Chapter 2: Moonsickness
Ugh. Mornings. It was officially the worst time of the day. The sun was shining brightly through his curtains he had forgotten to close to avoid the harsh glare, birds were chirping manically, and there was a stranger cuddled up in his blankets. God, how much had he had to drink after L had left? Ryuk was just a horrible influence.
Looking at his alarm clock, the brightly shining red letters reminded him that he did indeed have a life to live outside of his bedroom, and they sparked alarm inside of him. Fuck a duck! Is it really 8:45.
L was coming at 9:00. This wasn't good.
Light leapt out of bed as if his ass had just suddenly caught on fire. He wouldn't have anytime to listlessly scroll through social media or practice daily meditations (not that he ever did, who was he kidding) no, he'd barely have time to eat a yogurt parfait. Where in the bloody hell was Kiyomi? She was supposed to take care of matters such as these, that bitch, she was probably still off giving him the silent treatment.
Like his morning's weren't already hard enough, being dragged up from the warm embrace of sleep and the peaceful void it brought only to be thrown back into his tumbling fiery life. Sleep was like a temporary death, that's what he liked to call it. The darkness soothed him, when he wasn't plagued by nonsensical dreams about the world ending and falling into freshly dug graves, he quite enjoyed the utter abeyance that was bestowed upon his limp form. No taut muscles, no tossing thoughts and loose threads, just a disconnected wire that allowed sparks to fade into darkness. It was waking up that was the problem. For maybe five seconds, as his eyes opened and he inhaled his first breath of wakefulness, he was awarded with the sight of a cool white ceiling and the sound of air, and he didn't know who he was or what had brought him to this land, but it was nice and very serene. And then memories filled his head and knocked him over on his backside and he was back in his home atop the hills.
And now he had some bitch in his bed that he had to get rid of before L stormed the joint. Great. Perfect. Whatever. He had no inclination to deal with this, but he knew that he had to. It wouldn't be very pleasant if L walked in on some drunken mishap, and that would surely end up in the book.
….The only problem was, how was he supposed to wake her up and throw her out of his house without being rude? If he did something that wasn't considered 'chivalrous' she could go on Twitter and land him in a scandal. The spotlights were on him at once and blinding, and he hadn't of even had his coffee yet!
Okay, first things first, he had to look presentable. He could do that. He was good at that. He tiptoed across his floor as specks of dust twirled flippantly in the white light of the dawn skies, he sped into his bathroom and after taking a reliving piss, he began to wildly throw on clothes (looking at the patterns to make sure they didn't clash first, of course) and then he started running his frantic fingers through his hair as he blinked on mascara.
It is the morning, and this is an informal meeting technically, so I can't look too presentable. That would look suspicious, like I have something to hide. Other than the drooling woman in his bed. I should look casual and relaxed, this is my home after all, I should look like I'm glad to live here. I should look effortlessly windswept, like I just rolled out of bed and this is the result. Oh God, wait, is that a pimple! Christ, this'll ruin me-
Light began scrubbing at his cheekbone, realizing too late that his breakout was actually just a freckle, and he scoffed at his franticness. Blowing bangs out of his wet blackened eyelashes, his hair was soft and fluffy with the help of a little dry shampoo, and he was wearing a simple button up navy blue cardigan with black leggings. Nice. Okay. Good job Yagami, one boulder was rolled up the hill. Time to push another one down onto the unsuspecting townspeople below.
Five minutes. He had five minutes.
He opened his door softly, his eyes rooming over the clothes strewn all over his beige carpet until they landed regretfully on his latest conquest. He had to stop getting drunk. This was it, he was going sober. This had been quite a good lesson, and he had learned it dutifully. Please God, don't let her make a fuss. Or try and seduce me back into bed for morning sex.
Sex with a stranger while wasted was one thing. Having sex the morning after, sober and dry, well that was just pathetic.
At any minute he worried that his doorbell would trill and in would walk L, only making his gut churn as anxiety bubbled nastily in his stomach acid. He sighed, counted to ten, and forced himself to just get it over with. What was the worst that could happen?
A single head peaked up from the downy white comforter, black hair was laid messily across a pillow and the lump under the covers shrunk before expanding, assuring Light that at least this strange woman hadn't overdosed. His finger reached out to poke at her shoulder, and that finger was joined by another, until his whole hand was patting at her shoulder rather forcefully.
A drowsy rasping groan filled his ears as the girl turned over, and simultaneously he felt relief and irritation mix in his cotton-filled mind.
Oh. It's just Kiyomi.
Brilliant. He had done something right. He had kept his drunken shenanigans inside of his own pool. Although, thank God it wasn't Beyond, he'd just try and make him breakfast and talk about 'feelings.' Ergh.
"What time is it?" she muttered, sighing and shaking out her bangs as her mouth stretched into a wide yawn. Light nearly grimaced, he had forgotten that under all of the airs and makeup, Kiyomi wasn't all that attractive when she first woke up.
"8:56. Can you go out and get me coffee?"
Her blurred blue eyes suddenly sharpened into a white-hot glare as she sized him up, making a few 'oofing' muttering noises under her breath as she wiped smeared mascara further into her dark under eye circles. "We had sex? Seriously?"
"I guess. I don't remember. And I want an iced latte today, blonde."
"I don't remember either. Did I get...oh my God! I can't believe you convinced me to drink! You bastard!"
"Me?" Light's mouth fell open as he shifted on his feet restlessly. He didn't have time for another 'after ten shots' fight. He couldn't really recall anything of importance either. Kiyomi was a grown woman who could make her own mistakes, what did he have to do with it? All he remembered is Ryuk chanting his name as he lifted a bottle of pineapple Malibu to his lips and-
No, he had to have been drunk way before that. Otherwise, why would he even remotely consider filling his body with the poison that was Malibu if sober?
"You really are something else, you know that?"
"What? I don't remember it either!"
"Oh, wow, thanks."
"No, I just mean-my ghost writer should be here in three minutes and thirty seconds, if he's not an idiot and is well-versed in the proper social etiquette of showing up on time and not leaving everyone waiting, dawdling in the mud. If he shows up at 9:01 I might forgive him, he could use the excuse of traffic and that could be believable considering where we live, but 9:05 will be unacceptable and I'll have to fire him because it'll be a premonition and just leave a bad taste in my mouth. 9:10 would be-"
"Oh just shut up will you? I've been awake for less than a minute and already I want to die. That's what your ravings do, they make me mad."
Light's mouth fell open again for the second time, and he was starting to get worried he might actually eat a fly. "You can't talk to me like that." Kiyomi laughed, shucking up the covers and standing up quite aggressively, but she was wearing one of his old promotional sweatshirts from 'Good Times' with no pants, so that took away most of her self-created pride.
"I can't? Why not?"
"Because I write your paychecks." Oops, he probably shouldn't have said that. People often didn't like to hear the truth, whether they had already had their coffee or not.
"You are such a creep in the mornings. I forgot that you tend to wake up on the wrong side of your Tempur-Pedic mattress."
Yeah, well, look who's talking. There have been death row prisoners who've woken up on the days of their executions more pleasantly. He didn't say that, but he could think it. "What would you like me to do? Bring you breakfast in bed?"
"The thought would be nice, if it was there."
"You're supposed to do that for me." Light reminded her, storming off after her storming as she threw his doors wide open.
"I'm done. I'm nearly done. You know, if I didn't need the money and your connections, I would have been out of here a long time ago. You're lucky to have me! What would you do without me, huh?"
I don't know. I'd probably just find another assistant through the next dad my father plays golf with.
His response had taken too long for Kiyomi, who just barked out another razorblade laugh and pointed a freshly manicured finger into his startled face. Over her shoulder, he grimaced as he was met with the disgusting sight of Ryuk, who was lying on his back with one leg dangling over the couch while his stretched-out mouth uttered shaking, sniveling snores that seemed to shake the walls. No, no, no! Why was everyone trying to fuck this up for him? L would come and think he was running some sort of juvenile detention center/mental asylum! This wasn't the house of a very important person, no, but that of a fraud!
"...You'd die! You'd up and die if I wasn't here to burp you and feed you your coffee through a golden straw, you'd just become as useless as a dried-up old worm!" Oh, Kiyomi was still talking? "A little respect would be nice. I think I've earned it. No, I know I have. Who ese would be good-hearted enough to put up with your crazy? Most nuns would have a heart attack upon spending just an hour with you!"
"Nuns love me, actually." He had fucked one once, which he didn't think was very in with Catholicism's doctrine, but now that he thought about it her dress had been very low-cut and she had been wearing fishnets, so maybe she had been a stripper. "I'm very sorry that you woke up in my bed, I didn't plan on it, obviously, and I think the best thing we can do is just to move forwards."
"Ugh! You don't have anything to say to me? Nothing at all? We've just had sex and you're not bothered?"
