You're not going to waste your time reading this anyway after the way last chapter ended. I wouldn't either.
Go forth.
This chapter also takes place directly after the last one.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Oh no. Oh god. Oh fuck.
Disgusting? Disgusting. Light couldn't breathe; his chest was caving in, stabbing his heart and thoroughly breaking it. His eyes had glazed over, unseeing and burning hot with tears refusing to fall. What was he supposed to do now?
Something was disgusting. Was it his love? Was it who he'd been? Both? Something else? Everything else? No, god, fuck! What was he supposed to do now?! Was he supposed to let L explain? Was he supposed to ask?! He wanted to disappear, but he couldn't physically flee: L was too close. He shouldn't flee either, with L knowing via written confession that he definitely was Kira—or had been, as the case may be.
What was disgusting? WHAT WAS IT?!
L directed his attention to Light when the boy finally made a sound as he took a shallow, desperate gasp for air.
"Ah, Light-kun," L stated simply in the same monotonous voice he always had. It was unreadable. What was disgusting? Light read nothing from his tormentor's tone.
Eyes still clouded, Light turned his head toward L's location. The tears immediately forced their escape and he hid his face behind his hands. L couldn't see him like this; he was already disgusting and now his eyes had betrayed him. God, god, god, why did it have to be like this?!
"Light?"
Light held the little breath he'd gotten, forcing himself to stay silent as the tears fell. He balled up protectively within the chair as his ribs convulsed, his muscles receiving mixed input as his body tried to inhale while he consciously denied the inflow of air: L could not see him like this. No one could see him like this, especially not L. This was too shattered of a state for anyone to see. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip hard enough to force him to focus on this sharp pain rather than that engulfing pain.
He stiffened completely when he felt another pair of arms wrap around his head. A warm, bony body crouched next to his. A warm, unmoving torso pressed alongside him.
"Breathe," L whispered into Light's hair.
Light shook his head jerkily, finding motor control difficult. He couldn't let himself breathe right now, because he'd sob if he tried.
L's arms tightened.
"I believe," L spoke quietly, "Light has misunderstood something."
Light remained still; he couldn't respond, he was too afraid of what pathetic sounds would fill the silence.
"I believe," L repeated, "Light may have been awake longer than I thought he was."
He received no response from the boy.
"Light knows that I occasionally talk to myself."
No response.
"Perhaps I spoke something aloud that upset Light?"
Light tightened the ball he'd turned himself into.
"Ah, I am correct."
Light whimpered almost inaudibly; his body couldn't handle the carbon dioxide building up.
He felt his hair being petted softly.
"I don't recall what it was I said, though, that could have upset you."
He received no response. He brushed back Light's hair and shifted slightly, enough for his lips to press themselves onto Light's forehead.
The boy jolted up, his eyes wide, red, and soaked. He had let out a surprised cough, his body finally ridding itself of the unusable air. His lungs forced in shaky and hurried uneven breaths.
L had kissed his forehead. But he was disgusting? Wasn't he? L had kissed him.
L had kissed him.
L had kissed him.
"Hello," L greeted, finally able to look Light in the eyes.
Light couldn't speak; his throat was tight and unforgiving, besides what was he to say even if he could speak? He'd already unwillingly told L everything there was to be said. It was L's turn.
"Disgusting," L finally stated.
He watched Light's eyebrows furrow instantly while the boy's breath came out harshly just to get stuck again.
"Ah, that is what I had said," L confirmed based off Light's reaction. His hand found the boy's cheek.
"I assure you, Light, you misunderstood."
L leaned in even closer to the boy he was still holding. He wrapped one hand around the back of Light's head, cradling it.
"Light," he whispered into his ear before he pulled back just enough to place another kiss on Light, this time on his cheek.
"Light," he repeated, now kissing the edge of the boy's eye; it tasted of salt.
"You could never disgust me," the detective assured, placing his forehead onto Light's. He still cradled the boy's head with one hand, his other on his cheek. His thumb stroked away the tears.
Light let out another whimpered sound, trying to get L to answer the questions assaulting his mind. His breathing was finally regular, not normal, but at least consistent.
"Light?" L asked. His thumb had found its way to Light's swollen lips and was now softly running along them.
He was met with the expected silence until Light responded, his voice almost silent, "L?"
"I," L answered, his eyes glancing down, staring at the lips he was stroking. He breathed in silently yet deeply: Light was utterly intoxicating.
