Find someone who knows how to calm your storms.
The rainfall outside sounds so thick, so heavy, that it makes Light's heart stutter before he even makes it outside onto the rooftop. The atmosphere is so disgustingly perfect, so mind-numbingly cliche, he feels like throwing something. The darkness from the grey clouds outside bleed onto the foyer and the windows are dappled with God's tears of sadness over the event that will soon transpire.
It's so dramatic, honestly. It's nothing the weather should be worrying itself over, anyway. There is only one course of action that could take place, and everything had already been set into motion. The tapestry of fate has already been woven together with it's nasty threads, and there's nothing Light could do to change it. Not now. Who is he to go against fate? L will die today, so he can live. So he can reign as the God of the New World, so that he can save the innocents from the wickedness that plagues the streets. L will die. L must die, because he cannot die. He decided L had to die ever since the imposter showed his face on live television.
L has been roaming the earth as a lost soul for some time, this is simply a delayed reaction. He's come close to snuffing out his existence many times, but those were all simply rehearsals. This is the final act. The show must go on, and he cannot loose his nerve. He knows his part, he's memorized his lines, and this is the end. There's no time for an intermission, and there will be no interruptions nor any changes. The final script has been sent down and soon the stage will go dark for L.
Well, there have been changes in the script. A few lines have been rewritten and a few scenes have been added. So he fell in love with the man. Sue him. It was not anticipated, but it happened, and he can hardly change the past. It was all his amnesiac self's fault. If he had not been without his memories, maybe…
No, that isn't right. He probably would have let himself fall for the detective anyway. How could he not? L is everything. L is to him the air that fills his lungs and the water that he drinks for sustenance. L is the one who makes him feel less alone in a crowded room, he is the only reason Light wakes up with a smile on his face. L is his one equal, his one twin flame, the one person who has ever understood him. The only person who could ever come close. For his entire life, he had been surrounded by brainless souls who felt nothing and who were nothing. In enters a man who has it all, and how could Light not be taken?
The line between love and hate is thin at best, nonexistent at worst.
All of those heartbeats that he thought thumped against his chest hatefully, were really pounding with longing. With L, he didn't have to try. At first, his perfect mask was all he had against the raven, so of course he deployed it. But soon he realized it wouldn't matter even if he went under massive reconstructive surgery, L would always be able to see through him. L would always know what he was thinking, and he had no chance at fooling him. He didn't have to try so hard with L, because he could say what he was thinking because of his apparent telepathy. L was not taken with his airs and graces, because he could see what really lie under Light's perfectly tanned skin.
And, surprisingly, he didn't run. He stayed. He loved him more for it, even. What that says about them, Light doesn't know.
But no matter how much they may care for each other, love will not override justice. L has told him he will kill Light if he finds him to be Kira. And L already knew he was Kira, what this means is if he finds any proof. Yes, that's the truth of it all. If he could have, L would have arrested him the very first day they met. Before that, probably. But there was no smoking gun to be found inside of Light's grasp, so L wedged himself in-between a rock and a hard place. Even now, even when L has complete clarity that Light is who he always believed him to be, there's not a thing he can do about it. Even if there was, it's too late now.
So, why does he feel so damn melancholy? This is what he's wanted from the beginning, he's not about to play coy and act as if he'll be shocked by Rem's actions. He orchestrated them.
Maybe because this game will finally be over? Perhaps he wishes that their cat and mouse could go on for eternity, that someone would hit replay on their song right before it fades into static. Maybe, despite all of the time they've spent with one another, it hasn't been enough. Would it ever be enough? Light doesn't think he'd ever get sick of looking into those deep, charcoal eyes that brim with knowledge of everything. He doesn't think he'd ever grow weary of hearing L's heart beat against his in the dead of night with only the shadows of the room surrounding them. L annoys him, he hates L, but he needs him.
Not more than his Death Note, evidently, but L still is important.
He would be an idiot to act as if L doesn't affect him. He tried to wade into the rivers of denial, but he didn't get far. He's much too intelligent to not realize what is shared by only them two. It would waste time to act as if he doesn't love L. It would be useless, pointless, and L would laugh at him. They both know what this is, because they know each other, and no matter how much it hurts it's what Light's got.