"...We don't know that."
"The evidence was all in your trash. I looked. So unless Ryuk decided to make a smoothie and use a condom instead of a glass, then yes, we definitely did."
"Okay, well, then, I'm sorry for overstepping a professional boundary."
"Again."
"Sure."
"'Sure?'"
"Yeah, sure. What else do you want me to say? Would you like a fruit basket?"
"I cannot believe you Light Yagami!" Kiyomi hissed, her eyes glaring violently as her small hands clenched into fists, and all Light could think was that none of this had been worth it. "I quit! This is it, I'm walking out. Say goodbye to me and my hardworking behind, because you'll never see us again, no sir, never ag-"
But, of course, her rant was cut short because when she threw open his front door L happened to be standing on the doorstep, fist raised in preparation to knock on the door. Light's eyes flew the clock over the door. 9:00 am on the dot. Shit.
"Oh, hello!" Kiyomi suddenly said brightly, and nervous eyes darted everywhere. Light would never not be floored by her uncanny ability to throw a Jekyll and Mr. Hyde out of her ass whenever the moment called for it. "You must be the writer?"
Right, because she didn't even know L's name yet. Some assistant.
"Yes." L said cautiously, looking like he had just walked into the reanimation of a corpse as his eyes flickered. "And you are the girlfriend?"
"No!" Kiyomi almost screeched, but then she swallowed, much too loudly because even Light could hear it, and laughed airily. "I'm his...assistant."
L cocked his head. Of course. Because assistants normally roamed around the joint with a bed head and bare legs while wearing his oversized clothes. Light could have facepalmed. Already he looked like some depraved libertine, something that would be found at the bottom of a McDonald's dumpster, and L hadn't of even powered on his laptop yet. And there were still solo cups plastered all over the floor from the night before. This looked like a crime scene more than anything, and he was the murderer.
"That's right. Kiyomi is my lovely, darling, very hardworking and very professional assistant." Light corrected hastily, desperately needing some of his decorum back inside of his moisturized hands as he stepped forward and clasped his hands together. He had thought about patting Kiyomi's shoulder, but had decided against it, considering that would only further on the horribleness of this situation. "She spent the night, in my guest room, because it would be quite irresponsible to let her drive back to her apartment drunk. Not that she was! No, she had half a glass of wine at most, but still, I like to be cautious. And it got chilly in the middle of the night around 2 am, and so I offered to let her borrow my sweatshirt."
Though Kiyomi nodded along dutifully, he could see that under the faux layer of sparkling sunshine her eyes were filled with an ire that would have made him feel ill if he was a lesser man. Light's teeth clacked together, and L nodded slowly. The awkwardness was felt like a knife through the throat, but everyone had to swallow their blood and continue on merrily.
"And I was just about to get Light some yummy coffee! Ethically sourced of course." Kiyomi practically spat. Her teeth were white and sparkling and her voice was as smooth as marble, but Light could tell. "Would you like anything while I'm out? It all goes on Light's card anyway, and he rolls around in his riches like a pig in shit, so he won't mind, ha ha!"
Oh, that bitch. Now Light definitely wasn't sending her a fruit basket.
"Oh, I get a coffee too? How thoughtful. I suppose I would like a latte. Vanilla, French, if they have it. With cinnamon powder at the top. And whatever the muffin looks the freshest. And if it has some of that crystallized sugar sparkling on top, that would just be dear."
L then walked through the door, past Kiyomi's expectant expression, but Light knew he wasn't going to say thank you nor please because since Kiyomi had already been established as the assistant L knew her role all too well.
So Kiyomi just nodded, fucking off into the sunrise, and she wasn't even wearing pants! Ha! But Light couldn't really laugh at that, because another earth-shattering snore suddenly reminded him of the second nuisance that was clogging up his otherwise serene nirvana.
"I'm wearing Kilian Intoxicated by the way."
"What?"
"Oh, well, she was joking, but Kiyomi said I roll around like 'a pig in shit', as she put it so eloquently, so I just wanted to make that clear."
"Oh. Very nice."
"Thank you. It's inspired by Turkish coffee."
"Is it now?"
"Yes. With hints of green cardamom, spicy cinnamon and hallucinogenic nutmeg..." Light trailed off, too late realizing how absolutely moronic he sounded. Ryuk sounded like he was hacking up phlegm in the background, so Light just shut the door tightly and inaudibly sighed. "Anyway. Let's go to my office."
"I can definitely smell the 'hallucinogenic nutmeg' from here." L remarked, sitting down in a chair opposite of his desk, crossing his legs and looking at Light intently. Almost as if he was looking through him.
This was off to a bad start. Light felt like his own chair was shrinking from under him. How would this even start off? From childhood onwards? He was already really regretting the fact that his coffee cup wasn't firmly nestled inside of his hand. "So, how is this going to work?"
He nearly cringed. Why did he choose now, of all times, to be an awkward fuckwad?
"You've talked to journalists before, right? I've studied up on some of your interviews. It'll be like that, only for an extended period of time. You'll talk, I'll listen, and I'll ask questions when I need answers."
So, an interrogation.
No, he shouldn't think that way.
"That sounds like a lot of talking." Light tried to tease, but he was aware that it came out more cagey than anything, so he cleared his throat. "Alright, where should I start?"
"At the beginning?" L suggested, his eyes dropping down to his laptop. "Tell me about your childhood."
"My childhood? What do you want to know?"
"What do you think I should know? What are some...significant events that shaped Light Yagami into the person he is today?"
Geez Louise, that was a loaded question. Light felt like he was licking the muzzle of a handgun that had just been shoved down his throat. "Normal. It was a normal childhood I suppose."
"And what would you classify as a 'normal' childhood? Normalcy is a spectrum."
Was it now? "I guess it was just like what you see on television. I had a mom, and a dad, and my sister, Sayu, but she doesn't really want to be mentioned so I guess everything you can say about her would have to already be public knowledge."
"And there's not much of that." L nodded. "Sayu Yagami?"
"That's her."
"I've seen you two in pictures together. All of her social media accounts are private and the only thing I could really find is that she's currently taking classes in cosmetology school."
"She wants to be a makeup artist. Fuck knows why, she doesn't like people and she makes herself too overdone to be considered natural, but I guess she likes picking out imperfections and smoothening them out."
"She prefers a private life?"
"She doesn't like this life, so, I suppose whatever the opposite of my life is that's what she got." Really, even though they shared similar features, you couldn't get more opposing people to share genes. Seriously, if he hadn't shared a womb with her, they'd be strangers who'd avoid each other at all costs. Night and day. The sun and rain. And he loved her, but you were meant to love your family, you didn't get any say in the matter.
L's fingers raced against the keyboard, starting off gently, before the keys began to clack together fiercely in a steadily growing rhythm. Light wanted to crane his neck, to race over L's shoulder and look at the words he had chosen to describe Sayu, but he had to trust him, much to his dismay. L would probably let him look over the pages before they were sent out, right? He'd have Beyond talk to him about it. Light was the boss after all.
"So Sayu wasn't the star of the family?"
"She wasn't born until I was eight, and by then I was already acting. I was picked first simply because I was the only choice, I guess."
"And how did you come into this world?"
Wailing and screaming, crying and thrashing, holding onto the umbilical cord with grit teeth. No, he had been too young to make any sort of fuss. He had thought it was fun. Normal, until he was ten and realized other children weren't making a steady income. Other children went to school and while he did too, it was under lights and cameras, and he had a tutor for the less important things. He was self-taught, mostly. Intelligence wasn't an enviable trait in this world, he was born with everything he had.
"It was sort of an accident. An accident that was accidental to everyone besides fate. I was out at the mall, we used to live in Baltimore, and I was taking a picture with Santa Claus. I was, maybe six? Almost seven. One of the photographers wasn't just some freelance Joe, he took professional photos for companies, and he told my mother he 'liked my smile.' He gave her his card and told her that I should model. And so I did."
"Why?"
"Why?" Light repeated, his fingers drumming on his thigh. "My mother thought it might be fun for me." No, they had been poor, nearly dirt poor. Soil had been richer than him, at one point. His father had been laid off for reasons he wasn't supposed on dwell on, and his mother had been working two separate jobs just to keep the family steady in their small one-bedroom apartment. They had been damn near homeless at some points. All because his father's parents despised his mother and had cut them off financially.
Light had owned approximately five shirts and two pairs of pants, sometimes his parents shared one phone, and at one point his father had sold the car so his mother was left to ride the bus to the restaurant where she waitressed, in a sea of seedy faces into the dark depths of downtown. Unbeknownst to everyone but Light and his parents, he actually had a scar on his forehead that was carefully hidden by golden-honey bangs. He had fallen and hit his head on the ledge of a table when he was five, and he really should have gotten stitches, but since hospital visits were few and far between, his father had plastered it up and called it a day. It was still there, small and white, but not invisible.
