anime/manga; Death Note
pairing; L/Light
warnings; shonen-ai & yaoi, some violence, angst, curses (and probably lots of them, too)
disclaimer; No, I do not own Death Note or its carachters. I know - shocking, isn't it?
summary; They both knew it would come to an end. But even if all they had left was 40 seconds, they were willing to use it in any way possible.
&&&
L does not ponder over nonsense (as he keeps reminding Light) and he most definitely gives nothing away - but still, the auburn-haired youth could swear that it's a flicker of something flashing roughly in the other's pitch black eyes for a split second or so (when he's caught off guard, naturally) before drowning in the endless sea of monotone as if it was never there.
It makes Light wonder, but mostly, it makes him proud.
Because there certainly is nothing wrong with his vision, and surely his eyes can't be playing tricks on him that often - which means that L actually forgets about his tightly secured facade (the one he has spent years and years on building up) when he is around Light, and the mere thought sends shudders rolling down the younger's spine.
From behind glazed eyes of the murderer he truly is, Light watches as name after name rolls off the tip of his pen and bleeds onto the endless papers of the Death Note. It's a twisted rush of adrenaline that shakes him to the bone, something dark and sinful but oh-so-addictive.
It's justice, Light decides firmly as he counts down from 40 and leans back in his chair, a satisfied smirk plastered on his handsome face.
He's already too far gone and he can't stop even if he wants to.
Which he doesn't, of course.
&&&
"It's only a matter of time", that very same, always-emotionless voice breaks the silence Light didn't even realize hung in the air between them, seeing as he was lost in his own thoughts yet again.
He raises an elegant eyebrow, silently questioning the random statement.
L (Ryuzaki, Ryuuga, or whatever damn alias he wanted to use today) sits in his usual manner, watching Light with dark eyes - almost expectantly.
"Hmm?" Light inquires sleepily (it is 3 am after all), but catches himself quickly. "I mean, excuse me? Did you say something, Ryuzaki?"
L watches him in silence for approximately four and a half seconds, thumb resting against his full bottom lip, before jerking his head towards the door.
"Light-kun seems tired", he declares, standing up and leaving his beloved computer, "We better go to bed early today, since we do not seem to find anything of use."
Silently cheering on the inside, Light follows suit and is left with no other choice than to watch the detective's back as they make their way out of the room and up the stairs, bare feet brushing against the cold floor and chain clinking as it swings forth and back, occasionally touching the stairs.
"You didn't bring your laptop this time", Light observes as they enter their room, (yes, their room - they share a room as well as a bed for obvious reasons, mostly the handcuffs) currently bathing in long shadows before L slowly lifts his bony fingers and switches the light on. The younger teen squints at the sudden intrusion of brightness, but quickly gets used to it.
The fact that the older doesn't bother commenting makes Light wonder even more about the decision to not bring the laptop and sit up for at least four more hours while Light (unsuccessfully) tries to sleep next to him, complaining about the other's abnormal sleeping habits and the 'damn light' coming from the computer screen. But maybe, L is actually tired, for once. Maybe he doesn't feel like spending extra time by the computer like he normally does.
L, without a word, removes their handcuffs so that they can get out of their clothes (and of course the sugar-loving insomniac watches Light's every move as he strips down to just sweatpants, leaving the auburn-haired teen slightly flushed and muttering something about perverts) and then puts the cuffs back on.
It's a familiar process, one that they have gotten used to by now (just like how they've gotten used to each other), and paying no attention to L's comment about how he shouldn't be ashamed anymore and really, Light-kun, we've even showered together, Light quickly covers himself up with the blankets and then turns away from L, stubbornly closing his eyes.
It's not like he really minds, because somewhere deep inside he really has gotten used to the other's presence, but he decides to show this display of childish determination anyway - just so that freak doesn't get the wrong idea and thinks that Light actually enjoys sleeping in the same bed with him.
Which he doesn't, of course.
&&&
It is inevitable, really, because as L himself said not too long ago-
"It was just a matter of time, wasn't it?" Light whispers against the older male's pale throat, sweat-slicked and bruised from their recent activities.
Which could also be called screwing.
