Most noble ladies and gentlemen, welcome one and all to the Final Chapter of Act One: Fairietayle of Poison Apple.
Many of you announced that you would in fact be bringing tissues to your reading of this – good, you'll need them… for the blood, you understand. "Epic" isn't the word for this chapter. It's 28 pages' worth of Size 8 Verdana. O.o
As always, announcements:
One: It's my birthday. Nyah ha ha. I, RobinRocks, am nineteen as of today, 3rd December – and I think my parents think Disneyland sent me crazy, because I got a Sleeping Beauty birthday card, Sleeping Beauty on DVD and Disney Princess wrapping paper. They don't understand that it is fact Poison Apple which has sent me crazy… Anyway, LAME that we update on my birthday, yes, BUT also good, because it's a Monday, which is earlier than our usual update day. So no complaints…
Two: The poll! Wow, we have something like 80 votes now! Thankyou all so much! Light is still losing, BTW. Ka ka ka, poor lil uke…
Three: Speaking of polls, I read recently that there was a poll of the top 30 Disney villains taken a while back, and who came Number One? Why, Maleficent, of course. :D
Four: The character test – some more people have been saying who they got, and we've now accumulated another Light, another L, a Ray Penber and another Mello/Sayu/Misa/Matsuda combination. Still, even if there are now two Ls, two Lights and two Rems are still pretty unfair odds…
Thankyou to: Previously-recorded, Nocens, fallen.angel.wings, Phoenix of Hell, DoYouFindMeDreadful, Travian Sez, GreyLiliy, Nilahxapiel, Jenna, Zaybex, Inu Yokai 911, Saecula, Stargirl7, Mask of Mirage, AmberBlood, Ichigo Kiss, Oztan, Milk0bar, Jyrenze, Accidental Affinity, Li the Twilight Knight, Phoenix Elentari, ElegantArrow64, MeEksiNs, Mihael-kun, Rainbowness, Itallia, Ali, Sister Salsa, Bloodshot Eyes, Fugitive, Rahima, Acid FireKira-kun, AlchemicReaction, Kiyoiyuki, Sukutai, DarkDragon34, Lady Psychic, The Ultimate Fic Critic, Death-to-the-tadpoleclowns, Non al Denaro Non all'Amore, Rozel, Dawn-at-Midnight, Issis Chandra Wu, Sophabelle and baka-neko-fan!!
Lastly, before we begin, a treat: Poison Apple is told predominantly from Light's (third-person) point-of-view. However, this chapter, Ever After, which chronicles roughly the last week of L's life, breaks the mold by offering insights into Rem and, most importantly, L. In fact, almost all of this chapter is taken from L's viewpoint rather than Light's, as L remains oblivious (sort of) to Light's sudden Kira-ness… It adds a more poignant feel because it gave us the opportunity to write Light as he has acted for the rest of the fic (without his memories), since this is how he would still behave around L – just bear in mind that he's a lying bastard at this point…
And enjoy it, because this is the only chapter to do so.
I've never felt so alone in my life
As I drank from a cup which was counting my time;
There's a poison drop in this Cup of Man-
To drink it is to follow the left-hand path...
- Nightwish; Bless the Child
Ever After
L is dead.
Light Yagami took great delight in etching those three words – those seven letters; maybe one for each sin – into L's back with the tip of his finger; barely touching him, so as not to awaken him. He was rarely awake before L – at least, rarely this awake, but having all his memories restored was like skulling back several shots of virility and vehemence, suddenly invigorating him, as though he had stolen all of the energy that L usually possessed and transferred it to his own body, leaving the detective a Sleeping Beauty wreck.
He felt rather deliciously wired, to be frank – strong, and suddenly pulled together, like every part of him was soldered back where it belonged and a powerful charge was able to flow through the completed circuit, where before it could only spark weakly between the broken connections of choppy non-memory. But now, with that power surging and reconnecting everything he had lost, he was unstoppable. Damn it, it was stupid-o'-clock in the morning, but he felt like he could screw L brainless.
Yes, screw L brainless.
Though if you were brainless, like, say… Matsuda, I wouldn't have to kill you.
He left off the invisible message, wrapping his arms around the sleeping detective and pulling him close; and though L was undeniably much stronger than he looked, wiry whipcord muscles beneath his pale skin, while he was asleep, it was easy to notice how small he actually was.
Not tiny, like Misa; but for an adult man, some almost-but-not-quite twenty-five years of age, his bone structure seemed slightly underdeveloped, perhaps stunted from all the coffee, and he looked as though he was actually still a teenager, just on the brink of that growth spurt that all boys eventually have. His ribs felt like glass rods and all his awkward bony angles felt temptingly breakable.
He and Light were around the same height; but Light, despite being younger, was bigger-boned and built a little more bulkily, and right now, with L sleeping in his arms, he felt as though he could quite easily crush the detective to his chest and snap him in two.
Though there were better ways of breaking L in half.
That notion drove Light to do something both reckless and cruel, though he was quite satisfied that L was actually still asleep; lowering his mouth to L's ear, and whispering to him;
"I'm Kira."
A death-wish, perhaps – but L didn't stir at all, though Light had known anyway that he wasn't awake. L never pretended to be asleep. It was as though he actually felt ashamed of himself for needing sleep at all.
And though he was aware that sometimes those asleep could hear spoken words whispered to them, the most delicious part of that was that… if L had subconsciously heard him confess, there was no way he could ever prove that Light had actually said it.
The cameras had been removed from their room long ago, at L's own request.
Stupid fool.
Ah, yes, indeed – there were far better ways of breaking darling, lovely L in two.
Light wasn't sure whether he'd exaggerated the sigh of relief he expressed on the handcuff finally being unlocked from his wrist; and, if he had, what the purpose of the act was.
To piss L off? To hurt his feelings?
He didn't spare a glance at the detective as he rubbed his freed wrist; even willing to slap the hopeless Matsuda a high five.
Beaming with a pep rally grin, and maybe on some kind of narcotic, Matsuda swanned past Light, arm still raised, as though to offer L a high five as well. L, curled in his chair at his computer, only blinked up at him blankly.
"Yes, Matsuda-san?"
Matsuda's smile faltered, as did his palm-spread hand.
"High five?" He asked tentatively. "For Light being cleared of suspicion?"
L offered him some kind of half-assed thumbs up and immediately went back to his computer screen.
His own handcuff was still on his wrist.
Matsuda skulked off – even he could sense the major "Leave me alone" vibe radiating in venom-drenched waves from L's introverted form.
Light did glance back at him now, and wondered on another disinterested level, as he had many times before, how L could manage to fold himself into such a tiny space. Though Light had observed only that morning – and often before – that L was slightly-built, he was still quite tall (probably taller than Light, actually, if he'd bother to stand up straight for once) and seemed to be made entirely of sharp bony angles.
Light would know, of course.
"We should have a party," declared Aizawa (who had returned since the whole Higuchi thing). "You know, to celebrate Light and Misa being cleared and released."
"Yeah!" Matsuda agreed dramatically, waving his arms around in a way that enabled him to perform a rather accurate impression of a two-legged octopus. "Misa-Misa would love that!"
Chief Yagami gave a meditative nod, turning to his son.
"What do you think, Light?"
"I… uh…" Light actually found himself rather floored by the suggestion; certainly it would be a good distraction now that he and Misa were to take up their Kira roles again, but a party…?
It seemed so tacky.
He would never thank L, but the detective actually came to his rescue;
"That is absolutely out of the question," he said coldly, finally turning his chair to face the rest of the task force.
"Aww, why not?" Matsuda whined; and maybe, if he'd been a few feet closer, L would seriously have kicked him for being so stupid and childish and annoying and… Matsuda.
"A number of reasons," L snapped. "One, it is highly unprofessional to be engaging in parties every time a suspect is cleared of suspicion. And two, I am still not exactly, entirely one hundred percent confident that Light-kun and Amane-san are completely cleared of suspicion."
"You said there were a number of reasons," Matsuda muttered.
"Two is a number, Matsuda-san," L bit out, swiveling back to his computer screen.
"Ryuzaki… y-you can't be serious…?" Chief Yagami asked faintly. "Light… you imprisoned him, you monitored him 24/7, and now the notebook… the notebook has all but cleared Light and Amane, surely you can't still think—"
"Unfortunately, I can, Yagami-san." L picked up his teacup, swilling the hot liquid around the rim of it thoughtfully. "The 13 day rule is what exempts Light-kun and Amane-san from being further regarded as Kira suspects, but… we have not tested the notebook. Until we do, we cannot be one hundred per cent sure that neither of them are Kira."
"Ryuzaki, that's utterly unthinkable!" Chief Yagami snapped. "We cannot… the notebook is not…!"
L spared the older man a glance over his shoulder.
"Then you see my problem, Yagami-san."
His chocolate eyes darting between L and his father, Light decided to make a gamble; hoping to shut L up once and for all.
"Look," he said, raising his hands as though in surrender, "I'm not Kira, and I want everyone to be one hundred per cent clear of that. So, you know… if Ryuzaki wants to put the handcuffs back on—"
"No, I won't allow any more of this!" Chief Yagami interrupted right on cue, taking Light's elbow and actually pulling him across the room away from L. "Light, I know you want to clear your name, but… your name has been cleared. You've done more than anyone could have asked for. I won't have you going through this all again. It's only Ryuzaki who refuses to be satisfied."
"Yagami-san," L started, "if Light-kun does not object to—"
"No, Ryuzaki." Chief Yagami didn't even look at the legendary detective this time. "We've all had enough of this nonsense. My son is not Kira. And he's been away from home for over three months, constantly under your surveillance… You agreed not to monitor him or Amane any longer." Finally Chief Yagami shot L a look. "I expect you to keep your promise, L."
Ha, Light thought, knowing he was over the safe line; that gamble had played out perfectly. You'd have liked that, wouldn't you, Ryuzaki? More chain time? You perverted little freak…
Well, at any rate, that had shut off his reservoir once and for all. Daddy Yagami had come down hard on the pesky creep and effectively told him to back off sharpish.
(To be honest, Light had often wondered if his father suspected that he and L didn't just lie in bed side by side like perfectly good little boys, with the entire length of chain between them; given that they were both young men, chained together at the wrist for such a long amount of time, and given that Light was a charmer and L was just fucking weird, it didn't seem altogether ludicrous that they should be at it like rabbits before long.)
Maybe he knew, to be honest. Maybe that was why he was truly so insistent. Maybe he didn't want that vile detective pawing all over his son anymore.
"Fine, forget the party," Chief Yagami said finally with a sigh. "Ryuzaki is right, it is not very professional, and would be distracting." He placed a hand on Light's shoulder. "But we're going to go out for dinner tonight, with your mother and Sayu. We haven't all been together as a family for a while."
Light smiled warmly and nodded.
"Yeah, dad. That'll be nice."
He noticed L peek around the edge of his chair out of the corner of his eye, though did not catch eye-contact with him; he looked as though he wanted to say something, something to keep Light here, hold him as his prisoner…
Something dumb, like "I need Light-kun to stay here alone with me so he can sort paper clips"; 'alone' being the operative term, and the further, unspoken part being "…And so I can screw him against the photocopying machine the moment you all leave the room, paper clips be damned".
He said nothing, though. Only turned away and resumed typing, the handcuff still at his wrist jingling and clacking against the desk. The other empty end of it trailed forlornly on the floor beyond his chair; as though maybe he was still clinging to a feeble wisp of hope that Light might feel sorry for him and come and slip his hand back into it.
But I'm not the one being watched anymore, Ryuzaki. Light allowed his smirk to be only inverted, so that no-one could know of its existence but him. You're not keeping me close anymore – it's been reversed; only you don't know it yet.
That in mind, Light did not alter his working-day's routine – he still sat in his same seat, four feet to the left of L, still lined his highlighters up in the same combination of colors, marking with them using sharp, strong strokes across the page, still drank coffee, still stapled things for L when the detective thrust stacks of paper at him, and still smiled at L when their gazes met.
No, his performance was perfect in every way – it was L who was different.
L sat gloomily in his chair, hunched up, occasionally – absently – cramming sugar cubes into his mouth; the Death Note open in front of him on the desk, propped up on his keyboard.
Just staring at it, head a little to one side, black eyes wide and glazed; clearly very deep in thought.
