Light sat alone on the bed, his left hand clasped tightly around his right wrist as he stared down at them.

They were pale, he couldn't remember the last time his hands had been this pale, even lighter than his skin had been when he was in high school. Now they're even whiter because he's squeezing so tightly. Light loosened his grip and took a calming breath.

It had been a few months since he and L had arrived in Wrightwood, California ever since Kira had disappeared. L had told him what happened during that time, how Kira had went to establish himself as L, how he fought against Mello, Matt and Near, that they all died except for Near and how Kira had ceased to be. L told him that he was no longer 'L', that was given to Near who is now on the hunt for them. Despite that, his name is apparently still L. Light was glad that he didn't spend too much time feeling confused because L's first name is the exact same as his title and admitted that he is so damn cheeky that he hid his name in plain sight where no one else would think to look or even consider.

By now, his wounds are almost entirely healed, although it still felt tender when he tried to move a little too fast. L informed him that he was lucky that the bullets didn't hit anything important, or shatter into a million pieces and make the whole recovery process more difficult than it already needs to be.

And there's also the issue with his right arm, where the damaged nerves from the gunshot continued to bug him with constant tingling pain that runs through the entirety of it. Sometimes it just fades away and his whole arm would be numb instead. The physician, Dr. Harper, mentioned that with the amount of damaged sustained, it would take at least four months to regain a semblance of mobility in his arm. He also recommended physical therapy and massages that L decided to take responsibility for. Currently, all he could do is flex his fingers, he couldn't even make a fist without pain flaring up to his shoulder. He had to begin practicing using his left hand and it was so damn clumsy and clueless that he almost died from embarrassment, even when the other two occupants of the house showed no signs of amusement at his plight, or even looking at him for that matter.

He eventually got used to it and only had to resist the instinctive urge to use his main hand a couple of times, like saving a glass or a utensil from an unfortunate fate, for example. That couple of times would've ended up disastrous if L wasn't there with him.

He sighed.

Now that Kira is supposedly dead, it should be a time where he moved forward, away from this whole nightmare.

He should.

Light resisted the urge to grab his hand again, as he braced himself for what he was about to try and overcome.

He raised his head to look at the featureless white door, left hand itching to grab onto something and strangle the life out of it.

He just got out of bed, although he had woken up an hour ago, his mind plagued by the thought of it. Light took a deep breath and let it all out in a sigh, his jaw tight.

Try again.

Light stood up shakily, shook it off and started for the door. He stopped right in front of it, staring intently, his mind spinning in a disjointed race.

He took another breath and pushed it open, revealing the bathroom made out in white, blue and gray. He tore his eyes away from the shower and the bathtub, setting them upon the mirror hung right next to the door.

Light's shoulders were stiff as he caught a glimpse of the thing, where a piece of cloth was hung on it, hiding it away from sight. He felt the panic rise in his throat but he forced it down, just like how he is about to force himself to face this.

He had to recover.

Light slowly made his way into the bathroom, leaving the door open a tiny bit, just in case. He hesitated, staring at the white towel covering the seemingly innocent item and steeled himself. He finally went to stand in front of the sink, pulled it off swiftly and came face to face with himself.

He looked sick.

Light stared, unconsciously searching for anomalies in his reflection as he kept the panic at bay. He could hear his own breathing, quick and breathless as he kept looking. He could see the tension in his shoulders and tried to relax but his body refused to respond.

There's nothing there, it's fine, he told himself and repeated the words over and over in his head.

Just as he felt like he was making some progress, images came unbidden in his mind, forced him to watch a red-eyed man smirking at him, as it began to kill everyone that he loves.

He gasped, backing away, seeing his reflection doing the same with a panicked look on its face.

Its eyes flashed red.

Light found himself on the floor in the next moment, back and shoulder throbbing. Someone or something was holding onto him, to the point where it actually hurt. He thought it might be the monster in the mirror out to get him and tried to push it away with his weak, useless arms.

He gasped when it spoke in his ear.