Because, after all, it was only a matter of time-(a sick little game between the two of them, a game where unspoken rules were already set and they both knew them all too well-
And it's endless nights where they both ignore the feeling in their gut, refusing to lose, refusing to be the first one to cross that one line and give in to sweet surrender. To just reach out and take exactly what they both secretly longed for.
-but still, they both broke them at any times they could.
"I wonder which one of us will break this tension first - you or me, Light-kun?" the dark-haired teen had mumbled as he watched the almost-angelic face of his main suspect - of a ruthless killer - sleep so trustingly right next to him.)
"Yes, I believe it was", L murmurs back, stroking the smooth hair of the boy resting on his chest who seems relaxed and exhausted and everything he's usally not - and that's exactly how L knows that he's faking this whole 'I've got my guard down around you'-thing.
"Are you going to sleep now?", Light wonders, shifting a little so that he can meet the midnight-colored pools of L's eyes, who rewards him an almost non-existent tug of the lips upwards.
"No, not yet, Light-kun. You know that I do not care much for sleeping."
The teen frowns. Are they really back to formalities? - I mean, L sure as hell didn't yell out Light-kun while he was thrusting into the younger body minutes ago.
"What are you going to do then?" he asks, even if he's sure he knows the answer.
"Watch you, of course, Light-kun."
Watch you - not watch over you, which might've also been expected in such a situation.
But L says it like that because (there's always a reason and-) it's exactly what he means, and Light knows it, and he certainly knows what the detective is trying to say with that innocent answer.
That nothing has changed.
Suspect and detective, as it had always been, as it would stay.
That L will continue to watch him like a suspect, observing his every move and just waiting for him to slip or break down and confess, and finally put an end to this game.
Light falls asleep in the older man's arms that night, spent and tired but already working on the next step in his master plan on the inside.
Because, as the other has made clear, as they've both known from the start; nothing has changed. And it wouldn't, either, just because they were fucking - it was simply a different game that had begun, now; who will give in to something so simple and yet dangerous like feelings? Who will be blinded by the fake affection first, and who will let that become an obstacle in the path towards their main goal?
But Light will never admit that he sleeps like he hasn't in years that very night, cradled by L's spidery arms and watched by L's color-drained eyes.
Will never admit that he actually feels something akin to peace there, in the embrace of his number one enemy.
Which he doesn't, of course.
&&&
Days go by and every step Light takes is perfectly calculated to match the design in his head - the one that's going to lead him to his success. Not a single word, not a single movement is natural or casual or spontainous. It's exactly what makes him so good at playing pretend.
L is the same as always; the very same stoic person who sits for hours in front of that damned computer hoping to find some answers, ever-professional and sensible and unable to miss a single beat, be it clever remarks to Light's complaints or reasonable accusations that might or might not take them one step closer to finding Kira.
And yet, when he pushes Light down onto the mattress and pins his wrists down (bitten nails digging into bronzed skin hard enough to draw blood), it's as if he's a completely different person.
A person with a certain fire burning in his ever-dull eyes.
Because they both loathe losing in all of its forms, the sex is never slow or sensual or anything like love-making. It's wild and it's rough and it's passionate, it's so intense Light barely finds the energy to keep his eyes open-
(and at the same time he can't look away, because those eyes are calling out to him, pleading with him-
"At least let me burn the look on your face into my memory before it's too late", they say, and oh).
"I love you", Light whispers (mumbles, rambles) when he's at his very peak, when L's rhythmic thrusting gets a little sluggish as he's also lost in the sensation, when there's nothing save for their shallow breaths and eyes swimming with unspoken emotion and frantic hips moving in unison.
"I know", the black-haired detective responds, his voice surprisingly steady as he leans over the lither body, forehead to forehead, sweaty bangs and lips aching to touch the other's-
(It's unfair that he seems so unaffected by this, Light finds himself thinking briefly).
But it's all acting, anyway, and he knows it better than anyone.
"I know, Kira", his hot breath washes over the auburn-haired teen's face, and Light groans (partly because L moves his hips like that, and partly because he's sick and tired of the detective counting percentages in his head even now in this very moment).
