Tsuki ga kirei desu ne is the Japanese phrase for 'the moon is beautiful, isn't it?' It is a way to confess your love to another.

Raito/L

A Death Note Fic with Wuthering Heights themes. I own nothing.

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The sun set rapidly, leaving the land barren once again. I glare at the shining globe, the thing that controls fate, and I don't even realize that it's gone until my eyes burn with loss. It's time. It's time for the ceaseless wailing and the longing cries of my heart to pick up again.

It's time to think of him again. The evil one, the lost one. The adored one. The only equal I've ever had, and even now, even in darkness, his hand still curls around mine. It's as if he's speaking to me through my own mind.

Death hasn't stopped him from being a nosy bastard. Now he's everywhere, and no where. His surveillance is eternal, frighting, and comforting. He'll never touch me again, and that's cause for celebration, but sometimes it makes my insides curl with something unpleasant.

Even now, despite the many moons and seasons that have passed, he won't leave my mind. Like a parasite worming his way into my diseased mind, no amount of prayer or violence will remove him from my head. He's always there, waiting for me to join him.

Sometimes I laugh when I think of how I bested him, of how I destroyed someone willing to take down god. It was mortifying and hilarious simultaneously that he thought he could stand above my lifeless body. I walk across his every day.

But sometimes I cry, no, that's the wrong word. It's not right, it's a foolish word made up for those who feel they need to excuse their allergies. I mourn, I hold moments of silence for what he once was. He was a beautiful masterpiece, created only for me. Van Gogh could not have painted a more intricate and fascinating masterpiece than what he once was. I set up vigil in my heart when I think of his vast mind.

And on the topic of his vast mind, I feel I must set up a disclaimer. A big, red disclaimer with bolded letters. I am not talking about a lover, nor a soulmate. This is not romance, it was something bigger. I did not love this person; I respected this person. I love their mind? Possibly. Is there word for that?

Sapiosexual, yes, that's it.

I was a sapiosexual for him, not queer, because that will not fit into my image. To water down our hearts to something quaint and flowery is almost insulting and I will not have it. Kira is not allowed to fall in love with mere mortals. This one, no matter his talents, was still just that. Kira is a being who exists in divinity, to destroy and give. Kira has no room for kisses and hugs and dealings in the bedroom. He wouldn't like that word either, love. I don't think he knew how to love. He knew obsession, as he was quite obsessed with me.

He was obsessed with my lies, with my truths, with my hatred and my mercy. Did you know, the last time he spoke with me, he attempted to atone for his sins? There aren't enough timelines in any universe for that to ever become a possibility. Lawliet had all but signed his name in the Death Note when he forced my hand against Lind L. Tailor. It nearly cost me my life, and the fact that he thought he had the right to do such a thing was infuriating and almost beautifully naïve for what it was.

I call him Lawliet, because I earned that right. I won our game, I beat him in the end. It was an honor, and part of that honor was knowing him. I remind myself that I know his name, nothing else, but that really isn't true.

I knew he was a madman, a genius no one could understand and that no one wanted to. His mind was for sale, it was a bartering piece in this rummage sale of life. He wanted me to think that he was different, that he was special, but just as he could see through my lies his made no difference for me. I never saw him with rose-colored glasses, I saw him under a microscope. His morals were bought by interpol, as his life, the day he went up against me. Secretly, in his eyes, I could read the true message.

He understood Kira.

And it frightened him.

I understand, because Kira is not something to be understood. It can only be accepted. Kira is more than Raito Yagami, who I am not. I wear his clothes, his cologne, his smile but he died along with the rest of the mortals. Raito is a character, and Kira is real. Kira owns the world, and Kira is shaping it to his will. Kira knows what he wants, and he takes without question. Kira is a vision, he's the word my citizens sing with praise as they worship me from the shadows. Kira has ultimate power at his fingertips, but he has not allowed it to corrupt his snow white soul. He uses the ultimate power for good, something lesser men would faint at. I have everything I could ever want, and still I manage to walk amongst evil unsinged. I still manage to hold my purity close, and I will never let go of it. If we do not have our morals, we have nothing. If we do not know right from wrong, we are no different from dogs. If we allow ourselves to be swayed or deceived, we are unworthy of a utopia. I am the one person who is above deceptions and deceit and rottenness, so I have been chosen to lead the lost souls into paradise where they can be found and nurtured and saved. That is all, I think. Even I cannot write Kira's true brilliance in so few words. He is justice, he is righteousness, he is power. Sometimes I don't even consider my actions, I just do. My laws flow through my mouth like a symphony and they might be the most precious thing this world has.

