Chapter Two: Le Petit Mort
His voice sang lightly into the night, a gentle and innocent voice. "Maybe I should drop you at your door, leave tonight and vanish up the shore. Anywhere but here. It's three o'clock, we're driving in your car, you're screamin' out the window at the stars. Please don't drive me home. Blame us cos we are, who we are. Hate us cos you'll never get that far. And who'd suppose, you would go–" Suddenly the headphones were ripped from him, music cut to a screeching halt.
"I said knock it off!" Light complained, standing over his warden and cellmate, who looked up with an unreadable expression.
"Why? Is there something wrong with Ryuuzaki-san's singing?" he asked plainly, without any remorse.
"No! It's just a troublesome song."
"I think it's romantic."
"That's because you're not paying attention to the lyrics," he grumbled. "It's actually a very sad song, about two people who obviously can't be together."
"That's what makes it romantic. It's sad."
"You have odd ideas about what romantic is," Light told him, looking worried. It had been a very, very long day, followed by a long night–of sleeping, followed by another long day and then a long night of extra work, caused by a slipup involving Matsuda–the usual suspect when a slipup was involved. He'd been waiting patiently, curiously, wondering what Light was going to do next, and now they were finally alone again and Light was acting like he had forgotten about what happened. Was this how people were with each other, when nobody was around? Were they distant, and kept secrets? Were they like Light? L was perplexed, mostly because he knew nothing about this sort of behavior, having never encountered it before–mostly because he'd never been this close to a person to find out what constituted as 'normal.' He wasn't sure if this meant that Light was more or less likely to be Kira. And worst of all, his case was beginning to descend into a trail of perplexing dead-ends, right when it was seemingly coming to a close with the Yotsuba Group.
"Light-kun seems a bit irritated tonight," he sighed. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
"No," was all that he said, his back turned toward the other boy as he sat on the edge of their expensive prison-bed.
"Perhaps you've changed your mind about me," a voice hushed into the cool night air. "That's okay. In truth, it brings up a lot of problems. It makes me even more bias." Light didn't look at him, he just sat there, and sat very still, his muscles incredibly tense.
"You're talking about the case of course," Light said coldly.
"Yes. What else is there to talk about?"
"Fuck," he said, and his voice choked a little bit.
"Hmm? . . . Did I say something wrong?"
"I . . . no. No, you didn't."
"Then what is wrong?"
"Ryuuzaki. I think what we–what I–did before was, most likely a mistake." L stared patiently at his back, willing Light to turn around until he finally did, and when he did he looked incredibly sad. "I have come to feel strongly for you, and in the event that one of us is Kira, that puts the other one in potential danger. It is important for us to both stay clear-minded about this, and maintain suspicion of the other."
"I see," L said quietly. "That . . . does make sense." He sat up awkwardly, knees tucked under his chin, to keep himself thinking rationally. The discomfort of this pose was what kept him from letting his mind wander, although apparently most people found it weird, especially in cars and while eating in restaurants. "However, Light, don't you suppose that the ultimate danger has already been achieved? You are safe, for now. And if I am Kira, there is nothing you can do to prevent the loss of your life. If some part of me were Kira and wanted you dead, you probably already would be; I have your face and name. Likewise, the tools are at your disposal from any computer to find out my full name, meaning the same for me. So, whatever happens from here on out, will do nothing to increase the risk, as the risk is already as high as possible, if one of us is Kira."
"That's the other thing, too." He paused. Light was unused to telling people the complete truth, because the complete truth was ugly–it contained bruises and bumps, the imperfection of the world and of himself, and he liked to bluff that it was better than it seemed. That made it all the harder to confess something painful that he didn't even understand. "Ryuuzaki . . . I . . . care for you. But at the same time you think I am likely Kira. I know how I look in this situation; the prime suspect. Yet it . . . it pains me . . ."
". . ."
"It pains me to kiss you, knowing you're probably spending that kiss trying to figure out if it means I'm more- or less-likely to be Kira." L was not good with this sort of thing, and was seriously thinking about leaving the room, until he remembered that he was handcuffed to Light. There was nothing to be done, but try to talk to him. He tried putting himself in Light's shoes first, but L didn't wear shoes most of the time, so it seemed difficult enough to imagine himself in his own shoes, and then he chided his own mind for being so literal, and put a hand on Light's shoulder.
"This is my cross to bear," he explained. "And I'm sorry that you've gotten so close that you now have to bear it with me." The hand fell back down.
"No, you're wrong," Light began. "We bear the same cross. We've been crucified back to back, so we can't see each other's face."
"We have been. That is our situation. But that doesn't mean we have to accept it." L couldn't believe the words that were tumbling from his mouth, a mouth yearning for another kiss from this boy he should be fearing, and watching with a careful eye. "We live in a terrible world, it's true. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I had that notebook. Of course it would be wrong to use it; it's wrong to take any life, and I know that. It makes me sick. But would I do it? If I had a criminal's face in my mind; if I knew their name and knew that they were about to take an innocent life–" He stopped to find Light staring wild-eyed at him. ". . . Light. I think I just increased my own likelihood of being Kira. Five-percent. Now we're tied."
"This is madness! You can't be Kira, who would chase themselves in circles?!"
