Authors' Note: The title for this chapter is from the song Gentlemen Who Fell by Milla Jovovich (yes, the actress, of whom I'm quite fond - L). Highly recommended. The full lines from the chorus are "I don't know how to speak to you; I don't know how to trust you; I don't know how to live your you; I don't know how to love you."

The instrumental Into New Voyages from the end of the Wild Arms (90s Playstation video game) soundtrack is another good song for this chapter.


Furious Angels I: Nameless Here Forevermore

Chapter 09: I Don't Know How To Speak To You


L found it strange to enter a house that he'd never been to before, and have it feel familiar. He knew the Yagami home's complete layout from the surveillance footage he'd watched, to say nothing of the behavioral patterns of the occupants. He knew that the flowers on the end table were new, and that the kitchen was just around that corner, and how many steps it took to reach the door of Light's room from the bottom of the stairs. The only unexpected thing was the scent - the dinner cooking, obviously, and the flowers, and... the unmistakable scent of apples.

He wondered if this was what it felt like when someone came home after a long absence. Probably not.

The detective did his best to politely greet Light's mother and sister, who crowded near the entryway, but his shoes were really beginning to hurt and were too stiff for him to simply step out of. He had to sit to remove them, and if anyone thought it odd that he hadn't worn socks, no one said anything.

Sachiko did, however, gasp and immediately point out the downstairs bath with the first aid supplies, the moment she saw the raw patches on his ankles where the shoes had rubbed. Sayu said she'd be right back with guest house-slippers.

Light hung his jacket in the hall closet and exchanged his shoes for a pair of slippers, still puzzling over the single word L had mouthed at him in the car. In retrospect, "morbid" had been a poor choice, given the circumstances, but had L pointed it out to remind Light that he knew the truth of Kira's identity, or simply because he was amused? Was it even worth being concerned over?

Sayu brought two pairs of slippers - simple black, and soft white scuffs decorated with rabbit faces and ears. It took L a long moment to realize that she was probably trying to make him smile; he didn't, but chose to wear the bunny slippers, his expression perfectly serious the entire while. Sayu grinned for him, as though they were sharing a joke, and offered to take his scarf and hang it up. L refused, claiming he'd been ill and that the scarf helped his throat. It was true, after a fashion, after all. He decided to tell Light later how inconsiderate he was, leaving bruises that were difficult to hide when L had only given bruises that even a dress shirt collar could hide.

Sayu was nothing like so academically inclined as Light, L thought, but socially, she exceeded him. While they'd never met before, the girl had extended such a gesture knowing only that he was a close acquaintance of her brother and father. It struck him as a rare gift, and something entirely outside his realm of experience - in her position, Light would never have done the same; he'd merely have been respectful. She seemed to make up for the empathy he lacked.

It wasn't that L didn't appreciate it - only that he found most social interaction wearing under even the best circumstances. To be subjected to such intensity in his present state was draining.

As he turned away from the closet and saw the way that L seemed to be trying to make himself less noticeable, Light couldn't help but smile. The detective looked so utterly lost - so helpless and bewildered by the normalcy of the situation - that the younger man nearly laughed. "Come on, Ryuuzaki," he said, putting an arm around L's shoulders (L barely winced) to guide him towards the living room. Lowering his voice, he added, "And don't mind my family. My mother's lonely with me and my father away so much lately, and Sayu..." Light glanced back in the direction of the hall, to where Sayu had just finished giving her father a hug and was now watching them with wide, curious eyes, and said loudly, "Sayu is just a busy-body who likes to think she might get some dirt on her big brother someday."

"I am not!" Sayu called back, puffing up in mock offense at the grin Light flashed at her. "Anyway, it's about time you made some college friends, Light, instead of sneaking off to hotels with your girlfriend all the time!" She started to stick her tongue out, but Soichiro very deliberately cleared his throat, and she thought better of it, likely remembering the reason for the visit; she ducked her head sheepishly and hurried up the stairs to her room.