He also knows that love will never be stronger than his want for justice. And victory. He can accept love, just as how he can accept L's death, but that doesn't mean he has to understand it. It doesn't mean he has to loose himself to it. Emotions are for idiots, and he cannot afford to have them. That's what he always said. Maybe he lied. Maybe he can have them, but, maybe he can't feel them. He just can't let them destroy him. It's okay to have a secret, but only if it's one only you know about. It's okay to love L, because it's a secret L will take to the grave. Light can love L, but he can't save him.
He sucks in a deep breath before he pushes open the doors that will lead to the rooftop. Watari said L would be out here. He likes the rain, is what the old man said. That's not true, Light knows that L hates wet, damp, cold things. But the butler said it with an air of irritation, with a hint of spitefulness, because he probably has an inkling of what is to happen next. He stared at Light as if he was some sort of monster that had just escaped from a closet. Whatever, he's an old fool who doesn't know anything.
L wanted to be out here because he wanted to see the city one more time. He wanted to breath fresh air one more time. Since most of his life has been spent inside of hotels and buildings, he probably wanted a taste of mother nature for once. And, mostly, he probably wanted to be alone to muse over his loathsome feelings. Light knows, because, well, he just does. Because he knows L. Headquarters is always too busy, too full, despite the only eight workers it holds. It's always Matsuda bursting down doors with a lame joke or a piece of evidence that has already been found, or Watari shuffling in with a new pot of tea. You can't really ever be alone in that building. Light can't even recount the amount of times he and L have almost been interrupted during their not safe for work activities. Sigh. All of those damn people. Light will get them soon, of course, because it's only a matter of time before he gets rid of the police, but L's death is different. It's special. It shouldn't be overshadowed by anyone else's death. This day is for them only.
A distant crack of thunder sounds in the distance, and Light shivers as his eyes roam the terrace. There, by the big satellite. is his L. His ghost. It's what he looks like, anyway. He looks smaller than Light has ever seen him. Fragile, almost. He's hunched over so fiercely that the hunchback of Notre Dame would have competition, and even from here Light can feel the utter despair that is radiating off of him. A crack of lighting illuminates his form once, and then it's gone, leaving him surrounded by the utter darkness. His face is turned downwards, his sodden hair hiding his current emotion from Light's face. Light thinks he knows what L is feeling.
Loss.
Defeat.
….Loneliness. But, he'll never truly be alone, right? He and Light have claimed each other, that much is clear. Even after he's gone, Light would be hard pressed to loose sight of the World's Greatest Detective. It was inevitable, and they changed each other. They left their bloody handprints, their bruising marks on one another, and that will never just simply fade away. Light has L for life, and L has Light for what little is left of his. Light doesn't think he'll ever forget him.
He'll cherish the memories. it's all they have.
Suddenly, he watches in rapt interest as the other straightens up, as if controlled by strings led by a puppeteer. He raises his face and looks up towards the sky. Why? Is he praying, hoping that somehow, he'll be allowed entrance into heaven? It's still much too far for Light to make out any one emotion on his face, but he feels something akin to hopelessness. No, there's no hope left for L. He's gazing up at the sky reverently, perhaps looking inside of a memory. Light can only observe with widened eyes the man who stands in front of him. He feels like a paper man watching a scene in a glass globe. He feels like he's lived this movie before, and he feels as if nothing about this is original. Is this how it was always meant to go? Was there no other option for L besides defeat?
Light would like to think so. He cannot imagine himself loosing. His sense of self-preservation is too strong, too animalistic. He would move the heavens and the earth, he would sacrifice his very own mother without batting an eye if that meant victory. It's a gnawing, biting, itching feeling that has nestled under his skin. It makes his eyes twitch and his brain ignite with passion. Winning is the only thing that's right to him. It's all he knows.
He knew love once, but that was back when he was young and stupid. He can't feel that way anymore, love is nothing but a soft whisper to him now. Now, watching L like he's observing a painting, he thinks this might be the most he's ever loved him.