But L's pulse was pounding in his ears, in every blood vessel in his body, expanding, contracting with the throbbing of his heart. "Because if I didn't, someone else would be sent to capture me. The way this whole thing has been working so far . . . it's as if I've been fighting myself. Kira is always one step ahead. I am always one step behind, but only that one step. As if he is the leader and I am the follower."
"Ryuuzaki," Light soothed. "Calm down. Breathe. Think about this clearly. Anyone could say something like that when faced with dire circumstances. It doesn't mean that you are Kira."
". . . You're . . . you're right. You're right," he shivered. "Light. I know you don't . . . I wish . . ." he trailed off, looking lost for words and meaning, and Light took one of his hands in both of his own.
"Ryuuzaki. Please, don't . . . Look at me." He cast his eyes onto Light: staring, dark, cold, like the eyes of a man already dead, but accepting–of his fate and of the pain he quietly allowed to burn inside his heart, and rather than act out, allowed to consume him, blood and bone. "Ryuuzaki, I . . ." He pulled him into his lap, and L just laid there, numb and not moving, staring up at the ceiling.
"I am . . . Kira. Aren't I?"
"No. No, it's not true. Think about this. Am I a rational person?"
"Yes."
"Do you think I would ignore logic out of pure emotion?"
". . . Yes, if the circumstances were great enough."
"And are they?" He was trying to get L's brain working again, to make this insomniac wake from his sleep and see the world again with fresh eyes. The words came, quietly and halting.
"I suppose the circumstances are not great enough. I am pained, but, surely Light-kun doesn't care about me enough to . . . to ignore logic. To ignore the fact that I am Kira, if I plainly was."
"If I was Kira," Light said quietly. "I would definitely have the upper hand now. You are weak and suffering inside, and you seem to care about me too much. You need to get a hold of yourself, Ryuuzaki."
". . . I want to be with you, Light. Don't turn away from me," he said. "If I am right, and I am going to die, I want to . . . at least have loved someone . . ."
"Shh . . . you're not Kira. Nor are you going to die at the hand of Kira."
". . ."
"Everything's alright," he sighed, and pressed his lips to the older boy's once more, a kiss desired over the span of innumerable hours, stroking his wild black hair. L's heart-rate began to slow to a lull of inner tides as Light stroked his thin ribcage gently, barely pulling up the edge of his shirt on one side. L was being overcome with feelings he could not rationalize; none of this made sense in the grand scheme of things. He watched as his hand moved on its own to stroke Light's chin and neck, then fell across his nipple and down to the edge of his boxers.
"Kiss me," he begged, innocently, sweetly, his eyes wide with a lack of sleep and an overflow of foreign emotion. He felt Light's face collide gently with his, like the clinking links in the chain that bound them, his lips sucking on L's mouth, then sticking his tongue in, an implication of what was to come.
"What do you want me to do to you?" Light asked teasingly, yanking at his shirt and making L blush–just lightly on his cheeks, the rest of his face staying basement-dweller pale. Another shirt fell on the floor, identical to the one Light had cut up two nights before, but this one with just the sleeve slit.
"Uh, well, what's on the menu?" he asked, pretending the lampshade was very interesting.
"You're so shy. I . . . think I like that," Light realized. "How about I do things to you? Pleasurable things," he whispered seductively, the words tickling L's ear as Light lay on top him and kissed him, moving from down his whole body in a dotted line of kisses and licks. L could feel that he was hard and that made it all the more exciting, made him aroused as well as the kisses on his stomach went lower; Light was unbuttoning is pants, then unzipping them; rising up and standing at the edge of the bed to pull his jeans off from the cuffs, then lay back down, between his legs, so seductively kissing his pelvic bone, the inside of his thigh, then pulled his boxers off, but still refused to consummate what he'd started. Tender kisses ran up one of his legs; thin, graceful legs, Light gazing steadily into his eyes as he moaned. He took his dick in his hand and then slowly licked it, stroking upwards with a tongue willing to give him everything he desired–five seconds after the desire reached the point where he couldn't stand it anymore. It was like a most beautiful form of torture, and L both wished it would never end and wished it would be over quickly; he could feel a hot flush rising in his cheeks as Light's mouth enveloped his dick and slowly sucked it, rubbing it with his tongue, making his legs shake ever so slightly with what felt like electrical charges.
"Oh, Light-kun," he moaned, stroking the boy's head, which moved gently up and down, his eyes lifted to stare into L's, heightening the intensity of the moment to a slow and patient frenzy. L could feel his toes curling; Light was stroking his chest upwards, then running the tips of his fingernails down it. When he came it was like dying on a smaller scale, that feeling of losing oneself into something that can't be explained, his body completely out of his control, a puppet being pulled by strings that Light controlled. Light swallowed his cum, then without another word got up very quickly and got a soda from their mini-fridge, leaving L naked and still gasping, less-intensely, and less-intensely still, his alarmed eyes staring vacantly into the ceiling's shadows, arms stretched weirdly over his head.
"Well you enjoyed that," Light smirked.
"Am I . . . alive?" L asked quietly, then sat up, and looked around. He looked cautiously at his hands, as if certain he had surely died, and was expecting to find them to be see-through.
"You are now," Light smiled.