There was no escaping the charade even here, was there, L thought, blinking wide-eyed at Light while Sayu was still within earshot. "Ah, is that what you've been up to," he said placidly, earning a mild glare from Light. Somehow, the fact that it was Light's arm across his shoulders made the contact easier to tolerate, but just barely. L recalled lying dazed with his head in Light's lap, and remembered Light incoherent and sobbing and clinging to him in the hospital, and thought of lying still at night waiting for healing sleep to claim him with the dubious security of Light's hand on his chest. It made him feel strange and unguarded and he didn't much like it, but there was little he could do about any of it.

Light led his companion into the living room and got him seated, then excused himself to get the first aid kit, waving off his mother's offer of assistance. She hadn't seen much of her husband recently, and Light thought it best for everyone if his parents had a moment to themselves. He doubted L had the stamina for Sachiko's considerate doting, particularly on a nearly empty stomach and no rest since the night before.

Left alone for a few minutes in the living room, L inspected his surroundings. The source of the mysterious apple scent was revealed - there was a large jar candle burning on the half-wall that separated the living and dining rooms, doubtless part of Sachiko's preparations for receiving company, though L wondered at her choice of scent. He settled on staring at the collection of books on the coffee table before him: a few books of themed photography designed for guest entertainment, a seemingly misplaced cookbook that Sachiko had probably been studying, and a few carelessly piled books about drawing - likely Sayu's, as they were manga-themed. Light's graduation photo from some months before caught his eye as well, but... he'd been observing Light at the time. The photograph had little to tell him, other than how much his family valued his achievements.

L realized that he felt a little envious of that. Only Watari had ever really praised him for his achievements, and it seemed that none of those had ever been so simple as graduating high school with the highest marks possible.

When Light returned with the first aid supplies, he found his friend in much the same position as he'd been left. Light crouched and set the box of medical supplies on the floor, resting on one knee as he removed cotton balls and a tube of antibiotic cream from the kit. "You really should have worn socks," he pointed out, looking up with a sympathetic half-smile. "Here." He motioned with his left hand, indicating that L should extend a foot so that Light could clean the abrasions before covering the wounds.

"I can't stand socks," L murmured, straight-faced, extending his foot as indicated, like a child. It wasn't as though the admission changed anything.

"Obviously," Light remarked, smiling despite the sarcasm in his voice. He couldn't recall ever having seen L wear socks, not even during the time they'd been shackled together - and though he didn't really understand the detective's apparent need to restrict his wardrobe, he also couldn't imagine L behaving any other way.

It belatedly struck L that he could clean the irritating little wounds himself, and he was about to suggest it...

L's hands tightened on the edges of the sofa cushions, and he stared at Light kneeling at his feet, eyes entirely too wide with the sudden shock of realization. He only watched as Light dabbed the antibiotic cream on the wounds, and slowly closed his parted lips and swallowed tightly. His voice came out low, to keep anyone else from hearing, and curiously strained. "Light-kun..."

"What is it?" Light asked, pausing in his ministrations when L said his name. He immediately noticed the way his friend had tensed, and glanced back down at L's foot, which he still held. "Sorry, am I being too rough? I'm almost... done..."

The words died in his throat.

He saw, in his mind's eye, the two of them sitting in the stairwell at Headquarters, rain-soaked and shivering. He remembered L kneeling, and taking his bare foot in one hand, and stroking the soft towel along the inside of the arch. He remembered the strange sense of vulnerability he'd felt, and the sudden shock of a drop of water from L's still-wet hair landing on his foot, and reaching out to towel the detective's bangs.

"That day..." Light stared for a long moment at L's foot, cradled in his left hand, and wondered if L felt as vulnerable now as he had. He could feel the smooth callus on the bottom of the heel, could feel the warmth radiating from the softer skin of the instep.

L mentally drew back, a cold dread washing over him, though he couldn't place why he wanted to run from this conversation so badly. This was simply neither the time nor place. He shouldn't have attracted Light's attention to the similarity, shouldn't have allowed this. Not here, not now. He meant to jerk his foot from his friend's hand, but the motion was far too weak, and he was still staring at Light.

"Ryuuzaki..." Light still didn't look up. "That day, you said... You were trying to tell me that you knew..."

