Chapter 4. Sleep Sickness

That night, L slept restlessly. He dreamt that the world around him was bursting into flames. The fiery inferno was punctured by a continuous shrill cackle that sent shivers down L's spine. He must have been dead, there was no way the world could come to this. To his left, stood Watari, L's only comfort. He ran to the paternal figure, but once he got close, he could see the tarred flesh pealing off the old man's face. His suit was fringed, and his white hair was soaked in crimson blood.

L tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips. A hand touched his shoulder, it was gentle, and its spidery fingers caressed the side of his neck. He turned to see Light, a maniacal smile spread itself across his beautiful face.

"Have I finally distracted you, Ryuuzaki?" he smirked. L tried to remove Light's hands from his body, but was powerless against the familiar demon. The heat made L's throat sore and his mouth dry; he felt resistance was futile. The boy was clawing figures into L's back, breaking the skin and causing him to bleed out.

"Do you want more?" Light whispered into the detective's ear, "How can you possibly win? You're like a child, how pathetic."

L screamed again, but this time, he succeeded. He jolted up in his bed, his sweat soaked shirt clung to his chest. Light was asleep facing him, but L's scream had woken the adolescent. L was hyperventilating, and close to tears. These feelings and thoughts were so frustrating that they had wiggled their way into his subconscious, poisoning every second of his existence. He was shaking, he couldn't help it. What was coming over him? Was it the stress of the case? Or was it because he could feel Light's shallow breathing near his face when he slept?

The boy sat up and put his arm around L. "Please calm down." Though Light's voice was soft and comforting, L could hear that it yearned to return to sleep. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. The fragile man could not stop himself from shaking, and began to quietly sob into his hands. Though they were both clothed, L felt more naked than he had ever felt before with Light. Light shifted closer to the detective and returned his slender hands to the tangles in L's hair. In a moment of weakness, L rested his head on Light's shoulder, allowing the boy to stroke his hair.

He had fallen asleep on Light's chest, and when he awoke, he reveled in the peaceful rise and fall of the boy's breathing. L took comfort in the warmth of another human being. Physical contact, he feared, was something he might never be able to guard himself from. He pushed back Light's bangs and gazed upon his sleeping features. The boy was beautiful, he had sharp cheekbones and a strong but thin jaw with a pointed chin. When his eyes were open they were a light amber color, and his long appendages moved gracefully with him, regardless of the physical activity. L couldn't help but hope that the boy wasn't the serial killer he suspected him to be. It would be such a shame. If light was Kira, he thought to himself, then all this beauty would be in vain.

Even though the detective had hardly slept that night, he found that once the sun had risen, it was impossible for him to fall asleep again. For fear of waking his sleeping suspect, he did not move towards his computer, nor did he attempt to reach for the slice of strawberry cake that Watari had left for him on the coffee table by the couch. He exhaled. His body hurt from the strain of the previous night and he felt weak. He laid back against his pillow, dissipating all physical contact with Light.

Today was saturday, there was no work, and Watari was away. Task force headquarters was completely empty aside from the two of them. L turned away from Light onto his side. He wanted to work more, but he knew Light would want to relax and sleep in.

At around 10am, L decided that it would be okay to wake his counterpart. Light yawned and stretched his arms. "Can't we just sleep?" he said mid yawn. His arms relaxed at his side, and in his tired stupor, he wrapped one of them around L's waist, pulling him close.

What are you playing at, Light Yagami? Thought L to himself. Surely Kira must have been scheming to get close to him, unveil his weaknesses, and find a way to delete him from the face of the planet. His thoughts were clouded with doubt and anxiety, but being close to the boy gave him a rush unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt blood rush to the familiar places in his body. The places where Lights fingers touched tingled, and sent waves of dopamine through L's brain.

"Are you blushing, Ryuuzaki?" laughed Light peeping over the detective's shoulder, "I was just cold, don't take it so personally."

Bullshit, L thought, gritting his teeth. "Light, the temperature in this room is regulated to a perfect 70 degrees," L said calmly. He hated being made a fool of.

Light smirked, " I know", he said, letting go of the detectives body and moving his arm under his pillow.

The boy seemed conflicted about something as well. Perhaps L's confusion wasn't as one sided as he had thought. Bringing it up however, was out of the question. Exploring his immature inclinations with a murder suspect would be extraordinarily inappropriate. Furthermore, the boy's father, head of the task force, might not be pleased either to hear that his teenage son was fraternizing with a 25 year old detective.

L turned to look at Light, who looked just as perplexed as he did. "Whats on your mind?" L asked, his charcoal eyes fixed on the boy's expression.

"It doesn't matter", He smiled, and turned his back to L in a desperate attempt to return to his dreams. Light was putting on a front, like he always did. He never showed weakness, he never showed too much emotion. He always spoke at the appropriate speed and tone, and his expressions were always a pleasant neutral. The only times Light showed authenticity were when L pushed him to violence, and when he was incredibly deprived of sleep. L wished that Light could be authentic for even a moment without such brutal circumstances. Unfortunately, Light was too smart to let his guard down in front of a detective attempting to convict him of serial murder.