No, the most he loved him was around the second month mark of their confinement together. They had been sitting in bed together, and Light had been struggling to fall into sleep's wispy arms, and L had nudged his shoulder and asked if he wanted to watch a movie. It had been some silent film shit, something about sex and it being restless. L had admitted he had a fondness for silent movies, they helped him think due to the drollness and quietness of everything. He also liked…how did he put it? He thought it was 'utterly fascinating to watch the ghosts of the past, captured by the camera's lens forever. They're all dead now, Light-kun.' Light had nearly fallen asleep, but wondered if this was a trick to suss out whether he was Kira or not. He stayed awake, just in case, and L had handed him a chocolate, and by the end of the film L had kissed him softly on the cheek. Almost as an afterthought, like it was the most normal thing in the world, and when Light had turned his head to stare at him L had been dead asleep. It had been the first time he had seen him sleep.
Light wonders if L had wanted to feel like they were simple that night. He wondered if L craved something akin to domestic bliss, he wondered if L wanted to feel something more for him and that movie was a test to prove as much.
But now here they stand, equals on different leveled pedestals, and one is prepared for the slaughter. Light can't take his eyes off of him. The harsh spit of the rain washes over his face, but the other doesn't flinch. Does he have a inclination to rain? Will he miss it? Light shouldn't care if he does or doesn't, but he does. He curses himself. The smell of something unpleasant coats the air, something wet and feral. Is it his own emotions?
L must sense his presence, because how could he not, because he turns his head. Their eyes lock and Light swallows painfully. L sees him, but he wonders, what version? What version does L love more? Beautiful, naive Light or striking, all-powerful Kami? Even though day by day he is surrounded by the stares of everyone, L's is the only one that matters. L has been and always will be the only one who has ever truly seen him.
His eyes spark with something mournful, and Light has to force words to come out of his dry throat. It's only polite to make conversation, he can't very well stand there staring at L as if he is some creeper. Even now, his manners cling to him. "What are you doing standing there all by yourself?"
L's hand flies up to his ear, cupping it, because he probably didn't hear Light. Of course he couldn't, the bothersome rain is much too loud. It sounds like the pouring of a waterfall, and it lands painfully by Light's feet. He can feel the chill of the wetness, and struggles not to wrap his arms around himself for comfort.
"What are you doing out there standing by yourself?" He leans forward, almost shouting, and cupping his own hand by his mouth as if that will somehow increase the volume. It doesn't. Light wonders if he is like another one of those actors in the silent films L loves so much, and the raven repeats the gesture. This time, a smirk crawls onto his lips. What, does he want Light to get himself wet too? Does he wish for Light to sully himself further? Light knows that's what he wants, he can tell by the impish gleam that has entered L's abyssal eyes. He wants Light to get wet too, if only to annoy Light. He loves pushing his buttons.
Fine, Light can play one more round.
Sighing, he makes his way out from under his shelter. His hand attempts to act as a shield from the downpour, he raises it over his head, but obviously it does no good. He is immediately soaked to the bone, and his clothes cling to him uncomfortably. His hair, which he always grooms and styles to look impeccable for no reason other than it's what he's been programed to do, will surely be a dampened frizzy mess after this whole ordeal. Now, it really does feel like an old movie.
His shoes squelch against the drenched tiles as he makes his way over to L, and he blinks uncontrollably as raindrops cling to his lashes.
It feels like a whole journey, but really, it's only been a few paces. L's eyes have left him and are now staring off into the distance, hollow and glazed over. This annoys Light, because, he wants L to see him. "What are you doing L-Ryuzaki?"
He bites his tongue. He got so used to uttering the letter L, any other word now sounds foreign in his mouth. Ryuzaki isn't L, Ryuzaki is a character. The Task Force knows Ryuzaki, but only Light has the privilege of saying L. Just like how L calls him 'Light-kun' when…really…
He knows his true name too.
"Oh, I'm not doing anything in particular…" L's gaze returns to the ground, and he studies it as if the answer to life will be found in the puddles. "It's just…I hear the bell."
Light's hand is still over his face, half-obscuring his view of L, so he only stares at him harder. if possible, his gaze would burn holes into the other man. Bell? What bell? Is L's hearing really that acute, because, Light cannot hear anything over the rain. It's louder than his thoughts, his very own heartbeat.
"…The bell?"
"Yes." L murmured, sparing him a quick glance before he averted his eyes once again. What Light saw in there, however, was purely unadulterated pain. "The sound of the bell has been unusually loud today."