The other difference was Rem; the strange white entity who floated to and fro like Casper the Antisocial Ghost. Sure, she answered when spoken to, but mostly she spent her time at the back of the room, her gaze flickering from Light to Misa (on the monitors) to L (or the lifespan floating dreamily above his dark head).
Light knew that there was something absurdly abnormal about L's lifespan, even though he could not see it himself; it was either way too long (in retrospect of the fact that Rem knew Light wanted the man dead) or scarily short.
He was more than willing to gamble upon the latter, and thus could understand and indulge in Rem's bewilderment. L had maybe only a few days left, yet Misa was still without either memories or Shinigami Eyes and was to be removed from the building later that day, and Light himself had no intention of trading half his life solely for the ability to see L's true name, Rem knew that.
So that was why she wondered, glancing between the three of them – she wondered just what Light Yagami was planning, and how L was to die when, despite his tiny lifespan, he was still safe behind the masks of L and Ryuzaki.
Rem could see his name, of course, floating in ruby above the jumble of numbers that counted down the days and hours and minutes and seconds he had left alive; every time the detective glanced at her and asked her a question, she made a point of reading his name.
Despite everything – his conniving, his lies, his trickery, his lust, even his love, were it true – Light Yagami had not managed to pry it from the older man.
And yet Rem just had to look at him and there it was, suspended above his head, like a ripe apple ready to be plucked from the boughs of a tree.
Incidentally, while Rem's respect for Light Yagami had grown a little since first meeting him, she (rather like Watari, all things considered) was not exactly a member of his fan club; and maybe it was just because she was female, but she was rather more judgmental of humans than Ryuk, who was only out and about for kicks and giggles.
Rem had concluded to herself that all humans were rather ugly and despicable creatures; and while she saw that Light Yagami was perhaps using his Death Note for more noble reasons than most presumably would (particularly those involved in Yotsuba), she still thought him a vile human being, lies coming too easily to his lips, and graced with a beauty that he only abused as a manipulation tool.
Misa loved him; it was clear that he did not love her.
And now, judging by what she saw last night, L loved him too; and though Light seemed slightly more conflicted in his motions and ministrations towards the detective (confused, as though perhaps he had loved him), it was clear that he did not love him either.
Light Yagami was like a meteorite – hot and glowing, creating a major impact which sent shock waves shuddering through those around him, attractive because he was so interesting and brilliant, but ultimately—
Destructive.
Or perhaps a poisoned apple himself – alluring to the eye, deadly to the bite…
And Rem could see it now – after so long of playing this baiting game with L, and so long of building up a rivalry and a friendship and a love affair, Light Yagami was ready to deal the death card.
He'd managed the impossible; he had gotten a grip on L, and now was about to use that grip to rip him to shreds.
Not that Rem pitied L – for indeed, if anyone was going to catch Misa and have her put to death as the Second Kira, it was he and he alone.
Perhaps pity was too human an emotion for a Shinigami to feel, for she did not pity L either when the working day came to an end, and everyone packed away, and Light Yagami left with his father without so much as a backwards glance at L – merely contributing to the dull, collective "See you tomorrow, Ryuzaki!" chorused by the entirety of the task force on their way out.
The door slammed, leaving only L and Rem alone in the investigation office; Rem was truthfully attached to Light, but he had hissed at her to make it look as though she was instead attached to the notebook, which was still with L.
It took the master detective a while to react to the fact that everyone – bar a moody female Shinigami – had walked out on him. He slowly turned his chair around, sucking on a sugar cube, to observe first the empty room, and then the empty end of the chain trailed like a coiled silver serpent across the carpet.
Rem watched him slowly lift his own handcuffed wrist and shake it a few times, the loose cuff clattering around his thin forearm.
And then, as though carrying out a ritual, he extracted the key from the pocket of his loose jeans and tenaciously inserted it into the lock of his cuff, using only his fingertips to twist it and let the cuff snap open and fall from his slender white wrist, hitting the carpet, where it bounced a few times before rolling to a halt near the wheels of his chair.
L put his thin hands onto the arms of his chair, hoisting himself out of it in a single neat motion; and then standing and arranging himself into his usual visage, and it was perhaps the first time that Rem had seen him stand up properly, unobstructed by a teacup or cake or stack of data.
He seemed to know she was looking at him, for he raised his head and met her gaze – snow-white face framed by wild, fine spikes of ebony hair, and eyes moody and intensely dark, coal-rimmed with equal exhaustion and determination.
Glassy, too. Probably because they were so dark, but they were mirror-like, those haunted orbs.
Yes, he knew she was looking at him; and made no effort whatsoever to preen at his hair or adjust his horrendous posture, simply stood and stared right back at her, expression blasé, half-lidded, slouching, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his hair wild and his shirt crumpled and his jeans slipping a little and his feet bare, toes curling against the carpet; and L did not know of half-life deals for eyes, of names and life-spans that became kites above a person's head—
But he stood there before Rem as though he did; as though he was aware there was a clock ticking his time away suspended over his head like a halo, crowned with his biggest secret.
The name that nobody knew; yet Rem could read as clear as day.
"I am leaving, Rem-san," he told her finally, his Japanese to her as polite as that which he spoke to the other humans. "What will you do?"
She didn't know if that was an invitation or merely a statement, but she shook her head.
"I will stay here. I would prefer to be alone."
He gave a nod and picked up the Death Note between his fingertips.
"I had hoped you would say that, Rem-san." He started out of the room. "I wish to be alone too."
Rem wasn't entirely sure she believed that, given that, for the very briefest of moments, when Light had walked out without even looking at him, L's fist had clenched, as though he felt that Light had thrust a sword through his heart.
But she watched him trail away, taking his name and his lifespan and the Death Note with him, and was certain that L had been far safer when he was alone.
It felt strange to be alone. And he thought it strange that it felt strange to him, given that he was used to being alone, and liked to be alone, and felt comfortable alone, and had chosen to be alone for almost the whole of his life.
Frankly, he'd never known what it was like to be lonely – until now.
Light Yagami had never known what it was like be lonely, either, L supposed – but Light was smart and handsome and popular and charismatic. People flocked around him like moths around a… well, a light…
And now that the chain had been removed, Light had simply swanned off back to his adoring family; his proud father and worshiping mother and awed little sister.
And done so without so much as a backwards glance at L.
The detective hated imprecise figures – and yet now found himself faced with such, torn in two by his feelings and his rationality.
As he lay alone in the dark on the bed that only this morning he had been sharing with Light, one hand on his stomach and the other behind his head, he felt very annoyed and rejected that Light had gone home with his father – the boy had even forfeited his turn to be on top.
Yet his rationality told him that it was perfectly understandable that Light had gone home after being away for so long, reasonable that he should want to spend time with his family, and, incidentally, that Light wasn't obliged to stay anymore, being free.
Maybe the relationship had been nothing; just a little something to ease the boy's frustrations while restrained. He was only still a teenager, after all.
Though such a conclusion made L feel that he had simply been used – and L didn't like to think that he had been used. Not by Light Yagami, not by anyone.
Yet could it have really been so meaningless to him, for him to just go off like that…? Did that mean it was over? Just something between them as long as the chain was there – forgotten about the moment they could move more than six feet apart?
He dwelled on that depressing train of thought for a while; then pulled himself together in two stages.
The first stage was to reason that just because Light had gone home on the night he had been freed, it didn't mean he didn't like L anymore; in fact, it probably would have looked suspicious to his father if he had refused to leave even after being freed.
The second stage was to blink at the ceiling and realize that he was doing exactly what he had always sworn to avoid. To become enslaved – to sit and fret and worry about whether or not someone still liked you when they had said this and done that, it was all silly weak behavior, stupid, stupid human behavior, and L didn't, under any circumstance, fall into the thrall of such behavior, it was for brainless people like Misa Amane and Matsuda…
L sat up, severely annoyed with himself for being so fucking stupid, and resolved to do some work. Now that Light and Misa had been freed, supposedly innocent, he was back to Square One. Higuchi was not the original Kira, that was almost certain, and that meant that the First and Second Kiras were still out there, yet to be caught.
And that meant that he had more to worry about than whether or not Light had skipped out on being slammed into the mattress on a nightly basis.
It wasn't just strange to be alone. It was unsettling.
He had gotten used to Light always being there, within a four or five feet orbit from him; on the floor of their living area with his laptop, gazing intently at his screen with those clear doe eyes, occasionally stifling a small yawn as it got later and later, and then earlier and earlier.
Incidentally, Light's laptop was still out in the living area. His clothes were all still in the closet. His toothbrush was still in the bathroom. He had literally upped and left that evening, taking nothing with him but his watch and his wallet and the clothes he was wearing.
He'd have to come back at some point, then.
But that was just it. L had gotten used to him – gotten used to the clacking of his keyboard and clicking of his mouse; gotten used to his tired little sighs and half-grumbled little complaints; to his jaded "Yes, Ryuzaki", "No, Ryuzaki", less-jaded "Don't do that, Ryuzaki!", "Stop it, Ryuzaki!", and thoroughly-pissed off "Get lost, Ryuzaki!" and "Shut up, Ryuzaki!".
He was used to him being there in the morning and being there in the evening, being in the bed and the kitchen and anywhere else they happened to go; used to him always being within a six-foot radius of him.
And now that he wasn't, L felt like a deep gravitational balance had been dislodged and he was now teetering precariously without Light there to keep him steady. He found himself looking over his shoulder every time he heard a noise, just to see what it was that Light-kun was doing, and then seeing nothing and realizing that he wasn't there.
And he found his absence very unsettling indeed; and though he scorned himself for having grown dependent on Light and his presence, it didn't change that fact that he wasn't there, and that L consequently felt rather lonely. Because even though they often bickered over silly things, like L rustling a marshmallow packet and Light telling him to stop it and L replying that he was hungry and Light saying that he should stop eating so much junk and L daintily offering him one between finger and thumb and Light telling him where to stick it—
They were still comfortable in each other's presence. Light wasn't always terribly trusting of L – which the detective felt was hypocritical, since he wasn't the one who was a Kira suspect; but then again, could see maybe why it was deserved – but they were comfortable nonetheless, maybe due to the equal intelligence or equal sense of justice or all the sex.
It didn't matter. On the bedroom floor with his laptop and a cup of coffee and a slice of strawberry gateaux, he couldn't concentrate. All the data was in front of him and he was reading it, but it might as well have been McDonalds' breakfast menu for all the sense it made.
Damn the brat and his distracting charm. Had he truly become reliant on Light's presence to enable him to function correctly? He didn't even want the rest of the cake – maybe he'd grown used to Light tutting and rolling his chocolate eyes at how much sugar-laden trash he ate, particularly at this time of night.
"God, it's like you don't even taste it sometimes," the boy would snap, looking away.
L blinked. That had sounded real, that recollection of Light's pissed tone and words; such that he found himself looking over his shoulder once more, just to check.
No Light.
Taken with a sudden whim, L got up, taking his phone from his pocket and flopping on the bed. He flipped it open, holding it delicately between two fingers and using the forefinger of his free hand to scroll down his contacts list in search of Light's number. He located it and was about to push the 'Call' button—
And stopped himself, wide-eyed.
What the fuck was he doing, calling Light at 2:30am…? What the hell was he, some lovesick little schoolgirl? What was he going to say? "Oh, hi, Light-kun, it's know it's a stupid time of night, but I really miss you and wanted to hear the sound of your voice,"…?
He snapped the phone shut again and angrily threw it onto the floor. Next he'd be wearing flouncy frothy Lolita skirts and arranging his hair in pigtails – it certainly seemed as though he was fast turning into Amane-san, at any rate…
He did miss Light, though. He couldn't deny it. He wanted to, but he couldn't. Maybe he was just finally going crazy in the head to match all his little oddities – for he, cool and controlled master detective L, to fall so deeply under someone's spell was utterly ridiculous. He'd spent half his life maintaining that all this nonsense was utterly beneath him.
Of course, that was before he'd discovered the joy of actually having someone beneath him.
Of having Light Yagami beneath him. Light, moth-flame-boy; brilliant as he was beautiful, and so enchanting, oh, ever so.
Dangerous, being a suspect; dangerous, but alluring, like the thrilling promise of the enchanted needle or poison apple.