L's lips parted again in a sudden rush of near-indignance. Of course he'd known. Just because he'd not been able to see all the pieces on the board or know all the rules didn't mean that he hadn't known he was in checkmate. Had he not been clear enough?

"Light, Mom says the food's ready, so if you and Ryuuga-san are..." Peering around the doorframe, Sayu trailed off into an awkward sort of silence. She blinked, looked from L's face to Light's - L seemed to be blushing, and Light was still holding L's foot, a gauze pad in his other hand like a glass slipper - and amended carefully, "Um. Food's ready."

"Thanks." Light flushed a little, making a conscious effort not to look at L. "Tell Mom and Dad we'll be there as soon as we wash up."

The moment that Sayu retreated, L scowled. "Let me do it," he demanded, snatching the bandage from Light's fingers. "You go wash."

They entered the small dining area together, and it was exactly as uncomfortable as L had expected - perhaps even a little worse, because now Sayu kept trying to stare at them without being noticed. Having to smile, albeit briefly, for Mrs. Yagami, and having to weather the edge of pity to everyone's words and actions - that he'd been prepared for, at least, and he disliked it exactly as much as he'd thought he would.

L had expected the food to be another trial all together, but evidently, Light's father had stepped in and informed his wife of their guest's tastes. It was a light meal, considering the early hour, involving tamagoyaki and sweet pork buns and glazed carrots and a few other surprisingly palatable options. L found it easier than expected to sit with his feet on the floor (or at least on the bottom rung of his chair rather than the seat) and take his fill.

The real problem was the conversation - or rather, the fact that Light's mother kept trying to engage him in such. It was soon apparent that brief answers and Soichiro's attempts to distract her would not be enough. Drastic measures were called for.

That meant engaging in a cover conversation. He'd have to enlist help for that, obviously.

So, in answer to Sachiko's "I didn't know when I met you that the two of you had become close", referencing when she'd briefly met L when he and Light had gone to see Soichiro in the hospital after his heart attack, L looked up at Light.

"We'd only met at the To-Oh entrance ceremony, but I suppose you could call us fast friends." He glanced at Light's mother, pushing the corner of his mouth into a slight, perhaps shy smile, before returning his attention to Light. "But then we roomed together during the internship. We were both chosen, since our marks were the same." His smile remained, but if anything, became a little more genuine - but the slight lowering of his head toward Light changed the inflection.

Challenge. L wasn't about to allow himself to be trapped in this uncomfortable situation alone.

He knew that Light's father had made up an intensive FBI internship in Quantico in the United States to explain Light's absence during his confinement - both solitary and when handcuffed to L. It was only natural that college students abroad, with no contact with their far-off families, would have stories. The only danger was that Soichiro himself might give something away.

"What was it Misora-sensei called us...?"

Light had known that his mother would be the most problematic of his family members – she loved to talk, and unlike Sayu, who spent the better part of her days at school with friends, Sachiko had been virtually isolated in recent months. She rarely saw her husband and son, heard little of what they had been doing, and rather than filling her time with social visits to friends, she was essentially forced to wait at home alone every day, where she could be contacted quickly if something happened to Soichiro at work, or if Sayu needed a ride. She was starved for interaction, and likely perceived their guest as being in need of equal parts comfort and distraction, both of which she was adept at providing under normal circumstances.

But these weren't normal circumstances, and Light couldn't even tell her that he was working a case with his father and "Ryuuzaki," one which none of them could discuss outside of the investigation team. He had to lie.

Not that the lying that bothered him. He felt it better that his mother not know what he was really spending his time on – particularly with regard to the perceived hazards of the case and the fact that he had been incarcerated for a good deal of its duration – but he resented the way that L had so swiftly and effectively snared him into his lie.

The mention of Misora Naomi was especially galling. It made sense to use her name, since she'd been an FBI agent at one time – but Light couldn't help wondering if L were really telling him that, despite the fact that the task force had never confirmed either her death or her status as one of Kira's victims, the detective knew perfectly well what had happened to her.

Bastard.