Light spared a quick glance around the rooftop, as if he would suddenly be met with the sight of a bell. He still couldn't hear it. "Hm?" He muttered, a rather fat droplet of water hitting him squarely on his cheek. "I don't hear anything."
"Really." L muttered, the dark timbre of his voice sending a thrill up Light's spine. "You can't hear it?"
Light didn't like that accusation, like he was dumb or that he was missing out on something important. He wanted to hear the bell, he didn't want to appear to be hard of hearing or dense, but still, all he could hear was the fierce pitter patter of the rain droplets falling all around them.
"It's been ringing nonstop all day." L continued, thoughtful now. "I find it…very distracting." He inhaled nosily, kicking his surprisingly shoe covered foot against the tiles. "I wonder if it's a church? Maybe a wedding…or..perhaps a…."
Light felt his eyes narrow as the words sunk deep into his skin. Perhaps a what? A funeral? L was talking bollocks, that much was clear now. He shouldn't entertain this. They should go inside, Light didn't want to risk catching a chill. Not that it would matter if L did….his body would soon be as frigid as an ice cube anyway. The thought made an unpleasant scowl grow onto his usually untouched features.
"What are you getting at Ryuzaki?" He said, frustration dripping into his voice as he unthinkingly pulled his hand away. Water began to drip from his bangs down his cheeks, and he sighed nosily. "C'mon. Cut it out, and let's get back inside."
L turned to look at him, perhaps he was surprised that Light cared enough to not simply abandon him to the forces of nature. Didn't he know better? Light's heart clenched at the look of childish confusion written across his face. His eyes were wide and confused, but somehow, still as blank as ever. He couldn't read the emotion they held or, maybe he didn't want to.
The two stared at each other, each passing second made Light's chest grow tighter, and he wondered, what was the point of all of this? Was L attempting to appeal to his better nature one last time? He must have known that wouldn't work, right? It was much too late in the day, and they were both so far gone. It wasn't as if Light could hope to stop a shinigami. He had no control over this situation. Right?
L looked expectant for a moment, and a string of water fell from his sodden raven locks, and just as suddenly as that winsome hope had appeared, it vanished along with the chilled breeze. He dropped his head slightly, letting the rain wash over his drawn features. He somehow looked as white as snow, as white as a lily, as white as something that should be dead. He looked as white as the powdered sugar that lay atop the donuts Matsuda was always attempting to steal. Why now? Why did he care so much now? Didn't he understand? Light thought he would have.
"I'm sorry." He eyes lowered, and Light's eyes widened at the apology. Repentance? L had never once shown an ounce of contrite for anything. Not for allowing Light to believe he would be shot, not for chaining him up, and certainly not for any of the deaths he himself had caused. Surely he couldn't feel sorry? It was okay, Light didn't expect him to. It was all fair game in the end, anyway.
His shoulders drew up, and he turned his face away from Light as if attempting to hide. "Nothing I say makes any sense anyway. If I were you, I wouldn't believe a word of it." He said this almost bitterly, as if cursing himself, and Light's eyes somehow grew impossibly wider. What did that mean?
L had always made sense. Even now, even when he refused to understand Kira, that was okay. Light understood that too. L couldn't understand Kira or, rather, he couldn't turn the other cheek. L had to die not because he was against Kira and his ways, but, because he couldn't stand to loose. He wouldn't be able to live after the fact, he wouldn't be able to stand defeat. Light was sure that L knew why Kira did what he did hell, maybe in a different life he would have respected him. Maybe in another life he could have been an ally…
Did he mean he hadn't meant it when he had said he loved Light? His mouth dried at the thought, and his eyes darted around the terrace anxiously. No, that couldn't have been right. Light couldn't have possibly imagined their passion. It was still there! He could feel it, even now. It was like their hearts were sewn together, and the thread was made of iron. L was a practiced liar, but so was Light, and he was positive that he'd know with absolute certainty whether or not L had lied about his affections. No, they had both been taken under it's spell.
So what did L mean? Why couldn't Light figure this line of questioning out? He couldn't decipher it's origins nor it's meaning. Was L already suffering from delirium, was he talking shit to simply talk shit? No, L didn't say anything without a purpose. This had to mean something. Or, was it useless nonsense a person thought while lying on their death bed?
