Surprise! It's been four and a half years, but I'm finally updating this fic! After deciding to rewatch Death Note, inspiration hit me like a ton of bricks, so here we are! It's been a pretty long while, so I'm sure my writing style is at least a little different? But I'm hoping that it still flows well with the rest of the story, and that my depictions of L and Light are still okay! And as always, comments are very appreciated! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Practicing capoeira with stinging, freshly bandaged arms was…an experience.
L didn't know why he decided to go into the headquarters' gym at three in the morning; he only knew that he did. He remembered being vaguely concerned about his quite possibly dwindling physical strength the day before, and he supposed that somehow, that had possessed him to make his way into the unused room.
The task force probably didn't even know of its existence. He didn't think many of them had ventured very far into the building, and if he wasn't mistaken (it was very plausible that he was), Light and Misa were the only ones to ever go higher than the third floor – as their date room was on the fifth. This was all excluding L and Quillsh, of course.
The detective had probably covered the most ground in the building, though. It was far easier and more convenient to wander the empty floors than to actually go outside; it was safer as well. As unsafe as traversing the streets of Tokyo could really be. Yes, yes – people would see his face. Kira could see his face. And even though it was highly unlikely that any member of Yotsuba would be strolling down the street, it was a possibility. Small possibilities, minuscule chances… They ruled his life. But he'd chosen the path, hadn't he?
As his body twisted, and almost searing pain traveled up his arm, he wondered if, perhaps, it was time to head to bed. He wouldn't sleep much, of course, but if Quillsh happened to find him here — well, he wasn't really in the mood for another lecture.
However, the thought of lying in bed, simply staring at his ceiling, brain running a mile a minute — it made the decision for him. At least here, he was prolonging how long it would be until he'd feel the desperate need to escape to his bathroom again. Here, pain was an ever present factor, but he wasn't creating new wounds. Simply angering old ones.
It probably, in all actuality, wasn't that much better than sitting against a wall, blade in his hand — but it felt better, somehow. Felt less self destructive.
Once again, he moved a little too quickly, and in just the wrong (right?) way, sending shocks of pain up and down his arm. But undeniable frustration was beginning to bubble out of him, because when had his habit become self destructive? Calling it that — it was the exact opposite of its purpose. It was supposed to be about bettering himself. Clearing his head, decluttering his brain. Making sure he was at peak efficiency, because he needed to be. The task force needed him to be, the world needed him to be. (Light needed him to be. It was L's responsibility to keep him innocent, and how could he do that when his mind was so loud and in the way?)
It was necessary. Just as vital as eating, drinking — sleeping, too, he supposed.
After the case was over, then he would work on cutting back (he could admit, it was getting a little over-the-top lately, a little much — but this was an exceptional circumstance, was it not?), but until then — it was all he could do to keep himself sane.
Another position caused the cuts on his arm to scream in pain, but he just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and savored the feeling.
"I still don't think this is a good idea, Ryuzaki."
If it were earlier in the day, L would have been able to suppress his sigh — but it happened to be 10pm, and it felt like everything was wearing thin (his patience, his focus, his energy), so he was most definitely unable to.
"If Light-kun would like to try and convince me not to follow through with this plan," L began, and he couldn't stop the irritation from basically dripping off his words, "perhaps he could start by giving an actual, valid reason for his discomfort."
"Wanting to keep Misa safe isn't a valid reason?"
"If Misa-san were uncomfortable with the plan, I would reconsider." He wasn't so sure that was the truth, but it wasn't as if Light had never lied to his face before. "But she is a willing participant, and has no objections, and so you shouldn't, either."
Light let out his own agitated sigh (which was another difference between him and Kira — every emotion had been so controlled. Calculated. Meticulously planned out. An exhausting way to live, he had to assume) and said, after a moment, "What if something happens to her?"
"Nothing will." Another lie. Maybe not a complete one, though. His plan truly wasn't as bad as Light was making it out to be. "She is an actress, you know. That should make this endeavor fairly easy for her."
"She's a model," Light said, and a quick glance told L that he had gone back to work, his gaze yet again focused on his computer screen, his hands typing away at his keyboard. "She may be working on a movie right now, but I have a feeling that won't last very long."
Ouch. Someone was feeling honest. "That's no way to talk about your soulmate, Light-kun."
"I've already explained this, Ryuzaki." The clicking and clacking of Light's keyboard sounded a tad more forceful. "Misa is not my soulmate. The relationship is one sided. You know this."
L was, indeed, aware of that fact — but mentioning it got under Light's skin. "Entirely one sided? In my experience, most 18 year old men would appreciate a beautiful woman being infatuated with them to, at least, some extent."
"I have more important things to be worried about, and so do you." L could hear Light take a deep breath, and when he spoke next, there was considerably less irritation in his voice. "It's friendship, Ryuzaki. You care about the safety of your friends."
"Perhaps you should inform Misa-san that you are simply friends." If it wasn't after 10pm, L would have been able to keep his thoughts to himself. But, as it were — "Do you care about my safety, Light-kun?"