"I don't think the nicknames translate well," Light replied, shooting L an amused smile across the table that his eyes in no way reflected. For the sake of believability, he clarified for his mother and sister, "Basically, she was poking fun at how similar we are, and how different." He turned back to L. "Only my father and I speak English."

"I'm taking classes!" Sayu put in, puffing up at Light's failure to include her in the English-speaking bracket.

"You've only been taking English since last year." Light waved her off with a teasingly dismissive gesture. "You can barely introduce yourself."

"I can too," Sayu huffed, poking the air with her chopsticks and going rather pink. She then proceeded to recite a very practiced-sounding English introduction along the lines of "Hello, my name is Sayu Yagami, and I am fifteen years old." She had a very prominent accent.

"That's very good, Sayu-chan," L exclaimed, turning his wide-eyed gaze on the girl. "You keep that up, and Light'll need to learn something else if he wants to tell secrets around you." He favored Light with a slight smile for a moment before inclining his head toward Sayu, who was sitting next to him, and adding in a false whisper, "I think your accent is better than his."

Luckily, the meal was already nearing completion; there was no need to verbally distract Light's mother again. For dessert, she had tried her hand at tiramisu - L recognized it as being from a boxed mix, but there was nothing inherently wrong with that, and it tasted fine. As soon as Sachiko served the three youngest present, however, she and Soichiro retired from the table.

L conveyed his thanks with a slight smile and a nod, watching the couple leave for the living room - then focused on the tiramisu again. "Your mother is quite kind," he commented without looking at either of his table companions.

Turning his head to watch Soichiro and Sachiko had loosened his scarf, and he reached up to shift it back into place, trying to keep the movement natural by still staring at the dessert and the bite on the fork in his hand the entire time. He very carefully did not look at Sayu, not even from the corner of his eye, and looked up at Light instead. "This is better than what they had at the Italian place close to the dorms, you remember, Light? The place with the waitress that looked a bit like Misa."

Changing the subject was the thing to do now. Keep attention drawn away from observation, fill in the silent gaps. He'd known that this would be exhausting.

When they'd finished, and Light stacked their plates and took them to the kitchen sink, Sayu took the moment alone with L to lean over and ask in a curious whisper, "Are those hickies?" She pointed toward L's throat, though she kept her hand close to her body so as to attract less attention from any observers.

L self-consciously glanced at her, then focused elsewhere - on Light returning from the kitchen - as he tugged the scarf up a little further. She'd seen the fading bruises on his throat. Unable to control the color that stole over his cheeks, he gave a vaguely affirmative grunt, momentarily unable to think of what else he might pass them off as. At least the reaction might seem appropriate for a young man thus caught.

"Are you feeling all right, Ryuuzaki?" Light said, frowning, approaching the table again. "You look a little -"

"I'm only tired," L responded, cutting him off but not speaking quickly enough that he might have been said to snap. "I'm sorry." It was true, at least - his body ached now beyond the painkillers' capability for lack of sleep, and the food, sweet as it had been, had been much heavier and less sugary than he was accustomed to, leaving him sleepy.

"We should head up to my room," Light suggested, finally giving in to L's obvious (to him) social discomfort. "It's already been a long day, hasn't it?"

Sayu didn't protest, graciously telling L to rest well - but she stared after them curiously as they headed upstairs. Light had just reached the top of the staircase when he heard his sister's groan of protest at being asked to do the dishes.

It felt more than a little strange to invite L into his bedroom, knowing that the detective had no doubt seen and memorized every inch of it already. He wondered if it felt familiar to him – wondered, too, what conclusions L might draw from the absence of any pictures of Misa in the room. In fact, other than the selection of books that lined the bookshelf, the room said very little about Light at all – it was almost sterile. But then, L already knew that the slight clutter his living spaces aquired galled Light.

L's head hung tiredly as he entered the room; he barely glanced about. He knew these surroundings perfectly well, and knew that they truly were telling of Light's personality - anything of interest was hidden. He slouched his way over to stand in front of the window. It was early afternoon at this point, and the sky was darkening with heavy promise of rain. The wind had picked up, trees on the street outside swaying, losing leaves of dimming colors.

