Content Warning: Mention of rape/sexual assault. Two characters discuss the findings of an autopsy report in which a female character has been sexually assaulted. There are no descriptive depictions.
The people who love us scratch us, (…) And what is love, anyway? It's claw marks, scratches, scars, traces someone leaves inside of you.
Margarita Karapanou, Rien ne va Plus (tr. by Karen Emmerich).
Light's home was more or less what L expected.
It was sleek and modern, sitting prominently among a tree-lined street. A new construction. No doubt in warmer weather it was shaded and vibrant, but in late fall the harsh lines of the grand home peeked out from between spindly grey branches and withered leaves.
Once inside he was lead into a spacious office where Light waited, impeccably dressed as usual in an ash gray suit. He sat behind a large oak desk, pen in hand scrawling across paperwork. He looked up briefly and gestured to a seat in front. It was a hard, wooden chair, uncomfortable and too small to sit in it how he preferred so he let his feet hit the floor, setting the briefcase he brought beside him.
"Can I interest you in something to drink?"
"Tea, please." L requested at once. "And sugar."
Light nodded to the maid who led him in. He continued writing for a minute or so longer before shuffling the pages and setting them aside. He looked up at L with a polite smile.
"Are you wondering why I've invited you here today, Ryuzaki?"
"I have several theories." L said, thanking a maid who set a tray with tea and cake in front of him. He took his time, busying himself with spooning in the perfect amount of sugar into a gold rimmed tea cup. He stirred several times while the sugar dissolved before taking a small, experimental sip. He added more to it. Light watched this, head tilted to the side in question.
"I'd love to hear some of those theories." He encouraged.
"Yes, I imagine you would." L replied, sipping on the tea. Subpar he thought critically before adding several more spoonfuls to hide the astringent taste. He reached across the desk for a slice of cake. It reminded him of the one Misa made for him. Castella. That's what she called it. It was a short yellow cake with a golden crust on top, tasting like light sweet fluff and honey. If Misa were a cake that's what she'd be. He thought faintly. He took a bite, frowning. Too dense and dry. It crumbled into flavorless mush in his mouth. He set it back on the table, disappointed.
"Well," Light said when it became apparent L wouldn't divulge his theories. "I thought this would be a unique opportunity for us to speak, man to man, before this situation turns into something neither of us want."
"And what kind of situation would that be?" He asked, finally turning his attention to Light.
"If you recall from our previous conversation I mentioned that I would be hiring my own investigators." Light began. "I'd like to share the results of their findings with you. As a gesture of goodwill."
L already knew their findings and hardly thought Light possessed any goodwill towards him, but waited for him to continue.
Light leaned forward, his hands clasped before him.
"It's probably not as interesting as you hoped. My investigators, as well as my friends in the Tokyo Police Department, are in agreement: It's likely Teru Mikami is behind both the murder and the attack on Misa."
"I see."
"Mikami won't stay hidden forever. Eventually he'll reveal himself or we'll track him down, whatever comes first. He'll be held responsible for the murder and for his part in harassing Misa." Here he paused, shaking his head as if he couldn't resist. "I have to say, I find it strange hers is the only case you're working on right now."
"Why is that strange to you?"
"I have friends in the Tokyo Precinct. They tell me you're famous. You've worked on some incredible cases during your career. Political assassinations, kidnappings...and yet here you are now helping a model with a simple stalking case."
"I wouldn't necessarily call it simple." He said taking another sip of tea. "And I take on cases I find interesting. There's nothing else to it."
Light leaned in, giving him a shrewd, disbelieving look. "I find it hard to believe this is the most interesting case you've come across recently. Unless you have other motives. I admit I'm drawn to her as well."
L felt the tea in his stomach turning sour. He glanced around the pristine office and back at Light. His perfectly tailored suit, his grand oak desk, his poor quality tea.
He set his cup back down.
"She's certainly too magnetic for her own good."
