In all reality, I could imagine seeing this version of them and not having them linger in my head like the canon. This time, they're just for each other and it doesn't spill over.
0o0o0o
Anything was better than the sheer disarray of last night. It wasn't just then, either. It was the corroded aftermath every time they met, clashes, threw sparks of laughter and jokes that strayed too close to real life. The act was ecstasy in its purest form, but the melted afterglow was so much worse.
Maybe it wasn't even that his thoughts grew more tangled, that he couldn't focus. Maybe it was because in contrast, he was in his element before. Who would want to return to Earth if they'd had a taste of heaven?
Or several, having caught a falling angel and taking them at their leisure. You would taste again and again, trying to forget that they couldn't really take you to their world.
Close your eyes, you can imagine and they are enough to convince you.
A weird, heavy sort of wanting, liking, really. That was what he could describe them as. Light was the most intriguing, the most fascinating person L had ever met by a long shot. And if he had to go through disorganized thoughts and chaos, reeling in the backlash every time they met, it was a price well worth the prize.
Enough about old thoughts and feelings. He already did enough of that in his sleep, L thought with a sort of smile. With a sigh, he dredged up every memory of their conversation. The hint was probably placed in that very last 'Let's go outside' exchange. How did he put it? Light was an amazing strategist. L could tell just from the way he chose his words (so careful, so smooth, so used to getting whatever he wanted from teachers and parents and everybody else), but there was an obvious difference between those words he'd recited on their first night and now.
He had learned spontaneity, and he was so much more fun now.
'Not that you were ever boring before,' L mumbled, idly waiting for the kettle to heat. 'I thought I had you figured out. I thought you were like an incredibly complex and terrifying problem. Nobody would dare to try to solve you. But once someone knew your pattern, your programming, what made you tick? You were gone.'
'And now…' L picked up the nearest package, pulled out a tea bag. 'You're really full of numbers that don't exist, or run so far they defy existence.' The kettle complained loudly. 'You're really…unsolvable, Light-kun.' L dropped the tea bag in and sipped, nearly laughing when he realized it was green tea. Light's favourite. After a long silence, L continued: 'I guess I'll have to try to solve you, even though I couldn't. You're impossible.'
0o0o0o
L balanced the tea on his book as he went back upstairs, finally settling down at his desk. This was the best type of morning, when he had work later instead of this unholy hour, and he could just sit and read a book and maybe make a cup of tea. He'd read this book before, several times, and now it was more just a comfort read than actually getting into the story. Light, I wonder if you'd get that. Or, really, if you even have time to relax.
'I still need to…!' L realized, tossing his book aside. 'It should not take me this long,' he muttered, pulling a pencil closer by the eraser and sketching idly on the tabletop. Diamonds, triangles, hourglasses, a geometric spiderweb all in perfect, clean lines. The pattern covered the pale gray surface like an odd growth, occasionally interrupted by a scribbled quote or random thought.
How did one figure something out? What did they look like? L's deductions either came naturally or not at all, and this infuriatingly simple problem kept falling into the latter category. With a groan, L leaned over to retrieve his book and hoped that something would hit him if he wasn't so...distracted by other parts of Light.
He just couldn't focus, like he was drained and exhausted and yet wired and wanting to do something, anything.
L scanned the shapes of the words, more observing the familiar tone and phrasing than anything else. However, it was always hard not to get at least a little bit drawn into these pages. That, irrationally and inexplicably, was why he suddenly sat up and said, 'The place we met by accident while walking. I'm an idiot.'
With a quiet curse at his inability to realize it sooner, L keyed in his answer to the messages app and was about to hit Send before he hesitated. What if it was wrong? There would be no penalty for anything incorrect, so he should be fine with just trusting his deductions. They'd never failed him before-well, mostly, and matters closer to the heart were always so much softer and more sensitive to accidental scratches.
It was good enough.
From: L
: The place I ran into you when we were walking? The place we could see the city?
His answer took a strangely long time.
From: Light
: Took you long enough.
From: L
: Blame me being tired and not your actually-quite-easy riddle
From: Light
: Is that a challenge?
From: L
: Only if you take it that way. You seem to take everything as a challenge, angel
From: Light
: Well, that's definitely a challenge. Or an insult. Or another one of your inept attempts at a joke. Do you know the difference between the three, L?
From: L
: So you did take it as a challenge! I do love seeing you so worked up
From: Light
: Answer me, you dork.
From: L
: In theory, they are exactly the same thing when applied with the right tone
From: Light
: You're unbelievable sometimes.
From: L
: I like to think that I'm fairly unbelievable most of, if not all of the time
From: Light
: You seriously need someone to rein in your ego every once in a while.
From: L
: Need? No. Want? Even less. Do I get one anyways, who manifests in the form of a nerdy teenager with a secret poetry kink? I'll leave that to you.