Light shut the door behind them, but left it unlocked, and made his way over to the bed. He sat and stretched his arms above his head; despite the early hour, he was already tired. Not having slept probably had much to do with it.

"You're welcome to the computer chair, if you'd rather not sit with me," he said, interested to see which L would choose – he'd seemed to accept Light's attempts at apology earlier, after all. "There's the TV and the computer if you don't feel up for talking." And the videogame console, Light thought, though Mario Golf seemed more Ryuuk's speed than L's.

Kicking off his slippers, Light pulled both feet up onto the bed and pulled one leg up a bit as he leaned back against the pillows. "I'm sorry about that," he said at length, looking rather sheepish. "My family, I mean. It's hard, having to lie to them so much… but they're better off that way."

"It's fine," L said, turning away from the window. The statement was less to placate or condone any action of Light's than it was to inform Light that it wasn't necessary to keep talking. Light had mentioned the chair, various distractions, but L only silently settled on the side of the bed that Light wasn't taking up, his back to Light. He scuffed the bunny slippers off and drew his feet up onto the bed - it made the raw patches on his ankles sting, and he paused for a moment, but the bandages held.

L couldn't place how he felt, other than... tired. Heavy. Like the sky outside, threatening to fall. Deep breaths, he told himself, but found the already loosened tie at his throat too constricting and reached up to tug it further loose - the scarf as well, a little, but it seemed strangely pleasant, warm and just brushing his jaw. The dress clothes were rumpled and uncomfortable, but he'd no intention of removing further clothing.

"Just need to rest," he mumbled, and toppled to the side, head landing listlessly on the corner of Light's pillow. "The food." He folded his arm half under himself, and waved listlessly with the other, not really indicating anything but the memory of the dinner they'd just eaten. "A bit much." He rested the side of his mouth against the knuckles of his curled hand and stared at the sky through the window.

He'd been afraid it would happen, really. It was going to take hours to shake this sluggish feeling while his body tried to process the unfamiliar meal. He could barely think. It had nothing to do with having been up all night; why should it? He regularly stayed up far longer, or had, before he'd needed to heal...

Light watched from the corner of his eye as L clambered onto the opposite side of the bed. He really did look tired – worn down in a way he usually didn't, no matter how long he went without sleep – and Light thought to ask if he might want to stay the night, but decided that L would probably refuse. At best, he might nap for an hour or two before insisting that they return to Headquarters.

Leaning back, Light folded his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. "To be honest," he sighed, "I think I was dreading this almost as much as you were. I'm glad it's over and done with."

That was one thing to be said for L's company – even when they did nothing but lie to one another, there was a level of understanding between them that Light had never experienced with anyone else. He supposed that was the basis of a true friendship… in which case, it was no wonder he'd grown so disturbingly attached to his nemesis. There was a strange sense of contentment to this - simply to resting and sharing space with someone who could understand him, even his deceptions.

Outside, the rain began to fall, fat droplets pattering against the windowpanes.

"Do you want to borrow something to sleep in, Ryuuzaki?" Light asked, sitting up again and turning to face his friend – or his back, at least. L was half-curled, which seemed to be his preferred position to sleep in regardless, but it couldn't be terribly comfortable in dress clothes. "I think I have a turtleneck somewhere that's a size too big…"

L shifted uncomfortably in the stiff dress shirt. "Yes please," he sighed. It seemed a great effort to push himself upright again, and the buttons on his shirt seemed more than his normally dexterous fingers could decipher. After a moment he simply sat cross-legged, hands in his lap, hanging his head.

It was another minute before he realized that no one was going to help him. No one ever would again. With an expression of particular misery, he finally managed to pull the tie all the way off. The scarf he took more care with, unwinding it and folding it carefully flat and laying it on the edge of the mattress next to the pillow. It took longer still to fight enough of the buttons open to be able to awkwardly get the shirt off over his head.

By that point Light was next to him, offering a folded mass of navy blue material; L clumsily took the shirt and pulled it on over his head. It was more than enough to return his hair to its usual state. L wasn't fond of turtlenecks, and he tugged at the collar a few minutes as though he might be able to rearrange it to a more open form, before giving up and flopping back down on his side again.