Light wondered how it would feel, imminent death. He had felt it when L had first confronted him, but not ever after. Light couldn't imagine himself dying, he couldn't imagine looking into death's red ruby irises as he breathed out his last breath. Light couldn't imagine feeling his life seep from his fingertips, how would death taste? Like something indulgent, or something bitter and unsatisfying? Was L afraid? He didn't want to think like that. L had never been afraid, save for when he had first found out about the shinigami. But that had been a blip in the timeline, a temporary ailment. This felt very, very real and very, very choking. The presence of terror made Light want to run but, where would he go? L, the World's Greatest Detective, the most fearsome monster he had ever encountered, was afraid? That wasn't right.
He cocked his head, his features going slack as he tried to unravel the mystery in front of him. L didn't offer anything else to him, he simply stared down at the ground. Is he even taking in what he is seeing? His eyes are wide and his lips are curved into a downwards frown, and he just looks so lost, so adrift, that Light wants to collect him in his arms and rub a soothing hand down his back. He won't because he feels that that particular action would somehow ignite something and make everything seem utterly doomed, but it's a nice thought.
Water drips slowly from L's hair, as if it is reluctantly leaving him, and Light can't take it anymore. His eyes scrunch up as a bitter smile overtakes his face, it's wide and stretching and uncomfortable. It's the kind of smile he gives others when they won't take the hint, or when his father gets too nosy about Misa. It's awkward, but it's meant to reassure them. Light doesn't think it will do that. It softens as an almost inaudible chuckle excuse from his lips. This really is the end.
"You know, you're totally right." His eyes peak open, because he wants to see if L will return his gesture. He does not, he stays ramrod still, as if he is an ancient yet immortal statue. "Honestly, most of the things you say are complete nonsense." But that's not true. Why is he saying this? Everything L says is important, every last word. They all have merit. L has never said a word that has been unheard simply because it is insignificant, doesn't he know this?
Maybe Light is just uncomfortable, or maybe, he's slightly angry. Maybe he's frustrated and upset because for once, he can't read L like an open book, so maybe the other's newest mood has sent him into a tizzy. He just doesn't know how to deal with this. Should he reassure him? Light doesn't know how to do comfort, he hates consolation. Besides, what could he do? How could a murderer soothe their victim? He's a lion prowling around a lamb, no, a weaker lion. L was never just a lamb to him.
The thing L said that was the most nonsensical was that Light was his first ever friend, perhaps that is what Light means by this statement. They were never friends. Friends don't hate like they do. Friends don't love like they do.
"There'd be no end to my troubles if I took you seriously all of the time." The trouble is that he never cannot take him seriously. The trouble is that Light understands L as if he is his own being, and it haunts him. That's what the trouble is. He's accepted it, but to reiterate, that doesn't mean he has to welcome the feeling of love with open arms and kiss it tenderly on the head. He doesn't know how to love softly, dearly, delicately. He only knows love is something that makes you feel pain, but the pain is so exquisite, you come back for more. What he knows of love is that it is violence, an attack on your very soul. Love is hardship, love is brutal and love is terrifying. Love isn't something he can have, but even Gods indulge in ambrosia every once and a while. Love was all he had, but it left him as soon as his fingers brushed up against the Death Note's worn leather cover. Love isn't vital, he'll live. Just barely, but he will.
He had never known love, and he envies the past version of him who had only heard that word whispered behind closed door. He misses the days when he was naive and fool-hardy, a mere boy simply writing names to change the world. He thinks he'd like to go back to that, no matter the cost. Yes he has loved, but his love is deadly. He is something like a black widow. And after having it, while it has been great, it has been everything, he still wishes he never would have felt a damn thing. It would be so much easier.
"I probably know that better than anyone." Because he knows him better than anyone.
"Yes." L whispered, but the words carry. "I would say that's a fair assessment."
"But…..I could say the same about you." L's voice grows lighter, softer, and Light's shoulders stiffen. That's true. The water won't stop hitting him, and L's blood won't stop dripping from his hands. L knows him like no one does. L has only ever known the true Yagami Light, he had no patience for his masks or his smiles. L knows him. It feel terrifying to be known, and Light shivers from the exposure. It's everything and nothing, and he wonders if he'll ever be known again. He doesn't think so.