"Just what is it about her that appeals-"
"What about the other missing women?" L cut in. "You never mentioned what conclusion your investigators came to for them."
"There's no evidence that there are any disappearances." Light said leaning back with a careless shrug. "I think you may have a paranoid mind. You may have brought that up to my father to scare him into hiring you, a good ploy I'll admit, it worked, but it won't work on-"
"Where is your father?" L interrupted. "I haven't heard from him."
"He's fallen ill and I-"
L interrupted once more. "Why didn't you attend the party celebrating your promotion?"
"As I said, my father fell ill." Light's tone was clipped and began to border on annoyed under the rapid fire questioning. "I needed to return to the office to finish paperwork for him. Those duties take precedent over parties." He paused. "But I think one of your investigators probably told you that already. Naomi Misora wasn't it?"
L stared at him, unblinking. Light's voice became deadly soft when he spoke again.
"So you see, you're not the only one who keeps tabs. I have my own interests to protect."
"What interests are you protecting?" L asked curiously. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the collar that was found on the body of Kana Kobayashi?"
He reached into the briefcase he brought and pulled out the photo of her body along with the one of Misa wearing the same collar in the photo shoot. He slid them neatly across the table for Light to see.
He stared down at them, eyes hovering a second longer on the one of Misa, before looking back up at L.
"Mikami briefly worked for Facade he could have gotten it from there."
"Only, you and I both know that Mikami wasn't employed during that time." L said, tapping the photo of Misa. "I wonder what your investigators would make of that?"
Light studied him, his expression much less friendly than when he first arrived, his mouth pressing into a thin, flat line.
L continued. "You see, as much as I appreciate your apparent generosity in inviting me here alone and without police involvement, my paranoid mind has lead me to believe you don't want them here."
His posture had gone from relaxed to rigid, all pretense of politeness momentarily abandoned as he stared L down, his expression cold.
"If you really thought I was dangerous then why show up at all?"
"I'm not your type." L said simply. "You prefer women that you're able to wield power and control over. You use fear like a leash." His eyes fell to the photographs, before rising to meet Light's dead on. "I think you chose to take over this company for the unending supply of victims in an industry that is lax with securing their safety. I think you may be a sexual sadist and for you the chase is part of the excitement. So you see, I can be alone with you quite safely because I know you're a coward; you would never attack someone you would lose against."
"Lose against?" He scoffed incredulously. "You?"
"Yes. You would."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. Just like the first time they met, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the monster lurking underneath. Light's gaze was calculating, measuring the information carefully. It eventually slithered away, fading back into the politely disinterested fraud he was.
"You're not only paranoid, but creative too." He said with a small laugh. "This situation has gone on for too long. I've been advised that some of your behavior towards myself has bordered on stalking. At the very least harassment. I find that ironic given the circumstances, don't you?"
L kept his face smooth.
"My father hired you because he believed he had no other choice and under the directive of keeping any of this information from leaking to the press, but it has and it's caused problems for my company and my models. I think it goes without saying you're no longer needed to investigate for Facade."
"I agree." L responded. "My main focus has always been on keeping Misa safe. I'll continue investigating on that front."
He pulled the photos from the desk, putting them back into the briefcase.
"And what a good job you've done so far." Light said, leaning back into his seat, a bitter half smile on his lips. "She ends up beaten and then locked away in your apartment. I'm sure she appreciates your help."
"After spending an evening with you." L corrected. "Just like how a body appears the morning after you fly back to the city. I wonder if I were to look more deeply into your past how many coincidences like that have followed you?"
"My past?" Light grinned again, a malevolent gleam in his eyes. "Remind me, what do they say about glass houses, Ryuzaki?"
So he did know more than he wanted him to. Not a violent man by any means, L still felt a strange twitch radiating out to his hands. One that assured him relief would come if he swung at Light's smug face. He stood up instead.
"I'll see myself out."
Light spoke up again, sounding mockingly carefree.
"It's a shame it's come to this. I think in another life you and I could be friends."