But he couldn't reveal all of that. Those were ugly, horrible, awful things, things that only he was privileged to know, and he hadn't of even wished to know them in the first place. That wasn't his image, that was the story of a boy who had died with it. It wasn't important, it only served to make his head tumble with memories that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago. It didn't have anything to do with who he was now, so L didn't need to hear it, nor write it down. It would only be tangible proof that he wasn't the golden image everyone filled their television screens with.
"And was it fun?"
"Yeah, I liked it." Light said, feeling like he was reading from a script as he wiped away the filthy flashes of the past with a dusty old rag. "I don't think I quite understood what was going on at the time, but it was fun for me. I liked the cameras. It felt like something that was exciting, so... Everyone was very nice to me, which is strange for that industry, but it wasn't like I was a Victoria's Secret model downing cotton. I was doing ads for the Scholastic magazine they sold at schools. It wasn't anything serious."
"That's interesting. But it turned into something serious. Do you ever look back at that and regret being shoved into the spotlight at such an early age? Most child actors are bitter towards the fact that their youth was snatched away without their consent."
It sounded like L was trying to get him to expose something. Something standard and something cheap. It was predictable, and that wasn't what Light was dammit. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't an attack. But everything felt like an attack
"No." he felt like he had to defend, looking towards the still open curtains out to the vast blue sky. "I love what I do. I don't know what I'd do if not acting. I tried dipping my toes into other pools, but they were all very unsatisfying and lukewarm. Not my taste."
"And 'Good Times' was your first official project, right?"
"Technically it was a girl scout cookie ad, but yeah, it's the first one I like to take credit for. A talent agent, not Beyond, he didn't come around until my twenties, but some talent agent named Lillian Waters was at a modeling audition and..." he swallowed. He shouldn't have led into this story. It was embarrassing.
"And?" L prompted, and Light sighed. It wasn't the worst thing he could say.
"I used to drag around these stuffed animals. Border collie dogs, I used to be obsessed with them, and I used to make them 'talk' to each other and...that makes me sound like I was schizophrenic or something. It wasn't like I had imaginary friends, they were just toys but this woman saw me in my own little world I had created and thought I could be a good actor. She was right."
"No, that's cute. You were a child." L smiles, looking up briefly before his eyes darted back down, typing down something else. "Now, if you still had a collection of stuffed dogs that you made talk to each other that might be somewhat concerning but..."
"I think they're in storage." Light sniffed. "My father will probably sell them. 'Light Yagami's childhood toys.' Yeah, I can see that doing well on Ebay. Fangirls will probably buy them in some vain hope that my DNA is still sprinkled onto their fur and try and clone me. Luckily the technology for that hasn't been created yet..." But dear God, if it ever was, he might have some very troubling doppelgangers on his hands. Note to self; destroy all of my old toys.
"Is your father supportive?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah, he thought that as long as I was having fun there was no harm in it. I think he'd rather I went into the police force and become a detective like him, but..."
"There's no interest there? Nothing that sparks joy?"
"I'd be too much like my father."
"And is that a bad thing?"
"No. God no. My father's a very honorable man. He's a good man. I'm just not him. I went to college for criminal psychology, which surprised everyone because most child stars don't throw away their residuals on college when they already have a job. And if they do, they go to some liberal arts school for film or screenwriting or theater but...I thought I might try it out. I was eighteen and had a whim."
"It was just another one of those chilly pools?"
"It was too shallow. It helped me to realize the value in what I do."
"What would you say that value is? What is acting to you?"
"Light? Here's your coffee." Kiyomi interrupted, the door swinging open, pushed by her humid words, and Light nearly jumped in spite of himself. Although it wasn't like it was a bad time for interruptions. Really, how was he supposed to put something like that into words? It was a feeling, really, something he intrinsically knew and weathered. "L? They only had scones this morning, I hope that's alright."
It clearly isn't, from the way L's nose wrinkles and his features flatten, but he still nods and takes it graciously, allowing the bag to drop onto the floor after Kiyomi leaves. She's wearing leggings now, but she desperately needs a shower. Where did she get leggings from in the first place?
"Look, if you're not ready to talk about this-" L starts, which makes Light violently shake his head.
"Why wouldn't I be ready to talk about this? I am, it's my life, I know the story. That's crazy, you're crazy. I wouldn't have hired a ghostwriter if I didn't want to talk to them. I know what this is."
"Okay, but you seem to be holding something back."
"The only thing I'm holding back is damn heartburn because this coffee is so acidic." Light rolled his eyes, texting Kiyomi to bring him a TUMs with one hand. "Ask me anything and I'll answer it honestly. Go."
"Okay. How would you describe your years on 'Good Times.'"
"In three words?"
"Light-" L sighed, before seemingly recalculating his decision. "Sure. Make them interesting."
Light took a thick gulp of watered down coffee, the ice had already half-way melted and he always told Kiyomi to leave out the ice but whether that was her fault or the bitch barista's, he didn't know but he was going to blame both, the oily, milky substance covered his teeth until it slid down his throat and made his eyes widen slightly. "Turbulent. Whimsical. Fantastical."
"Turbulent?"
"The pilot almost didn't make it off of the ground." Light admitted. "This was the early 2000s, right? The sisters were originally friends, but, um...let's say some of the producers thought they were 'too close.' Yeah, there were some scenes that had to be cut. The creator is out and openly bisexual now, so what does that tell you? Anyway, they thought the whole premise was 'far-fetched' and 'unrealistic' but that's what all sitcoms are, so after reworking a few things and shaking a few hands under tables, we were finally able to shoot the official first episode. If you saw the original, it'd blow your mind. It was completely different. Legally, I'm not sure if I'm allowed to describe it."
"The first season had high praise. The first episode is one of the most viewed pilots in history. It seemed to an outsider that you had the most successful program on the network."
"You'd think that. Yeah, we were easily renewed for a second season, but there were always talks of cancellations. We always had to up our game. The competition was constant, and the bad reviews, while few and far between, were always a scathing reminder that this legacy we had all built could crumble down at any second."
"I see. Negative reviews are usually the ones that are most remembered, unfortunately."
"Unfortunately." Light echoed, biting onto his straw. "So, yes, we kind of changed the design of how sitcoms are made now. And people can call 'Good Times' redundant and cheap and overly saccharine, whatever that means, you can insult it and it's childishness and that's fine, you know, it was a sitcom. But we really did change things. 'Good Times' made an impact, and the ripples can still be felt today." Two twin sisters raising an orphaned sister and brother all while trying to build their fashion empire and juggle romantic partners, how could that not be good? It was legendary, that's what it was. It was perhaps the best experience of Light's life, and it quickly became his only reality, the only one that really mattered.
"When did you realize just how much of a phenomenon it had become?"
"...I don't know, really." Light confessed. "I hardly remember what life was like before. One day, it just seemed that all of these people knew who I was. I was suddenly greeted with smiles everywhere, handshakes, pictures and autographs. It was a lot. I don't think I minded back then. It was all exciting for me."
"I imagine as a young child you didn't really understand the full magnitude?"
"Ha, no. No, one day I was pulled out of school and we drove halfway across the country to our new home, and it's been uphill ever since."
"Uphill?"
"Sure. I mean, you know, there were bad times. Like when the show ended."
"Were you expecting it to end? Was it sudden or something you had time to grow into?"
"Oh, no. Truthfully the writers were ready to wrap up the storyline by the seventh season. That's why there was that storyline about us going to boarding school. But...we were still hot. The people still wanted more show, and as long as there's money to be made, there will always be more show."
"I always did thing episode ten was meant to be a finale." L casually admits, his thumb wiping away crumbs of scones from his lips. Light can't look away. He hopes those don't end up on his laptop's keyboard, because that could be detrimental to the wiring. "Were you sated with the show's ending?"
Um...what's the best way he can answer this? The truthful answer is messy and awkward, and speaking frankly is not something he practices regularly. But L looks like he's expecting a lie, so light wants to give him a truth, even if it isn't a pretty one, just to see what he does. Just to see those large whirlpools of sparkling silver lock back onto him again. "I feel like it was dragged on much too long. I think it was quite clear to everyone that they simply ran out of ideas."
"The baking show episode." L smiles, seemingly despite himself, and Light feels his own mouth curve up into a smile.
"Oh my God. That was horrible. And all of the cakes were made out of, like, mashed potatoes and cornstarch so they wouldn't melt under the lighting."
"That's simply awful." L looks utterly horrified, pushing up his glasses as his nose wrinkles in distaste. He looks like he's just let a million and one demons out of Pandora's box, and Light can't help but let out his laugh. "Really, that's blasphemy! You didn't even get to eat any? Oh, the horror. That's totally ruined my childhood, so, thanks for that. My God I'm never going to be able to watch that episode again."