"Hm." Light murmurs his assent, and L turns to him with a smirk. His eyes glimmer and grow darker, and he looks like one of the three wisemen. He's about to tell Light a secret, only something that's fit for their ears. Light strains to listen.
"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born has there ever been a point where you've told the truth."
His words cut into him like glass. It's the doubt that hurts him, that L thinks he's never told a truth ever, and his shoulders fall. The rain seems to stop for a moment as a thick silence descends upon him, and all he can do is stare. The wind reverberates around his shaking bones, and time seems to still as once again everyone else is dead but them. They are the only people truly alive in this universe, and Light wonders why he could ever possibly consider killing off his partner.
Kira is a faint memory now. This isn't about Kira.
L's eyes bore into him, picking apart every insecurity and every flaw, and he hates it. It's as if he is being flayed alive by a simple glare. There's more black then grey held inside of L's orbs, and he stares at him challengingly. He wants him to deny it. His wet hair hangs over his eyes, plastered to his face, and he wants Light to atone for his sins. What sins? The sin of loving him? Light can scarcely breathe.
And sure, he could say a pretty lie or sweet nothings that would disappear into the atmosphere, unaccepted by either party. He could say what is expected of him, that of course he lies because every human lies because no one is perfect but that he tries to never tell a lie that could hurt and always tries to be honest to the best of his abilities because isn't that what everyone does? Everyone is always looking out for themselves, it's a cruel world where only the strongest survive and weakness isn't tolerable. Ryuk taught him that. Light could say that he is a righteous man, he could deny all wrongdoing and only L would know of his lie. Only L knows of his lies, because they're all the same to him. They are his life-blood, his reason for existence. He understands Light's lies, for they rival his own.
But, he can't do that. Why? He doesn't want L to think that this was all for nothing at all, he doesn't want him to believe Light a monster as he traipses into the great unknown. He can't let L die thinking that Light felt nothing. Light feels too much. He feels everything. It wraps around his windpipe and threatens to steal all of his breath away, because that's how much he cares. He cares for anything and everything L has to offer. He can only care about L, no one else. Can't he see that this is his privilege? He thought L understood!
In a flash of raw anger, he blurts out his truth. "How could you say that?" He hisses, and L suddenly looks genuinely taken aback. "You know the difference between my truths and my lies."
"Do I?" L asks sharply, and Light can only nod as wetness streams down his cheeks. It seems to be dripping from his eyes, they burn.
"I've never lied about the way I feel for you." He says quietly, but he knows L must have heard him.
"Oh." L says softly, a new smile crawling onto his lips. Light's jaw clenches. "I had hoped….I wasn't sure, because after everything-"
"I couldn't just not….feel this way!" Light flounders. He still can't say the words, and the shame nearly sweeps him off his face. It's a tidal wave of distress and he closes his eyes to allow the water droplets to paint his eyelids.
"I know. I feel the same." L admits, and Light looks at his distorted frame through his lashes. "I'm sorry, I should have known."
"You should always know." Light scowled, more hurt than anything. "Just because I can't say it doesn't mean I don't feel it."
"I know." L nods, because he does. "I feel it too, don't worry."
And even though Light already knew L did feel the same way about him, the sliver of doubt that had pierced his heart is plucked out and he feels relief flood his veins. He feels his feelings returns, and that's enough for now. He has loved, and he has been loved, and though this is the end, he will always remember what L's love felt like.
"I'm sorry." Light offers, but he doesn't know why, because he's not sorry. Not really. Sorry implies that he feels guilt, and this is all L's fault. If he hadn't of been so resistant…so perfect…so cruel….
Saying sorry would mean he regrets it, but he doesn't regret anything. Not even falling into L's arms. L knows this, and snorts as he rolls his eyes. His features are softer now, like he's a parent about to comfort a small child. Light wants to scream at him, and fall on his shoulder, and ask him to fix it all. He knows that it's all pointless, but he wants something to make this situation better. He wants L to assure him that their love will never die and, that one day, they'll meet again as stars. Bright, twinkling stars that will roam the heavens for eternity and maybe even longer. He wants L to tell him that it's alright, and that he's proud of him, and that he's proud of what he's going to accomplish. Even if he has to accomplish it alone.