L spoke over his shoulder. "I have a feeling I know precisely the type of friend you'd be."
Naomi, Aizawa and Matsuda waited for him in one of the meetings rooms in the lobby of his building. When he entered they stood, their faces grim.
He handed the suitcase to Naomi.
"That'll be the last time I'm invited to a party with him." He said sardonically. "Were you able to hear everything."
She clicked it open, removing the tiny listening device and recording equipment he installed.
"As much as we could. Listen, we got a call in the middle of it." Aizawa said grimly, nodding towards Matsuda. "We've been warned that we'll risk losing our jobs if we assist you anymore."
"That explains his flaunting of his 'friends' in the police department." Naomi said, eyes narrowing. "I have friends there as well, he won't get away with this.
"I have a family to take care of. I can't take any chances now. I'm sorry I couldn't help for longer."
L shook his head. "I understand. Thank you, for the help you have given."
Matsuda watched Aizawa excuse himself, looking alarmed. "Wait-why is this happening now? I don't understand."
"It may have something to do with Facade being a new and very generous donor to the Tokyo police department."
Matsuda frowned, the realization dawning on him. "That doesn't sound right at all. That sounds a lot like bribery!"
L had to appreciate Matsuda's innocence and obvious ignorance into how the world worked, especially the sordid politics behind how the police departments operated.
His shoulders drooped. "I still want to help you and Misa though. I'm not like Aizawa. I don't have a family to worry about."
L shook his head. "Don't lose your job just yet. I'll make sure to compensate you both."
"I don't do this for the money." He mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
L gave him tight lipped smile. "I know you don't. For now go back to work. If I need help, you'll be the first I'll call."
Matsuda left, looking thoroughly dejected. Naomi poured herself coffee into a Styrofoam cup, turning to him with a heavy sigh.
"As for my bad news: I've been mysteriously blacklisted by nearly every modeling agency." She said, rolling her eyes. "But I'm on your payroll right now, not theirs. I'll be fine."
"You need to be careful when you decide to go off on your own." L warned. "He saw you that night. That's why you're blacklisted."
"It was only a matter of time before he figured out I've been helping you anyway."
L grabbed the suitcase, pulling the tiny SD card from it to put into his pocket. Their conversation hadn't revealed anything incriminating on Light's side, but he'd still keep it close.
"I believe you now, by the way." Naomi said, knocking back the rest of her coffee. "No innocent man would go through all that trouble. Breaking up our team, firing you. Too many coincidences. I'm sorry I ever doubted it."
"I thought you might." L said lightly.
"It almost sounds like a game to him. I think he may even like that you're involved." She said reaching into her bag. "Oh and before I forget, I have the coroner's report." She handed him a folder.
He took it, opening it at once and skimmed across the pages, eyes zipping across the page.
Cause of death: Manual Strangulation
Notes: autopsy shows genital tearing and lacerations consistent with sexual assault. No traces of seminal fluid.
"He's a predatory stalker." He murmured, looking over the report again. "It is a game for him and it ends in the rape and murder of his victims. Stalking is just the foreplay."
The report detailed more of her injuries. Just as he and Naomi surmised when they saw her in the street, she'd been taken care of before death. Her stomach had food in it and she wasn't dehydrated. Probably to keep her looking desirable more than out of actual concern.
Strangulation was a highly personal way to kill someone...and lengthy. It wasn't like the movies where 20 seconds later a victim was dead. He recalled a case where a killer strangled his victims off and on for hours, never long enough to permanently kill them, just enough to watch them suffer.
He imagined Light's hands closing around his own throat, the triumphant fire he'd see in his eyes above him, the monster fully unleashed. Unmasked, taking intimately malevolent pleasure in watching him struggle and gasp, fingers pressing and squeezing until the blood pooled and broke beneath them. He'd watch their eyes dilate in fear before life faded, leaving them as empty as he was.
"There's something that bothers me about Kana." Naomi said frowning. "She didn't complain about any stalking before being taken. At least there's no reports of it."