"I," he repeated.
"I want to," he paused, jealous of his own thumb.
"Kiss you," he finished, now looking Light in the eyes.
Light's hands wound their way up to L's hair. His fingers weaved their way into the locks. He pulled, letting his lips meet L's.
Finally, finally. Thoughts were wiped from Light's mind: he was overloaded and completely captivated by the soft sweetness of L's lips finally on his. He'd imagined kissing L so many times, countless times. He'd gone to bed fantasizing about rolling over and capturing these lips and he'd spent nights dreaming about it as a consequence.
His dreams were nothing next to reality. As much as his mind should have been prepared from all his fantasizing, it simply wasn't—couldn't be. He doubted he'd ever get used to this, but he'd love the opportunities to try.
One second felt like eternity and a mere instant at the same time. In his brain, so many synapses had exploded with activity, trying desperately to catalogue every sensation, that a single moment seemed infinite: the detail alone was simply too much for just one moment. Conversely, no time could possibly be enough time: he and L kissing should never stop.
L was gripping his head tightly, one hand at the back, keeping Light's lips against his own, the other hand holding his jaw, caressing along the angle. The detective's breathing became audible the longer he responded to the kiss. Their lips fit together wonderfully no matter how they positioned them; L alternated which of his lips were between Light's, but he was beginning to favor Light's bottom lip between his so that he could pinch it.
Light exhaled with quiet sounds whenever L did this.
Light groaned out provocatively when he felt a dull nip of teeth followed by a warm, damp tongue playing against his lip. He felt fire burn in his abdomen when his own tongue ventured passed his parted lips to meet L's. The man tasted delicious, far better than his imagination had assumed. He was a subtle sweet, the kind Light actually liked to savor. His tongue felt soft and smooth on his own, but rough enough to cause an enticing friction.
L turned Light's head by the jaw, allowing their mouths to seal and reopen while they explored these new sensations.
Their hands didn't move far from their locations: their brains were far too occupied to successfully do more than one action at a time. Light's brain decided that he wanted – nay, needed – more. Without breaking their still going kiss, he uncurled his legs to reach out around L's crouching body. Once around, he wrapped his ankles together and pulled his legs toward himself, pulling L even closer.
Light now practically laid on the chair and L was between his legs laying on him, essentially trapped in an erotic guard position. He could feel the man's chest rising and falling rapidly as he breathed. Skin was hot through their clothes.
Light tightened his legs, forcing them as close as they could be in the confines of the chair. Now he let out what was unmistakably a heated moan. L bit down on Light's lip because of that same sensation. More synapses fired frantically.
The boy retracted his lip from L's teeth to tug his face closer. He bit L's lip before tilting his head further to deepen their kiss again.
L's hand finally slithered from Light's jaw down to the hem of his shirt, taking a detour to squeeze the boy's defined chest and firm ribs. His fingers slid under the hem and danced back up to Light's ribs, making the boy shiver and whimper the whole journey.
L's mouth muffled Light's loud moan when L's traveling hand groped his chest.
When L rubbed his thumb across the boy's nipple, Light arched up along L's for more friction. L gasped quietly at the sensation Light caused.
Light's legs squirmed when L's fingers decided to pinch.
"Yo: it's 3am; I know you know what that means."
Light jerked his head back and froze.
They were still in a public place.
They'd been in a public place . . . the whole time.
The trance was broken.
. . . for a moment. One look at L and he was mesmerized. L was trying to catch his breath, he was red in the face, and he looked more disheveled than usual. He also looked like he could devour Light even now. And L was staring back at him, not at the exhausted barista.
"Uh," Light began, his mind instantly searching for a lie to excuse such an indecent position . . . his mind failed: there was no explanation for this position they were in other than the real explanation. And who was he kidding: the barista definitely knew; she'd seen them. He had no idea how long they'd been publicly displaying their affection, but the barista definitely knew.
She raised her hand dismissively. With one hand on her hip she stated flatly, "No, don't waste my time lying: I don't care. Please untangle and leave so that I can clean up the place and leave too. I'm not saying you have to go home, but you gotta get outta here."
"Sorry!" Light squeaked. He hurriedly withdrew his hands from their nest in L's hair and spread his legs so L could escape.