Snow White had bitten into that apple's flesh herself; Aurora's fingertip had descended onto the spindle of her own volition – entranced as she was, Maleficent had not seized her wrist and forced the needle beneath her skin, nor indeed had the Wicked Queen shoved the apple down Snow White's throat.
They had held out Death, but either princess could have turned away from it, had she chosen to. It was truth indeed – clear and pure as polished mirror glass – that they had sought their own destruction.
L could turn away now – leave the spindle or apple be. It was not written in prophecy that he should follow that green light – that he should reach for and follow Light – to his own doom.
It was his choice and his alone if he allowed Light to be the death of him.
He didn't notice Rem.
She'd passed through, not intending to stay long – just long enough to glance at his lifespan and note how many days he had left. Just long enough to glance over his shoulder at his laptop screen, see what he was working on, see if it was connected in any way to Misa.
Rem had no idea what Light Yagami was planning, but she had no trust for the boy at all. She still took it upon herself, therefore, to monitor Misa's safety from the detective who wasn't so willing to let go of his suspicion.
She stopped up in puzzlement, however, when she slipped through the wall of the dark bedroom. She found the detective on the bed, and was struck by the fact that he seemed to be sitting properly, not perched in that ridiculous position she'd observed today in the investigation office. Sitting properly, with his knees bent and his bare feet flat on the sheets; almost doubled over, his head dipped and his shoulders heaving, and she could hear his heavy breathing, threaded through with small moans and shot with gasps; and though she was confused, she didn't dare go any nearer to him, lest he see her.
She was surprised he hadn't noticed her already – he seemed to have an incredibly sharp eye and knife-like senses, but then again, he seemed rather preoccupied with… whatever it was that he was doing…
Though as she skulked in the darkness, listening to him, wondering what it was that he could be doing, since she'd never seen a human behave in this way before, and incidentally, it seemed rather strange for this particular human to be doing… whatever, since he seemed utterly devoid of feelings; his panting got heavier, and she heard him utter… something… yes, he was gasping something, something broken and breathless, another language…?
English – it sounded like English…
And then he said "Light".
No honorary; no indication, really, as to whether he was referring to Light Yagami or merely the English word "light".
But he said Light.
And then, even as she still remained there, floating and suspended like a ghost, he straightened up, sat up almost straight, and she heard something in his back pop, due to his preferred dreadful posture, and then he lay back on the mattress, head on the pillow, but still with his knees bent and feet on the bedclothes, his toenails scraping at the fabric and the arch of his instep flexing…
She could see quite clearly what he was doing now. His jeans were unzipped and his boxers were unbuttoned and though masturbation wasn't something Shinigamis indulged in, given the way their bodies had adapted and developed, and though she'd never seen a human do this before—
Oh, she knew what he was doing.
And that he was doing it with Light Yagami's name on his lips.
What kind of human was this man, to lock Light Yagami up, to openly threaten that he still suspected that there was a chance that he might be Kira; and then slope off alone and indulge in self-gratification while thinking about him? Of course, by this point, Rem knew that detective and suspect had something of a history – she'd seen the evidence herself last night, and heard it after leaving.
She left again tonight, neglecting to even observe the detective's shortening lifespan.
Humans did so disgust her.
He didn't know what had driven him to it. It was something else that he'd always scorned so; looked down upon.
He'd told Light as much, hadn't he? And despite his later neglect of most of his pre-Love-Affair-with-Light-kun notions, this was one he'd never broken.
Not that he'd needed to, exactly.
But now, Light-less; driven mad, apparently, after being without him for only a few hours…
He'd glared at the discarded phone for a while; before rolling over onto his back and gazing up at the ceiling and trying to think about the case; thinking about Higuchi and the Death Note and how Light apparently wasn't Kira, and that was just great except L wasn't entirely convinced and wanted to test the Death Note, except he knew Chief Yagami would never allow it; and besides, what if they did test it, and… and it turned out that the thirteen-day rule was fake, and then… what if it all came out as "Light Yagami is Kira", and… well, that would mean L had been right, and that he'd caught Kira, but that would mean Light would be taken away, put to death, and L was suffering enough that Light had simply gone home, for godsakes…
And then he thought that he was being stupid and selfish and that if Light was Kira, it was his duty, as L – top detective in the world – to hand him over and see that justice was served.
And then he started to simply think about Light.
Thoughts which his body seemed very agreeable about, incidentally.
He'd ignored it for a while, scowling at the ceiling; since he was an expert at ignoring it.
Or had been, at any rate – before he'd known what he was missing. Before Light had shown him what he was missing – not exactly lovingly, but it had gotten the point across…
Trouble was, he'd never fueled it before. Pre-Love-Affair-with-Light-kun, he'd never really been tempted by anything – such a reaction was just a natural thing, maybe just a frustrated build-up because he wasn't ever tempted by anything. And since he wasn't thinking about "tempting" things, it eventually just went away on its own. Even when he'd begun to develop what he thought might be sexual feelings for Light, he still hadn't channeled them into anything productive when this problem arose.
But now… Well, this was the first night in close to two-and-a-half months that he hadn't had other things to occupy himself with, be it Light's hand or mouth or ass; and incidentally, recalling such things only made the problem a lot worse, so much that it was decidedly uncomfortable, and he almost couldn't help his hand sliding down over his stomach, fingers spread, for his palm to press against the bulge in his jeans. And when even that stole his breath, he knew he could either haul himself up and go stand under an icy shower for twenty minutes, which didn't sound terribly appealing, or he could be a hypocrite and jerk himself off.
(And that was the cheerleading squad calling out for an "H!" and a "Y!" and a "P!" as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans… Cause if you can't beat 'em, beat yourself—)
He'd sat up as he started to touch himself; sat up properly, the way Light was always bitching at him to… the way Light was… and, oh, Light—
He'd gotten lost very easily in it; fallen beneath the incredible sensation of it and quite happily drowned there, poisoned, perhaps; blind and deaf and entranced, fingers outstretched, led on by blind guidance in the form of green light—
Of Light—
And he'd spoken a mantra; dull, breathless words, meaningless English, his Japanese lost and forgotten at this moment, but even he couldn't comprehend what he was saying, there was no correlation, nothing forming a sentence, only one word made any sense at all:
Light.
He hadn't seen Rem enter.
He hadn't seen Rem leave.
And when he'd finally spilled himself over his hand and his heaving stomach, he hadn't screamed and cried out or groaned, he'd only said one thing, breathless and shaking:
Light.
He'd fallen asleep, apparently; because he woke up sprawled on his stomach, clutching the pillow. The room was still dark and he still felt rather drained from his little Happy Half Hour earlier, so he couldn't have been asleep for very long.
He'd cleaned himself up and was fully dressed again, and leaned over the side of the bed to fish for his phone to see the time. He hooked it between his finger and thumb and lifted it up in front of his face to read the display.
3:47am.
He buried his face in the pillow again for a while, sighing deeply, lifting his feet from the mattress and rubbing them together in midair restlessly.
The fact that Light wasn't here was driving him mad – but the fact that it was driving him mad was driving him even madder.
Madder…? Was that even a word?
He said it in English and frowned, noting that it didn't sound right. Mad, maddening, madness… Those were all words, but madder?
It proved to be an interesting distraction for all of two-and-a-half seconds; at which L reached up and gripped at handfuls of his fine ebony hair as though he felt that tearing it out would make him feel better.
He settled for messing it up even more than the disarray it usually sat in; then got up, retrieved his cell phone from the pillow and padded softly across the room to the desk.
It was set against the wall between the window and the closet, used as more of a shelf than a work surface. Some of Light's clutter was still scattered on it, tossed back there unceremoniously after being brushed to the floor three nights ago when L had fucked the boy against the surface of it.
Light had protested at first – because there was a mirror above the desk, and Light seemed to have this thing with mirrors – which L didn't understand, because to call Light Yagami shy was like saying "Misa Amane is naturally blonde".
A big fucking lie (though still not quite as ludicrous as seriously suggesting that Matsuda was the First Kira).
And perhaps it had produced a rather odd effect; there'd been a mirror image of them then, going at it with enough power to make the desk shake. Another Light being screwed brainless by another L.
L clambered up onto the desk now and perched there, back in his usual position, and observed his reflection; so pale that even in the dark he could see himself, though the display from his phone contributed to the chalky glow. Mussing up his hair hadn't done his appearance any favors, incidentally – he was beginning to look unnervingly like Edward Scissorhands…
Or, well…
Same old L; hair black as ebony and skin white as snow, eyes dark as coal and still so thin despite his age and the amount he ate—
But not the same.
He knew it now. He'd fallen into the very trap that he had told Light he would never be ensnared by, and only now, Light torn away from him, could he acknowledge the severe damage.
Perhaps he truly had been poisoned after all.
He'd fallen in love with Light; and he had stopped looking for Kira. He hadn't noticed at the time, trekking down to the investigation office every morning with the boy after a night's worth of extremely unprofessional naughtiness between them, and sitting at their respective computers and dragging up all the clues and data and information, but—
It was true. His mind had wandered from the task at hand, valuable investigation time being devoured by hours in Light's arms (and in his pants, admittedly), and though they had seemed like hours well spent at the time, what had he left to show for them? He had no suspects at all, no leads, nothing.
He still looked the same – but inside, felt as though he barely recognized himself anymore. The reason L got results was because he was able to distance himself from human thinking – and now he was all entangled with stupid emotions of his own, cut up and open by Light Yagami, the only person he'd ever loved and…
…been loved by…
He wasn't even sure if he could believe that anymore; and then was sickened by himself, because the thought that Light hadn't ever loved him actually upset him…
Watari had tried to warn him of this, hadn't he? That morning, almost a month ago… Watari had called him on the phone, and tried to warn him of this, obviously Watari had been far quicker to notice the changes in the man he had brought up.
And L hadn't listened to him. L had ignored him. L had been very rude to him about it, actually.
Why?
Because he was in love with Light. Because he was in fucking love with a teenage boy he had suspected – and still suspected – of being Kira, and Watari had warned him about this, and he hadn't listened because he hadn't wanted to listen because he loved the little bastard.
Barely realizing he was doing it, and still gazing motionlessly at his snow-white-ebony-black reflection, L flipped open his phone and speed-dialed Watari.
"Ryuzaki?" Watari asked in English after only two rings.
L waited a long time before softly replying;
"…Yeah."
"What's the matter? Do you want me to bring you something?"
"Hm? Oh, no, thankyou, Watari."
"Then what's wrong?"
"I…" L trailed off again, unable to get his voice into gear. "…Nothing…"
"Nothing?"
"Yeah. It's nothing. I'm sorry. Goodnight."
L snapped his phone shut again, sighing deeply; before getting down off the desk and sitting in the chair.
Sitting properly. Deductive reasoning could get fucked, for all L cared at the moment…
He rested his head on the desk, glancing at his phone as it lit up; the display told him, before the Mozart ringtone began to go off, that Watari was calling him back, obviously concerned.
L turned it off and tossed it to the floor.
Light. What was it, really? Nothing but electromagnetic radiation of visible wavelength contributing to the sense of sight, and composed merely of photons.
It was substance; but it was unfathomable, uncatchable, untouchable.
Light was nothing.
And nothing was the matter.
The following day went by much the same; Light flounced in by his father's side instead of L's, dressed in a tan-colored cable-knit jumper and jeans, his brown eyes bright from an apparent good night's sleep. Probably the first full eight hours he'd had for about four months…
He didn't ignore L – he even brought him a cup of coffee at one point; and asked him for the date, muttering "Oh, of course," to L's dull reply of "It is the thirtieth of October, Light-kun," – but neither did he make any special effort in communicating with him. There were no secret glances that promised to stay over that night, no naughty little grins, no accidentally-on-purpose touches; in fact, by lunchtime, L was beginning to think that he'd gone completely mad and imagined his relationship with Light this past month-and-a-half.
At 1:20pm, Light got up and said he was going to use the bathroom; at which L, more out of sheer habit than anything else, automatically hopped from his chair as well and started to follow him.
Light himself either didn't notice or didn't mind, since he didn't offer any kind of protest.
Chief Yagami, however, grabbed L's skinny elbow as he passed him.
"Why are you following him, Ryuzaki?" He asked quietly. "He's been cleared. You promised that the surveillance of him was over."