He never knew that, though. He might have thought such things in the darkest corners of his mind, but he couldn't accept it. That was his sin. I am a benevolent, fair ruler. I only kill criminals. Bringing death to goodness is a crime Kira cannot let slide.

We stood united on one front and one front only, and that was victory. We both needed it, we both craved it. We scrabbled and ran around blindly for it, because it was our only lifeline. It was fleeting, and precious, and somehow we both knew that it would be mine. Where would the world have gone if I had collapsed due to an Achillies heel? Everyone would have perished, and I would have wept alongside them from Mu. Lawliet might have wept to. At the very end, I saw realization flash across his face but it was too late by then. At the very end, I felt the same peace he felt, which was if you have to loose it is only fitting to die an honorable death. He went quietly, with no fuss, because he knew someone like me could not loose. I wouldn't allow it. Winning was more important than life to me, and I paid the price for it.

I still am, unfortunately. Though everything is great, and wonderful, and euphoric and awe-inspiring, I still have this godawful lump in the back of my throat every time I wake up to find that my wrist is free from its shackles. I have been chained to three people in this lifetime. One is my consort, my partner, my bringer of power. He follows me, and though he is usually about as helpful as a speck of sand, he knows when to keep his mouth shut and he can be bought. Typical. For all of his bluster and immortality, he is nothing more than a common ruffian. He'd make a good human, because he's about as pathetic and lazy as one. I have also been tied down by a blonde ball and chain, which is ironic because she weighs not more than eighty pounds. Technically, I no longer have any obligation towards her since her bringer of doom has vanished into thin air, but I keep her around because Kira treats his followers well. She revers me, worships me, follows my orders without question, so therefore she is useful. Her status brings me status, and we stand together as idols for people to throw themselves at our feet. If I cannot find anyone better suited, she will indeed be the goddess of the new world.

But, yet, I could never hold any affection for her in my heart. While my soul is clean and washed with purified mountain water, my heart is cold and black. Kira has no use for hearts, you see. Hearts are for simpler minds; hearts are for people who need something other than themselves to survive. Hearts are many things, but I've found them to be nothing more than a nuisance. At best, they are useless and at worst they are more dangerous than if a live grenade had been implanted into my ribcage. See, idiots have emotions. And I am the farthest thing from an idiot. Einstein would look like a half-wit standing next to me, and all of the great philosophers would quiver in their sandals if I walked past them. If you think emotionally, you will always fail. If you have a shred of humanity inside of you, destroy it, because humanity is composed of nothing but evilness and despair. Humanity fell into sin because of one tiny apple, see how absolutely bollocks that is? The first half-wits were tricked by a lowly snake slithering on the dirty ground, because they wanted to taste unbidden knowledge. I should have been among the first inhabitants of earth, for I would not have been as weak. They wanted knowledge because knowledge is power and power is success. Sadly enough, you have to be born with knowledge. You cannot gain it; it must be something owned. Only the greatest have room to succeed, and if you are not born with greatness inside of you, you must accept failure. Maybe if you do not have greatness already inside of you, you have room for a heart.

That's why so many people can choose to feel love, because they are already lost. They are wonderfully stupid enough to believe that love is the answer. Since I was crafted completely different while still forming in my mother's womb, I know better. No one else could have gotten this far, and why? What helped me?

Not love, never love.

He understood that, too. Maybe that's why I didn't mind so much being tethered to him. It was like being reunited with a shadowy, weary, broken version of myself. He understood me, you see, that's the simplest terms I can explain it in. He knew me, and while he hated what he saw, he was captivated by my insides. And I knew him, in the same way. I hated him, I will always hate him, and I knew exactly why I hated him. He was everything and nothing, sometimes I swore he was better at being a human than I was. Whatever our souls were made of, ours were cut from the same cloth. I could feel his thoughts, I could hear his words as if they were my own, and we had that connection that's only spoken of in fantastical tales. He is not a pleasure in my mind, no more than I am a pleasure in my own mind, but as myself. Now that I feel his absence, it is safe to think these thoughts. Love for a ghost cannot do any harm.