L starts forward slowly, his eyes roaming Light's form as if he's drinking him in. Light does the same. He never wants to forget L, he never wants to wake up one day and realize he can't recall his face. He wants those wide eyes that look black but appear a soft grey underneath the lowlight to never leave his mind. He wants to remember what L's hair looks like, smells like, tastes like. He wants to remember the contours of his face and the hollows of his cheeks. He wants to remember how that warm, lily-white skin pressed into him. He wants to always know what it felt like to have L's heart beat against his, only for him.
He doesn't even have a picture. Hysteria bubbles up inside of him and he's positive a real tear does escape from his eyes. His fingernails punch crescent-shaped hollows into his palms, and L notices and frowns. He takes his wet hands into his, and a bolt of electricity runs up Light's arms. L's hands are so soft, yet sturdy. They ground him. He won't be able to hold onto him like this when he is dead.
"It had to end sometime." L said, almost in an uplifting way, as his thumb ran over the back of Light's hand. "It looks like this is my stop, eh?"
"I don't want it to end." He says pitifully, his voice bordering on a whine and a plea. L cocks his head, and Light looks away quickly.
"Everything comes to an end." L reminds him, his hands leaving his hands to come and draw patterns upon his mandible. Light unwillingly leans into the touch, it's utterly intoxicating. It makes him burn with an inner fire, and L is wrong. For countless infinities, for endless lifetimes, this scene shall always remain. How L makes him feel is a forever thing. "The world won't stop twirling on it's axis, and the sky won't fall from above. You'll go on and one day, when it's your time, you'll understand that the end isn't quite as scary as everyone makes it out to be. It will all be alright, Light-kun."
L's words do about as good as a splash of water onto a house fire. They coat Light's skin, but don't sink in to patch-up his inner wounds."You're leaving." He mutters accusatorially, pettishly, childishly, because he wanted L to leave. How can he be so ridiculous? He's the one who ordered that the death warrant be drawn up.
He needs L to leave, and he needs him to stay. Well, isn't he just a walking contradiction. For his entire life, Light has always gotten his own way. Everything he's ever wanted has become his, except for this. Finally, there's something that's unattainable. Love is something he cannot keep firm in his grasp, he's let it slip away. The resulting feeling is an empty, aching longing.
"If it wasn't me leaving you, it would be the other way around." L reminded him of the harsh reality, which was like the blade of a guillotine coming down to slice his affections in half. It wasn't not true, but Light still felt his chest tighten. "This wasn't destined to be a forever thing, Light."
"I know." He nuzzles his head into the crook of L's shoulder, it's the last time he'll be able to do so. It'll be the last time that he really, truly can breathe in L and all of his glory. It's the last time he'll be able to press their chests together and feel the steady beat of his heart in time with his. L feels so warm in the midst of this barren wasteland, and for a fraction of a second, he feels at home. He feels more at home then he ever did at his own. L is his home.
He just has to pack up and move is all.
"It'll be lonely though, won't it?" L asked breathily, his mouth pressed into his skull. His breath tickles him. "You and I will be parting ways soon."
"Yes." Light affirms, nodding limply. So soon and never soon enough. The loneliness will capture him, and he'll never be able to escape it's bonds. It's funny, comical almost, that the chains still remain. Even after L tucked them away into his drawer, even though his wrist is free, his heart never will be. They are chained together, always and forever. Light never won't feel the cold clasp of the metal around his wrist.
L hums something, a melody perhaps, and his willowy fingers run a line up Light's curved in spine. His hands flail, and grasp at L's sodden undershirt. He clutches the wet fabric in-between his shaking fingers, and lets out an unsteady breath that could be considered a sob if he was anyone else.
"Chin up." L consoles, and Light raises his head simply a fraction so that his soaked cheek will brush against L's own. His words reverberate through him, they bounce around and echo in his mind. "You have to be strong. Take this victory, Light. View your spoils of war, it's all yours."
I didn't want you to be a spoil, is what he wants to say. But the words feel hollow inside of him, and would only taste like ash inside of his mouth. His teeth chatter, and he leans somehow even closer to L, as if wanting to melt into him.