"You watched 'Good Times'?" Light asks, before he can help himself. It shouldn't be that shocking, the show has many fans and he's run into people sometimes five times a day who all swear it's their comfort show, but the fact that L has watched it...it strums a cord inside of Light...
And then, a quite troubling knock interrupts L's opening mouth, and Light's eyes shift towards the intruder, Kiyomi, who's managed to wipe the smeared eyeliner out from under her eyes and finally comb her hair. "You have a visitor. Misa Amane?"
Misa? What's she doing here? "She's here?"
"In the living room."
"Why?"
Kiyomi shrugs. "I don't know, Light, why don't you go and find out? She says she wants to take you out for lunch."
Oh for the love of- "I'm a little busy." He gestures to L, who shakes his head and shuts his laptop with a dainty snap.
"We can go to lunch together." he suggests. "I am quite interested to meet your former costar. And she did show up at an opportune time."
Right. Misa did play his fictional sister on 'Good times', and that's where the conversation was headed. But Light doesn't really want to socialize with anyone who's not being paid by him right at this second. And he knows Misa will probably just get drunk off of margaritas. But he huffs a sigh and stands up, for turning her down after she's come all of this way would be rude and L might write about how he's an antisocial bastard. "Alright. Thank you Kiyomi."
Kiyomi nods, she still apparently hasn't defrosted entirely from this morning, and Light walks out with L in tow, only to have a whirling flurry of blonde gather him into an unceremonious hug.
"Hi Light!" Misa coos, the stench of flora and fauna immediately assaulting his nose. "How are you love? I feel like it's been forever since I last saw you!"
He saw her at the premier of her movie three months ago, but whatever. "I'm doing good. How are you."
"Great, as fabulous as ever." Misa straightens herself out, self-consciously combing her fingers through her waspy blonde hair and almost yanking out a skull clip in the process. "Well, no, actually, I need a heart to heart. It's Rem. I'm furious."
Oh of course. But he doesn't have time for lesbian drama now. And Misa certainly doesn't look fazed, she's smiling brightly and her eyes are shining, if not a little fuzzy and blurred over. She's on something. But he's known that since they were first fourteen and did coke together. Honestly? He can't remember the last time he saw a sober Misa. She even confided in him once that the countless rehab visits had all been for show, per her managers request, and she even snuck baggies and pills in her shoes. Some rehab.
"This is L, by the way, he's my ghost writer." Light announces, letting her know exactly what this meeting will be, and Misa squeal, batting Light on the arm before she pulls L in for a hug too. Light smiles at L over Misa's shoulder, who looks like a bag of bricks has just landed on his foot.
"You're finally getting your book done? You dog, I thought I was going to have to wait until I was, like, 102 for the grand reveal! I hope he's qualified. Are you qualified?"
"I would say so. I'm about as qualified as Sinclair Lewis." L rejoins, finally pulling away and looking like he's about to sneeze as the fuzz from Misa's hoodie catches on his nose. Misa, for her part, rubs her own nose and self-consciously smoothens down her pink plaid skirt leading down to fishnet tights marred with Hello Kitty faces. Light wonders if she got them from the children's section of 'Justice'. Misa did always have an...interesting way of expressing her personality.
"...I don't know who that is. I don't read. But I might have to if it's Light's book! You won't include drama about me, will you? Well, if you do, just make sure to give me the standard royalties. Just don't tell them about that time we were in the bathroom together at the Teen Choice awards oh my God-"
"Oh, definitely not." Light laughs along, nervously of course. He can feel L's inquisitive glare bouncing off of his shoulder. Misa is practically twitching.
"Well if it isn't Misa-Misa, the resident slut." Ryuk's worn voice suddenly scratches along the record as he sits up, his hair sticking up every which way as he rubs his eyes and coughs. "You have anything on you?"
"Hi sweetie." Misa flounces over to the deviant, sitting on his lap in a quite suggestive way. Ryuk's arms tighten around her waist, and they look like they might start making out. Light could roll his eyes. The party never really is done when it comes to those two. He bets they're still seeing metaphorical flashing lights left over from the last bender that scrambled their brains around. And Ryuk would kiss her only to taste what pill she'd just swallowed. "And nothing that I can share."
"Aw, come on, I'll let you smoke with me later."
"Weed's gross, I've told you that Ryuk. It makes me cough like I have tuberculosis."
"But heroin's fine?"
"Okay!" Light claps his hands, his voice a little too high. Kiyomi just shakes her head from where she's standing in the kitchen, no doubt brewing an herbal tea for her own headache. "Let's go to lunch. Where should we go?"
"Can I come?" Ryuk asks, wiping snot away from his nose. Light swallows down bile.
"No."
"Fuck me, everything is healthy here. An acai bowl? Really? Do I look like a teenage girl?"
"Hey, I'm with you man. 'Juicy-Juice.' I knew we should have just gone to Shake Shack."
Light glowers at his own menu, annoyed that L and Ryuk (who forced his way into the back of Light's car, muddying up his leather seats) are suddenly best friends and having a talk about how much they love poisoning their bodies from the inside out. Also, Misa's heeled shoe won't stop tapping frantically on the ground. He was right, though he chose a place that didn't serve alcohol, she bought mini fireballs in her purse. Light had a discreet sip of the laced iced tea solely because he's livid that his personal, private time is being disrupted so unharmoniously.
L hasn't even looked at his laptop. He better be making mental notes or Light will dock his pay.
"Just get the grilled chicken caprese sandwich! It's good." Misa encourages, laughing even though none of those words are funny.
"I don't eat chicken." Ryuk scoffs. "Not unless it's in nugget form."
"Ugh. Whatever. I'm getting a Ceasar salad. I'm being awful, I know, I've gone up three pounds and my manager is practically frothing at the mouth about it."
Light gives Misa a discreet once over. She looks the same. Eh, managers are crazy.
"Bitch." Ryuk sighs out eloquently, an unlit CBD cigarette dangling from his lips. "Fire her."
"Oh, I could never. She's been with me through everything, you know?"
"You love her?"
"Ew! She's forty." Misa shudders.
"Is she a MILF?"
"Ryuk."
"Misa."
"Okay, you're good with girls." Light's eyebrows raise up to his hairline. That sentence is in and of itself an oxymoron. "Help me out here. If you tell your girlfriend you're going to be back at midnight, and you happen to lose track of time and maybe come back closer to dawn, who's fault is that? Not mine, because my phone died, and no one had a charger at the club. And she knew she was going to come home maybe an hour before me, overworked and overtired, too focused on all of the wrong things, and not even willing to have sex."
"Trick question." Ryuk says after a lengthy silence, leaning back into his chair. "I don't come back to any female's home. I'm like a stray cat, they'll only ever see me if they put out some kibble, if you know what I mean."
Light drinks his ice water furiously.
"She's just being awful." Misa sniffs. "It's always 'Misa, you're too clingy' or 'Who are you texting?' She goes through my phone, like, twice a day! As if I'm not trustworthy. We're seriously done this time. I don't know. My balance is totally off and my psychic told me to 'look out over new horizons' and Rem is definitely a very, very old one."
"So you two are breaking up? Finally?"
"Yeah. Well, no. I don't know. Because then we'd have to split custody of the cats, and they don't like being moved around too often. It isn't good for their digestive systems. And she was there for me after my DUI. I love her. You know? But God! She's such a bitch."
"Give her an ultimatum."
"I've tried. She only responds if she thinks I'm going to cheat."
"Then do it."
"I don't know. The last time I got an STI that took two whole months to clear up. And there's no one I even really want. I want her, but she's too focused on her computers and phones, stupid techie. There's a lesson for you, Light, never date a CEO, they're too high strung."
"I wasn't planning on it." Light told her, his eyes straining to try and find a waiter. Seriously, they had been waiting for five whole minutes. What awful service. The cool breeze washed over him as the sun peaked out through the clouds, and his Gucci sunglasses were soon slid over his eyes.
"Girls are so overdramatic." Ryuk began to lecture, as if he had any authority over the subject, when Light knew the longest relationship he had been in had lasted two full days. "And now if you had to deal a girl while being one yourself...God I can't think of a worst predicament. At least the sex would be hot."
"You'd think, but no, I always have to do all of the work."
"Oh, really? Like what?"
"Stop being a pervert." Light commanded as Misa opened her mouth, shooting Ryuk a warning look. L just looked captivated by the whole conversation and that made Light's spirits sink into the depths of hell.
"Well, what do you think I should do?" Misa turned to him, her eyes wide and a tad bloodshot.
"Try couples counseling." Light shrugged, because it was the right thing to say. In truth he'd probably just sever the ties and make a clean break, but he didn't want L to overhear him saying something so beastly. This is why he didn't do relationships. He could barely worry about himself, he'd be screwed if he had to always fawn over another person.