"Light, stop, it's me!" The voice filtered through the fog, "Can you hear me?"

Light stopped fighting against it when he recognized the voice to be L's, amidst the confusion, he rasped, the world in darkness as he couldn't quite muster the strength to open his eyes, "L? What… happened?"

"You passed out," he answered. "Are you alright? Did you hit your head?"

"Dizzy…" he muttered and cracked an eye open. He seized upon seeing the bright surface of the mirror as it reflected the light from the window.

Light shut his eyes, his breaths reduced to panicked gasps.

"Light!" L sounded alarmed, "Light, we're leaving the room, can you stand?"

He heard that through a shroud of fear and was sure that he shook his head somehow.

"Okay, that's fine," he said, "Just lean on me."

Light wasn't quite aware of his surroundings, just his head spinning and his body threatening to crumple to the floor as L half-carried him out of the bathroom. When he came to his senses, he found himself lying along the edge of his bed and L looking down at him worriedly, a hand stroking his head.

"I'm okay now," he muttered, looking away from him.

L breathed a sigh of relief, removing his hand, "That's good."

"How did you know to find me?"

"There was a scream," L said, "Light, why did you do that?"

Light stiffened and didn't answer.

L sighed, "You could at least try that when I'm around. If I didn't hear you, you could've been out for hours."

"I'm fine," Light snapped as he sat up, "I'm taking a shower."

L's eyes followed him as he stood, played off his weakness and began stalking towards the door. He paused upon reaching it and remained still for a few seconds.

"I'm going to the one downstairs," he declared and promptly left the room.

L sighed when he disappeared, trying to convince himself once again of the benefits of giving Light space to deal with this on his own.

Sometimes, he's just too prideful for his own good.


Light stared at the bunch of pill bottles in front of him, the ones that the his psychiatrist had recommended for him to take.

Zoloft, to treat depression and panic disorder. Catapres, to regulate his blood pressure from all his ridiculous panicking. Seroquel as a mood stabilizer, he was given Risperdal until they realized it made his blood pressure drop so much that he fainted twice in three days. And Garapentin for his nerve pain, while acetaminophen is taken instead during the day.

He sighed, remembering how the drugs made him feel awful for a part of the day afterwards. He was always so tired and dizzy about half an hour when the medication kicks in. He hated how useless they made him feel, unable to perform as efficiently as he used to.

But he needed them, or else things will be much worse.

Light glared at the medication.

He hated them so goddamn much.

It's just after lunch and it's time to take them, Light found that he couldn't muster the will to do so.

So weary, disorientated and confused.

He's tired of it.

Light glanced at the doorway, where L had disappeared through to take care of something about his job.

Light had been dutiful in taking his meds, he hadn't shown any signs of resistance or aversion towards them, because his practical mind knew he needed them.

But now, he hated this dependency.

His dependency on the drug, dependency on emotional support and most of all, his dependency on L.

He should feel grateful.

But he couldn't take this cursed, horrendous, abhorring incompetence.

Light felt as if he'd lost a part of himself that he had before, before Kira and his mirrors came and ruined everything.

He supposed it was his own fault.

So he had to fix it on his own.

Light slowly took out his medication one by one, aware that L somehow would know whether the number of pills have lessened or not. Sometimes he wished he didn't have someone who's so sharp to take care of him.

'Take care,' how he hated those two words as well.

He screwed the lids back on and glanced once again at the door.

L was still missing.

Light took a drink out of his glass and proceeded to dump the pills into the trash.


"Light," L called him as he entered the bedroom.

What he found was Light curled up on the bed, facing away from the door.

Puzzled, L approached the bed, a hand reached out to touch him, "Light, are you okay?"

He detected harsh breathing when he reached the edge of the bed and realized that he's shivering, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"Light?" L touched his shoulder and he twitched, "Light, what's wrong?"

"S-shut up," he croaked, "You're l-loud."

"Light, what's the matter?" L began to panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The fuck does it look-" Light was interrupted by a heaved that looked like he was about to throw up, before moaning weakly, "Oh, god."