L raised an eyebrow and absorbed Light's position as if debating whether he should move/would move. The look on Light's face tempted him, Light's spread legs tempted him, Light's overall compliance practically invited him, but he withdrew . . . not without scraping his fingers along the boy's stomach. Light saw the detective smirk when Light shivered again. L jumped off the chair and onto his feet, immediately hunching over and shoving his hands into his pockets.
Light . . . didn't want to stand. For . . . for reasons.
. . . for one reason.
The barista shut her eyes for a moment as if she were going to roll them, but was too tired even for that.
She sighed and directed her words to Light, "Alright, I'll give you until I clean off the counters to settle down."
She looked at L, pointed across the room, and put more authority into her voice when she said, "You go stand over there; I don't trust you."
"Fair," L mumbled, sauntering over to where she'd pointed. He wasn't exactly trustworthy.
The barista strolled back to the counter.
While she cleaned, Light did his best to remember how to turn off manual breathing as well as how to turn off . . . being turned on.
He was successful enough to stand up without completely embarrassing himself. L followed him as he walked toward the door.
"Ah, Light!" the barista called, sounding more awake than before.
"Eh, yes?" Light replied confusedly as turned to face her. He wasn't concerned with the lack of honorific—she'd earned the right to informality—he was concerned that she may know him, but he couldn't remember having met her before today . . . er, yesterday, as it were.
"Your journal," she answered, tilting her head to the journal he'd left forgotten on the table.
"I'll get it," L volunteered, walking back over to get it.
"How . . . do you know my name?" Light asked, trying to fix his hair.
L returned with the journal when she answered, "You yelled it at the woman earlier; sound travels, you know," she paused as if debating whether or not she wanted to say more. She must have decided yes, for she continued with her mouth in a slight grin, "I assume this is 'your Mr. Hideki.'"
Light felt his heart smack his chest. He fumbled for words, but she held up her hand again and interrupted before he could lie once again, "Ah, I already told you that I don't care. Good bye now, Light, Hideki."
She was teasing him and he knew it, but he blushed as they left anyway.
Light cleared his throat, not sure what to say or even if he should say a thing.
The decision was made for him when his lips were caught once again by L's here in the middle of the sidewalk. This kiss was shorter . . . too short: Light suspected he was becoming addicted.
L pulled back slightly to speak. "Light doesn't want to go back home does he?" L asked. Their lips brushed as he spoke.
"No," he answered. His limp arms tingled; they wanted to reach for L, not idly do nothing.
L moved first, his hands grabbing Light's hips just under the hem of his shirt.
"Investigation tower?" L asked, pulling Light's body against his.
"Y-yes," he answered, his voice cracking, exposing his lack of control.
"Good," L said firmly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss before he grabbed Light's hand to walk back to the tower.
The tower was only a ten minute walk from the café, but it turned into twenty five as the two constantly stopped along the way to taste and explore each other. They either ignored or forgot that they were still outdoors and visible, but since it was so late—or early—it didn't really matter since no one sober was out.
They got through the door to the investigation tower still connected by the mouth and hands grabbing wherever they could. They stumbled to the elevator, both panting and only focused on one thing – as men tend to do.
Fortunately, the elevator ride was long, long enough for them to have a heated make-out session against the wall, on the ground, and on the ground again, but flipped. The elevator dinged, alerting them that this was fun, but it could be more fun on a soft surface—yes, that's what the ding told them. And so they hurried out into the hallway and into the room they had shared for so long.
"Light," L huffed, trying to regain a lick of composure.
The boy paused, listening.
"I think you should read through this," L panted, pulling the journal out of his waistband.
Light didn't look pleased. He practically whined, "Now?" They were kind of . . . busy, already. Light was very much enjoying all the attention his lips and his body were getting from L.
"Yes," L stated, pulling Light's lips back to his. Between nibbles, he explained, "I – 'm no expert – but - I think – what we're going to – do – will be better – mn – if you do."
Completely controlled, Light whined again, "Fine." Before snatching the journal, he first placed a kiss on L's nose.
He giggled when the detective blushed through his already flushed face.
L cleared his throat and instructed, "Start from the back."