But no matter how many times Light protest, ("Not that again, L!") even if they are in the middle of screwing each other's brains out, L only smiles knowingly before willingly letting the subject go.
But he never says those three words back. Not even once. Even though his eyes are filled with some foreign emotion without name, an expression Light never knew of before L started wearing it constantly during their time together, he never says it.
He never says it back, and maybe, just maybe it's because he has seen through the younger one's impressing acting skills.
And even if Light, hypothetically, would care about the other's seemingly lack of enthusiasm (or lack of feelings, as one may call it) it still wouldn't make him even falter the slightest in his step.
No, even if he did hypothetically care.
Which he doesn't, of course.
&&&
It all goes according to plan (of course - because why wouldn't it?) and it's over in less than 3 seconds really.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Light is sure he can hear the faint voice of the detective scolding at him, "Actually, it was 3.42 seconds, Light-kun", and the thought makes him want to smile in spite of himself.
L freezes in the middle of a sentence, eyes wider than usual. It feels like an eternity, like he falls in slow-mo (and maybe that's why Light manages to catch him) but in reality, a mere second ticks by as L tumbles to the ground, chair squeaking in protest as it is pushed across the floor at the impact.
And Light is there in an instance, holding his (friend lover enemy) equal close to his own chest, right beneath the place where his erratic heart thumps in anticipation.
The moment he's been working for (waiting for so long-) is finally here, and it's surreal and heart-wrenching and it feels like somebody is pressing the fast forward-button and the rewind-button at the same time.
Light smiles triumphatically, a wicked smirk that somehow doesn't suit him-
(and at the same time suits him all too well, L realises.)
It's a moment where monochrome orbs framed by deep bags due to lack of sleep meet sepia-colored eyes, glinting with mischief and malice and victory.Becausethe mask is finally gone, (teared off to reveal the murderer posing as an innocent straight A-student) and even though L knew it all along - even though he knew since the very first time he saw the boy walk; his head held up high and his back perfectly straightened - it still hurts to finally get the confirmation.
Yes, I am Kira. Yes, I killed all of those people. Yes, you were right all along. And yes, now you are going to die. Yes, you are going to lose this game. Yes, this is check mate, L - but it sure would've been boring without you. And yes, L. Yes, I really do love you.
(there's no more time)
-he won't get the chance to ever hear them again, so he savours the moment and the places on his body where the numbness still hasn't hit him, where he can still feel the traces of hot fingertips as they touched his sickly pale skin down to his very last breath.
The light in L's huge, always-observing eyes fades out as the eyelids slip shut, and just like that the world's best detective three times over, the legend, the almost-invincible (almost) man who Light hates and loves with every fiber of his body is gone.
But, as they say, the show must go on - and not half a second later, Light has his usual mask back on, screaming and trashing wildly and vowing to avenge his friend's death.
Goodbye, L. Sleep well.
Tick tock tick tock (nothingnothingnothing can stop me now).
I really do mean it.Which he doesn't, of course.
&&&
It's a beautiful funeral.
The chest is large and black and very simple, covered in a mountain of different flowers from all across the world (Light doesn't even know the name of half of them) and the teen can't help but wonder who actually planned L's funeral.
It almost seemed too fitting, with only a handful of people present and the simplicity of it all-
("I don't bother with nonsense,", L's words ring in his head like a mantra).
-just like L would've liked it.
He focuses his gaze on the ground the whole time, lips tightly pressed together and the slight hunch in his shoulders betraying his otherwise perfect posture.
It's all acting. Of course. But it's damn good acting.
And the bells are ringing, loud and clear, giving the whole scene a sort of haunting background-music. The cops all look troubled, and Matsuda's even crying, but all Light can think about is how perfect it all turned out to be.
Laughing madly in front of L's plain gravestone when the rest of the investigation team has left, unable to stop all the pent-up frustration finally breaking its resolve, Light for the first time feels like the true God of the New World; nothing is left to stop him, now.
Strictly ignoring the small voice in the back of his head whispering of lingering touches and smokey eyes filled with (lust hate love) emotion and yes, yes, Light almost feels like crying - but he won't, naturally, because there are certain sacrifices a God has to make in order to perfect the world; L was a bump in his road, something standing between him and his goal.