Light only stood and watched as L fought with the turtleneck, simultaneously amused, perplexed, and a little concerned at such a helpless display. He thought that perhaps he should ask if L was feeling alright – maybe he was coming down with something, or maybe the funeral had troubled him more than he was letting on. But L had already made a passing attempt to explain his weariness, and Light supposed there wasn't much to be gained by pressing the subject. If L didn't seem in better spirits after he'd rested, he could ask about it then.

L curled around himself once more, drawing his knees in as much as he dared and folding his arms, his hands resting on the folded scarf. In contrast to the cool of the cotton sheets, the scarf seemed warm under his fingers, particularly soft. Probably only residual heat from his having worn it, he decided. "I fear that I'm in danger of becoming dependent upon you, Light-kun," he breathed, eyelids heavy.

He'd only just taken up L's dress shirt and begun to fold it when L spoke, and Light looked over at him, startled by the admission. It was entirely likely that this – L's show of weariness or depression, and the admission itself – was nothing more than an attempt to lull Light into a false sense of safety, to make him believe that L was coming to rely on him… but somehow, he didn't think it was a façade, at least not totally. And if it were true, if he'd caught L in a rare moment of vulnerability...

"What are you talking about, Ryuuzaki? It's been a long day for both of us – and besides, it's only a spare shirt." Light's eyes did not glitter triumphantly, and he did not smile more than was appropriate to casually dismiss L's concern, and he only chuckled softly as he turned away and set the folded dress shirt on the edge of his computer desk. But his heart was beating rather fast, and the rising howl of the wind outside thrilled him on some primal level, the rattling of the windowpanes echoing the shiver that raced up his spine.

Perhaps he'd not lost after all.

"Would you like a blanket?" Light asked, but there was no answer – and when he turned around, he realized that L had fallen sound asleep already, one hand at his mouth and the other laid almost protectively over the folded scarf.

L hadn't woken by nightfall, so it turned out that they stayed over after all. Light slept on the floor on the guest futon - his mother's helpfulness at work, and to argue would have been inappropriate. He listened to the rain and the occasional wet sound of L sucking on the very tip of his thumb like a troubled child, and wondered just exactly what he might have gotten himself into.


L startled awake sometime after one in the morning, and lay staring at the now-gentle rain striking the window, eyes far too wide. Eventually he drew himself up and crouched at the very head of the bed, head in his hands, forehead resting on his knees, regardless of the pain it caused in his torso (that seemed to be less than it had been a few days ago, at least). In a panicked moment he wanted nothing more than to know where Light was and why he wasn't in contact, but almost as quickly he hated himself for that want.

It wasn't as though Light were even far away. He just... wasn't in contact the way he'd been the last time that L had slept, and the lack had been... noticeable.

After a little while, L arose as quietly as he could and crept from the room without waking Light. His chest ached, but he could easily take a few painkillers from the first aid supplies in the downstairs bathroom without disturbing anyone. If he'd been thinking he'd have brought his own, as they were higher strength, but he'd been rather... distracted, lately.

It was still strange to know so well this house that he'd never before visited in person, but the sensation also left L oddly comfortable. He silently descended the stairs and retrieved the tablets with a minimum of noise, with only the nightlight in the bathroom for illumination. After swallowing them dry, he entered the kitchen, and, without turning on the light, navigated to the refrigerator and opened it. After casting about for a few moments, he removed the leftover tiramisu, closed the door, retrieved a spoon from the drawer next to the oven, and went to sit at the table.

He settled into a chair, drawing his feet up only as far as the second rung for the sake of his ribs, and opened the plastic container. There were several servings remaining of the dessert, but he simply took a spoonful directly.

L only sat for a little while with the heavy spoon held in front of him, elbows on the table, chin resting on one hand. Habit told him to eat (and he really ought to chase the pills with something), but at the same time... this was wrong. Watari was gone. This dessert had been made by someone else and hadn't been left for him by Watari. There was no way back to the way things had been, but this wasn't...

He needed... something. He couldn't place just what. It was frustrating.