"Yes, I do." There hadn't been hesitation before his answer. Light had just simply — spoken. Told the truth. Before solitary confinement, the answer surely would have been different. Although, before confinement, L wouldn't have asked. "Do you care about my safety?"
"Of course I do." Well, that had been a bit overzealous. He should have dialed it back. (He really needed to get upstairs, get to his room.) "I suppose it is part of friendship."
L glanced over at Light again, just in time to catch the small smile on his face. "Glad I'm here to witness you discovering the fundamental aspects of friendship."
He looked back at his own computer screen (he was in the process of writing a script for Misa to follow during her Yotsuba interview, because he figured it would be easier to try and "speak her language") and didn't say anything else, though he did idly think to himself, I'm glad you're the one who's teaching me, Light Yagami.
It was, apparently, time to deal with a fact that was quickly becoming unavoidable.
Cutting once a day was not enough.
L had been trying to deny it. When it was just once a day, a part of his nightly routine, it was easier to keep words like addiction and obsession out of his mind. But at this point, he could barely make it through half a day before the too-familiar fog would begin clouding his mind, and by the end of the night, focusing and getting quality work done was like a far off dream — completely unattainable.
He used to do his best work at night. Most of the time, his cases were solved at ungodly hours of the morning, which just added to his eccentricity, he knew, but it worked for him. And now, he — was any of his work his best? Light had made all the recent, major breakthroughs on the Kira case. All L had done was come up with the plan that involved Amane, and that was — what? A pebble compared to the stones Light had been throwing?
It was unacceptable, and something needed to change. And it was time to stop denying what the solution was — because he knew. He knew.
Was it riskier? Sure. Yes. But the pros severely outweighed the cons. Doing quality work was worth the added risk of having to sneak away in the middle of the day, the risk of someone finding him. But given the general discomfort that most of the task force still felt around him (except, perhaps, Light — he wasn't sure that Light was as uncomfortable as the rest), he wasn't going to have to worry about someone following him, questioning him, discovering him.
It was just something that had to be done. Especially with them zeroing in on Yotsuba, with Misa's interview happening in the next few days, with the majority of the task force just itching to move too fast, to arrest, arrest, arrest.
L needed to be at his best. He wasn't. And if he didn't rectify the situation soon, it might cost him his life.
Unacceptable, he thought to himself, as he twirled his blade between his fingers. Absolutely unacceptable.
His cuts that night were controlled. Contained. Smart, safe, not life threatening, because he didn't want to die.
But there was a new aspect to it, one that he decidedly wasn't going to acknowledge, but one that was there nonetheless.
There was punishment.
But L pushed that fact to the back of his mind.
"I hope Misa Misa is doing okay."
Both L and Light sighed at the same time, but neither of them said anything, because what would be the point of telling Matsuda to drop the Misa Misa infatuation? The first 100 times obviously hadn't done anything.
"I'm sure she's doing just fine." Ah, Soichiro. Of course. "She and Mogi will be back soon."
The former chief's words seemed to appease the younger man, at least for the time being, and silence descended on the room once again. L was reading about the untimely death of Arayoshi Hatori, who had been one of the eight members of the Yotsuba group. What was he the president of again? Vice President of Marketing, that's right. Obviously he couldn't be sure of what exactly happened to him, but it wasn't very promising, the fact that they were so willing to kill one of their own.
L glanced over at Light, attempting to see what rabbit hole of research he'd decided to go down himself (and also to watch the look of concentration on his face, how focused he was), when Matsuda decided to break the silence yet again.
"I hope she gets hired. Wouldn't that be cool? I would've gotten information about Kira and Misa Misa a job!"
It was about three seconds before something in L's brain snapped, and he had to leave.
"I'm going to the bathroom," he said, his voice still his usual monotone, but with an edge he couldn't keep out of his inflection. He immediately stood up and didn't wait for any commentary about his departure — if there was going to be any at all.
He bypassed the closest bathroom to the task force work room and went to the one on the floor below, just in case anyone happened to come looking for him. But the probability of that was — negligible.
Once he was in the room, door shut and locked, blade retrieved from behind the toilet (he'd put knives in the bathrooms he was most likely to frequent — along with bandages and towels), and he was situated on the floor, against the wall, he just sat for a few moments, taking deep breaths, in and out.
Waiting was an option. He could wait. Waiting would arise less suspicion. Though he'd already made a scene, hadn't he? By bursting out of the room like he had. No doubt Light had taken notice, and no doubt that L would be questioned about it later. Matsuda was probably just worried that L was angry with him, and he wasn't, genuinely.
It was just — too much. He couldn't focus. He needed to focus. When he had more brain power, it was easier to tune Matsuda out, or share a look with Light and feel secured by the fact that they were thinking the same thing. At the current moment, with his mind feeling as cluttered as a long overdue yard sale, he couldn't. He couldn't.
L cut his thighs this time, and for the first time, because he wondered how different it would feel. For someone with a different body type, it probably would have hurt less — but seeing as how he was quite slim everywhere, it felt similar. It would be easier to conceal, as well, considering there was zero chance of anyone seeing him with his pants off.
Really, if he thought about it — and he could think now, could feel the haze lifting off his brain, could feel his focus coming back to him — what were the downsides of cutting this area of his body? Why hadn't he thought of it before?