And such actions can not be forgiven, even if Light did love him.
It's a beautiful funeral, and Light thinks that it's such a shame that L won't be able to stick around and see what a wonderful world he'll create.
"Light, I know this is hard for you to accept. But the only way to turn L's death into a forfeit for the investigation is to catch Kira."
"I know, dad, and I'm willing to risk my own life in order to do that, just like L."
And it's all a lie, a lielielie, but then again, what isn't?
Ryuk just watches him silently from his place in the corner of Light's room, a huge grin plastered on his monstrous face.
"So it's over, huh? That L was a tough nut to crack, though."
"Ryuk, Ryuk", Light tks-s, smirk not leaving his lips even once, "Don't speak so rudely about the world's greatest detective. He was a worthy opponent."
"Are you saying that you are missing him?" the Shinigami asks with a smirk that matches Light's.
The honey-stained eyes spark with satisfaction.
"Naturally. I always keep him in my prayers."
Which he doesn't, of course.
&&&
And in the end, when they both have turned to ashes and half-rotten limbs, nothing more than nails and teeth and a few bones scattered here and there and everywhere-
("Can't you hear the bells, Light-kun?")
-maybe they will still be lost in that competition of theirs, in that game where even lives aren't impossible to risk for something with greater purpose.
Maybe they will still be Kira and L, L and Kira - forever, eternally, because maybe (yes, just maybe) this is a never-ending game. A game where even if the players are hurt or weakened or dead, it still continues on, forever and ever and even more.
They always did cheat, anyway - be it in this game or any other.
And seeing as Light's plan couldn't keep up with the bone-crushing thing called reality, where did that leave them?
Did it mean that L had won once and for all, since Kira was finally out of the way and unable to cause any more harm? Or did it mean that Light had won, since L was the first to go?
Ryuk sits in silence, gazing towards the horizon from his place on top of the roof of some high building, thinking about the strong-willed human who has made his life a lot more interesting lately.
"All good things must come to an end, Light", he murmurs to no one in particular, Death Note resting right next to him on the cold rooftop (not very different from the one where two friendsloversenemies had once stood in the pouring rain) and open for the world to see.
At the very top of a blank page, somewhere in the middle of the book, a single name is scribbled down in large letters.
LIGHT YAGAMIAnd at the very last moment of his short life, said Light Yagami has the time to ponder over things that L would probably refer to as 'nonsense', before claiming that it was not worth thinking about and continuing with his work.
Nonsense such as the way the detective's skin glowed enchantingly when the moonlight seeped through velvety curtains and surrounded their bed.
Nonsense such as the way said detective always nibbled on his thumb while thinking hard, unconsciously licking away some leftovers of whatever cake he had consumed during that day.
Nonsense such as the fact that he was sounding like some lovestruck teenage girl who secretly read her mother's love novels, and even more nonsense such as the fact that all of that nonsense was true.
Laughing bitterly, Light counts to 40 (out of habit, really) while powerful clenches in his chest makes him lose his breath. And even now, he knows that L is watching (with those same eyes that seem to pierce his soul) - not watching over him as he dies, but simply watching. Observing.
Just like always - same old same old, right?
No.
Light starts trashing around, the spasms shooting through his body along with the pain, and then-
(38. 39. 40.)
-then, nothingness. And maybe he isn't so bored anymore.
("Light-kun is my first ever friend."
"Light-kun is Kira; of that I am certain.")
The game has only begun; a winner is yet to be proclaimed, and Light (Kira) simply knows that there is no time to waste.
(There's no time left).
If only the circumstances were different, you and I might've become great friends. Might've become unstoppable. Might've been able to love each other fully.
The game has only begun; for there is no end once you've made the decision to play. Light can't stop even if he wants to.
Which he doesn't, of course.
duuude that was weird and not at all what i had in mind. buuut.. i don't hate it. i hope you won't, either. and no, i might not be following the storyline step by step.. i may've changed some scenes and so on.. but that's why it's called fanfiction, right?