L didn't really know why he was following Light – he supposed it was just bred into him by now, given the chain fiasco, to follow the boy, and in turn expect to be followed; and maybe there was a little desperation there too, hoping that if he and Light were alone again, the boy would offer some – any – indication that L hadn't gone crazy and been dancing around in Imaginary Relationship Town of late; and anyway, even if Soichiro Yagami had once been Deputy Director of the NPA, L was the best detective in the entire fucking world, so just who the hell did this stiff think he was grabbing?
"I need to speak with Light-kun," he replied coolly, pulling himself loose.
"Surely anything so important should be discussed in front of the entire team," Chief Yagami said, his voice suddenly equally iced-over.
Reenacting some Romeo and Juliet-inspired scene with Light in the middle of the investigation office didn't seem like a particularly stellar idea, was L's opinion; though, to be perfectly fair, Soichiro Yagami was a rather excellent detective himself, and was most likely acting oblivious to make L back off. Of course, he didn't dare openly tell L to keep his mitts off his son, since a.) He had no actual proof that L had ever had his mitts on his son; and b.) Again with the whole "L-was-the-best-detective-in-the-entire-fucking-world" thing.
So it seemed that this was his subtle way of saying "No. Freaking. Way.".
L didn't often find himself defeated; but he had no comeback for Chief Yagami, and nodded and muttered "Yes, you are correct, Yagami-san," and ambled off back to the computer, pretending to have gotten a text message halfway there and pulling his phone from his pocket so that he hopefully didn't look as lonely and rejected as he felt.
So preoccupied, in fact, that he didn't notice that Rem had left the room with Light.
Nor indeed that she had returned with him.
Light went home again that night and L sulked rather openly.
It should have been his turn tonight; but no, Light had gone swanning off yet again, joking about with Matsuda on the way out.
L made a mental note to kick Matsuda the following morning.
He was really too pissed off to trail himself upstairs and try to sleep; and so decided to just say in the investigation office with the mainframe computer and the Death Note and the fridge and try to make some headway on the case.
Rem skulked to and fro, but aside from politely asking her if she would like any sort of refreshment (at which she blinked and replied that she wouldn't, though was as grateful as a Shinigami could be that he had offered), he largely ignored her.
Though, on that note – as the night wore on – she watched him devour two tubs of chocolate ice cream, straight from the carton, and realized that there was a reason that Misa, as a model, didn't like this guy.
By the third night, L had given up hope; he had apparently been evicted from Imaginary Relationship Town without so much as an expired tenancy warning.
They hadn't even invited him to the Halloween party.
Half an hour after everyone had left, Watari called; L let it ring for quite a while before answering it in quiet English.
"Yes, Watari?"
"Are you alright, Ryuzaki?"
"Hm? Yes, I think so."
"Are you…?" Watari trailed off, gave a small cough and tried again. "Do you want me to come up? We could… go somewhere, if you wanted."
L smiled at the offer.
"No, thankyou, Watari, though it's nice of you to ask. I'll be alright."
"Alright, if you're sure…"
"I am." L really had nothing else to say to him. "I, uh… I'll talk to you later, then, Watari."
"Yes." Watari paused again, before saying, quieter still; "…Happy birthday, L."
"Thankyou, Watari."
The detective was aware of Rem watching him as he closed the cellphone; and turned to face her on doing so.
"No doubt you heard that," he said emotionlessly.
"Yes," she said.
He offered her a bitter little smile.
"I apologize, Rem-san," he went on. "I would offer you some of my birthday cake, but I don't have one."
She gave a silent nod.
L gave a sigh and got out of his chair, crossing the floor – he had barely left the office in 36 hours, and was a little depressed, at any rate.
"Did you expect one?" Rem suddenly asked him as he opened the door.
He paused, looking back at her; surprise evident in the black mirror-mirror eyes.
"No," he confessed eventually. "I suppose not."
He left, and though he had taken the notebook with him once again, she did not follow him; though she wondered if he'd be more enthusiastic about his birthday if he knew exactly how little time he had left – if he knew that this was his last birthday ever.
L sank onto the bed in the dark, resting his cheek on the cool cover of the Death Note; his ebony hair seeming to merge into it.
Well… it was true. It wasn't like he really had expected a birthday cake or a present or whatever. None of the team knew it was his birthday on Halloween – Matsuda probably would have brought him something, he reasoned, had he known.
And Watari used to make an effort – buying a cake and putting candles on it, getting him a small gift, but when L had turned sixteen he had said that he didn't want to celebrate his birthday anymore after that.
When Watari had inquired why of the scrawny dark-haired teenager – looking much then same then as he did now, all things considered; but for the torn jeans and black T-shirt – L had replied that he didn't feel that his birthday was a day worth celebrating.
And when Watari had begun to mildly protest, saying that of course it was worth celebrating, L had interrupted and reeled off the last decade's Halloween crime figures.
"Masks, Watari," he had said. "On Halloween, there are more recorded murders, rapes, burglaries and car thefts than on any other night of the year. It's because people go around in costumes – there's no way of identifying them. Many of them get away with their crimes. Even the most cowardly can kill from behind an invented persona."
Watari had only nodded, having no argument; and noting that the following morning, on the front page of the newspaper, it was reported that two girls out trick-or-treating had been raped and strangled, their bodies found in an alleyway, somewhere in South London only the previous night.
"This," the teenaged L had said, lifting the paper in his peculiar manner, "is nothing to celebrate."
He still felt that way. He really didn't like Halloween – and often wondered if had been some sick joke of his parents', for him to have come into the world on that day.
And yet… he still felt a little depressed that his birthday had been utterly ignored. Not that he could blame the investigation team, since they didn't know.
But Light knew.
And though L himself didn't really care about his birthday, this was the first year that he had hoped that maybe someone else (other than Watari) would.
Perhaps Light had simply forgotten. It had been several weeks ago, when L had mentioned his birth date, and now that Mr Popular Top-Score Tokyo University Student had his own life back, he probably had Halloween parties left, right and center to attend.
L thought he might read something; but ended up simply sliding the Death Note out from beneath his head and staring at it long and hard in the dark. He was grimly fascinated by it – a simple notebook, yet quite possibly the worst murder weapon in the history of mankind.
Rem was very frustrating. She would politely answer his questions, but the information she gave was always spare and lacking anything that was truly helpful. She didn't seem to dislike him particularly, but L could tell that she wasn't altogether especially interested in helping him solve the case. She kept talking about the 'owner' of the notebook, though would never elaborate further.
L wondered who the owner of the notebook was at this moment. It obviously no longer belonged to Higuchi, since he was dead – so did that mean that the ownership had been passed onto someone else? Who, then? Though L was the one who had the Death Note at the moment, and had been clinging to it for almost the entire time since it had come their way, he had concluded that the owner could not be him, since Rem wouldn't part with much of the information that he asked her for.
Maybe it didn't have an owner at the moment? Maybe Rem had to choose who she would give it to next?
Or perhaps… the new owner was the next to use the notebook to kill someone?
And no-one had used it since Higuchi's death.
L opened the notebook to the last used page, running his fingertips over the last name written in Higuchi's hand. He was aching to test it, so that he could know which of the rules written into the front and back inside covers were lies and which were truth. After all, they'd been written by death gods, and that meant that it was distinctly possible that they weren't all real.
Still… what could he do? It was unethical to toy with human lives just to test the Death Note out. If the thirteen-day rule was for real, he'd be sentencing someone to murdering every thirteen days for the rest of their life. It simply wasn't to be done.
The detective reached across to the bedside table and picked up a pen, poising it delicately above the open notebook. Truthfully, there was absolutely nothing right now stopping him from quietly testing it himself. Nobody was going to grab his wrist and pull the pen from his fingers, or take the Death Note from him.
Perhaps if he used it, the notebook would become his, and Rem would be forced to tell him whatever he desired to know.
But… he had no-one he could kill.
A criminal, his mind supplied; though he was quick to flatten and obliterate that dangerous little suggestion. After all, wasn't that Kira's mindset exactly…?
Besides… He gave a sigh and dropped the pen, lying down on the sheets once more. He was just being stupid, grasping desperately at the frayed threads of ideas for lack of anything better. Say he used the notebook, killed someone, the thirteen-day rule was real, he died thirteen days from now…
Well, it would make Light and Misa innocent; but that would mean that the real First and Second Kiras would still be out there, and that L himself would be rather too dead to do anything about it.
It was a ridiculously foolish and dangerous gamble, and one not worth taking; and that aside, he had no-one to kill anyway.
And then, as he sulked in silence, there was a knock on the bedroom door.
L blinked and lifted his head, puzzled. Watari, perhaps? Had he come up anyway, with tea or cake or something? He slithered off the bed and crossed the floor, not even annoyed that the elderly man had defied him, since he was feeling so lonely.
He mussed his ebony hair tiredly as he opened the door; blinking in surprise and knocked speechless when he found not Watari standing there, but Light Yagami.
Light, in jeans, a black low-necked, long-sleeved top and a grey zipped hooded jacket; clutching a convenience store bag, his auburn hair a little windswept, and smiling.
"Light-kun," L said finally, his hand dropping from his hair to his side.
"Yeah," Light replied. He held up the bag. "It's your birthday, right?"
L only nodded, still just standing there holding the door open; and eventually Light lowered the bag again, his smile faltering a little.
"Um, so… Can I come in?"
L blinked his wide black eyes; and then stood back and wordlessly to let Light enter, at which the boy shot him a puzzled look.
"Hey, why is it so dark in here?" Light asked as the door swung shut again.
Because there's no Light…
The teenager crossed to the bedside and flicked on the lamp, illuminating half of the room.
"That's better," he said, dropping the bag onto the bedclothes and unzipping his jacket; pausing halfway through shrugging out of it to glance at L, who was still over by the door. "Are you just going to stand there, Ryuzaki?"
L moved further into the room at Light's words, twisting his thin fingers together awkwardly; he was pleased to see the teen, but since he'd never really ever felt this much joy from someone's arrival in his presence, he wasn't quite sure how he should react to it.
Besides, he'd never had to deal with Light in this way before – with him coming in from outside, as though they'd arranged a date or something. They'd always been chained together, constantly in each other's company, and Light hadn't been here five minutes ago and now he was, and L felt dreadfully undermined in power right now and didn't know what to do with himself—
"Won't your father be angry that you came here?" The detective asked finally, unable to think of anything else to say.
Light gave a small snort.
"He doesn't know. I told him I was going out to a Halloween party."
"Don't you have a Halloween party to attend?" L pressed.
"Six," Light replied airily. He glanced at L in puzzlement. "Why? Do you want me to leave?"
L's eyes widened a little.
"No," he said quickly. "I just thought… well, you've finally been freed… I thought perhaps you might prefer to spend time with your friends tonight."
Light arched an eyebrow.
"You're kidding, right? I don't have any friends, Ryuzaki. You know that."
"You are very popular, Light-kun. At the university, I mean."
"It's not the same as being friends with someone."
"What about Amane-san?"
"Misa?" Light thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Some company hired some of the models at Misa's agency to dress up in costumes for their party tonight. Some fairytale theme or something."
"What is Misa-san's costume?"
Light paused for a moment, as though debating lying, before finally admitting:
"…Snow White."
"Doesn't Snow White have black hair, Light-kun?"
"Yeah." Light glanced at L again. "She does." Then he gave a shrug. "I dunno, Misa was whining about some other girl getting to be Sleeping Beauty even though Misa's blonde and this other girl isn't… I kind of stopped listening."
"Oh."
Light frowned at L.
"You okay? You're acting kind of… odd."
L nodded vaguely.
"Yes, I'm alright, Light-kun. I'm just surprised to see you…"
Light gave tiny laugh.
"Did you think I'd forgotten your birthday, Ryuzaki?"
L blinked at him; before looking away and confessing:
"Yes."
Light offered him a small smile.
"Well, I didn't." He pointed to the bag. "I even brought you stuff."
L finally came over to Light; and everything was so painfully different. With Light chained to his wrist as his suspect, he had felt in control, felt confident that he could paw Light around easily – but now that Light had the power to leave, come and go as he pleased… it seemed different.
As though Light was the one with the power now.
(Since Light had screamed, everything seemed… different…)
"I brought you a cake," Light said, about to turn away to fish it from the bag; but didn't get that far, as L suddenly threw his arms around Light's neck and embraced him tightly.