"Ew. No offence Light, but that sounds like so much work. And Rem wouldn't have time for that anyway. She'd just give me her signature stink eye for suggesting such a thing. She's mastered that look while looking at me..."
"Girls like flowers." Ryuk suggested.
"What would she do with a flower?"
"I don't know. Put it in a vase." L hummed drolly, flipping through his own menu without batting an eye. He sounded terribly bored. At least it's not just me. How had this turned into a broken hearts club meeting again?
"Write another song for her." Ryuk nodded, but Misa pouted.
"No way. All of my songs are about her! Plus my label sucks so I'm not pumping out anymore for them than is strictly necessary."
"Is that why all of your songs sound the same?" Ryuk's bored yawn was interrupted by the waitress, who took all of their orders but Light doubted she'd actually remember them because for the duration of time he was speaking, she was staring at the way his lips were moving. The phone number sloppily scrawled onto the napkin only confirmed it. He rolled his eyes. Like he'd ever use it. That was just a scandal waiting to happen. Plus, her glasses were crooked.
"Did she just give you her phone number?" Misa gasped, snatching the napkin away from his hands and holding it up to the sunlight. "Oh my God! You can't go anywhere without being hit on. I don't think I've been out with you once without some girl flinging her panties towards you."
Light grimaced because, no, that wasn't even an exaggeration. "Whatever."
"Are you gonna call her? She's pretty."
"No, I don't know her."
"You don't have to know a girl to fuck her." Ryuk pointed out. "Or are you worried Kiyomi might flip her lid?"
"What does Kiyomi have to do with it?" Light muttered, sending Ryuk a pointed stare, and not missing the one L was sneaking towards him. He very clearly didn't want Ryuk to open up that box of shit right now, because L was no doubt still suspicious from this morning, but of course, with a cretin like Ryuk, there was no room for subtlety.
"'Cause you two fucked last night." Yep, no subtlety there, no room left to read between the lines. Light just sighed into his napkin, wishing not for the first time that some meteor would just fall out of the sky and kill him. What business was it of Ryuk's to talk about his? Misa slapped his arm as she choked on her iced tea.
"No, we didn't." Light lied over Misa's laughter. This was bringing on some severe indigestion.
"Oh, you did too! I heard it. You aren't exactly quiet Light-o, and she sounded like you were killing her."
Light nearly felt his ears turn bright red. He imagined steam shooting out of them. "Don't you think that this is a little inappropriate?"
"Oooh, Light! Harder, harder, oh God baby just like that. Fucking tear me apart!" Ryuk squealed in a very effeminate way, and with the way his grating voice was scraping across his vocal cords, he sounded like a pig being led to the slaughter.
"People are staring!" Light hissed, and then to his horror, Misa joined in with her own moans. Oh this was just awful. "Pipe down or I'm going to sit at another table and pretend like I don't know you."
"Oh, ha, heh, don't worry honey, we're just playing around." Misa chortled. Light felt about as big as an ant, and his stomach was twisted into knots. How had he suddenly transformed into a clown riding up in his clown car for everyone to laugh at? He shifted, and the. shifted again, but any comfort he might have been able to feel had been pushed out of the window along with his dignity and pride. All because of Misa and Ryuk's fat mouths. "At least one of us is getting some, right?"
"Hey, don't lump me in with you celibate nerds." Ryuk argued, but Light had already turned him out.
"Kiyomi and I are friends. That's it." Light insisted, looking at L out of the corner of his eye, and he was somewhat taken aback to find he didn't look as if he cared in any particular way. "And sometimes we have fun together. We're two consenting adults, I don't see what the big deal is."
"Do you love her?" Misa asked, all doe eyed with hearts floating around, and Light shook his head.
"No, it's not like that."
"Do you love anyone?"
Thankfully, that very catastrophic question was derailed by their salads being set down in front of their faces (and L's French toast, though Light couldn't understand how he could eat something so sugary in the middle of the day, and it had seeds on top of it, so he still looked dreadfully disappointed.)
"I don't understand how we got onto the topic of relationships anyway." Light said, his fork prongs digging into green leaves that looked quite out of season. This was supposed to be his time with his ghost writer, right? And they definitely weren't writing some kind of romance novel. He didn't really want any of his relationships to be documented, actually, even the public ones. They were all unimportant flings to pass the time and make him appear like every other playboy millionaire to the public. If love existed, Light hoped to never find it. It seemed so pointless, and all-consuming in the most horrible way. It was a mess waiting to be spilled all over his hardwood floors. It probably didn't exist anywhere in this town, anyway. Celebrities tried on divorce like it was the new fall Versace line, it didn't mean anything, and 90% of the 'relationships' fans made over-saturated edits for were all for publicity. No one seemed to know that, and it was curious. Did the general public truly believe every single costar under the sun magically fell in love at the most coincidental times?
"So, there's no one presently in your life?" L asked curiously, curiosity spawned by the book of course. Light looked up at him through his shades.
"No, I don't really have time for a bona fide affair."
"Like you're doing anything that important." Ryuk mumbled through his mouthful of salad. Moron. Spinach was sticking to his teeth.
"I am? I'm writing this book. And Beyond has a few auditions lined up for me next week. It's pilot season." Ah yes, April. The time of rebirth.
"Kiyomi's just your personal assistant?" L asked again. Light felt dangerously close to sinking into quicksand. Kiyomi's ears must be ringing somewhere far, far away. She'd probably secretly love it if he was to talk about her, but then she'd bitch and moan about how his sordid association with her was ruining any future chances of being taken seriously.
"The one and only." Light grinned cuttingly, meaning for his words to sound more teasing than they actually were. "She's an old family friend. Our father's play golf together and Takada Senior recommended Kiyomi to my father, who thought I should have an assistant."
"Ah." L nodded, as if that took some of Kiyomi's merit away. Light supposed that it did.
"What about you L? Do you have a girlfriend?" Misa asked after a lengthy swallow, her eyes drifting to her phone.
"No. No girlfriend. Absolutely not." Light could have sworn he'd seen a slight shudder there. "I don't have time for women, and if I did have the time, I'd fritter it away on something more productive, like watching paint dry."
"Aw, you're not a romantic?" Misa pouted. "I thought you were a writer?"
"I am. That doesn't mean I have to throw myself into the whirlwind that is commercialized romance. It's all too tacky for my taste, and it's about as realistic as a polar bear playing the piano."
"So, what are your thoughts on harlequin romances?" Light snickered, nearly choking on a cherry tomato as L shook out his bangs distastefully.
"Cheap, tacky, predictable, and as strung out as the red strings of fate on heroin. They pander to the lowest common denominator, and I haven't done that since our maid was fired."
"It's the same with movies. I don't think I've ever seen a good romance. I don't think they could possibly exist, with what Hollywood comes up with. They're just so...boring. I've seen moves that have made me wish I could be single forever."
"Romcoms are possibly the worst thing humanity has ever come up with. The Notebook?"
"Titanic?"
"Love, actually?"
"Dear God, don't even get me started on the Christmas themed ones. They turn me into the grinch."
"I thought Gone Girl was quite interesting. But most people don't consider that a romantic movie in any sense of the word. It was interesting though; that's how most relationships are. Just two people terrified of solitude and trying desperately to cling onto anything that will make them feel whole, because in all actuality, people don't really like themselves that much. I've noticed."
"They give the average teenage girl something to dream after."
"To make her feel less alone."
"Right."
"Realistically, if any romance movie was set in today's times, they'd always end up alone and bitter at the end."
"With trust issues and commitment issues that span over half of the earth."
"Watching Heathers, okay, now that gave me real trust issues. I always thought J.D. was the perfect choice." L sighs almost whimsically, and Light hides his smile underneath his water glass. Huh. Not that he'd ever give Beyond credit for anything verbally because that would make his head grow impossibly larger than it already is and it'd probably drop off of his shoulders and roll at that point, but L wasn't half bad. He's exactly the kind of ghost writer Light would have chosen for himself, actually.
"Wow, you two are lame." Misa sighed, dusting her hands off on her napkin. "Alright Light, this was fun but I have to go now. My sister is coming into town and she'll drain my liquor cabinet if I'm not there to share it with her."
Was it fun many things in life weren't fun, they were necessary, but Light nodded anyway and hesitantly returned Misa's too-tight departing hug. "Alright. Bye Misa."
"Bye honey. We should catch up sometime, when no one else is around. Lemme know when your book is done, okay? I'll text you later."
Light nodded off into the distant, as Misa threw a few crumpled dollars she didn't even recognize were fifties as her heels clacked off down the street. He probably should have mentioned to Beyond to tell the paparazzi he was out with his costar, because they'd hustle themselves into a frenzy for that and it would be a good photo op, but oh well. He didn't really feel like being recorded today anyway, even though he felt like he always had to.