L was taken aback for a moment, wondering why Light would suddenly become so sick when he had been fine the past few weeks. His mind raced to figure it out and he eventually settled on a possible problem.

"Light," he asked seriously, "Did you take your medicine?"

He sensed a nervousness from the young man, who remained curled up clutching himself as he shuddered under the covers.

There was a laugh, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm asking you seriously," L said again, "Did you take your fucking meds?"

Light hesitated, before answering coldly, "So what if I didn't."

"Light!"

He flinched.

L glared down at the figure who still wouldn't face him and huffed angrily, "I'm going to call Dr. Harper."

"W-wait, L," Light turned towards him, tears in his eyes, "Please."

"I'm calling her, Light," L growled, "I'm not taking 'no' as an answer."

"N-no," Light tried to reach out and gasped in pain, more tears spilled from his eyes. "I-I mean, I'm sorry."

L glowered at his pathetic form as he whispered, "Please don't hate me."

The older man growled, took a breath to try and calm himself and said, "I don't hate you but what you did is pissing me the fuck off. I'm going to get Harper to see how she can help you because your condition is not something you can take lightly and pretend that it's not there!"

Light stared up at him pitifully as L muttered, "I thought I would give you space because you and your stupid pride clearly needed that. Now I suppose I have to watch you all the time because you couldn't even be trusted with that."

Each word struck him like a crushing blow and Light eventually buried his face in the pillow, curling up even more than when L found him.

A series of quick gasps was emitted and L looked down upon him coldly.

When that kept on going after a moment, L finally realized that he's not crying but having a panic attack.

"Shit," he clambered onto the bed and stopped Light from smothering himself by flipping him over. He was genuinely frightened when Light's eyes were disengaged and he was gulping in more air than breathing them out.

"Light," he pleaded, "Light, listen to me. Look at me."

His brown eyes flickered over to him but he was still out of it, looking as if he might pass out.

"Relax," he said as soothingly as he could while he rubbed his back, "Deep breaths, Light, try to breathe."

Light latched onto him with his left hand, his grip weak as he tried, tried to slow down his breathing.

"Deep breaths," L murmured and kept rubbing his back, "Listen, follow my breathing, okay?"

Eventually, Light managed to slow down, his fingers clutching onto L as he gasped.

"Y-you don't want me anymore," he choked, more tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Nonsense," L said, retaining his soft tone as he kept on soothing him, "I never said that."

"I'm such a-" Another gasp, "Such a p-pain in the ass, why would you even b-bother?"

"True," L muttered, "You are a pain in the ass and I was mad."

Light's grip slackened.

"But that's because I love you."

His breathing stopped, L didn't mean to make it stop so he jabbed him once in the side so he would breathe.

"Y-you bastard."

"Was that from poking you or for loving you?"

"Shut up," he grumbled.

L chuckled and buried his face in Light's shoulder. It caught him by surprise and L said, "Please, don't ever do that ever again. I'm sorry if it makes you feel inadequate, I can't stand seeing you like that either."

"Okay," Light said reluctantly.

"You're not going to be on the drugs forever," L muttered, "Your right arm is not going to be damaged forever, you're not going to be afraid of it forever. You'll get through this but it'll take some time so please, be patient."

"Okay."

"I'll always be here with you."

"Okay."

L raised his head to look at him, "Just like that?"

Light flinched and let it out in an embarrassed huff, "I, I know that is what I have to do but sometimes, I just couldn't take it."

"I won't pretend that I understand that completely but I'll be here for you," L declared, "I'm going to continue to help you through this no matter how long it takes."

It's the most that L had ever said anything of this nature to him and Light peered back at him.

"I'll try," he muttered.

A rare and gentle smile formed on L's face as he stroked Light's hair, making the younger man blush.

"I'm still going to call Dr. Harper," L said and Light ducked his head, "She'll have to assess you for drug withdrawal."

How Light hated this dependency.

But he knew, he needed it as well.