Light opened the back of the journal and sank down to the floor as the words, written in beautifully flawless calligraphy, enchanted him:
Dear Light,
I too have neither written a journal entry, nor been completely honest. As I do expect you to read this, I doubt that I will be as open as you have been, but, regardless, I shall be truthful (or else, why bother to write this?) You are sleeping now and I feel comfortable as I watch you; I always am comforted by your calm sleep-state. I must admit that I never expected to find you sleeping here in a public location, but yet here you are. I do not think you will rouse soon, so I shall write until I am finished. After all, you did not wake up the first five minutes while I was eating a pastry (delicious, by the way, we must come back here again) and reading your journal entry (and I was not being overly quiet).
I apologise in advance if I ramble; like I stated previously, I too have never written a journal entry. I suppose I should not refer to these as journal entries, since they are both addressed as letters. The few morals I have tell me that one should not read a personal article without reason, but I digress: you addressed your entry to me.
I am angry right now. I am angry at myself for taking so long to understand what it was that was distracting you and what it was that you had wanted to tell me. I cannot believe that I missed the opportunity to be confessed to. You should well know that I have never been anyone's love interest, and I certainly have never had any of my own.
It took me too long to realise what these feelings of mine were; I have never experienced such feelings before. For the same reason, I did not recognise your feelings for me. I am upset with myself for taking so long to figure it out.
I am a bit disgusted with myself: I was around you for so long and I forced you into such uncomfortable situations without even realising. Honestly, I do apologise for the trouble.
I too tried to ignore the feelings that I did not understand. You, Light, are the most beautiful creature I have ever had the good fortune of seeing. The masks you wear have been crafted to perfection throughout your life and they fit you and your personality (rather, your personalities). You would be a fitting image of a god in any piece of artwork. Please do not let that go to your head, Kira.
You are so beautiful. I too was shocked when first I saw you in person. I did not understand why.
I love watching you think; you are most beautiful when you are thinking deeply. You are as calculating and strategic as I am. And you are correct when you say that I agree with Kira just as Kira agrees with me. I am sure, with a one hundred percent certainty, that I would have ended up doing the same to criminals had I been the first to find a death note. It is only because I was a bystander that I understood the flaw and the horrors. I know that you understand now as well, as you have been separated from the addiction and influence of the death note.
I am still angry. I am still disgusted. Not at you, Light, never truly at you. How could I have not known for so long? How could I have ignored the signs, labelling them as unimportant? Now that I know, I wish I had known immediately.
I love you, Light.
I love you, and I am disturbed at how delighted I am that we have mirrored scars from the cuffs. I too am pleased that you have been marked.
Now I understand what you meant when you wrote that this felt sappy.
Oh, Light.
If I were to live forever, I would only ask that forever be with you.
If I were to live for one second longer, I would ask only to spend that second with you.
What have I let you do to me?
And your drawing, Light. I never knew you were gifted artistically as well. Besides being honest, is there anything at which you do not excel? I intend to find out.
Is that . . . is that how I look in your mind's eye? I admit: it brought a flush to my face. I believe that you think me far more handsome than I really am. That smile is reserved for your eyes only, Light.
Oh, I see what you mean by not rereading, for I find myself flushing once again. It appears true that I do suck more than you at being honest, but I assure you, nothing I have written nor will write is false.
You flatter me, Light. Did you mean to flatter me so much through your letter? My lips distract you, do they? Have you ever seen yourself, Light? . . . silly question, we both know of your vanity. While watching the recordings yesterday, I did notice how you would watch me touch my lips. I never noticed, I admit, before yesterday.
But I want to touch yours.
. . . now I understand why you wrote of keeping PG thoughts.
I got a chuckle from your imagined greeting. I do not know how well that would have played in your favour had you asked me out for sex upon first introduction. I cannot keep myself from informing you that we are currently out at a café and though neither one of us has had coffee, I see that you have had tea and I have indulged in that pastry I mentioned . . . that is two of your requests completed. If I am not mistaken, that only leaves make out and fuck.
Oh. PG. PG. One should not think of sex with you Light, if they do not wish to become intensely and obviously aroused.
I did not intend to leave you waiting for so long in this purgatory of questioning; I just could not quite believe that you . . . well, that you actually had feelings for me. I too was left with questions and doubts after our talk yesterday:
Are you messing with me?
Are you planning something horrible?
I did not fully understand my feelings until I watched all of the recordings of our times together. The feeling in my chest could not be ignored. I thought, perhaps, you were going to inform me that I had fallen for you.
What if you didn't like me at all?
What if you were lying, like we do so often?