Light was startled, since he'd never seen L behave this way before; he'd never been so clingy or needy or… desperate…
Or human.
"Who are you and what have you done with Ryuzaki?" Light joked feebly, patting L on the back.
"Don't, Light-kun." L squeezed him tighter still. "I'm glad… you came. I thought you didn't care anymore. I thought… it was all… over."
Or perhaps the more appropriate question then was "Who are you and what have you done with L?"…
Light gave a small laugh.
"Okay, first of all, I think being deprived of sex for two days has driven you crazy," he said. "I mean, look at you, acting all melodramatic… This totally isn't like you, you know."
"I missed you, Light-kun," L replied, something fiercely defiant in his voice.
"No." Light finally pried L off and pushed him back a little so that they were face to face. "You thought I didn't want you anymore. You thought I'd ditched you. Well? Isn't that right?"
L was silent for a while before simply nodding; reduced almost to a child before Light's spot-on accusations.
Light gave a small sigh, brushing a few thorns of L's ebony hair from his eyes.
"Ryuzaki," he said patiently, "you're not stupid. You know why I've had to brush you off since you let me go. My dad… I mean, I don't know if he knows that we… well, you know… He hasn't said anything, exactly, but… He keeps saying my name, like he wants to ask me something, but when I answer him, he just sighs and says "It doesn't matter". And I hadn't seen my mother or Sayu in ages. I couldn't hang around here. You know that."
L gave an offish shrug.
"Yes, I do, but… I can't help it. Isn't it only natural that I would want you to myself?"
Light blinked at him.
"You've had me to yourself for, what… four months?"
"That doesn't satisfy me."
"That's too bad," Light replied testily. "I'm not a thing. You can't just lock me away like a prisoner."
"I don't want to keep you as a prisoner," L argued, suddenly sounding desperate; as though he could sense the annoyance in Light's tone and was terrified that he would leave now that he had the means to. "I… I just want you to stay."
"Ryuzaki…" Light kneaded his forehead with his fingertips. "This isn't a game, okay? Maybe we were just playing around while we were chained together, but this isn't some silly fairytale. I can't just stay here and live happily ever after with you."
L gazed at him for a moment or two.
"You could if I put the handcuffs back on," he said quietly.
"On what grounds?" Light snapped, hackles immediately raised.
"On the grounds that neither you nor Amane are entirely free from suspicion. The notebook hasn't been tested—"
"Ryuzaki, shut up," Light interrupted angrily, grabbing hold of the detective's shoulders, hard. "I came here because I didn't want to you to be alone on your birthday; not so you could accuse me of being Kira even though it's been proven that I'm not."
L was quiet for a while, before simply asking:
"Will you stay tonight?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
"Yes, then."
"Okay." L pulled right away from Light and went to the bed, stepping onto it and then sinking into his preferring sitting position; crossing his arms over his chest and clutching at his own shoulders with his white, spider-like hands, all the while watching Light expectantly, dark eyes aglow with something mesmerizing and unreadable.
Light sat on the sheets himself, going into the bag once again and pulling out the cardboard box with the cake in it. He lifted the lid off and held it out to show it to L.
"Here," he said. "I know a cake isn't much of a novelty for you, but… I thought you might like one. It's not strawberry, but…"
"That's alright, Light-kun," L said, smiling at first the cake and then the teenager. "I like chocolate cake too. Thankyou very much."
He leaned across towards Light, as though for a kiss; though the boy recoiled from him with a sudden naughty grin, waving a finger chidingly.
"Nuh uh," he said impishly. "None of that until you blow out the candles."
L blinked at him, glancing at the cake in puzzlement.
"Which candles, Light-kun?" He asked, genuinely perplexed.
"It's okay, I brought some." Light went back into the bag and pulled out two new birthday candles. "I could only find two. I don't think we have twenty-five candles at home…"
He sank the thin wax sticks deep into the rich chocolate icing, then brought out a lighter and swiftly set them flickering. He and L sat and watched the twin flames dance and manipulate leaping shadows across the room for a moment or two in silence.
"Well?" Light asked finally, sounding cross. "I'm not singing, you know."
L looked up, even smirking a little.
"No, I suppose that would be asking a bit much from you, Light-kun; and after you went to all this trouble…"
Light gave a small snort.
"Okay, well… make a wish…"
"Very well." L paused over the cake for a moment, his head tilted to one side. "I wish that—"
"No!" Light interrupted. "Ryuzaki… If you say it out loud, it won't come true!"
"Ah, that is a theory that I wish to test, Light-kun."
Light rolled his brown eyes.
"Fine…"
"I wish," L started again, his gazed fixated on Light and Light alone; the fire of the candles dancing in his dark mirror eyes, "that Light-kun would kiss me."
He neatly blew the candles out and leaned across again, his expression very serious.
"A successful experiment?"
Light's own expression was thoroughly deadpan when he shot back;
"You have a one-track mind, you know that?"
He granted L's wish (like the Fairy Godmother unto poor little Cinderella, forgotten by all) with a soft and chaste, but loving, kiss; though smirked on pulling back.
"I'm surprised," he said. "I thought you would have wished for something a little more…"
"…Perverted?" L offered flatly.
"I was going to say 'adventurous'," Light answered, "but yeah; 'perverted' works fine too…"
"Do you think I wasted my wish?"
"I'd probably have kissed you anyway, so… yeah." Light stuck out his tongue. "Too bad." He reached back into the bag a third time and pulled out a table knife and some napkins. "I have a present for you too, but would you like some cake first?"
L smiled, enjoying this game.
"Okay." He watched Light sink the knife into the cake, carving out something that could only be categorized as a wedge, rather than the dainty slices Watari was so good at cutting. "You're spoiling me, Light-kun."
"Well…" Light winched the slice free with a napkin and handed it to the detective. "…It's your birthday."
"Mm." L licked at the crests of chocolate icing decorating the top of his slice of cake. "I don't usually celebrate."
"I kind of figured that." Light looked up at him. "What's the matter? Too spooky for you?"
"Something like that." And when Light blinked at him, the detective went on; "A vast figure of people worldwide are murdered, raped and robbed on Halloween, and the perpetrators are often never caught, because they wear Halloween costumes, making them unidentifiable."
"Murderers hiding behind masks," Light said softly. "Kind of like Kira."
"Yes." L tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of chocolate cake. "Exactly like Kira, Light-kun."
His gaze moved to the cake again, staring at it absently.
"What?" Light asked, puzzled.
"Will you cut another slice, Light-kun?"
Light blinked.
"Why? You haven't finished that one."
"I know." L took another bite of his own slice. "It's not for me."
Frowning, Light did as requested; his frown deepening further still when L wrapped the piece in a napkin and got off the bed.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be back in a moment." L paused at the door, looking back at the brunette. "You… won't leave?"
"I promise," Light replied, still looking greatly perplexed. "Ill be right here."
L nodded and left the room; and surely he must be slipping in his razor-sharp skill, for he left Light unattended with the Death Note open on the bed, pen just beyond it – and furthermore, thought nothing of it.
He found Rem loitering in the darkened investigation office and approached her, his bare feet noiseless on the linoleum.
"Rem-san?"
She looked up at him, her eyes immediately darting – as they always seemed to – to the spot just above his head. Ignoring her odd behavior, L put the cake down on the coffee table.
"I have a birthday cake now," he said dully. "And I said I would offer you some if I did."
Rem's yellow eyes slid down from where she was apparently admiring an invisible tiara or something, meeting with L's ebony ones.
"Light Yagami," she said after a long while, "brought it for you."
"Yes."
"You are strange," Rem went on. "You accuse Light Yagami of being Kira, yet trust him enough to eat cake that he has brought for you. If you believe that he is capable of being a murderer, don't you think that he may have poisoned it?"
L blinked; it actually hadn't occurred to him, and come to think of it, Light had 'poisoned' him before, hadn't he?
"I trust," he said finally, "that even if Light-kun was Kira, he would not kill me in such a base and unsophisticated manner – and one that is so easily traceable back to himself as the culprit."
"Yet you do not trust that he is most definitely not Kira."
"I have no choice. I cannot determine one hundred per cent whether he is innocent, Rem-san."
"You are very hypocritical." She said it with terrible conviction, and L took that as his cue to leave and return upstairs.
"Enjoy the cake, Rem-san," he said flatly, turning away and beginning to shuffle off, hands in his pockets.
"Were it not for the fact that I know my eyes do not lie to me," Rem said out of nowhere as the detective reached the door, "I would question whether or not you are truly human."
He looked sharply back at her.
"Eyes? He repeated, his voice stabbing through the dark like a knife. "And you're a Shinigami…"
"I cannot tell you what you wish to know," Rem replied, intercepting his thoughts. "The notebook is not yours."
"How do I make it mine?"
"I cannot tell you that either." And then, seeing him scowl, she went on; "There are laws that even Shinigami must abide by."
"I see." L gave a nod and left, not caring whether she ate the cake or not.
"Ryuzaki," Light said, when L entered the bedroom again, glancing at the floor as he did so; the detective looked up on hearing his pseudonym.
Light was standing in the middle of the bedroom floor, the Death Note in one hand and the pen in the other.
"What were you doing?" He asked quietly.
L blinked at him, floored for a moment or two.
"Nothing, Light-kun."
"Nothing," Light repeated icily, "with a killer notebook and a pen."
"I wasn't actually going to write anything in it. I was merely hypothesizing."
"About what?" Light snapped. "Testing it?"
L shrugged his slender shoulders.
"Well, I suppose it is pointless to lie. Yes, I do want to test it, Light-kun."
"For what?" Light blazed, throwing the Death Note to the floor. "So you can chase your suspicions of Misa and I even further? Why aren't you satisfied? Do you want me to be Kira, Ryuzaki?"
"No," L replied, "no, Light-kun; I don't want you to be Kira. That's why I want to test it."
"Oh, you're unbelievable," Light sighed frustratedly, sinking down onto the bed. "…Using all this relationship garbage as a reason for—"
"No!" L interrupted, sounding terribly agitated. He picked up the Death Note, holding it out away from his body. "Light-kun, I once told you… that even if I did expect that perhaps you would confide in me your guilt, were you Kira, and were we to pursue a relationship of this nature… It would not mean that the love I profess for you is not real. You have to believe that, even if it's hard for you to hear."
L rubbed at his hair frustratedly, swinging the notebook two and fro between his thumb and forefinger.
"I don't want you to be Kira," he went on quietly, his voice strained, almost whining. "That's why I want to test this horrible thing, Light-kun – so I can know for certain whether or not you're Kira."
"And what would you do," Light asked darkly, "if I was Kira?"
L halted, as though suddenly frozen by Light's words; blinking once at him.
"Are you… confessing…?"
"No!" Light snapped. "I am not Kira, Ryuzaki! I just want to know what you'd do if I was."
"I… I don't know," L said distractedly, shifting again; seemingly unable to stand still. "I don't know what I'd do. I'd… I'd have to… turn you in, I suppose…"
"But would you?" Light pressed.
"Light-kun," L said tiredly, "I have to say, it sounds very much like you are attempting to confess your guilt…"
"This is just hypothetical interrogation," Light spat. "What's happened to you, Ryuzaki? What about Justice, and—"
"Don't preach to me," L hissed, suddenly getting very angry with the boy. He tossed the Death Note onto the bed. "You ask what's happened to me? You're what's happened to me." His black mirror eyes met Light's chocolate ones. "Do you think I'm some symbol of Justice, Light-kun? Nothing but an 'L' on a computer screen? Incorruptible and untaintable?" The detective forced a bitter laugh out from some dark depth of his soul. "If only it were that simple – but I am human, Light-kun. I'm sorry if I don't seem that way to you at times, but it's the truth."
Light had no answer for him; and L turned away from him, still pacing and restless and agitated.
"I mean," he said, speaking more to himself now, "this is an utterly ridiculous situation. We're involved in a sexual relationship with deeply emotional ties; I'm a detective, you're a suspect. How can it even be assumed that I would be able to judge you in the detached manner that I should exhibit?"
"You're… you're not thinking about dropping the case, are you?" Light asked, taken aback.