He needed to talk to someone about this, but the only person he'd trusted that much was gone, and was why he needed to talk to someone in the first place. It hurt. His throat kept trying to close up, and he had to close his eyes and take deep breaths, and somehow it felt like everything was crumbling around him.

Oh god, if this kept up he really would slip and try to talk to Light about it, wouldn't he? There was more wrong with that than he could describe to himself. Light seemed to have no concept of the difficulty, nevermind his roll in the problem. But in spite of everything else, Light was right there with him in a way that no one else was, and he seemed...

L cut off his own train of thought by trying to force down a bite of tiramisu, but he had to stop and concentrate on breathing alone before he could get it down.

He'd just taken his fourth bite, the spoon upside-down partway withdrawn from his mouth, when the light flicked on. L froze and looked guiltily toward the switch.

Yagami Sayu stood with one hand on the switch, staring with eyes nearly as wide as his own. Her shocked expression - almost comical, too much for the reactions he'd seen her display before - quickly softened. "I just came down for a drink of water," she said quietly, with an almost apologetic smile very like Light's. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

L lowered his gaze, suddenly very aware of how much of an intruder he was in this household. "Um." He took the spoon from his mouth and was about to set it into the container of tiramisu that he'd clearly been eating from, but hesitated and set it on the table instead. "I..."

"It's all right, it's fine, Mom made it for you," Sayu said quickly. She paused awkwardly, looking at him and the way he wouldn't make eye contact, and seemed to reach a decision. "Here." She turned the overhead light off again, and L heard her feeling her way into the kitchen and opening a drawer before his eyes adjusted.

A moment later, a small flame flared to life on the table in front of him, and Sayu moved away from the table, laying a lighter back in the utility drawer and closing it. She'd lit the apple-scented jar candle and set it on the table. "Seems more appropriate for 2AM, right?" She said cheerfully, retrieving a cup from a cabinet and filling it with tap water. She sat in the chair at the head of the table, closest to him at the corner. "You were just looking a little..."

She trailed off, as though realizing she'd begun something awkward. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "I can't even imagine losing either of my parents at all. I mean, I guess it's something I should think about, with Dad working the Kira case, right? But... they wouldn't even let me visit much, when Dad was in the hospital this past spring." She sighed. "I guess they think I'm too young to be able to handle it or something, but that doesn't seem right either." She paused, and took a few gulps of water, and L only watched, shoulders hunched with his arms folded across his lap.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't need me rambling at you right now." Sayu smiled again, sheepishly, but made no move to rise.

L stared down at the tiramisu, then hesitantly reached for the spoon again, wondering why just hearing someone talk seemed to be helping. "It's fine," he replied, glancing at her with a twitch about his mouth that could have been mistaken for a smile.

Seeing him attempting to eat again seemed to reassure the girl, and her smile became a little brighter, though she still kept her voice down to an appropriate level for the hour. "Maybe it'd be better to talk about something else," she suggested. "You know, get your mind off of things."

"Mm." L took a bite and found it easier to savor this time, the differing textures and flavors of mousse and cocoa and syrup and cake coming through quite well now. How odd - being in the company of someone he didn't know well shouldn't have been so... relaxing.

"So you're Light's roommate?"

His throat nearly seized up again as he swallowed, the borrowed turtleneck suddenly seeming tight, but he managed to get through it. This wasn't so good a turn in conversation. He'd have to be sure to brief Light on what he said later. "I - yes," he nodded.

"That's kind of amazing," Sayu said. "I mean, Mom and I didn't think he'd have a roommate once he moved out. He kind of gets bored with being around people a lot, but you probably know that. But if you're in the same major and everything you two must be together, like, all the time."

L wondered if he'd actually need to say anything; Sayu seemed happy to fill in most of the conversation herself. "Most of the time," he confirmed.

"He must be really used to you. He never worried about any of his other friends like this. I mean, he's brought people over before but that was always just for study group and stuff like that, not to hang out with, basically. But you, I mean, he was helping tape up your feet and everything."

