits insulted. Light was also wonderful at disguising his features, making them mirror whatever emotion pleased whomever he was interacting with, to the point that it made L slightly jealous and curious as to how he could assemble such a strong mask, one that L delighted in analyzing, even if it wasn't too challenging for him.
It was good enough to fool most people (but then, that was not necessarily an achievement), but its defenses were near impeccable, a bit too much for the mundane people he interacted with on a day-to-day basis. Much as it was one condemning factor that reminded L of why the boy before him was the most dangerous opponent he'd ever faced, it was also one that drew his interest in an entirely different way.
He wanted to know what triggered its careful construction (as well as its apparent deconstruction for the day). It was clear that, although heightened for the current circumstances, these emotional barriers and silver words were talents long since developed. Perhaps, he had merely been born with all the right skills and never really needed to use them seriously until now, but something told L that this was a deeper issue for Light than that.
Why else wouldn't he be so defensive whenever he seemed to acknowledge L's ability to see him?
L believed this was one of the few fundamental desires humans possessed, being seen and understood by another person; it was also one that he was most strongly afflicted with, one he had to tame and tamper every day. It used to be easier to ignore; he'd almost forgotten that everything he did, every single quirk, every single nuance of his appearance was fake. Until Light, L forgot about the boy he used to be, the things he used to like, and the realization that he would never be seen by the one person he stood a chance of being understood by bothered him more than L wanted to deal with.
Perhaps that was why he wanted Light's masks and deceit to be products of some burden, some internal training, some kind of survival necessity. L knew as well as anyone that the reason why they were so evenly matched, so perfect for opposition, was because of how similar they were. If Light's abilities had petty origins and a good dose of luck on their side, then what did that say about L? If Light was so casually cunning, what did it say about L that he was working his ass off trying to unveil his crimes?
Normally, it wouldn't have been an issue. What would it matter if they were similar people? Didn't that make this case enjoyable in a sense, that he finally found someone worthy of competition? If his true personality wasn't resurfacing, L wouldn't feel threatened, but he'd forgotten so much that he was uncertain of what it meant to be so similar to Light, to Kira.
Seeing Light as a mirror meant L saw his flaws reflected in a magnitude near unbearable, near impossible to cope with. For anyone else, L liked to think it would be deadly to confront such an adversary.
The most troubling thing was how plausible it was that this all was just a game to Light, that though his mission certainly had deeper roots of misguided justice and a good dose of childishness and insanity, the tools he used to fulfill his wishes were ill-developed and convenient. It unnerved L that the likelihood of Kira's beginnings was random.
Sometimes L got the feeling that Light, Kira, was out of control; not in this new, awkward and blatant personality switch indicative of Kira's transferable power, rather in the way that the detective had a feeling that Light was being used by the very thing he counted on to achieve his goals.
L did not pity Light. Of the few things regarding himself personally that L wasn't confused about anymore, he knew for certain that Light was not a person to pity. He was, however, incensed by the most obvious sign of Light's personality change: he didn't properly bicker with L anymore. Even when they weren't actually obviously debating, there was always an underlying sense of intellectual competition and, objectively, appreciation-it was nice (for the both of them, L knew) to challenge and feel challenged. However, after the change, after there was suddenly nothing at stake for Light any more, if they did fight, it was only physical sparring.
It was not so refreshing to be fairly evenly matched (L was definitely stronger) physically. Perhaps sometimes it was nice to have some way to lash out, but even then, it was more stressful than relaxing. L wasn't used to being the kind of person that needed a release for their emotional issues; hell, he wasn't used to even having emotional issues or identity crises. It used to be simple: he needed a fake identity for protection, and the more famous he became, the more imperative it was to conceal who he was. L was not so blind that he couldn't acknowledge his vulnerability, but he was desperate enough to tuck his "true self" away, smother it, that it hadn't bothered him too much that his jeans were too loose, that the white shirts made his paleness all the more blatant, that his feet were always cold and sitting like that didn't do anything for his mental processes.
Now it wasn't so simple. Now, sugar tasted bland at best and nauseatingly thick, overwhelmingly sweet at worst. All of his fake quirks were becoming more and more apparent to him; L met this awareness with embarrassing overcompensation...
What if that's why he's so fussy today, L mused, glancing at the suspect out of the corner of his eyes. His breathing faltered slightly for a second. What if he knows?
Occasionally, Light would do something particularly brilliant, but it was more to contribute to the overarching case against Kira instead of against L. Maybe he was bored with the recent lull and moved his attention to the detective? Abashedly, L acknowledged that he'd been so caught up in himself that it was possible he'd missed the suspect's attention. A part of L always appreciated Light's intelligence and assistance, and a small, selfish part of him preferred Light to be Kira for the sole purpose of seeing his mind operate against him, but it was quite difficult to appreciate his brilliance now, when the threat of discovery and death was far higher than anything he'd ever experienced.
L didn't think Light understood the dangers of his analysis. It seemed that Light simply wanted something else to focus on rather than the disappointing lack of progress in the case. Now, L had one more reason to hate the stagnant case—he was forced to look at the suspect and observe how disgusted he was by L's behavior instead.
"Light-kun," L droned, swallowing cake that tasted like a bland sponge. "If you have a problem with me, you should say it to my face." At Light's fake puzzled look, faint anger shot through L. "Is it that I have cake? Would you like some?" How much do you see? How willing are you to observe and understand me?
Do I want to be understood by you?
L almost shook his head. No. He couldn't have Kira get that close.
"No, thank you, L," Light replied, turning away from the detective.
L wondered if Kira-Light would have taken it just to spite him, just to take something that he (supposedly) enjoyed. L thought Light would've done something to indicate a relatively serious examination of his exaggerated oddities. This Light barely noticed an opportunity to evaluate and attack L. He just saw a freaky, albeit brilliant, detective offer him confections.
L was mostly apathetic towards this now unimportant exchange. Mostly. A flicker of curiosity made L tilt his head ever-so-slightly and widen his eyes at Light.
"Are you sure?" It was a question directed as much to himself as it was to Light. Was L sure that he wanted to allow himself to be inspired by personal curiosity? Would L focus on this interesting conundrum, what Light knew and suspected, exactly, instead of putting the case first?
He could multitask. He'd done it before, worked on several cases at once. Besides, he was still investigating Kira, and he would find out his weaknesses. Find just how delusional he was to ever want such a human to see him, find out that all this delusion about being similar was just an idiotic, sentimental desire to be seen.
Light paused, a faint glimmer of disgust in his eyes as they narrowed slightly. L's heart raced as, for the first time since his personality changed, Light looked at him properly, calculatingly. He shrugged blandly, the only sign of challenge his steady gaze. "Fine. I'll have a small slice."
L smirked.
This was supposed to be a single chapter, but I think I'll continue it. There's more I'd like to do with this.
I adore writing (especially for this site and fandom), but there's a lot going on in my life at the moment, so I'm going to try to update once every week or two. (As well as continuing my other stories... eventually. I think this will more than likely come first.)
Thank you for reading.