"She was certainly a character." L remarked after she was gone, the golden trickles of sunlight bathing his hair in a shimmery sparkle. Light wondered if it was natural. Beyond's hair had never been that silky and soft-looking. "Do you two get together often?"
"Often enough." Light started, realizing that didn't sound quite right before he changed his course of direction. "We've been through a lot together I suppose. We were about the same age, so we experienced the same things. I don't know. It's hard to explain. I think it's something that bonded us, you know? No one really knew what it was like on set except for us, and we grew closer because of it."
"That makes sense. Your other two costars were, um, quite older let's say. I doubt a seven-year-old child you have much in common with a twenty something woman. Was that a comfort to you? To have someone who was like you by your side?"
I wouldn't say Misa was exactly like me...Misa was wild, unpredictable, crazy, it was very clear that her mother had been one for the stage, and she had more or less shaped Misa into what she wished her life had been like. The last time Light had asked, they still weren't on speaking terms. Misa was born for fame, and her life was destined for one of misery. She hated it, but couldn't live without it. It was a constant paradox of parties and sobering up and trying to stay steady on the edge of a steep cliff that plunged to the roaring waves of the unfathomable ocean of darkness alone.
It's why she was never sober. If she ever was, she might die, realizing how deep the depths of the depravity went.
"Yes." Light decided on not the full truth, he wasn't comfortable with those. "Having Misa by my side shaped me into the person I am now." Because Misa was exactly the kind of idol he didn't want to be worshipped.
"Did she feel like a sister to you? Just how far did the lines between the stage and reality blur?"
"No, I wouldn't think of Misa as a sister exactly." Misa was naturally a brunette he supposed, but he outlandish goth Lolita lifestyle was a polar opposite to his own. "But she is one of my very best friends. I love her, in a sense."
"And was she always so...bright?"
Code for, was she always on something that D.A.R.E would faint at?
"I don't know if she'd want me to speak about that." Light dismissed, though her struggles were very well documented. No one cared, that was the thing. It just made for more lively amusement that gossip magazines toiled tirelessly over. Misa wasn't taken very seriously in the industry; she was a party girl and the show she acted in now was her life. Everyone's eyes were on her only to see her fail. She acted the part of the sparse blonde bimbo, but that's because that's all she was, really. Misa was more intelligent than what she offered to the world, because she knew that didn't matter to them. They only wanted to see a broken girl whose pieces kept chipping. They needed her to be the butt of all their jokes because if not, they'd have to consider that what they were watching was a flaming trainwreck they had no inclination or ability to help. And that was too much.
"I understand. Her lifestyle is pretty scorned."
"That's a nice way of putting it."
"Do you worry about her?" The question was innocent enough, L didn't even look up from his French toast that was drowning in syrup, but Light felt himself stiffen at the almost accusation.
How am I supposed to worry about her? What am I supposed to do about it? Drag her to a rehab by her pigtails, kicking and screaming, only to expect more white to shoot up her nose the moment she's set free? It's not my responsibility.
"Of course I do." Light snapped, even though he didn't mean it. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raising. "Of course I worry about her. But she's doing better, I know she is."
I know why she does it. I understand. How could I take away that small comfort of hers?
She'd just hate him for it.
L paused, his dark eyes flashing with something that immediately had Light tucking his fangs away. Oh great, now he felt guilty. "I apologize-"
"No, it's not you, it's just the fucking media. I hear it all of the time." Light threw out this lazy excuse, turning his anger onto Ryuk instead of L, because he couldn't have the one capable person of telling his life story be frightened away from the tale so soon. "Ryuk, your shoes are untied. Try not to look like a slob please."
Ryuk set into steadily defending his footwear, but Light just pushed his plate back, motioning for the waitress to bring his check, and pretending he didn't notice when she bit her lip coyly.
"It's fashion. But you wouldn't know what that is, would you? Everyone's shoes are always tied but this way I stand out. I look unique dammit and I won't have you ordering me around like you're some high and mighty king who's just fucked off from his throne to-"
No, Misa was fine. She was a grown adult who knew her limits and who was careful to the best of her abilities. She had high-quality shit, nothing from seedy dealers and black markets.
And she had Rem, her very wealthy and very intelligent girlfriend. She could worry about Misa. Light didn't have the time. It wasn't his responsibility. He'd just look like an interfering busybody if he tried to do anything. They simply weren't close enough for that kind of wrought intensity.
L wouldn't understand.
L was currently typing something into his phone, his eyes darting up periodically, to look at Light weakly, and Light returned a smile that wasn't very strong either. This wasn't working. But, strangely enough, he wanted it to. And that was bad, right? L wasn't anyone to him and yet Light was still tripping over his heels trying to impress him. Soon, he felt like he was going to trip into a hole he wouldn't be able to dig himself out of...
L crossed his leg, his foot bouncing as dirty converse shoelaces bobbed in the wind. It really was windy today.
I...want him to like me. Why?
City skyscrapers meshed in with the landscape all around, what was left of it anyway. The cars on the road were nothing more than flashing lights, blinking, dissolving into grey as the sun disappeared behind foggy clouds and mist began to fall gently on his windshield. Windshield wipers were flipped on, wiping away the mess with a loud thunk, his foot pressed gently on the accelerator to lead him on his journey home. Speeding by the nothingness in the blink of an eye, he was too focused on keeping his eyes on the road to really take in any other sights. They were there one moment, and gone the next, and though driving was a robotic practice, a study he had eased himself into, he still found himself getting lost inside of his mind as he carried out his duties like he was meant to. The AC was blasting cool air around him, the steady hum filing the car along with the pinging of text messages.
"This is so exhausting." Misa murmurs, her polished fingers daintily skimming the couch's arm. "I hate this. I really hate this. Do you hate it?"
"I think it's fine." Light shrugged. "It's nice, having something to do."
"I hate interviews."
"The fans want to hear from us. It's just a few questions, nothing to be nervous about."
"But it's not as simple as just a couple of questions. They want to know us. And...what if they don't like the real us? It's so invasive, it feels like we're being led to a surgery. Or a massacre."
"You're dramatic." he couldn't help but laugh, his teeth cool and silky after he had swallowed a mouthful of ice water. "It'll be five minutes at most. This host talks so much that she'll probably fill up our time slot with her own hair-brained commentary."
"I wish I was in school." Misa said after a pregnant pause. "Don't you?"
"Not really. We are in school."
"Yeah, with tutors. We're In the studio's created school, but that's not really school, it's just acting. It's not real." Misa sighed, her voice trailing into a mournful whisper. "Nothing is."
"What's brought this on?" Light said after a second, crossing his legs and then uncrossing them when he found they only made his posture more rigidly unforgiving. "Do you want to quit?"
"I don't know. The show can't really go on without Mercy, right?"
"Mm. Just like it can't go on without Darcy."
"But don't you think it might be nice to live the life we see in shows?"
"That's all been embellished. My mom told me so."
"I just want to be a kid for once." Misa sighed again. "You know? I just want to come home for homework, go out after dinner to hang out at the mall with my friends, and then come back home to fall asleep and start the routine over again."
"That sounds so boring." Light sniffed. Why would anyone want to voluntarily subject themselves to that monotony? Most kids his age would kill themselves and their sister to have the kind of opportunities that he had. There wasn't a day that passed where he wasn't reminded that he should be grateful. There were starving children in war-torn lands across seas and right here at home. There were people suffering maladies, life's cruelties, heartbreaks and ugliness. Light liked what he did. He liked feeling important. Like he mattered. Like he was the fish handpicked out of the sea of ones colored just like him.
"I just hate all of these responsibilities. It's getting to me, I think. I just wish that for one day, I wasn't Misa Amane. I'd just like to be Misa for once, you know?"
"Sure." No, he didn't know. He was Light, and that's who he'd always be. He knew himself. Was Misa saying that she didn't?
"I don't even remember what being normal felt like. I feel like I've always been this way. I've never really felt like a real person...oh, ignore me, I'm being stupid. I don't know." Misa laughed gently, though the sound was tinny, she pushed back freshly bleached strands behind her ear as she shook her head. "I don't know. Hey, do you wanna do something fun?"
"What? Now?" Light asked, but he suddenly felt his eyes widen as Misa pulled a small baggie filled with white out of her small Hello Kitty handbag. "What the fuck? Is that-"
"One of my stepdad's friends sold it to me." Misa said breathily, her own contact-covered blue eyes glistening as she gazed upon the sordid contents of the baggie reverently. "My sister did some last night. She says it's fun. She looked like she was having fun. She says it...it makes all of your problems seem like a dream. She says it makes you feel like you're electricity personified."
"But that's an illegal drug. You're fourteen Misa, do you even know what you're doing?"
"I won't get in trouble. I'm a kid. The guy who sold it to me will get in trouble. Not me."