"How can I?" L replied wearily. "What excuse could I give that wouldn't bring all this out into the open and destroy us both? And if you aren't Kira… then I would have left the case for a meaningless reason."
L sank down onto the bedclothes silently, sitting properly and resting his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to accommodate still for his awful posture. Light watched him, surprised by his unorthodox (for him) way of sitting; watching him dip his dark head.
"Do you… want me to go?" He asked softly after a while.
L glanced at him through his hair.
"No," he replied, his voice equally quiet. "That's the problem. You probably should go, Light-kun, but I don't want you to. Please… stay. You promised that you would."
Light gave a small nod; and then, after a long, terse moment between them, reached into the bag a fourth and final time and extracted the slim present, wrapped in black tissue paper and tied prettily with a silver ribbon.
"Do you want this, then?" He asked, offering it out.
L looked up at him again, blinking.
"Light-kun… you didn't have to buy me a present," he said after a while, daintily taking it.
"I…" Light averted his eyes. "I don't think… you're going to like it…"
"Why wouldn't I like your present?" L asked, plucking the ribbon loose with his thin fingers.
"Because…" Light gave an abashed shrug, looking at the wall as L tore the paper away from the gift.
"Oh." L pushed the black tissue paper away from the present. "I see."
"I'm… sorry."
"Light-kun," L asked, lifting the gift up in the same way he did everything else, "why did you buy me a notebook? Is it… some kind of joke…?"
"No!" Light cried, looking sharply at L; his brown eyes wide and imploring. "It's… it's not meant to be like that, I just… I got Sayu to buy it for you, while we were still chained together. I didn't think I'd be free by the time your birthday came around, so I sent her a text. She wrapped it, too – you could probably tell I didn't wrap it…"
"Why a notebook?" L pressed, his gaze unwavering.
"It was before I knew about the Death Note, I swear. Sayu bought it like a week before we caught Higuchi. I… I just noticed that you tend to use scrap bits of paper to write details down on. I-I guess I thought that you'd like… somewhere to properly write everything down."
"I see." L looked down at the notebook – it was thick and heavy, covered with royal blue suede and edged with silver.
It didn't look remotely like the Death Note, in all honesty.
"It's nice," he said finally.
"Sayu picked it."
"She has good taste."
"You… like it?" Light breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I thought you were going to flip out over it…"
"I should." L stroked the notebook's soft cover. "I really should…"
"Here." Light took it from him and picked up the pen lying discarded on the sheets; he flipped the notebook open and started to write something, tilting it up out of L's view when he tried to lean across and see.
"There," the teen said after a moment, turning it around with a flourish; on the first page, in his sharp, neat kanji, he'd written 'Happy birthday, Ryuzaki', with a little smiley face next to it.
L gave a small smile, and took the notebook and pen himself and wrote in return 'Thankyou, Light', without the honorary.
After reading it, Light took the notebook again and wrote something else; though thought for a moment before laying pen to paper, and when he turned it around, it became apparent why he had done so.
He'd written 'I love you' in English.
To which L replied, in English, 'I believe you'.
Light kissed him; and L responded to it for a moment or two, before breaking free and scrawling something else down on the page of the notebook, reverting back to Japanese.
Light scowled upon reading it; for it said 'I want to be on top'.
"No way," he said sharply. "I've kept track of the days. It should be my turn tonight."
"But I missed my turn last night," L protested.
"And I missed mine the night before."
"But it's my birthday," L pouted.
"I know." Light gave him another fleeting kiss and said nothing more.
The kiss had barely deepened and their hands had barely begun to wander, however, before Light's cellphone went off in his pocket.
"Misa-san," L grumbled irritably. "Ignore her…"
Light checked the caller ID anyway; and swore sharply under his breath.
"It's my dad," he breathed. He shoved L completely away as he flipped the phone open, shooting the detective a warning glance. "Hey, dad."
"Light." Soichiro Yagami paused. "Where are you?"
"At a Halloween party. I told you."
"I can't hear any noise."
"I came outside to answer your call."
"Light… are you sure?"
"Yes. Jeez, dad, where else do you think I'd be on Halloween?"
"I… I don't know. It doesn't matter. Just don't be back too late, okay?"
"I know, I know. I'll be home soon."
L watched the boy balefully as he finished up the clipped conversation with his father and flipped the phone shut again.
"He is persistent," he noted coldly. "Does he think I am leading you astray?"
"Something like that, I think." Light rubbed at his hair, getting up. "Look, um… maybe I shouldn't stay here. Dad'll probably suspect something if I don't go home—"
"No!" L grabbed Light's wrist, holding it in his cold steel grip. "Don't leave." Something in his dark eyes flared jealously. "Don't you dare leave…"
…Me…
"You're doing it again!" Light snapped, attempting to pull his wrist loose. "Trying to keep me here as your prisoner! Let me go!"
"No." L reached out, grasping the front of Light's top and twisting it in his thin fingers. "Don't go. You promised you'd stay. Please, please stay, Light-kun…"
Light looked down at him; at how desperate the detective had become, anything for Light to simply stay and be with him, to illuminate the overwhelming darkness that was his loneliness and confusion at how fucked up everything had become.
The antidote to the poison was apparently the poison itself.
"I'm on top, then," was all Light said eventually.
L's dark eyes widened a little at the conditions of the bargain; something in his snow-white face flickered, as though he was debating refusing, risking even Light turning on his heel and walking out, simply for the sake of refusing to be the receiver…
"Alright," he agreed quietly, his grip on the boy tightening further still. "Just promise you'll stay."
"You have my word."
Light sank back to the bedclothes; switching his phone off and tossing it to the floor. He straddled L, pushed him to his back on the mattress, bent down to kiss him, auburn entangling with ebony. L met him on that battlefield, tormented for Light's touch, poisoned by the boy in the worst possible way – the way that left him wanting more, never satisfied.
Light was quick to peel off his own black top, tugging it off over his head, shaking the static from his hair on throwing it to the floor, and if only daddy could see him now at his "Halloween party", getting naked with stupid, needy L underneath him…
L didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry to remove his own top, so Light just left it, going for the jeans instead; unbuttoning, unzipping, pulling them down and off, allowing L's spindly fingers to work at Light's own belt as he dealt with the boxer shorts, the pesky blue boxer shorts, with their buttons that didn't want to come loose…
L was done with Light's belt and button and zipper by the time the boy had dealt with the boxers; Light discarded them and kicked off his own jeans, sliding down for a brief moment just to tease L's erection a little with his breath and his tongue, hearing the breathy moan and making a homecoming to capture his mouth. L clutched around the teen's neck, needle fingers threaded in the depths of mahogany hair; ground upwards against him, urging him almost aggressively, impatient and feeling right now that the only thing that could possibly reel him back in after storming from one emotion to the next concerning all of this…
Nothing was clear; it was all too dark.
He needed Light.
Light did seem different, incidentally. More confident, poised… arrogant…
He'd used something – something lying around in one of the bedside drawers, maybe – because his entrance was slick and smooth and complete; L arched his back on the mattress, delightfully full and his eyes wider still. He was still wearing his white top, but that was something for Light to grab and twist in his grip as he started ramming himself into the detective, his expression very focused and serious.
It was hot and hard and intense, and neither of them lasted long – L maybe because he'd been going through Light withdrawal symptoms these past few days, and Light himself… Well, he seemed to have been driven by a new business-like force, at any rate, and damn if it wasn't efficient. While L was still never one to cry out and writhe around and such like during intercourse, he hadn't had a chance there to let his expression flatline.
Less than an hour later, L "negotiated" a turn of his own; in the form of jumping a half-asleep Light and not giving him much time to react.
Later still, when it was most certainly no longer Halloween, and no longer L's birthday, Light retaliated and fucked the detective again; hard and blindingly, perhaps bidden by his anger, and L murmured things to himself between broken breaths, though Light could not understand them, for his words were English, and Light was rather too preoccupied to translate them.
Except for the last word, breathed at the edge of the blade of orgasm on L's part, his ebony hair an elaborate spider's weave across the pillow and his coal-black mirror-mirror eyes glazed and glassy;
"—Mercy…"
Half-asleep, intertwined tightly with the sleeping L in the first slivers of aurora, Light Yagami smiled to himself.
L was in ruins. There was no other way of putting it. Light was a poison, laced in a chalice, which L had drank from long and deep of his own accord; committing him to a pathway that was not his chosen route.
Perhaps he'd become entangled by his own thorns.
Or perhaps Light indeed had never been the Wicked Queen to L's Snow White, but the poisoned apple itself; beauty belying the destruction within.
Light had seen the degree of L's damage now. He couldn't even think straight; fluctuating from ranting about the sin of their relationship to the importance of catching Kira to begging Light to stay the night.
This was not the L who had snapped the handcuff onto Light's wrist all those months ago.
Still… L was still dangerous. Misa Amane was bright enough when it suited her to be so, but she was nowhere near intelligent enough to stay ahead of L for very long, even if he was in bits.
Yes, Light knew that. L might be a wreck, but he was still an obstacle. Light knew he couldn't leave him alive for very much longer.
Still, it didn't matter. Misa was his golden key – if she couldn't remember 'Ryuga Hideki's' real name, she would surely trade with Ryuk for the Shinigami Eyes just so that she could see it and make Light happy.
And if all else failed, he was certain he could force Rem into action one way or another…
And so he lay curled snugly up with L – his enemy, his friend, his lover – and dreamily composed and concocted Death Note instructions.
He might have him jump out of that window he had nearly fallen from all those weeks ago; or choking, though he couldn't decide if cake or an apple would be more fitting; or locking him alive into a coffin, slamming down the lid while he screamed his name and pounded upwards – maybe a glass coffin, so that he could watch him suffocate.
That was the power of the Death Note, after all. As long as the death itself wasn't impossible in physical terms, he could decree anything he wanted. He was really leaning towards a suicide for L, since it was the ultimate defeat by Kira's hand – for him to be ordered to concoct a way of taking his own life.
Light in fact had a vivid half-dream of L carefully breaking a pocket mirror into little pieces, dropping the shards into his teacup the way he did sugar cubes, stirring it all up with his stupid tiny teaspoon and then drinking the entire deadly concoction, each little sliver of reflective glass slicing into him on the way down; his belly pooling with blood as he died in agony, all alone.
Maybe it was just fueled by the mirrors he saw in L's eyes every time he looked at the detective; the ones that reflected not Light Yagami, but Kira himself.
Maybe he'd cry for Light as he died; for someone to hold his hand, stroke his hair, hold him close.
And Light wouldn't come.
Light had drifted off; for when he awoke, it was considerably brighter, and L was no longer in his arms.
He looked up, glancing about for L; finding him crouched at the end of the bed, fully dressed, and hunched over the cake.
"What are you doing?" Light asked sleepily, rubbing his hair.
L glanced up at him, dark eyes wide; he held up the lighter.
"Giving life to the candles again."
"Why?"
"I want another wish."
Light snorted.
"It doesn't work like that, Ryuzaki."
L shrugged.
"Well, I thought I would experiment again."
He put the lighter aside as flames licked at the candle wicks once more. Light sat up to watch him, half-interested and half-exasperated by his childish behavior.
L glanced at him, his gaze piercing.
"I wish," he whispered, "that Light-kun isn't Kira."
He blew the candles out; extinguishing the light.
And Light himself reasoned that he had nothing to feel guilty about – L had broken the rules again, after all.
Wishes spoken aloud never came true.
Princess L's main problem was that he'd been spoon-fed a relationship – he didn't know the "give-and-take" dynamics of a real love affair. He'd never been in any danger of having his ass dumped by Light because of his cruel, insensitive behavior, because Light had been chained to his wrist and couldn't very well storm off and delete L's number from his cellphone.
He'd never had to beg for forgiveness, buy Light stupid presents as a means of winning him back; likewise, he'd never been in danger of standing Light up, or showing up late for a cinema date. The relationship had been incredibly easy for L – if ever he'd wanted a kind word or a kiss or a quickie, Light was within his reach. All he had to do was grab his elbow and haul him into an empty twenty-first floor bathroom or unused mop closet.
That was why L's dependence on his relationship with Light had gotten so dangerously and epically out of control – because it had all been handed to him. He really was such a spoilt brat in so many ways…
…Not that Light was complaining, incidentally. Every last one of L's weaknesses could be converted to weapons, after all.