The length of time between victims was strange. The two women who disappeared before were nearly a year apart and then nothing. Some of that could be accounted for Light attending University. Misa's harassment began just months before. For her it was a slow burn. First messages, then pictures. If he went farther back into her social media accounts, he bet he would find even earlier messages from him, taking his time, building up to the more threatening ones. If he found out about her parents early on, he'd know she was without a support system, making her even easier to victimize. Who would miss her?
His major escalation happened after L got involved. Sending the package, destroying the window at her apartment, the phone call, the attack. Naomi may be right; he probably took having L there as a challenge. Kana's function in his plan was probably three fold: to keep his sexual appetite in check, to frighten Misa, and to show L what he was capable of.
"Her murder was ultimately still about Misa." He concluded. "She remains his target."
"Only now he doesn't get to be a witness to it. You've filtered out all the messages and her mail, she's living here. You've cut him off." Naomi's face was stricken. "L, she talked to me about him a while back, he told her that he had her posters hanging in his dorm room. Just how long has he been watching her?"
Years then. He found it frustrating how misfortune seemed to follow her. He could only be grateful that, for whatever reason, Light hadn't made a move until recently. Still it made his stomach turn, a burning ache rising up his throat. The idea that if he hadn't waited. The phone call he'd receive from Watari. Seeing for himself, her name engraved beneath her parents on a stern gray stone. The crushing guilt and emptiness that would haunt him until he died. He swallowed back the wave of nausea. What if's do nothing. What matters is what is happening right now.
With Light's connections to the police and enormous amounts of money at his disposal, if he couldn't get Misa soon he'd try for another victim to hold him over. Light didn't strike him as patient in that sense. Which may be good for Misa, but bad for any other women he came across. He knew the ex-girlfriend needed to find. Maybe there was something there for them to pursue. In the meantime they'd all have to be cautious.
"Let's focus on keeping Misa away from him. I also think there's something to the ex girlfriend we haven't been able to track down. I have a contact overseas who can look into that and keeping an eye on Light's movements. It's all we can do for now."
She nodded, standing up to put her jacket back on. She looked over at the coffee machine, biting her lip.
"I guess I'm on duty alone tonight. I might need another cup for the road."
"I apologize."
She smiled warmly. "Don't be. She's my best friend. I can spare a sleepless night or two for her. Especially after everything we've learned so far." She stopped as if a thought occurred to her.
"You know, I'd love to be the one to make the arrest, when the time comes. Since he has so little respect for women. I think it would be fitting don't you?"
L almost smiled. "I agree, that would be quite poetic."
The moment Misa heard L enter the apartment, she hopped up from her bed, rushing to check her reflection in the mirror and give a quick frantic spritz of her favorite vanilla perfume.
She looked out at the kitchen in panic. She didn't have time to clean it up but she doubted he'd mind or even notice.
She had decided that she spent too much time there in her pajamas, too much time moping. Shockingly, she came to terms with the fact that's she had probably been a little depressed. Maybe not too far of a stretch considering the last few months of her life had rocketed towards hell and back multiple times. But she couldn't stay there. If she stayed still for too long she'd sink beneath the worry and anxiety. She couldn't let herself go there again.
She dressed up for once, wearing a black turtleneck with a little heart cut-out on the chest. Her skirt was short, skimming the tops of her thighs which were clad in fishnet stockings. She flounced around the apartment all evening blaring music, baking, trying to breath life back into it as well as herself. She turned on every lamp she could find, though it seemed L only owned ones who gave off a minimal amount of light.
She planned her entire night with him in her head. She'd clean, bake him something sweet and then maybe butter him up enough to let her go back to work.
"Welcome home!" She said brightly, as he came around the corner and practically dragged him into the living room. "I wanted to pay you again and I thought maybe we could talk about me going back to work? I'm kinda' going stir crazy here."
He pulled his arm away from her. "I've had a long day and I have more work to do." He said wearily. "Not now."