"Just put it back."
"We could just do a little bit. Just one line, I know how to cut it. I brought an old gift card."
"We're about to go on live television!" Light hissed, his panic building. He felt like he was choking on something, but he knew he had only drunk water. His stomach was doing flip-flops and he cautiously scooted towards Misa, like she was a viper ready to strike. "We can't do this. Not now."
"But I'm nervous." she sniffed, looking to be on the verge of tears. Her eyes swam with cerulean blue skies harboring rainy days ahead. "I really am. I just need something to calm me down."
"My dad is in the LAPD. Do you know what he'd do if we were caught?"
"We won't be caught. Trust me. We're kids, we're supposed to have high-energy. I'm doing it with or without you, and if you tell on me, I'll never forgive you. I'm not peer-pressuring you. I just want to make that clear. It's an offering." Misa finished with some frightening finality, clearing magazines and notes off of the glass coffee table and sprinkling a healthy amount of pixie dust onto the once reflective surface. Light could only stare. "It's not that hard of a drug. People do it all of the time. They used to drink it in Coca-Cola, you know? It's fine. It's fine."
"Just as a onetime thing?" Light scoffed. "Do you realize how easy it is to get addicted?"
"You sound like a nerd." Misa laughed, but it sounded more like an angry puff of air more than anything else. A card shook between her fingers as she smacked it down onto the table, separating the powder into two thin white lines. "Come on. It'll be fun. Don't leave me hanging Yagami."
Light started as she suddenly grabbed his hand, pressing it to her cheek. Her eyes looked so worn, like she was an old teddy found at the back of a rummage sale, just waiting to be picked up and loved by someone who cared. A sick feeling reminiscent to the time he had been struck down with the stomach flu filled his stomach and traveled up to his chest to poison him thoroughly.
"We don't need to do this." he tried again, though he felt his resolve wavering.
"Everyone does it." Misa said softly. "Please? For me? I don't wanna do it alone. We could be each other's firsts; wouldn't that be fun? We'd experience it together; it wouldn't be so lonely that way."
Lonely. He had always felt somewhat alone. In this world of lights and cameras and actions, after they dimmed and faded and left him alone, he was nothing but his own person. But Misa was left with him too and they had that to share. Two twin flames extinguished together, holding on against all odds, against the frostily whipping wind. Misa knew what it was like to hate the silence. She knew what it was like to breath in the silence, because you needed it to survive.
This was scary. Inside of the darkest corners of his mind where monsters lurked, they whispered to him that this was a terrifying life to live and that he had no idea what he was doing. Eyes stuck to his body like glue, waiting to see one chip in the façade, one crack so that they could tear down the curtain and expose him as the fraud he'd always feared he was. He couldn't talk to anyone, they wouldn't listen, not to his woes, they were definitively struck deaf by their own vices when it came to him.
But he was one star, and Misa was another. They were shining brightly up in the sky, surrounded by darkness and dying slowly because of it. They shone so brightly because they were dying. And they could see that in each other, their eyes could shift to their peripherals when they looked at each other and realized they were dying as well.
Light felt himself fill with the familiar feeling of eroding black tar when he realized that all he had was Misa. She was the only one who'd ever really seen him. She lived his life, they were connected in that way, held together by one taut wire always on the verge of snapping. Now, perhaps, it was time for him to take off his rose-colored shades as well and see her for who she truly was. She was drowning, and she needed someone to choke down murky death with her too.
"Just one?" he asked cautiously, despite himself, feeling himself smile when Misa's worried lips spread into an excited grin.
"I'll make yours tiny." she swore, pushing up a rolled up $1 bill into his hand. It felt so heavy, even though it was nothing. Just paper. "We'll hold hands, okay? I'm nervous..."
"Yeah..."
"But I want to do this." she nodded, mostly to convince herself that she actually needed it, and she sank down to her knees and beckoned Light to follow suit. They looked at each other once, their hands joined in a tight embrace under the table as their clenched fists shook with the rolled-up note.
In this oblivion, they were lost together, but they held hands, to reassure themselves that they weren't really alone.
"Do you think we're fine Light?" Misa took a steadying breath.
Light squeezed her hand, leant down and sniffed, telling himself it wouldn't really affect him, and then he lost the feeling in the back of his throat.
"Move, asshole!" Ryuk laughed at the same time a car horn blared, and Light blinked only to find that the red light had faded.
"You've got to be kidding." Light gasped, horrified when Ryuk walks away with a snigger, leaving L in full view, holding a rolled up blunt.
"What? Does the pink offend you? It's only a wrapper." L smirked, the smoking paper only an inch away from his lips. Light shook his head.
"Don't push your bad habits onto him." he snapped at Ryuk, who just shot him the most infuriating grin as he rolled his sliding glass door shut. At least L had the courtesy to smoke outside, but he really shouldn't have been smoking at all!
"I do it to think." L explained as Light sat down next to him, cross-legged, staring into his wavering expression mirrored in the dark pool water below. "Or, to not think as much."
"That doesn't make any sense. Weed makes you lazy and stupid."
"That's a stereotype. It takes so long for my mind to stop racing. Even in the dead of night I can't stop thinking. It's why I hardly get any sleep." L nodded, lifting up his glasses to show Light dark purple bruises collecting in bags under his eyes, which were only made more obvious without their shield of glass. "I need to do this to sleep."
"But you're driving home soon."
"I don't get disgustingly high. It's a buzz. It's my medicine."
"I've heard that before." Light sighed, watching as L let clouds of grey spill from his lips.
"You smoke." L said through the haze, and though it smelled faintly of roses, Light still despised the smell and pulled own his own package of cigarettes, despite the fact that he was proving L right. "I'm smoking right now to think. I'm thinking about you."
"Obviously." Light teased, flickering his own lighter off and on before he threw it behind his back, hearing it land against his glass walls with a satisfying thunk. "What are you thinking about."
A small bubble escaped L's mouth as his cheeks puffed out, his eyes looked up to the darkened sky as he pondered this, small trails of steam spilling from his nose before he exhaled mightily. "I don't know how I'm going to write this book. Not if you keep lying to me."
"Lying to you?" Light sputtered out through his own dark cloud, his mouth burning. "I haven't lied."
"Well, no." L corrected himself. "But you haven't been telling me the full truth either. Why is that?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Uh huh. I have a theory. Would you like to hear it? Don't answer. I think you're scared. I don't think you want anyone to know the real you. I don't know why that is, besides the typical theories I could spout at you, but I know you're scared. You're telling me all of these soft answers that strangers expect from you. You had a normal childhood? You love Misa like a sister? Your acting experience has always been an uphill joyous jolly journey?"
"You don't think that's the truth?"
"I know it's not." L answered predictably, and Light was angry, but it was the truth, so how could he hate that? It was his own truth and he hated it. He despised it, really. "Look, I can write you the standard empty-calorie, tell-some celebrity book that you read from the bargain bin. I can do that. It'd be an insult to my skills, but I could still probably make it turn out okay. I just thought you'd want more than that."
"I do." Light insisted stubbornly, wrenching his eyes away from L's all-knowing ones as he stared over the top of his head. Even in the darkness, it caught the light of the stars. His presence made Light want to talk to him, and that somehow made this whole conversation worse. He didn't know what to say, really. He didn't know what else L expected of him besides the truth. He didn't know if he could trust him with that. Who knew when they could trust anyone?
"Do you want to hear a story?" L asked after a minute, the blunt dangling from his lips as he pulled his legs to his chest, hugging himself.
Light nodded, not knowing what story it was, but desperate to reflect on anything that wasn't himself. "Sure." At least the darkness of night was beginning to consume him and his features.
"As a child, I was mute until I was six. My parents were supremely worried about me. I just didn't see the point in speaking. I had nothing to say and I didn't like people. I didn't think it was a problem, but they took me to all sorts of therapists and doctors and speech classes...I hated it. I hated being looked at as if there was something wrong with me. There wasn't, no one understood me. I suppose I feared being understood to come degree though. I was worried people would hear me speak for the first time and tell me to shut up after all. One day, my mom picked me up from my little private school. It was an all-boys catholic school, so don't even get me started on that, and the uniforms were itchy, but I digress. She took me out for ice cream and she...she said that there wasn't anything to be scared of. That if I didn't have anyone else to talk to, I could talk to her, and she would listen. She wasn't a scary presence in my life. And that did it. I just...started talking. And now I can't stop. All of that fear and it was wasted on something so unimportant."
"Words can be scary though." Light says softly, in not quite a whisper as his cigarette shrinks in between his fingers. L hums.
"Words do have a particular kind of power."
"Your mom sounds nice, though."
"She's dead." L rasps through a cloud of smoke, and Light winced.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault. I was young."
"How young?"