When he stood up about five minutes later, moving to retrieve the bandages and towels, the reason he'd never cut his thighs became abundantly clear to him.
Movement hurt. And while it wasn't 100% unwelcome, it would complicate things just a little bit more. Experimentally, he crouched down, assuming his preferred sitting position, and —
Ah.
Yes, it stung.
Fantastic, L thought to himself, choosing to move on with bandaging himself up rather than contemplate his poorly made decision. It wasn't severely detrimental, anyhow — he'd live.
Seven minutes after he'd made his hasty exit, he was returning, silently moving back to sit on his chair, wincing only slightly at the feeling of his thighs protesting.
A minute and a half passed before Light was saying, "Is everything okay, Ryuzaki?"
Containing his irritated sigh was absolutely no issue for him, and he responded with, "Everything is fine, Light-kun."
Another three minutes passed before Matsuda was speaking up, saying, "I'm sorry if I did anything to upset you, Ryuzaki, I didn't mean-"
"You did no such thing," L said, interrupting him, his voice cool and calm and collected. "I, too, wish for Misa-san to appear in a Yotsuba commercial."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Light roll his eyes, but it was easy enough to ignore it. And he could only imagine the look on Matsuda's face as he said, "I'm glad we're on the same page, Ryuzaki!"
And then, blissfully — they were back to silence.
L continued his research on Hatori, thinking that perhaps some detail about the days before and after his death could clue them in on who, exactly, Kira was. A glance over at Light told him that he was looking at the lists of Kira deaths again, but L wasn't going to doubt his strategy.
A little over 20 minutes later, Mogi and Misa Amane were entering the room.
"How'd it go?" Matsuda asked, immediately, and L and Light briefly shared a look before they were both turning around, away from their computers.
"Misa Misa got the part!" Mogi announced, in a loud, booming, cheerful voice, before he was pausing, clearing his throat. "Sorry," he continued, sounding normal. "Everything went well. Just as planned."
"Hi, Light!" Misa said, appearing from behind Mogi, and walking straight up to Light, and —
Sitting on his lap. Right.
"Hey?" Light's voice was soft, confused, and he gave L an almost pleading look, but there was no chance L was going to do anything to help him. Not that there was anything he could do, anyway.
"It was all perfect!" Misa said, leaning back against Light, resting her head against his shoulder. "Yotsuba loved me! And three of them already texted me, asking for private dates. Can you believe that?"
L could, in fact, believe that. It was genuinely no surprise that men who held meetings every week to decide who to kill would immediately message the model they just hired and ask for a date. It would be more surprising if they hadn't done that, actually.
"So, what's the next step? The next part of the plan?" Oh, Misa was still talking. Had she even let anyone respond to her previous question? "I should accept their date offers, right? And then investigate further?"
"Actually," Light began, and he still seemed uncomfortable with Misa splayed across his lap, though she would never notice, "we're going with a different plan, okay? You're still going to do the commercial, but that's it. No more investigating, and no dates."
"Aww, is someone jealous?" Misa asked, looking up at Light, a grin shining on her face, and L hadn't known it was possible to look the opposite of jealous, but Light definitely did. "You know you're the only one for me, Light!"
"It's not that," Light said, quickly brushing past it, and L moved his thumb to his mouth and gently bit it, in lieu of smirking. "It will be safer for you this way, Misa. These men could put you in serious danger."
L was fully prepared for the conversation to last at least another ten minutes, mainly fueled by Misa's arguments for why she should continue helping them, but that — didn't happen.
"Okay, Light," she said, closing her eyes for a moment before she was sitting up again, a smile on her face. "Whatever you say."
That wasn't right. No, that wasn't right at all. When L had proposed the idea to her, and Light had objected, Misa had fought and argued in order to be able to help them. Even in just the last two minutes, her enthusiasm was extremely evident. So why was she backing down? It wasn't just because Light had asked, because he'd done the same a few nights prior, and it hadn't mattered then. No, something else was going on, something else had happened — it was just a matter of what.
"Okay, well." Misa yawned, stretching her arms out, and then she was standing up, finally acknowledging the rest of the room, instead of just Light. "It's time for me to head to bed! I have to be up early for shooting, anyway. Goodnight, everyone!"
And then she was walking away and out of the room, blowing a kiss to Light before she left.
L looked back over at him, watched as he smoothed his pants out, and he still looked rather uncomfortable, despite the fact that Misa was gone. "Well."
"That was not as difficult as you thought it would be," L said, thumb still half in his mouth, because all he wanted to do was smirk at Light's obvious discomfort. "It seems that Misa-san truly will do anything you say, Light-kun."
Light didn't seem pleased at that fact, which was reasonable. "Yeah, I guess so."
"At least she still gets to be in the commercial," Matsuda said.
L couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes, but a quick look at Light told him that the other wasn't able to resist that urge, either. For a second, they met each other's gazes, they shared the same thought — Matsuda's an idiot — and then went back to work.
Is this what friendship is like? L thought to himself, and as he stole another glance at Light, and saw the soft smile on his face — he wasn't so sure that friendship was the right word.