"Well I'm glad your day was busy but I'm tired of waiting around here." She said exasperated. "I'm not bringing in any money right now either."
"You don't need to." He countered. "I'll take care of it. You've got everything here, what more could you possibly want."
She made a face at this. Maybe she wouldn't mind being taken care of if he was her boyfriend, but he'd made no promises to her. They fooled around once and haven't spoken of it since.
"Not everything I want." She pouted, looking away from him. "But now you're pretending like nothing happened ever between us. It isn't fair."
He was silent for several seconds. She peeked up at him to see if he was angry. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. Just as she was about to tell him to forget it, she'd get over it, he heaved an exaggerated sigh and turned her around abruptly, so that she faced away from him. Half a beat later he moved her hair to kiss down her neck. Her heart sputtered into action.
She gave a dreamy sigh, leaning into his chest while his hands rose under her shirt, gliding over her skin. He pulled her shirt and bra up over her chest so that he could cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She whimpered and arched against him, every touch sending a sharp ache between her legs.
His hands moved down, hooking his fingers into her skirt and tugged it down in one swift motion. She let out a startled gasp.
"Bend over."
He breathed the words into her ear, the timbre of his voice causing her to shiver, goosebumps rising along her arms.
She did, feeling uncertain and looked over her shoulder to see him falling to his knees behind her.
"What are you-?"
Her voice cut off in a startled squeak when she felt him press his mouth to her from behind.
She fell forward, hands splayed against the cold glass window in front of the couch.
He pressed wet kisses, trailing up her thighs over her fishnets, hands easing into the waistband and tugging them down her legs. She felt the warmth of his breath puffing across her skin, causing a warm rush between her legs. He ran a finger over her panties.
Her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
"L." She whimpered. "I'm gonna fall. I can't-"
He let out a frustrated huff, positioning her so that her knees bumped against the couch.
"Lay down." It was hard to tell but his voice sounded choked.
She did as he asked, feeling only slightly less exposed. Her experience with anyone touching her there was still scant, let alone using their mouth and especially not in that position. She cast another nervous glance at him.
He positioned himself between her legs.
"Wait, L-"
She wondered if she should stop him before they went too far again, because as much as she thoroughly enjoyed everything happening, she still felt thrown off balance. What were they even doing? Where was any of this leading? Was it leading somewhere? There was so much he held back from her. He told her once before that if he wanted to, he would. Does this mean he wants me now?
He pulled her panties aside, finger trailing down her slit. The sensation temporarily robbed her of all thought and reason. She stuttered through her words, her other objections having died on her lips.
"Um, it's just…no one has ever...down there..."
It seemed to take him several seconds to get the gist of what she was trying to get at. He maintained eye contact with her as he bent low, pressing his mouth to her, the light reflecting off the darkness in his eyes.
She nearly sobbed, hiding her face in her hands when she felt his thumbs spreading her. His tongue came next, licking a long, slow stripe.
"No one has done this to you?" He breathed against her, sounding dazed. "Ever?"
She shook her head, still hiding behind her hands.
She felt him press another lush kiss to her core, tongue lapping lazily against her. Everything else blurred together before disappearing. Her embarrassment, her hesitation, her worries. He pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them aside before moving back in.
She gripped the cushions beneath her as she felt her body approach a steady build up and up and up. The image of him eating candy entered her mind, the way his tongue explored, flicked, and devoured her.
Soon she was soaked, unabashedly pressing and grinding herself against his tongue, his face, moaning brokenly. He gripped her thighs, holding her down as she began to shake.
"Please, oh God."
She wasn't sure what she was begging for, but his movements became more focused, honing in on her clit with punishing intensity. She felt his fingers press inside at the same time, pumping them in time with the movement of his tongue.
Her vision began to go fuzzy around the edges. The sound and feel of his tongue working wetly against her drove her higher and higher. She was so wet, and he felt so good. God, how was he so good?
