Philophobia –
the fear of falling in love or being in love
"The heart is a mysterious thing."
He always comprehended that much: that the soul was nothing to toy with and that one should stay clear from someone else's. Emotions were, quite frankly, the devil in this situation. They wanted him to hurt and to smart from cuts that were dealt to his own being; his soul, if such a thing existed, would diminish into dust within his spirit if emotions fell into place. That was why he enveloped his entire body into a state of metaphoric holy water in order to evade feelings as if they were the Black Death.
He couldn't afford to lose whatever strands of sanity that his brain stubbornly clasped on to.
And so, the patterns that controlled his life as if they were literally brainwashing him continued. His personality took shape, his intelligence was emphasized, and all was put into place. The great detective L was formed, and the world had a hero that hid in the shadows as though even his image would give away his secret identity; his alter ego.
L was Superman; L was Batman; L was Spiderman.
L was a coward.
He knew that too. As he typed harshly on his computer keyboard, black eyes concentrating unblinkingly at the monitor before him, he reflected on how much of his ego was a humongous lie. He was not a machine. L was not a mannequin fit to be poised and dressed to the Interpol's liking. Yet, he practically allowed this – or at least, in his head, he did. He was a fucking coward.
The detective played that word over in his head, the syllables beginning to sound like musical instruments after a while. Coward, coward, coward, COW-ard, cow-ARD, COWARD. A symphony played in a monotone. A scared, meek sound blasted away by a mocking, childish conductor, playing favorites with the brass as the winds sat in their chairs with nothing to do but watch. His fears were the inspiration for this piece of disaster, and he was merely sitting in the VIP seat, ready to jump off the fucking balcony.
So take the plunge, scaredy-cat!
"Ryuzaki, are you listening to me?"
The voice slammed into him at a hundred miles per hour, forcing him to twist his neck painfully in order to look full-face at the speaker: an auburn-haired teenage boy. The boy looked at L; Ryuzaki; whomever the shell of a man was now with mahogany eyes, outwardly showing polite curiousness, though inside, L knew that the boy was annoyed and would not enjoy having his last nerve worked on at the moment. Or ever, really.
"No, I wasn't, Light-kun," L replied in an emotionless, almost bored sounding voice. "Would you repeat what you asked, please?"
"I was telling you that you've been typing for about five minutes, yet the computer is off," Light smirked, gesturing airily towards the machinery that was, of-fucking-course, powered down.
L withdrew his hands from the keyboard, resting them upon the knee caps that lay just underneath his chin, drawing his legs closer to his body. His mind was going, he could feel it, and soon Near or Mello or Matt would take up the position of "L" while he went insane in a mental facility. It didn't take a genius to guess that much, and the detective mentally sighed at the thought, placing his forehead on his jean-clothed legs, coal eyes still wide and aware.
Or, perhaps, his eyes wouldn't close in fear of something getting him; a monster underneath his bed, in the closet, in his head waited for the moment he shut his eyes and succumbed to the dreams that he only wished to be reality. But the plot had been written and fate was one of the few things mortals couldn't escape.
L's heart was palpitating, though he couldn't uncover an explanation as to why, and he mentally cursed himself for that damned fluke. Was he not the greatest detective this century had ever spewed out? How could he not figure out something about himself?!
A rustle of movement sounded from beside him and when a hand appeared on his shoulder, every single muscle tensed almost excruciatingly, willing and yearning for the touch to disintegrate into nothingness; into hydrogen and oxygen and carbon dioxide. But the faux-telepathic message must not have reached Light for the hand in question proceeded to spin L around as if he were a top that small children would play with in order to face him, even though the older man's countenance was still hidden from sight.
"Ryuzaki." L shuddered inside at the sound of his alias. How his former "heir to the name of L" had died because of that name, how much he absolutely despised his "name" and everything that had to do with it. And the fact that that small amount of rage was pouring into him made him feel much worse.
He was supposed to be a robot for God's sake.
"Ryuzaki!" This time it was more forceful, more curious. The sleuth kept his face crammed against his legs, stubbornly refusing to look the teen in the face. A breath of air was exhaled and then another hand joined the other on the opposite shoulder. "Ryuzaki, please look at me."
He had half a mind to yell "No!" and run away like a little kid, but a moment later he remembered the handcuffs that kept the pair chained together and pushed the idea to the back of his head.
Light let out a sigh and moved his hands so that they were cupping L's face, pushing it upwards forcefully and L had no reason to resist. He couldn't, he shouldn't, and he didn't. An expression of utter confusion and interest laced the adolescent's face, and L knew that he was awaiting an explanation that he just couldn't muster up. Words were lost to him, and all he could hear now was the thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart. The beat moved with the song of COW-ard, cow-ARD and L chewed his bottom lip apprehensively.
He wasn't meant to be like this. With emotions and feelings and a heart.
"Are you okay?" The boy's voice was the sincerest the detective had ever heard it sound like.
The first reply that ran through his head was, "Why do you even care?" but L knew that to say that would equal confrontation that he could not deal with, and so he said nothing.
"If you don't answer me, it only proves that you aren't, Ryuzaki." Light moved closer as if to investigate L with more scrutiny, which only increased the strangled beating that was occurring in the raven-haired man's chest. "So why not tell me? What's the harm in that?"
Everything fell into place in a matter of a couple of seconds. L's heart felt as if it had stopped and his blood almost went cold as he leaned up, pressing his forehead against Light's, breathing slowly in shaking bursts that even he couldn't control. Without a second thought, his voice came out in a whisper, "I'm scared."
Mahogany eyes widened. "What are you afraid of?"
A short lived, almost nonexistent and unwanted touch of the lips and a mumbled reply: "You."