Sitting at the desk in his bedroom, Light glanced across at the bed; Misa was perched at the end of it, applying lipstick in none other than a pocket mirror, while Ryuk loitered beyond it, munching on an apple.
Studying the pretty young model, Light couldn't help but note how vastly different she was from L in every way imaginable – she was female, to begin with; blond hair to his ebony; pale blue eyes to his intense black; fitted, flattering clothes to his uninspired wardrobe; hyperactive to his deadpan lethargy; and mindless to his genius.
She'd had a shoot earlier that day, and was still dressed from the final photograph in a tiny red flared skirt edged with lace, a black satin corset-style top with puffed lacy sleeves, and opaque black sheen tights. She wore fishnet gloves on each hand, each wrist jangling with bracelets, laced-up gothic ankle boots, and at her neck resided a choker, a cross on a chain and a rosary string. Her blond hair was pulled into two full bunches, the crosses dangling from her ears glinting, and her lipstick was as red as the apple that Ryuk was inhaling; or perhaps red as blood, or a rose…
Fairest in the land…?
Certainly it took L as long to get fully dressed in the morning as it took Misa to simply paint her lips crimson.
"Misa," Light said after a long while, "I think Ryuzaki is in love with me."
Misa's head jerked up, pigtails swinging.
"What?" She pulled a face. "Ew, that pervert. Why doesn't that surprise me?"
Light smiled slightly.
"Yeah, it's gross," he agreed nonchalantly, "but it's also a good thing."
Misa leapt to her feet, heels clicking smartly on the floor; the tiny blond seemed enraged.
"How could it be good?!" She cried. "Light belongs to Misa! Not to icky perverted Ryuzaki…"
"It means I can predict his moves," Light replied calmly. "It means I can get rid of him, Misa."
Misa's mouth became a little crimson 'o' of surprise; before she clapped her small hands together.
"Oh, and then Misa's eyes can see his real name!" She cried gleefully.
Ryuk, who had presented no input until now, broke in with a low snicker; though offered no more than that. Light scowled at him, then looked back at Misa.
"Right, Misa. Only your eyes can see the truth."
Misa's slender fingers weaved together as she clasped her hands in front of her in a show of cute imploring.
"And Misa would do anything for Light," she purred.
"Hm. Though, Misa… do not act until I tell you to, understood?" Light ran a hand through his auburn hair. "Ryuzaki still suspects both of us. It would be dangerous to do anything now. He still hasn't played his pieces into all the right places…"
Misa shook her head.
"I don't understand."
Light wasn't surprised, but refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Well, right now, I'm counting on him suspecting me," he explained quietly. "He's confessed his feelings to me, and as good as admitted that he would be conflicted in his actions were it to become apparent that I am Kira. It's his suspicion of me that keeps him torn and confused like this. If he was to believe one hundred percent in my innocence, he would be able to think clearly. The thing that is saving us at the moment, Misa, is that Ryuzaki still suspects us both."
"Is that why Misa must continue with the judgments of criminals?"
Light nodded.
"Only you can do it, Misa, as my goddess."
Misa gave a delighted little squeal, throwing herself forward and embracing Light tightly.
"Misa will carry out Light's wishes! Misa will do well! All of Misa's heart belongs to Light!" She leaned back from him with a wicked, pretty grin. "If Misa could pull out her heart and give it to Light in a box, she would do so."
"And what would I do with that?" Light asked testily, ignoring the major "SNOW WHITE!" red alert going off inside his skull. He looked at his watch. "Oh, hey, Misa. The last train is leaving in ten minutes. You'd better go."
Misa pouted, but didn't argue, retrieving her chain-adorned jacket and red bag.
Light rose from his chair and pulled a jacket on over his black long-sleeved button-down.
"I'll walk you to the station," he said flatly; noting that Ryuk sniggered again, and ignoring him.
"Yay!" Misa cried happily, linking her arm through Light's as they left the bedroom and descended the stairs; Ryuk floating close behind, attached to Misa in Rem's place. Sachiko Yagami was reading a magazine on the sofa, and looked up to acknowledge her son's departure, though didn't ask where he was headed.
Misa chattered blissfully about the fairytale Halloween party she'd attended a few nights ago, and about how she'd accidentally-on-purpose spilt a lurid green cocktail down Sleeping Beauty's dress; Light barely listening to her.
"Light, what date is it tomorrow?" She asked suddenly as he half-hauled her down the platform steps.
Light checked his watch.
"The fifth of November, Misa," he replied. "Why?"
"Yay!" Misa clapped her gloved hands together again. "The November edition of J-Chic comes out tomorrow!"
"That's the one you're on the cover of, right?" Light asked jadedly.
Misa nodded vigorously, bunches swinging crazily.
"Yes. Matsu said he would get a copy for me."
"That's nice. Oh. Here's the train." Light grasped the model's elbow as the trained screeched a halt, bundling her in as soon as the doors opened; Ryuk faded through after her. "See you soon, Misa."
"Bye, Light! I love you! I—" The closing doors silenced the rest of Misa's vocal love letter, and Light gave a small sigh of relief as the train pulled away.
Misa Amane – sweet girl, and very pretty, but a walking headache if ever there was one.
Conveniently, the train station was located halfway between Light's house and the Kira Investigation Headquarters – where L was no doubt pacing up and down and checking the clock every few moments.
Light's phone rang when he was only two blocks away; and irritably he pulled it from his pocket, ready to snap at L or Misa, whichever of them it was.
Neither, incidentally.
"Hey, dad," Light said dully into the phone. "What's wrong?"
"Where are you?" His father demanded.
"I'm out with Misa. Mom just saw me leave the house with her." Light paused, and lowered his voice. "You can call and ask her if you don't believe me."
Soichiro Yagami cleared his throat over the other side of the line.
"No, I'll take your word for it, Light. Just don't stay out all night, okay? We still have a lot of work to do."
"I know, I know."
Light hung up and snapped his phone shut. Typical – he'd been L-free for six days, and now his own father was suspiciously stalking his every move…
Couldn't a God-complexed mass-murderer get a moment's peace around here…?
He checked his watch and decided to run the last block.
He wasn't afraid of L, that freaky little bastard – but L didn't like it when he was late, and Light had learned the hard way, a long time ago, that L had a rather sadistic streak to his nature—
And it was, after all, L's turn to be on top.
L watched Light dress; illuminated some by the dull glow of the beginnings of November aurora. The detective himself was fully dressed already, perched at end of the bed, his expression listless.
"This is stupid," he said.
Light glanced sparingly at him.
"Ryuzaki, things have changed," he replied, buttoning up his shirt. "It's no longer normal for us to come downstairs together – not when I'm supposed to be at home, in my own bed."
"I take it you haven't been caught sneaking back into the house yet, then?"
"No. Nobody's awake at 5:30am."
L gave a small nod – they'd come up with this as a plan. Light came here at around 11pm, and left the following morning at 5am. L, ever the insomniac, always woke him up, although at times he was tempted not to, and leave him lying there, in L's bed, which was the way that L felt things should still be.
"Perhaps things could be easier for you," L went on. "I could come to your house—"
"No," Light interrupted. "That's way too risky. My window is too high to get in and out from, and even if my parents didn't catch you sneaking into the house, my room is right next to theirs. They'd hear us."
L gave a small smirk.
"Yes, you are right, Light-kun. I don't think they would like listening to me making you scream."
Light glowered at him before swiftly buttoning the remainder of his shirt.
"Listen, pervert," he seethed, "I'm sorry things aren't the way they used to be, but now that you've set me free, it looks odd to everyone if I still lurk around here at night when I could go home. If you want this to continue, you have to make a few sacrifices."
"Ah, Light-kun is lecturing me." L smiled. "How delightful."
Light gave a snort.
"Maybe you should watch your tongue, Ryuzaki."
"And why would you threaten me in such a way?" L asked, leaning forward.
"Because it's my turn to be on top tonight!" Light snapped.
L smirked.
"Idle threats, Light-kun. You have yet to defeat me, you know." He nibbled at his thumbnail. "A pity, perhaps, but I am not afraid of you."
"Well, that's good to know," Light replied absently, checking his watch. "I should really get going."
L hopped off the bed and padded nimbly after him as he went to the bedroom door, zipping his jacket.
"You know, Light-kun," he said airily, "I am certain I could talk your father into allowing you to stay here again. There are things concerning the Kira case for us to still to investigate, after all, and you have proved your exceptional deductive skills."
Light shot him a pitying glance.
"Over your dead body, Ryuzaki."
L blinked at him.
"Why do you say mine, Light-kun?"
"Because my father would string you up if you even hinted at such a thing."
L glanced at the ceiling.
"He disapproves of same-sex relationships that much, Light-kun?"
"Ryuzaki, he disapproves of Misa."
"I disapprove of Misa-san also, Light-kun."
"That's because you're a bastard." Light kissed L before he could react to the bone-cut snipe. "I'll see you in a few hours."
The brunette teen left, a smirk on his handsome face which L acknowledged but had no time or reason to respond to.
L wandered back into the bedroom, closing the door by leaning his back against it.
Light had brought apples last night. He had been fifteen minutes late, because he'd stopped to buy apples – sauntering in here, knowing full well he was fifteen minutes late, crunching on a crimson-skinned apple.
He'd offered L one with his customary "Love apple?" tag question, and L had taken it, munching it moodily while declaring that he was not a Shinigami. Light had laughed, and acknowledged that L seemed to think that Shinigamis ate birthday cake.
After the two cores had been placed side by side on the table, it was down to business.
"How-dare-you-make-me-wait-fifteen-whole-minutes!" type business.
L had pounded Light Yagami into the mattress whilst still harboring a slight suspicion for his being Kira – and all was right with the world.
L fished another apple from the paper bag left down by the bedside, plucking it out by the stalk, and sank his teeth into it, thinking it ironic that apples had become something of a token of their relationship, not least because of Shinigamis and Snow White; but because they were said to represent sexuality and sin, and those intermingled was surely what was between he and Light…
Out of macabre interest, L wondered whether Soichiro Yagami really would string him up if he were to suggest that Light take up residence here again, alone with L at night…
Not that that didn't happen anyway. Ignorance was bliss, the detective supposed.
He thought that he might provoke Chief Yagami a little, since he was apparently so loathe to sharing his son with needy cake-murderers; he'd slip Light a note with some suggestive – though not entirely incriminating – comment scrawled on it, deliberately ensuring that the boy's father saw him do it, and would then make a getaway when Yagami-san demanded to see the note in question by setting off his own phone in his pocket and pretending to get a call from Watari.
Light would be mortified, but that haughty brat needed taking down a peg or two anyway, was L's opinion.
He wasn't sure what he was going to write, but when he was finished with his apple he hunted around for the notebook Light had given him, finding it on the desk; he took up a pen and went back to the bed with both items, flipping to the first page and seeing their spliced Japanese-English written conversation, which was something he couldn't help but smile at.
Still at a loss for what to write, L absently began to flip through the notebook's empty pages – blank white lined sheet after sheet after sheet…
Until something made him stop. Something wedged it between two of the pages. Something small and white and rectangular and smooth.
L plucked the ace of spades from being jammed almost into the spine of the notebook, holding it daintily between his finger and thumb as he lifted it up to eye level to stare at it in horror.
What could it mean?
Oh, but that was a silly question. He knew what it meant. He knew what every factor and implication that went with this simple playing card meant. The implications were already sprinting ahead as he couldn't stop his genius capacity from processing the symbol, though he desperately wished he could hinder the thoughts, or at least the cold wet towels which had been suddenly wound tightly around his chest.
Light Yagami had lied to him, was the pure fact of the matter. He'd put the card into the notebook before wrapping it, seemingly of the mindset that it didn't matter how soon L found it or if he even found it at all. It wasn't any message, in particular – it was just a symbol.
A symbol to show that Light had lied and L had, like a fool, believed him.
Why the card? Why an ace? It could mean any of a number of things. A victory toast – the fact that Light had trumped him, or so he thought. Or perhaps it was merely reminiscent of those games of Twenty-Ones, where L had been the one to lie, and Light had been the fool.
And ultimately, the presence of the card itself was proof enough that Light had at least lied about one thing – his little sister Sayu had neither bought the notebook nor wrapped it.