She came with a sob, head thrown back, her hands having twisted their way into his hair to keep him firmly against her while her body throbbed.
She lay back panting with her eyes closed, a smile floating to her lips and feeling lightheaded and giddy from the orgasm.
She sat up on her elbows, her shirt and bra still rucked up above her chest. He had angled his body away from her. It took her a second to realize he was touching himself. Her stomach did an eager flip.
"Let me." She breathed, trying to pull him towards her.
His voice was hoarse.
"No, Misa."
"But I want to touch you too." She whined, pulling on him more insistently.
"No- Fuck." His words were a strangled gasp as he bent over her body.
He came, spilling hot across the bare skin of her quivering stomach. She felt another warm rush of arousal at the sensation, blinking up at him in surprise.
He fell back against the couch, breathing heavy and cursing to himself.
Just like the last time they fooled around, he seemed to be seized with the same panic and regret. He pulled his pants back up quickly.
"I could have helped." She said softly, not understanding his sudden change in attitude.
"But I didn't want you to." He said stiffly, yanking his shirt off over his head and using it to wipe his come off of her in a deft swipe. He tossed it aside and stood up, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Now that you've been satiated will you think rationally? You don't need to go back to work right now, it isn't safe."
She looked up at him in astonishment.
"Wait, did you think I was too horny to think straight?" She asked him appalled. "You did all that just now…to shut me up?"
His voice was mechanical as he responded.
"Often times rational thought can be hindered by hormones."
Her mouth fell open.
"You jerk!" She shrieked, throwing one of the pillows from the couch at him, grabbing her clothes from the floor and pulling her shirt down and her skirt back over herself, face burning in humiliation.
She marched past him to her room. She pulled a bag down from the shelf and began grabbing her clothes that were scattered all over, laying in small piles and hanging over the side of the bed, stuffing them inside. He stood in the doorway watching her, his face confused.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving."
She shoved her makeup from a nightstand into the bag with a sweep of her arm.
"I might be in love with you, but that doesn't mean I want you to touch me if you're just going to just use it to keep me quiet."
"You don't love me." He said at once, with maddening calmness as she dug under the bed for an earring that rolled off the nightstand. "We met at a pivotal moment in your life. You're confusing your gratitude for my assistance with love."
Just when she thought he couldn't say anything worse. He just kept digging.
"Gratitude? Is that how it works for you?" She gave a humorless laugh, pulling an over sized black sweater over her head, glaring at him. "Thanks for making me come, but it was a waste of your time because I'm still leaving."
She picked up the bag and headed for the door, slipping into her shoes.
His hand shot out to grab her wrist, halting her. He said nothing, standing there shirtless and looking lost, seemingly searching for the words. Her eyes fell to his pale chest back up to his eyes.
"It's so easy for you to touch me, but you never let me." She placed her hand over his and he let go of her at once, as if he'd been burned.
"That's what I thought." She whispered, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.
"I can't give you everything you're asking for, Misa." He said, his voice brittle. "Because once this is over I'm still leaving, and I won't come back for you."
She took a shuddering breath.
"Well, it looks like I'm leaving first."
The door shut behind her with agonizing finality. He stared at it for a moment before wandering around the apartment, flicking off every light she had turned on before sitting back down on the couch. Naomi would be keeping watch. She'd see her leaving and know to keep watch or stop her. He wasn't sure what she'd do.
Love and sex existed in two different boxes in his mind. One he could open occasionally, when he needed to. He might sleep with someone when he was stressed and pent up. It never meant anything because it was just a basic human need for him, something to take care of and then move on. The most willing as it turned out, were some of his more grateful clients. That unending gratitude for finding a lost uncle, for stopping a murder, tracking down their stolen money. Men, women, it didn't matter. He'd go to bed with them once and then leave. No one seemed to miss him once he was gone.
It was a stupid idea on his part to assume anything with Misa would be the same. His excuse at distracting her was ridiculous. Of course it wouldn't be meaningless with her. It was her.
