Somewhere in the background is the low hum of television monitors.
Outside, a helicopter passes some distance away.
And the quiet sound of breathing, innocent and human, against light's throat, curiously defenseless before him.
Defenseless – there is no such thing. Determination goes both ways, and it is with full awareness that L allows him at the bare skin of his neck. His big eyes bear an expectant familiarity with Light's restlessness, and this is entirely humbling to Light because it is something of which he, himself, was largely unaware.
No, this isn't defenselessness. It seems nearly calculated, and Light begins to wonder when L knew this will come. He also wonders what exactly it is that he can't quite remember. L's skin is soft and warm under his fingers, his gaze amused and permissive as he urges Light to go on, and his hand is on Light's under his shirt, pressing it to him.
Deliberately vulnerable, testing to see where this will go.
With full awareness, Light accepts. He watches his hands move against the white skin, upward along the hard protrusions of ribs and to the delicate clavicle, and when his fingers yank at the fabric to pull it away, L allows this.
Light does not understand why his hands pull away at the white shirt, or why his thighs are tight against the other boy's legs, and it dawns on him that it's so that L can't get up and run away, and that it's so he can ultimately defeat—
He releases his hold immediately with a sharp intake of breath.
What was I thinking just now?
L blinks quietly. "It's as I thought," his soft voice murmurs, "you simply don't remember."
Light is too stunned even to fight back or consider the dangerous implications of that statement. Terrified, he watches L gradually rise to a sitting position, shirt falling back down over flat stomach.
There is silence for a few minutes.
"This is very interesting," L says at last, "and the choice to forget must have been yours."
"Ryuuzaki," Light's voice wavers, "I didn't do it."
"No, you wouldn't remember doing it," L replies, "but how could we find out how you did it now that you forgot?"
And again he is deep in thought.
It can't be.
But Light is mortified. Despite his absolute certainty that he is not Kira, he cannot deny that he felt something foreign but eerily familiar just then. Something unmistakably wicked and fully deliberate that felt very much like a sensible memory.
He is helpless, strangely vulnerable and handicapped, and for the first time he begins to wonder whether there is any truth to L's accusations.
L is not paying attention to him; his dark eyes are rolled up in thought, and when he finally speaks, his words are less than comforting.
"You do realize, Light, that we will have to arrest you even if you don't remember."
"If I really am Kira," Light says, and there is a strange note of fascination in his voice, "then I should be arrested."
In a moment of surprise, Light realizes he is terrified to think an unknown part of himself had committed mass murder. He collapses against L's bent knees, confused and exhausted, and when white fingers brush back the hair that had fallen in his face, he hears himself murmur,
"But I am righteous."
L's eyebrows rise. He peers down at the boy in his lap and again tilts his chin upward.
"Ahh, there it is," he whispers with a mixture of fascination and satisfaction, and he inspects Light's face quietly.
L's fingers are gentle but strangely insistent as they curl around the edges of Light's collar, and the white hands pull hard, forcing Light to his knees before him.
There is no mercy here.
"Tell me more," he says quietly, and Light's eyes roll down to look at the hands pulling at his shirt. He is on the verge of tears. He is on the verge of panic.
But nevertheless, he hears himself reply, "and I will not be defeated, Ryuuzaki."
The dark eyes inspect Light's face for several moments before he replies.
"Is that so, Yagami-kun," and Light thinks he has never seen L this content.
When they kiss, it's Light who pushes L back onto the carpet, and even as he wonders what he is doing and why, he continues holding him down.
"Do you remember how you did it?" L asks, eyes fixed on the light fixture in the ceiling, and he can hear the fascination in Light's voice as he replies, "Wouldn't you like to know."
"Wouldn't we both like to know," L's voice is soft as he replies, and it's with ease that he pushes Light on his back, his big eyes amused and challenging,
Here I am. Defeat me.
He leans down and kisses Light. His slender fingers are strong and elegant, tight against Light's shoulders, and he feels the very same undeniable urge to conquer.
"Strange," he ponders out loud, "I can't remember the last time I've wanted something this much."
It should sound strange, Light thinks, but it doesn't.
"But indeed this is very exciting, wouldn't you say," L continues, "it's now undeniable that you're Kira."
And finally come the tears.
Light can feel them at the corners of his eyelids, hot and painful and distinctly marked with shame, and there is nothing he can do to control them as they pool and collapse into flattened streams against the skin of temples and down into his hair. His forehead furrows as he cries, and L holds his wrists back from brushing at his face.
"I still need to know how you did it," he mumbles as his thumb brushes against Light's cheek, and Light shakes his head weakly, whispering, "I don't know."
"I believe that," L replies, and it's not because of the wretched way that Light stares back at him, because L knows that Light is a good actor.
It isn't an act, but that doesn't matter. When L releases him, Light falls achingly into his arms, grasping the thin body with strange desperation, and he whispers,
"Ryuuzaki, there is something you need to know."
L looks down at the boy tightly grasping his abdomen.
"What's that?"
"It's more than just Kira doing it. This involves the supernatural."
Silence.
After several minutes comes L's quiet voice,
"I believe that, too."
And for the first time that afternoon, he feels afraid.
To be continued...