She says I'm the yin to her yang, but he was my yang. There was no one like him, and there still is no one like him. Even now. Now I am surrounded by pitiful monotony and dreadfulness. People can understand Kira's values, his goals, his justice, but never his mind. That was a gift that only Lawliet held, and he still holds it in his decaying hands. It haunts me, to think of how his brain is nothing more than dirt now. It is a feast not fit for worms, but they dine anyway.

But I have to remind myself that only the strongest survive. It very easily could have been me in that dank and dirty hole, and that's a thought worse than death. It's so dehumanizing, it's a worrisome thought to think of a soul being nothing more than flesh and bones that can one day disappear. Reasonably, logically, I have accepted my own mortality but then again I have only recognized Raito's. Kira cannot be broken, he cannot be shaped nor molded into human ideals. Kira's reign will last longer than an eternity if I play my cards right, because my perfect world will not end as soon as it's begun. I can only hope that my followers understand my final goal, and uphold my standards when I am gone.

When I'm gone...if I'm gone. Is anyone ever truly gone? Because even here, even now, he's with me. It's like his light left his soul and traveled into mine. He's so close, but yet always out of reach. I can't stand it.

I can't bear it because I'm playing our game alone. As much as I despised the game, it was my lifeblood. It was my air, it was my soul. His game was the only thing I found pleasure in for awhile. I was content cleaning up the world in peace, but he wouldn't let me and that was exciting because I finally had a purpose greater than Kira. I had him.

And even now I hear him whispering to me that I'll fail, because it will get too boring. Some days I fear I'll write my own name in the Death Note just to see what will happen. It's endlessly boring again, but there are no more Lawliet's.

"I think…I'm going crazy." I laugh at to the shadows that dance on the barren walls of this empty room. The darkness surrounds me, and it's going to choke me. Sometimes I believe I see things that aren't there. Or am I just seeing what everyone else can't? Am I the only sane one? The only normal one? Am I the only person left alive?

My mind is filled with so much poison and rot that it's scary. I'm scared to close my eyes and I'm scared to keep them open. I think my very soul is at this very moment being shredded into microscopic pieces that will only stoke the growing fires of anguish and misery. It's awful. It's not real. It's unfit for me, and I don't want to continue on living like this. Kira's mind is different than mine, but Kira sleeps within me at night and I am left on my own. I hate my humanity, I hate Raito Yagami, and I want him gone so that perfection is all that is left within.

When the sliver of the moon begins to peak out from the clouds, it's when the madness returns. The sunlight and cloudy skies of the afternoon inspire greatness, the night is for horrors alone. I attract the light because, well, that's obvious.

I stand up unsteadily, teetering on my feet as I head out of my office and into the world. I must see him. I need to know that he wasn't a dream, a mere fragment of my imagination. I need to feel his remains against my own beating heart, to remind myself that I won.

"Raito?" Her lilting voice travels across the living room as I tug my shoes on. "Where are you going so late?"

I don't answer as I shut the door behind me. She knows I go wherever I please, and she knows not to meddle. The night air assaults me as it swirls against the blackened atmosphere. It whips against the stalks of grass, and they whisper to me to follow the trail I know by heart. I choose this flat because it was closest to him. I could never go far, he always needed to see me. And I him.

My footsteps echo around the empty road as owls cry, but I pay no mind to the sounds of night. I have nothing to fear but him, he is gone, and so is fear. I walk alone on these darkened streets as a god, no one could dare touch me. I have the grim reaper on my side. I am all alone, but not really. It's like I'm walking across clouds, and anyone who tries to follow me will simply fall right through. I watch everything, I see everything, I know everything. Beasts are no match against Kira, they retreat back into the brush to wait for someone more suited for their fangs.

I see the tall, wrought iron gates of the cemetery come into view and despite myself I hear a small cry seep through my lips. "Lawliet." I murmur breathlessly, feeling his spirit come to greet me. I can almost see the wide, black eyes and the thin lips that were always drawn into the tightest line. Crows circle ahead, cawing his name and mine, as they wait for their pound of flesh. Not today, sweet ones, you cannot have me for today.