From: Light
: There is so much wrong with that sentence.
From: L
: Whatever do you mean?
From: Light
: I'm twenty, first off. And I don't have a poetry kink.
From: L
: Tell that to the sonnet on your desk. It's still there, isn't it?
From: Light
: No, I handed in that math homework, L.
From: L
: You'll never stop lying once you think you still have a chance, do you? As long as there's a fighting chance, and probably even if there isn't, you'll keep playing. That's one of the reasons I love you.
A silence, interrupted by occasional '...' signs that flashed up and disappeared just as quickly. Light was rapidly composing and discarding messages. It stretched on, and L disjointedly noted that he hadn't slipped up before. Who could have blamed him if he had, though? Light dragged the truth out of him as easily as other people forced him to lie.
From: Light
: It's been how long and I still don't know whether you're insulting me, aggravating me, or telling the truth at any given moment.
From: L
: In all honesty, neither do I.
That was the easy answer. Good.
From: Light
: Then I'll go with the easiest decision for both of us and say that it's all three this time.
What?
From: Light
: I'll meet you Wednesday. Goodnight.
From: L
: It's eight in the morning.
From: Light
: It's the ambiance that counts, darling.
His notebook icon slid off the screen and L struggled with the emotions of the last few minutes, finally scrolling back up to reread.
'Damn you,' he finally laughed, an odd cocktail of confusion, nervousness, and mind-numbing anticipation settling in the tips of his fingers. 'I'm the only one who's allowed to say pet names and run away.'
0o0o0o
'That's one of the reasons I love you.'
What part of that sentence was most terrifying, confusing, evoked the best and worst response? Light shuffled the words around in his mind like he would a sentence written in a different language, picking out the few phrases he recognized as his cornerstones and building a strange little world out from there.
One of? Reasons? Or the word he wouldn't touch, love. His fingers barely brushed the edges before he pulled away in case it would burn him. Who even knew if it would? It made him feel like it was setting off a sensation in his chest that felt like close-together, wildly flapping bird wings.
But if he could imagine (he could, as long as nobody saw).
People always warned him it would hurt, it would burn, it would leave ashy handprints all over his heart. That didn't sound too bad. Permanent marks. Permanent reminders, on his heart, too, of something they would love to say.
God, it'd be...indescribable.
They'd joked about it before. L's casual, playful comment-'You love me'-as an example. But that was...well, it felt different.
'I could live with it if you said it like that again,' Light whispered to himself. Terror and enthrallment jumped through him in equal doses, despite the fact that he was alone and there was nobody who would ever know.
When did joking about that and sending texts that might be flirting become their normal? It hadn't been like that the first night, had it?
Well, maybe it had been. For L, at the very least. He was shameless, really, and somehow careless in a coldly calculated way, and cunning and a whole bunch of other things that maybe weren't always seen as good. Not bad, but not good. More bad than good. A gray area, a gray area the exact colour of his sparkling eyes.
Light couldn't stop himself from smiling. Whatever gray sort of morality L played in-nobody who talked about Kira with that nearly crazed excitement could see the world in black and white-it was a world Light was fully willing to be led into, to jump into, to fall into.
Show me your world, L. Who knows? Maybe I'll still turn into a gibbering mess when you show me the depths, but the journey there will be worth it.
You're worth-your mind is worth-the insane price I could have to pay.
0o0o0o
Wednesday was an awfully long way away. However long Light wanted to make him wait before coming back and answering a few questions through however he started the conversation was an indefinite measure, and therefore longer.
That was cold, hard logic. Light would have gotten there (and then explained it in a way that somehow made it interesting, though that might just be his voice).
'You are getting better with spontaneity.' L pushed his chair back from the table. 'I'd love to see you lose control, though. What do you get worked up over? What do you talk about until you're out of breath and shouting and your heart races at every sentence?'
The wind outside was swirling softly at his feet; still hot and slow, but promising. His jacket was more of a formality, but it obscured the bony, too-tall angles of his body and the collar hid his collarbones, and even in August, that was good.
'I wonder what you'd look like. What you'd sound like. You're already so fiery and absorbed into your topic.' L checked his pockets reflexively as he stepped onto the curb, but his phone was at home. 'I'm almost scared to see what you think is impassioned.'
Where am I going? Nowhere, probably. I just wanted to get out.
The sky was cloudless.
'Almost, angel. The fascination outweighs the fear. Hopefully it'll stay that way.'
The easy answer, huh. I don't think that was easy, or even just hedging your bets.
0o0o0o
It is quieter, exactly. It's not as obviously sharp. You might still notice the tone of their voices or their smiles, but their dynamic is not snapping between them.
:: Being half-asleep and barely waking up to adjust
-LyingMonsters, the one who watches mirrors instead