Light had given him a notebook on purpose, probably bought it as soon as he was free to leave as he pleased, slipping the card in to tell L that the game would soon be over.
And maybe it was tenuous then to conclude that Light Yagami was Kira, solely from this clue – but no doubt that was Light's plan. It was tenuous. Far too tenuous. He couldn't present this as substantial evidence to anyone as proof that Light was Kira. It was in a context that only L could understand – and it was a deeply personal context, which was why it hurt even more. He knew how to twist the knife, that boy, certainly…
But… the killings had resumed again, and they tended to happen at night, and Light never got a chance to anything Kira-like at all at night, since he was either getting it from L or giving it to L.
The Second Kira, then…?
Misa Amane.
L felt like slamming his head against the wall. That little bitch…! Was she stupid? After being caught after forensic evidence pointed to her being the Second Kira, and then all that surveillance…
While L was certain now that Light was indeed Kira, it was Misa that his rage settled on; for he was equally certain that Light was not actually killing anyone at present.
It had to be Misa.
Did this mean that the 13 day rule was indeed fake, then? That was his only hope of nailing Light and Misa, for that rule to be proved untrue.
A playing card inside a notebook just wasn't enough.
A dreadful suffocating feeling came over him, threatening to drown him in despair. So after all this… after everything they'd… Light really was Kira. Had he truly been lying all those months, or was it as L suspected? Was there a way to pass Kira's power onto another, presumably via the Death Note, while the original one with those powers lost their memories of them…?
Oh, it didn't even matter. He'd been fucking Kira for three months, was the black-and-white of it. Not someone who was maybe Kira – someone who was actually Kira.
No. No, that wasn't… it wasn't like that, it wasn't because he was Kira, or even maybe-Kira, it was because he was Light, and L was attracted to Light, and L loved Light, and Light had said that he loved L, or Ryuzaki, anyway, and he'd said it when he wasn't Kira (perhaps?) but he'd also said it when he was, and did that mean that L could believe him the first time and not the second, or both times, or neither?
He recalled once that he'd told Light it wasn't an impossibility for L to love Kira and vice versa, no matter their own personal values.
He'd also said that it was easier to destroy someone you loved than someone you didn't – they were easier to break because they loved you.
And that was what had happened.
Though… Light was such a good actor, such a seamless liar, it was hard to tell if he had ever meant any of the things he had ever said.
Regardless, L didn't know what to do, suddenly reeling beneath the huge condemning revelation. He had no idea where to turn next – he had his own proof that Light and Misa were both Kiras, but nothing that could ever have a hope in Hell of convicting them. Besides… the fact that it was now completely apparent that Light was Kira didn't mean that he wasn't Light anymore.
And L loved Light. L loved Light more than anything.
He hated him too, for his lies, and for his values, and for his sins – but that was Kira, in truth.
L hated Kira and loved Light for ever after.
L slid his phone from his pocket; he should call Light, force him to come back, so he could confront him, pry every ounce of truth from him, even if it made the boy sweat blood…
He didn't, though. He couldn't. Love had all but poisoned L, and he couldn't bear to hear the truth from the boy's own lips. All this time he had wanted a confession, and now, when he was in a position to get one, he didn't want to hear it.
Instead he threw the phone aside and took up the pen and wrote in the notebook:
Light Yagami is Kira
He was certain. One hundred percent. He'd hoped that he was wrong, but it wasn't to be so. L was rather too brilliant for his own good, sometimes.
He was right even when he desperately wanted to be wrong.
Yes; ignorance was indeed bliss.
He'd dreamt of the orphanage – of Wammy's House.
Seeing himself as a child again, no older than six, wrapped in a scarf too big for him; clutching Watari's hand before the gothic wrought-iron gates of the Winchester-set building. It had been a cold day in December, with snowfall.
A stupid, irrelevant memory, really.
And then there were the Three. His Three.
Mihael, Nate, Mail. Mello, Near, Matt.
And after he woke up again, he felt some terrible kind of sick longing, the source of which he couldn't place, though it gnawed worse when he thought of them.
The Three of them.
Maybe it was guilt – after all, they loved him. They all wanted to be like him.
And he had allowed himself to be poisoned and destroyed.
He could say nothing as he stood in front of Watari; as the elderly gentleman who had raised him turned in his chair from his ops equipment, and looked at L slouching in the doorway, looking like that child again.
He looked terrible, to be truthful – as though all of his strength had been drained from him. Watari could barely find brilliant, confident L in there, no Coil or Deneuve – not even the wild-haired sixteen-year-old L, declaring with utmost certainty that his birthday was not to be celebrated.
"What's wrong, Ryuzaki?" Watari asked, though received nothing but the haunted stare of those mirror-mirror eyes. "Ryuzaki? What's the matter?"
'You were right', L wanted to say; as he had wanted to say before.
But, as before, his voice wouldn't work; sticking in his throat like Snow White's bite of poisoned apple.
'You were right'. But it didn't come. Eyes still wide, almost unseeing, L sank to his knees at the doorway of the room.
"Ryuzaki?" Watari rose from his seat, going to the detective and kneeling on one knee beside him.
And L wanted to say so many things to him – to tell him that he'd been right, and that he, L, had been an idiot not to listen, and that Light was Kira, and L loved him, and what was he going to do…?
But he could only manage "I'm sorry" before he grasped at Watari's jacket as though he was in agony and started to cry.
They'd made preparations – and Watari had come through.
In the end, L had drank from the poisoned cup, or eaten from the poisoned apple, or whatever. His name was the only thread keeping him alive, and if he wanted to stay that way and solve this case, he had to act fast.
He had to choose Justice over Love, as he had always decreed (even if it felt as though some clawed icy hand was grasping his heart and squeezing it tighter and tighter, as though bidding it to burst beneath the iron grip).
Watari had managed to find a country agreeable to testing the Death Note on death row prisoners to ascertain whether or not the rules were fake, true, or a combination of both.
L bid Watari a dull goodbye and snapped his phone shut; looking up at Light. They were both still dripping wet from standing outside in the pouring rain, despite L's efforts to dry Light off. Light shifted his bare feet a little – he'd been agreeable enough, but he didn't like having his feet touched.
Standing out on the roof again – where they had stood a month ago in the gold of the dawn, hand-in-hand and heart-in-heart. Though the atmosphere had been painfully different, save for the bells…
Light's chocolate eyes were conflicted and unreadable. L could hardly bear to look the boy in the face, truthfully, but when he did, he couldn't say what he was feeling. Was Light beginning to regret… well, everything? The card in the notebook? His lies? His actions?
Kira?
"We should go."
L rose and started to walk away; Light got up and started after him, the silence between them heavy and raw.
"Ryuzaki—" he started finally.
"L."
Light blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"Call me L." L glanced at him. "You heard what I said, Light-kun."
"L, then—"
"In fact, Light-kun, I will ask you something," L interrupted again, his voice soft and weary. "Do you mind?"
Light shook his head, not having much choice in the matter, apparently.
L stopped. Light almost walked into him, stopping just short; and L turned to him, mirror eyes inescapable. Light found himself looking at his reflection in them, and yes, he could see Kira there now too…
L's eyes had never distorted him – L's eyes had seen the truth. Always, always seen the truth. It was almost as though he had Shinigami Eyes of his own – for what did those gift-eyes see but truth? Someone's real name, and the exact amount of time they had left to live.
(Mirror, mirror, on the wall; which of us is he who'll fall…?)
"I asked you if you had ever said a true thing in your entire life," L said softly. "You replied that of course you had lied, being as it is that nobody is perfect, but have never told lies which would be harmful to those you love."
"Yes," Light replied uneasily.
L leaned forward.
"That was a lie as well, wasn't it?"
Light blinked at him.
"What…? Ryuzaki, I don't—"
"L." L gave a sad little shake of his head. "You don't know my name, Light Yagami."
"I don't want your name, I'm not—"
"Don't insult me," L spat. "That is irrelevant, anyway. I was merely analyzing your statement about lies. From the fact that you said that you would never lie if it hurt those you loved, I can come to only two conclusions."
"Like what?" Light breathed.
"The first is that the statement itself was a lie." L's gaze was spellbinding; maybe the Maleficent in him, maybe not. "The second is that the statement is true; but if that is the case, it remains that you never loved me."
"Ryuzaki, that's… that's not true, of course I—"
"My name is L." Perhaps a double-meaning, perhaps not; Light was too rattled now to read into it. "I want to ask you a question, Light-kun, and I want an honest answer. No, I need an honest answer."
"If it's about Kira—"
"It isn't." L tilted his head. "I don't need to ask you about that. Light-kun… do you love me?"
"Yes, L." Light let out a little breath. "I love you."
There – there it was. That was the difference. There was a difference. Light had loved him once – L knew now, that time on the roof, watching the sunrise… Light had meant it then.
One upon a dream.
But now…
L smiled bitterly.
"I don't believe you."
Light's fists clenched; and L wasn't sure if he was going to yell, or spit back a retort, or punch him.
But he didn't; though his brown eyes darkened as he glared at L.
"What do you want?" He hissed.
"Nothing," L said sadly; because light was nothing, after all…
"Then stop playing around!" Light snapped, storming past him. "Come on, we have work to do!"
"Light, this is out of your control now," L said gently; and it was the dropping of the honorary that made Light stop and turn back to him more so than the words, though they did play a part.
"What do you mean?" Light blazed. "Ryuzaki, L, Ryuga, whoever the hell you are…! For the last time, I am not—"
"Kira?" L finished; drawing from his sleeve the ace and holding up in front of Light.
Light stopped short, apparently floored by his own little taunt.
L reached out, hooking Light's belt with a finger and slipping the ace down behind his buckle.
"I realized something," he said, looking up at Light; mirror eyes glinting like dark jewels. "You were right."
"About… what?" Light asked warily.
"All of this. It's not some fairytale."
And as Light blinked in puzzlement, L leaned forward and kissed him; with all of Maleficent, and all of the poison, everything that they'd had and lost to the Death Note, and though they were wet and cold and out in an open corridor, they pressed up close to one another, embracing tightly, fingers tangling in soaked clothes and drenched hair.
It was the bite to the apple; the moment the spindle brought blood; the last petal breaking loose and shimmering downwards.
All of their Heaven and all of their Hell was dragged into that poison-drenched kiss; and perhaps those were tears, or perhaps it was just that their hair was still wet…
And then L broke from him, mirrors glinting, reflecting Kira breathless and bewildered; and he put his hands in his pockets, as though in a gesture of closure, and began to walk away.
"For you and I, Light-kun," he said softly, "there was never going to be a happily ever after."
/END OFACT I: FAIRIETAYLE/
First, to clarify: I think we've been confusing people. This is NOT the end of Poison Apple – it's only the end of the act. The fic is composed of three acts, which will all be posted here under the collective title of Poison Apple.
Incidentally, Act Two is entitled Ars Moriendi and is actually kind of a rip since it's only one chapter. Ars Moriendi will be posted in… well, I haven't finished writing it yet, so perhaps a fortnight is a more realistic promise…
Second… Look at that! You all brought tissues for nothing! L didn't actually die…!
…Yet. To all who have begged that we avert from the anime/manga storyline… Sorry. No. I know you want a happy ending for them, but… Death Note doesn't do happy endings. Practically everyone in the things dies… You're basically left with Near, Matsuda, Misa and Aizawa having a rather lonely little "We Survived!" party with flat Coca-Cola and crap music…
This isn't Disney, kids. :)
Besides, you may have noticed that actual REAL story of Poison Apple is not Fairietayle, which is actually just a foundation – the REAL story is Act Three: Danse Macabre, where L is resurrected and stuff…
Third: The fact that the chapter posted on my birthday is the chapter which deals with L's birthday… is a coincidence. Honestly and truly, it is. I wasn't thinking this far ahead when we started posting on October 1st…
Okay, fair warning: Bring the tissues next time, if you feel you will need them, because L dies.
Not that you didn't see that coming… Take it up with Ohba and Obata if it upsets you so much. It's got nothing to with us…
None of these ANs are Narroch's because she's lost her mind or something… Don't see how she lost it – she never had one to begin with…
- RobinRocks xXx (and Narroch, on her behalf)
P.S: Incidentally, I appear to have more friends than L, since I have managed to accumulate no less than four birthday cakes over a three-day period… O.o