"Eleven. It happened suddenly, so, it wasn't like there was any dreadful build up. She was there one moment...and gone the next. And that's often how death goes."
"My mother died too." Light says. "But you already knew that."
"Public records." L nodded. "I'm sorry for that too, even though it's not my fault."
"You just feel like you have to say that."
"It's something to be sorry over."
"She was nice too. Loving. Caring. It was a car accident."
"Would you like to talk about it?" L asks, shifting so that he's facing Light once again. Owls hoot softly in the distance. Why has Light never heard an owl near his house until now? "I won't put it in the book if you don't want me to."
"Why wouldn't I want you to?"
"It's a vulnerable thing to talk about. Vulnerability is inherently scary. But you can tell me these things if you want to, and I won't tell anyone else. It'll be like a trust-building exercise."
"So, I just fall into your arms and hope that you'll catch me?"
"I will. You don't know that, because we don't really know each other, but you could try. I could be someone you trust. It will be good for the book, anyway."
And that's just it, isn't it? L isn't pulling out his innards slowly and brutally, he's just there and open, waiting to soak Light's words up as his own. Light doesn't have any evidence but...he still takes a deep drag of his cigarette until the blackness coats his lungs and settles in his throat and then he stubs it out onto the ground.
"I'm worried that this won't turn out like I think it will." Light confesses into the chilly nighttime air, his voice swept up with the breeze. "I don't know. I've never done something like this before."
"Because it scares you?"
"Well, yeah. How would you feel, letting millions of people into your mind?"
"...I wouldn't like it, which is why I rarely ever do it."
"Exactly. It's hard."
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" L says, laughing a lilting little laugh as he goes back to smoking. "Although, I don't think my secrets would be of much interest to you."
"Why would you think that?" Light asks immediately, frowning against the new cigarette in his mouth. Ugh, he needs to stop chain smoking. He only does it when he's stressed. Or thinking. Or reading a book. Or on his phone-
"They're normal people secrets. I'm sure they're not as fascinating as yours."
"I don't know about that. I wouldn't let a boring person write my story."
"So, you find me interesting then?" L asks, and for some reason that makes Light fumble.
Does he? He supposes that there is an air about L that surrounds him, and drags him in, even if it's somewhat unwittingly. The way L speaks and the things he says in the way that he says him...God, even his eyes speak to Light, and Light hardly bothers looking through people's eyes, because the people he meets usually have rather blank eyes that tell the entire story of their life through one blink. But it's not like that with L. Light can see a reflection of himself, and whether that's just because L's irises are dark enough to make out his bleary reflection or if he's seeing his face through his glasses he doesn't know but...
He does want L to like him. He wants L to see him for something more than he actually is. He's writing his book, and Light wants this book to be somewhat of a defining moment in his career, but he also wants it to be him...rough edges and all, though he doesn't want to purposefully cut someone.
He can't explain it, but he wants L to understand him.
I want you to read me like one of your books.
The only problem is, what if this is a book L doesn't want to finish? What if he puts it down, only because it's so bleak and dreary, predictable and vapid? What if an unimportant bookmark is stuck inside of his pages, not even a fancy one bound in leather, but an old grocery store receipt? What if he's put up on some low shelf when he's only ever been seated high above before, what if he's left to gather dusts and mourn his own contents which he's forced to read until the end of time? What if Light is a book that's fit to be let go, unimportant and unloved by everyone? The people love the pretty artwork on his cover, but they might not like the words rotting inside.
L is still staring at him expectantly, with those wide eyes of his. Light wants to ask what ethnicity he is, because he's rather ambiguous. He knows that Beyond has roots in England but-
"Light?"
"I want you to like me." Light blurts, and then he metaphorically hits himself over the head with a mallet for his stupidity. "I mean, I don't know...not many people like people like me because usually there's nothing to like, you know?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Celebrities are..." Light fumbles for the right words. "Not people. Not really. Not like what people expect them to be. They're not all glittery and shiny lights and warm smiles. Most people in this town are damaged, and they make art out of their damage. That's not something likeable. Not if you know the truth behind it. It's like OZ behind the curtain. The curtain isn't meant to be pulled back, but nosey fuckwads still yank on it and then somehow get mad at me when they're the ones who ruined the illusion in the first place."
"I told you I watched your show, didn't I?" L says after a moment, his voice clouded as he exhales more smoke. Light nods, distantly remembering such a thing. "I loved it. I'd watch it every day after school, every week, and for twenty minutes it just...I don't know. It was stupid, like you said, childish, but that's what I needed at the time. It made me feel like I had a family. Especially after losing my mother...that connection was needed. So, thank you for that, I guess."
"Oh." Light nods, feeling a little flame flick on inside of his chest. That's nice. It's always nice to hear that he's helped someone. That's what he does this for, right? He wants to make art that people take home and hold close to their hearts. He wants to make pretty things inside of this ugly world so that the good people can be just a little bit happier. He tells stories for escapism, because everyone needs a secret door to slip in and out of every so often. That's why he does this. And he is appreciated. He knows that, but it's nice to be reminded. By L.
"You have made an impact on so many people. You're a good man, Light Yagami. But you don't need me to tell you that, do you? This isn't going to turn into some Charlie brown special right?"
"No, I know." Light averts his eyes to the glistening water again. "But you aren't going to put all of that self-loathing crap into the book, right?"
"No, not if you don't want me to tell the whole truth."
"But I do! That's not the truth, that's just ugliness."
"The truth is ugly Light, don't tell me you don't know that."
"But I don't want it to be ugly. It doesn't have to be. That's not me, I'm not ugly, am I?"
"No, you're a stunner to look at." L admits, and Light knows he shouldn't care about the praise, but even knowing this it still makes him unfurl brightly like a pink cherry blossom. "So, are we doing this? Set my expectations."
"Are they high?"
"Should they be?"
"I'm a good person." Light says forcefully, the glowing embers of his cigarette trailing to the ground, falling to dark depths for freedom only to be snuffed out by the abrasive coldness. "But I think I'm good in the ways that I have to be, you know? No one understands what it's like to live this life. This life takes a very special person to live it. It's not...nothing about Hollywood can be considered normal, okay? We're all humans, but we've been molded into these plastic doll bodies and your smiles can't chip or we'll be thrown into the dumpster. People don't know that."
"They don't? I don't think you're giving them enough credit." L smirks out of his peripheral, drawing Light in closer so that his head is turned to face him again. It is a nice smile. It's the kind of smile that suggests he cares about Light. No one else would dare smirk at him like that. It's a telling smirk.
"What did you expect of me?" Light coughs out. "What did you think I'd be like?"
"Truth?"
"Isn't that what we're doing?"
"Hm, yes, I suppose so. I had heard things on the news, overheard Beyond's rantings to you over the phone, but I'd never met you in person, never even seen you from a distance, so all I really knew of was second-hand information and that's like a game of telephone. I don't judge books by covers. Well, I do, but then I open them up to read the contents myself to see if there's anything worth reading. What I see is a powerful, successful, charming man who's quite brilliant, but who has a darkness to him, like most people, but it's a darkness my eyes have adjusted to. I felt like I saw a fraction of myself inside of your eyes. I like your eyes. I don't know if I've said."
"You do?" Light blinks, bringing more attention to them than was already brought. L smirks again, his own eyes drooping just so.
"They're every expressive. I don't know if that's intentional or not."
"Eyes are the windows to the soul."
"But you're an actor."
"Is that your way of calling me fake?"
"No. Jesus, you can't be so defensive."
"Would you write this book if you weren't being paid to do so?"
"Money doesn't matter to me." L nods with all of the Wammy family wealth held highly on his shoulders. "Do you know how many self-important shits have tried to commission me before? I've been offered hundreds of thousands, but I turn them down if all I see is a blank piece of paper. Or one that's already been so furiously scribbled on that it's practically black with sin. I don't write things that don't interest me. I'd never get anything done if I tried to do that. My words are important, and I use them sparingly. But I want to use them on you."
"Right. Because I'm not a shit." Light says quietly, mouths, really, but L still hears him and bats his shoulder in a way Light finds he's already comfortable with. Maybe this won't be a complete horror show.
"Right. So, is there anything you want to tell me?"
And after L drives away in his Pruis (which is such a disgusting little car, Light's really going to have to talk to him about what he drives) he sits out on his deck until the rosy sun peaks through the violet clouds, and then he walks inside and goes to bed silently, like a thief in the night.
After a lifetime of pondering, he thinks he's chosen to unload his haul onto L, and that might be the worst mistake he's ever made. Or he's just tired, because he's overthinking and he's tired because his mind has chewed up and spit out L's words so many times that at this point he's choking on expired bile. Yeah, it's probably that. As Ryuk would say, 'Lighten up Light-o, or we'll have to blaze you up! Because, get it? It's a weed joke? And a pun on your name. Do you get it?'