"Don't leave me." He begs softly, almost quietly unheard over the raging of the storm.
"I won't promise that." L chuckles darkly, knowingly. "I don't know what will happen next."
"Do whatever you need to do, but do all that is in your power to never leave." Light spits out, pulling away to catch one last glimpse of L and his haunted eyes. they look like dark whirlpools that are sucking him in, and he cannot fight their pull. He can only drown inside of the blackened waters. He can only feel what the burden of being loved has done to him. It has destroyed him. "I mean it. I'll….m-miss you."
L shakes his head softly, closing his eyes as a thoughtful half-smile distorts his mouth. Light thinks of leaning in for a peck, but thinks that might just be a tad disrespectful. "One of us has to be strong." L mutters, no real joy to be found in his voice. "You have it all, Light. You have everything you've ever wanted. Don't cry now."
"I'm not crying." He sniffles. Allergies.
L sighs, almost adoringly, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip as his eyes scan Light's face. Light wonders what he sees. "I'll miss you too." He finally admits, and Light's heart thumps for the last time. "Now, we can't have a god among men catch a chill now, can we? Let's go inside Light."
But inside is where…is where it all ends. Is it time already? Has the clock stopped ticking, have the bells stopped ringing? Light thinks he hears it now, only faintly. It's just over the horizon, hidden by the swath of clouds enveloping the city. The bells. The bells are sounding, because it's time. The alarm has been set, and the curtain will rise in a few. It's time. It's time. He swallows thickly, and wants to throw himself off of the roof. He wants the wind to blow and whip and swirl around him as gravity pushes him to his death. He wants to simply not think for just a little while, he wants to hit the pavement below and fade to black as he feels his own life-force bleed from him. He doesn't want it to end, not yet, he wants more time! But….
Kira will not wait. justice does not abide by man's made time. Justice simply is, and will always be. Light cannot delay his appearance any longer, it is time for the spotlight to shift onto him. He must walk onto the stage with pep in his step, his head must be held high and confidence must drip from every pore. The masks are to be returned onto his face, this is the last time that they have slipped. There's a new, tight string on the back, you see. His new mask will never fall again. That much he knows.
It's the hour of Kira, he will rise like a phoenix and rule the earth with kindness and fairness. He will save everyone from evil, he will protect the weak and avenge the brokenhearted. He will transform into his final form, it is finally time to shed his mortal skin and step into the robes of the gods. There's nothing more to do, the kiss of death had been had long ago. Light is Kira, and Kira is Light, and L is no more.
The end. There shall be no encore.
A crack of thunder sounds around him, and he lets himself get lost in the endless noise. It will be quiet soon. Not yet, but soon. The monsoon of emotions is almost as great as the endless downpour, it threatens to erase even him. Could the rain cleanse this awful feeling away? He doesn't think so.
He thinks he hears L whisper something about love, but he's already walked away from him. He feels so far away now. Is this what loneliness feels like? Light takes a deep breath, steadies his erratic heart, and his features melt into that of a statue. He is nothing, he is a man with a mission, no more and no less. He can hear the stage manager yelling at him, the makeup artists are hastily powdering his face, and his costars are reminding him of his cues and lines. Not that he needs reminding. Yes, it's all working out in his favor. Yes, he's won. This dark net of loneliness will not hinder him, it doesn't exist if he tucks it away. Pandora's box. He's a living, breathing pandora's box which no one can open unless they have the key. L still has the key, nestled deep in the back pocket of his light-wash jeans. It's okay. Everything is going according to plan.
L is, in a way, already dead. Was he always dead, even from the moment Light first met him?
Light lets his heart beat once more, as he stares into the bleak horizons. He whispers for an answer, but nothing is given to him besides more soft bullets of rain. L calls for him again, and he quickly turns his head away.
The rainfall is so thick, so heavy, that it almost washes his love for L away. Not entirely, though, because nothing could take away how he feels for L.
He loved him, and loved him, and loved him until he couldn't. He loved him, but never enough.
He feels himself disappearing into the mist, and he closes his eyes as he lets his footsteps guide him to the indoors. Light has loved, and he has lost, but it will not kill him.
The bell tolls not for him.