It is curious to be the only thing breathing in a graveyard of death. It's something remarkably beautiful, and a feeling of endless power washes over me. I own these souls almost as much as the living. Ryuk said I would be an excellent shinigami, the only thing I lack are wings.

I push the gates open with haste as I walk down the cobblestone path. I know which home is his, I know where he lies. I could find it while blindfolded. The trees whip and dance in the breeze as a leaf twirls down in front of me. There is the distinct smell of something rotting in the graveyard, and a quiet melancholy is vast across this endless wasteland. I feel eyes watching me, inspecting me, but it's not that different from everyday life. The singing of angels increases as the cross comes into view. And there he is. And there's the shovel that I keep, it's my lock to his key. It's my telescope into the world unknown. A fresh mound of dirt lies over him from the last time, but this is no cause for concern as this place is all but abandoned. No one visits the rot but me. No one can appreciate the dead like I do.

I fall onto my knees and repent, and I whisper apologies into the dirt. I'm sorry for doing this to you. I'm sorry that I took you away from me. He understands, like he always does, because he knows me better than I know myself. Now the conscious two yards of loose dirt are the only thing that separates us. I grab the shovel and hear it drag against the ground before I stand. I stare down at the filth that's covering him before I strike into it. The layers of waste are ripped away as I frantically dig him out of the earth. My heartbeat is loud and distraught and I watch a thin line of drool seep from my parted lips into the earth below.

It's not enough that he's with me in spirit, it's not enough that he watches over me. I need to see him, I need to touch him, I need to breath him in to truly feel him. I crave that grotesque intimacy, which is the only thing he can offer me now. I cannot stand to be lost in the world without him, I cannot bear his separation from me. Rest in peace? May he rest in torment. He should not be allowed one moment of solace while away from me. He doesn't get escape that easily. He is mine, and I will remind him of that.

He cannot leave me in this abyss where I cannot find him, it will surely drive me mad. He must be with me always, for it was written in the stars across endless galaxies that we were each other's fate.

My love for Lawliet is like the rocks beneath, it is a source of little visible delight but for me it is necessary. He's always in my mind, he's always creeping in my peripheral, because he will always be necessary. I cannot bear his passing, so I won't. I will keep him forever. He inhabits as much of my being as Raito does.

By now the shovel is tossed aside and my fingers scrape desperately at the earth below until they scratch the surface of his tomb. My muscles ache and my sweat drops but I have found him. He is with me now, and my light burns brighter because of it. I brush the dirt away from the smooth wood covering that has begun to fall away and I all but tear the cover away to gaze upon him.

And although I know I should see rotting flesh and bleached bone, I can only see him. I see him as clearly as I did the day he perished inside of my arms. He's so ethereal, so alluring, even now. His eyes are shut tight as sable eyelashes fan his porcelain cheeks. His lips are closed, and rosy pink as he lies in eternal slumber. He doesn't move, doesn't breath, doesn't think but he's here with me now. I've lost his soul but I have him forever. That has to count for something.

"I'm here." I tell him softly, but I receive no response as I brush a thinning and frayed tendril of ebony hair away from his eyes. The lack of response angers me, and I lean down to breathe his rotting scent in.

A flash of his hollowness confronts me as I stare intently at the uncovered piece of bone where skin has fallen away. His bones are as white as his skin. I feel a splatter of unease smear my soul, but I wipe it away. There is no room for morals when I am with Lawliet, there is no room for peace among men. We can only suffer.

"You said I killed you?" I whisper into one of the empty, pitted eye sockets. They are almost as black as his eyes once were. "Haunt me then."

He replies that he will, he always will, and I sigh as dust swirls about. I lay my head onto his boney shoulder, and close my eyes.

He'll never be far away, he'll always stay with me. I am with him now, and in this moment I want nothing more than to dissolve into the earth with him. His spirit haunts the dirt as loose muck falls over me. I'd like to be buried with him. I'd like to rest with him, forever.

I crack a heavy eyelid open to stare at the silver sliver of the moon that shines above, illuminating us. The stars sing our songs and the wind whispers secrets that we both already know.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

Nothing is said, but I know he agrees.