TW: Bulimia.
Misa knelt gracefully beside L, who was laying down on the dirty tiles of his private bathroom. The second Kira looked out of place in her lacy gothic coord and tall, spiked heels.
She touched him.
"Elly." Misa sighed. "What if Light…"
She pressed her glossy lips together in a pout.
L had flushed the toilet - 'he erased the evidence...good detective, good boy', but there was bile dripping down his chin. 'Tissues...travel pack.'
Her long black nails grasped his cracked lips - 'Lip gloss then, strawberry. Lip balm?' - and pulled them apart so he was snarling at her.
Yellow teeth. Rotting. 'Teeth whitening strips.' His breath smelled of stomach acid. Misa swallowed her gag. ''Travel size mouthwash!'
Misa helped him to lean against the wall.
L allowed her to pull his dirtied shirt off, allowed her to run her hand down the skeleton trying to rip through his skin
L shivered when she unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off. He wasn't wearing any underwear.
There wasn't much there.
Misa didn't say anything.
She gently eased L into the bathtub, cooing at the weak man like he was a frightened child when he grabbed her wrist and didn't let go.
Misa, softly,
"How long?"
He fluttered his eyelashes at her, and she thought she saw the reflection of a church in his glassy eyes.
"You're lucky to be alive, elly." Misa pressed her cheek to both sides of his hollow face.
"So are you, Misa Misa Chan," drawled the detective, grabbing at her thigh like a pervert. There was something under her puffy skirt, tucked into her garter. A book?
"Misa won't tell Light," Misa promised.
Well, it hardly matters anyway, L thought. I don't have anyone but you.