So I talked to Misa. I know, that sounds just as absurd as when I originally thought to do so. The talk was fruitful, Light, she cleared up many doubts.
She does like to talk, though, as you know, which is one of the reasons I was so delayed in contacting you.
You can relax: I was unaware of your feelings, I was not toying with you, and I do feel the same way you do, if your letter is a fair indication.
It was a pleasant read, by the way; I enjoyed taking a walk through your mind. And thank you for explaining how you came to be Kira. It was killing me, so thank you. I understand and I empathise.
I am not as upset over this as one would think I should be. As we have both come to understand, our basic principles align and I would have acted the same.
I do not want you to go back to the life you had before we met. I would think that sentence to be selfish had you not been the first to say it. I cannot be without you now that I have met you—that would be too cruel of a fate. I never realised how boring life is without you in it.
Oh, yes, that is sappy.
It appears that I am hopeless, too.
Since your family already accepts us, I propose that we find hope together.
I love you, Light.
-L
"Are you crying again, Light?" L asked, crouching next to the boy on the ground.
Ah, so he was.
"Um, yes," Light answered. He was so relieved after having read L's letter to him.
"You are not sad, are you?" he asked with a concerned head tilt.
"Not at all," Light smiled, touching L's hand with his.
L interlocked their fingers and informed, "If you turn the page . . ."
Now it was Light who tilted his head. He turned the page and immediately felt his cheeks heat up in a blush. "Is this how I look in your mind's eye?"
He was now staring himself in the eye: L's drawing of him was magnificent. Light was vain and naturally good looking, but the appeal of this drawing couldn't be expressed with words. The eyes seemed to glow, showing the same depth that Light always saw in L's. The expression was one of easy confidence along with a cocky smirk, one that mimicked L's.
"L, this is," Light hesitated, trying not to come across as narcissistic, "This is really good."
"I know."
"Che, arrogant," Light mumbled. He flipped the page over once more and found that their drawings of each other were on opposite sides of the same sheet. He chuckled at that. They'd completely filled the journal.
L was blushing now too, stroking his thumb along the back of Light's hand.
"Hey," Light prompted, getting L's attention back to his face instead of on his hand.
"Yes, Light?"
"So, then, um," Light fussed with his hair and looked away from L's eyes, "What was disgusting?"
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Well," L stated, also avoiding Light's eyes.
"Well?" Light pushed forward, needing to know.
Instead of answering, L turned back a few pages in the journal and pointed to one sentence:
One should not think of sex with you Light, if they do not wish to become intensely and obviously aroused.
Light began to giggle.
"It's not funny," L mumbled, turning his face to the side in embarrassment. He had just finished his drawing and he'd been fantasizing about the boy the whole time. When he finished, he realized the . . . effect . . . that the fantasizing had caused him while he was sitting in a public café next to the boy he'd been fantasizing about! And Light had been asleep during this! He was angry at his body and disgusted that his brain had let it happen!
"It is funny," Light disagreed, throwing himself onto L to bring their lips together.
Minutes passed, the journal and clothes discarded on the floor, before the two finally stumbled/crawled their way to the bed.
"Light," L panted, keeping their lips together.
"Nn?"
"I love you."
Light smiled the most beautiful smile L had ever seen. He pulled L's body tight against his own in an embrace.
Light responded, "I love you."
They shared an emotion filled smile before Light wrapped his legs around L as he had done back at the café.
"Now," L began, "I do believe we have one more thing to do before Light's date request is fulfilled."
Light laughed and pulled L even closer.
"Proceed," he smirked flirtatiously.
'Invitingly,' L corrected, obliging.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Whew! That was a good one ; ) Most of this chapter was typed while I listened to Lindsey Stirling, by the way (this isn't essential information, but it is information nonetheless).
Sorry, not sorry: there will be NO lemon in this story, but there WILL be an epilogue. Wow. I'm pleased with myself: this is the first chaptered story I've ever finished. Yay yay ^ . ^ I'm also proud of myself for never once using the word erection - except for right there . . . Still a victory.
Sorry, not sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter, methinks it was worth it.
~Aia~
p.s. I tried to write L's letter with British English, since, well, he's British. I think I got every z to s and o to ou but some may have slipped by.
p.p.s. every time I write "British," I first write "Brittish," and I stare at it, because I know it's wrong, but can't figure out why . . . I do the same with "Australlia."
Thank you for reading!