There was an utterly awkward silence, during which L sat with the spoon in his mouth again, and Sayu went a little red in the face as she realized that it sounded like she was making a case for Ryuuzaki being... special, somehow, to her brother. She didn't want to go so far as to ask anything outright, but from the way Ryuuzaki had behaved earlier when she'd asked about the marks on his neck, and the way Light treated him differently from everyone else...

"I really don't have a basis for comparison," L finally said, stabbing the spoon into the tiramisu again. "Light has always been... considerate. Perhaps he's simply changed a little, because of college." He tilted his head. "Or perhaps it's because of your father's health. Light was very concerned when he took ill, as you mentioned."

Sayu seemed to relax. "You're right, that might be it," she said. "He's probably not any more comfortable with maybe losing Dad than I am, but he'd never say anything. He kind of bottles things up." She caught herself and glanced at him. "I'm sorry..."

"No, it's all right." L took another bite.

"That was around when you guys met anyway, wasn't it? That's what mom said..."

He bit down on the spoon. How did she do that...? "Ah. Yes. At the opening ceremony at To-oh."

She nodded. "Well. I'm glad you were there for him."

"Mm." L glanced at her again, trying to decipher the exact meaning of that, but she was looking away and drinking a little more.

"So what do you think about Misa?"

He'd almost been ready for that one. L put a great deal of effort into a noncommittal shrug. "She's all right. She's very... enthusiastic."

Sayu stifled a laugh. "If you're with Light a lot you must see a lot of her too. I bet she gets on your nerves."

"Well." L looked away guiltily. "She does... get in the way. Of studying. Now and then..."

Sayu laughed again. "I knew it. She's way different from the girls that Light usually goes out with." She leaned back and stretched her arms over her head. "I kind of like her though. You know her parents died too? She made her modeling career pretty much from scratch and works really hard. She's pretty strong. She's got lots of guys after her and somehow she picked my brother when he wasn't even chasing her. I bet there's an awesome story there."

"Hm." L glanced at Sayu, and then back at the tiramisu, and concentrated on taking his next bite. "I don't know. It's not as though they talk about it to me. I think there was a bit of mistaken identity involved."

"Aww, I was hoping you'd know all the juicy details," Sayu said with a mock whine. "Light won't talk to me about it either. Honestly, I know more about you two than I do about him and Misa, and that's even after talking to Misa. All she says is that it was love at first sight."

"I didn't know you talked to Misa."

"Yeah, she called the house a couple of days ago worried about Light not answering his phone." She gave L a sidelong look that seemed a great deal like Light's smirk, and L shivered; truly, each member of the Yagami household was formidable in their own way.

"But then she called back because she got a hold of him yesterday and said everything was okay. Said he was just kind of out of it though. He seemed that way when he called here too. He's really worried about you, I think."

"I suppose," L mumbled quietly into another bite.

"I think it's nice to have somebody to worry about you." Sayu arose and set her cup in the sink. "And it's good to have somebody to worry about, too."

"Mm." L looked down at the container in front of him and wondered how it had emptied so quickly.

"So. Um."

"Hm?"

"I was wondering..." She leaned back against the sink, brushing her hair away from her face. Watching from the corner of his eye, L was again reminded of Light's mannerisms. "Do you have somebody...?"

"I'm sorry?" L looked up, almost startled.

"I mean," Sayu shrugged, looking aside uncomfortably but still smiling. "I mean, do you have... somebody. To worry about you. A girlfriend."

L pushed his chair back and got to his feet, and set the empty container and spoon in the sink before answering. "I think you might be a little young for me." He looked Sayu in the face and gave a small half-smile. "Besides, Light would kill me."

She looked shocked; before she could say anything else, L lowered his gaze. "Thank you for the conversation, Sayu-chan."

"You're welcome," he heard her whisper as he left the room.

It wasn't until he got back to Light's room that L remembered what Sayu had asked about the marks on his throat earlier. The turtleneck was distracting enough that he'd momentarily forgotten about the fading bruises themselves.

Well. If the subject came up again, it wasn't as though he'd said that he didn't have a girlfriend. L carefully settled back into Light's bed thinking that he'd put off the question rather well.

But he still didn't sleep the rest of the night.


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