The other box, he kept shut tight and locked away, keeping the vow he made to himself as a child. No one ever made him regret that promise.
Misa though, without even knowing, had been prying it open since they met years before.
He remembered the exact day he realized how dangerous she was to him.
She was surprisingly calm throughout the trial. She never cried, never had an angry outburst like she had during the interrogations. Even when her parents murderer was brought into court, she kept her face pointed resolutely forward, her chin held high. But when the time came for her to take the stand, she was hesitant.
They waited outside the courthouse one morning before she was to give her testimony. He felt the soft pressure of her fingers on his arm, digging into his sleeve. Just like tonight he was startled by it and flinched.
"Will you be there?" She asked him. Her eyes were wide and frightened, boring into his, as if searching for a lifeline.
"Yes. I'll be near Watari in the back."
"Can I look at you when...when I'm scared?"
He felt his something sharp twist painfully from the center of his chest at her expression. His words came out in almost a whisper.
"Yes."
It must have helped, though he didn't understand how.
She kept her nerves under control, glancing over at him several times throughout. Each time her hazel eyes met his he nodded, giving silent encouragement. He felt unreasonably proud of her, of how far she'd come in such a short time, her resiliency. He'd seen other people in similar situations fall to pieces, shrinking away from reality. She didn't.
He admired her.
Her parent's murderer was found guilty. She did cry then, but only a few tears. She turned to him, giving him the first radiant smile he'd ever seen from her. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. He wasn't sure why it even occurred to him, but he wondered if maybe it would have be customary or at least socially acceptable to hug her then? But faced with the reality of pulling her close, he thought better of it and excused himself instead.
After the trial he saw her in a park nearby. She sat on a bench beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree, away from the press and well wishers who had come to give her moral support.
She was still alone, after all, just like him.
Her back was to him. She wore a black dress and her hair was loose over her shoulders, swaying in the spring breeze. She looked shockingly normal for everything she'd just went through. She kept checking her phone, looking up to crane her neck around the people passing by taking photos of the trees.
She was waiting for him.
He stood several yards back, rooted to the spot, gripped with fear in a way he'd never been before. A fear of who he'd become if he went to her. What kind of chaos would he bring into her life?
He turned away then, calling Watari to say that he was called away on another case and left without looking back. Without a goodbye.
He was better off without getting into serious relationships. He saw what it did first hand not only as a child but throughout his career. Every failed hit on a wife. Every ex-boyfriend who wouldn't take the hint.
Every stalker.
But walking away didn't stop him from obsessing over her, from checking on her, from thinking about her. Maybe it was in his genetics to care too deeply, to feel too much for someone, no matter how others may try to dissuade him from that line of thought.
Coming back to her made it abundantly clear: No half-measures or reasonable bargaining worked against her. She was frustratingly stubborn and naive, prone to tempestuous bouts of pettiness that put her life in danger. When faced with the possibility of never seeing her again though, hearing himself say it out loud to her, another voice spoke from inside, one that called him a liar.
Because he loved her.
He slumped back into the couch, sitting with the revelation for a long, ragged moment.
He was a patchwork of emotions. Fragmented pieces stitched together making him feel both like gravity had no effect on his body and being anchored firmly to the earth. Sharper pieces that cut into the calloused parts of him resented it, hated himself for it, wanted to deny it. There was a dizzying sort of freedom in admitting it though; to put a name to it. Even if he was petrified.
He got up, walking to his office in somewhat of a daze to grab another shirt. As he pulled it over his head, he noticed the mess in the kitchen for the first time.
Flour was strewn across the counter near an overturned bag of sugar. A sticky, half-used bottle of honey sat among a haphazard mess of torn parchment paper and tinfoil.
In the center of the kitchen island sat a perfect yellow cake with a honey colored crust, dusted with confectioners sugar.
He turned away, grabbing a coat off the hook by the door and followed her out into the night.
Authors Note: Check my ao3 for links to my tumblr and twitter. I'll be posting the next update a week late.