A/n: This chapter has been co-authored by YoursForAllOfEternity. She is a fantastic author :) There is a important note at the end of chapter. Please be sure to check it out. Thanks much,
Enjie~
Co-Author: YoursForAllOfEterity
The cold of the chair makes him shiver. The boy takes a deep breath to calm his heart rate down. The tiny beads of perspiration roll down his head and he shakes his head in a vain effort to rid himself of the moisture making its way down from his forehead to the corner of his eyes and down his cheeks, his thin neck and further down, down the almost translucent and perfectly complexioned skin.
Light Yagami closed his eyes and refused to acknowledge the fact that he had lost. He laid face down against the dirty floor that was untilled and the stone dug sharply into his hollowing cheeks, having lost their rosiness a while back. His cuffed hands limit his physical movements to sitting and sleeping, all in a twenty by twelve feet room. The cold chair, placed strategically across from him is enough reminder of what is to come. The electric chair sends bolts of despair through his famished body. Oh, while L, the greatest detective on Earth, starved him, he could not be accused of the dried throat and chapped dry lips that were Light Yagami's own doing. No, L could not be accused of dehydrating Light. Only of cruelty. Two bottles of water had been placed in his room three days ago when the same odourless white gas had knocked him out. It always happened when the sun from the tiny twenty-five feet high window in his room shone directly in his eyes no matter what position he was in and it would be impossible to escape its glare. That is when the gas was seeped into the room from the tiny holes in the ceiling and walls, sedating him. This is when he received his meals, which had been missing of late, and water and the occasional shower. He didn't know where they took him but the very idea that people had seen him naked and vulnerable brought on fresh beads of perspiration. He scratched his wrists were the handcuffs dug into his wrists painfully, extracting blood alongside the dried blood already present, eyeing the bottles of water placed on the seat of the electric chair. The one place he refused to go near. He licked his dry lips painfully yet the loom of death hanging on his head paralysed his body from walking to his immediate death that was the steel electric chair.
Along with all this, he was tortured, never physically though. It was always the mental games that L played. Hadn't they done this before? The constant bantering, the highly strung tension in their muscles, poisonous words thinly veiled by charming smiles and cakes. But there was something different about it then…it was effortless, it was amusing and enjoyable to converse with a person who understood you after years of solitude but the stark contrast between then and now was that Light had been L's equal. Now L played the games and Light did not even know the rules, leaving him vulnerable…and out of control.
The static just before the synthetic voice came on, brought his attention back. His eyesight was swimming and was spotted with white. The lone light bulb in his room was too bright, the room too white and the electric chair looming in his line of vision. The constant pounding in head was if someone was hammering in his head inside out in tune with his slowed heartbeat. So he scratched himself to divert the pain in his head to something that was tangible. The synthetic voice had begun speaking and Light could not help but wince at the loudness even though he knew it was all in head.
"Kira" the voice called. Light opened his one eye and promptly shut it back at the brightness. But he knew the detective behind the one way glass knew he had Light's attention.
"Stop scratching yourself at once" Just to spite the detective, Light scratched himself harder, drawing blood in steady and thin streams now. Wrong move. Immediately the gas was seeped into his room and while he trashed around, he was defenceless against the fumes of the gas. He stopped breathing, refusing to breathe in the fouled air but it never worked and before he knew it, blackness was consuming him till he saw a hunched standing in the doorway of his now open prison cell. The mask concealed the face though and all Light could think of was how odd the hunched figure was before he promptly passed out into oblivion.
Light woke up in the same room. His wrists had been tightly bandaged and Light examined his nails. They had been filed down to the tips of his fingers and were so blunt that they would be useless to scratch anything with it. Anger bubbled to the surface. Dammit. Light Yagami hated not being in pulled his wrists against the cuffs, the metal unyielding to his demands. He continued to pull against his restraints, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He would prove it to L that he was always in control. He never lost.
People had always thought of Light as caring. He isn't. He could care less about them. The only reason people were under their mistaken belief that he cared about their happiness was because he was good at predicting them. It always about control and manipulation. A slight push here and a pull there and people danced to his tunes. It was oh so easy to read their emotions and things that weren't said were carelessly hidden under thin layers of lies. And he gave them what they wanted. No not because he cared...No. it was about control. So he yanked his chains, famished and dehydrated, just to prove to L he was still in control of his own actions. He knew that L had evidence against him, and he could face his death penalty as when L desired, his life becoming a toy to L's whims. Yet, as long as he was alive, he would not lose.
He yelped as the sharp pain in his left wrist travelled upward and he cried out indignantly. He had definitely broken it. L's voice had frantically been trying to ask him to stop so he pulled harder, ignoring the pain that felt as if he was being cut into half slowly and painfully. The metal made clanking noises from the harsh and rapid movement and the door to his cell opened, a burly officer standing in the doorway. Light examined him, and dismissed the possibility that he is L. He was overweight and carried shameful magazine rolled up in his front pocket. He had a rifle in his hands, as if approaching a dangerous criminal, which Light supposed he was in the eyes of these stupid people who could never understand the God. He wore a mask to cover his face and how Light wished he had his death note with him. He would kill them all. The man made his way towards him and all Light saw before he blacked out was the butt of rifle making a sickening impact on his temple.
L sat with his knees tucked under his chin, hands cupping his knees on the chair beside the hospital bed, obsidian eyes watching the sleeping Light. He tentatively reached a spidery hand forward and brushed the soft locks away from the closed eyes. The hand trailed downward towards the chocolate colored eyes that had shed so many tears in the last few weeks, down the nose and over the dry yet soft lips, parted slightly. L let his hand hover the lips, feeling the shallow breath come on to his finger tips and L closed his eyes, relishing the feel of cool air. He cupped the hollowing cheeks and stroked his hands from the temple to the jaw. Trailing his hands down now in bold movements, from the shoulder to the injured wrists, L held them in both of his hands, and buried his nose in the crook between the wrists. He turned his head sideways, resting his cheek over the bandage and inhaled deeply, the rough fabric coarse against his pale skin. He kissed the wrist slowly, a butterfly kiss, and exhaled over them. He had come close to losing Light once again and L didn't know what he would do without the brunette. Even though Light was too far gone as Kira that he forgot his childhood, forgot L, the detective never did. Underneath all that malice and hatred, he knew somewhere the old Light was present and he was determined to bring him out, even though it hurt him. He had promised to save Light, and he intended to keep it. He straightened into his chair again and extracted the letters he had kept safe over the years and placed them on the table near the bed. The names had been crossed out, and rendered unreadable. L got up and walked away from his first and only friend, closing the door behind him. For the moment Light was safe.
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