Here I am, debating whether or not to give this a sixth part... I've changed my mind a good three times since I started writing the series last night...or this morning, technically. But anyway, I'll make the announcement once I finally decide on the next hour or so, since it looks like I'm on a roll with this. Anyway, listen, read, enjoy.
I know I had something else to say, but I have forgotten. Oh, well... tell ya later. Go read.
4. Stranger
Despite the turn of events at headquarters regarding the Kira case, L and Light still found time to carry on with their routine of having morning coffee by themselves, of L laying in bed while Light got dressed, of sharing a long kiss before entering the work place, of holding conversations at intellectual levels that no other member could fully comprehend, of watching each other out of the corner of the eye, of making love urgently at night, of holding on each other afterwards.
Despite the comfort and normalcy their relationship seemed to still experience, L still searched for clues, clues that would reveal to him just how much Light had really changed since the discovery of the Death Note.
But L wasn't coming up with much. Looking at the brunette in such a paranoid way hurt him inside more than he would ever admit. He was hell-bent on seeing something he really didn't want to see inside his only friend, his lover, the equal he believed to love more than life itself.
Duty was duty and he couldn't shirk it. Justice was a part of him just as Light was, except justice had to be a bigger part…it just had to be.
When Light drank his coffee, no sugar, as always, L questioned the existence of the man who was supposed to be his partner.
Who are you, stranger?
When Light spoke softly under the cover of the night and the blankets, L found himself weighing the truth and the lie in the brunette's words.
Do I mean everything to you? Nothing?
What about the words you speak?
L questioned Light's every move, look, touch. It was torture to do so, but his sense of justice had been ingrained in his mind far longer than the memories of Light ghosting over his skin and swirling around in his mind.
It hurt to question Light's kiss. His mouth was always so pliable, so yielding, so strong, but so soft. Each kiss from the brunette's mouth tore a prayer from L's speechless mouth, a prayer that clamored, kicked, screamed, begged for his intuition to be misled, misconstrued…
Wrong. For once in his life, he wished his all his heart he was wrong. But his mind knew he was unerringly right.
He didn't want to look at Light as a shell of the lover he had once had, but somehow it was. He couldn't explain it, but he somehow knew it.
As was always the case with Light – a bright flame surrounded by a veil of darkness so thick and black, it was almost impossible to break. But he knew he would look for a chink until he found it, against his will.
A/N: Here we are, nearing the end on this. Listening to Vienna Teng's "Recessional" and "My Medea" while writing/reading this screams "cry, cry, cry". Reviews are always appreciated, welcome, and enjoyed. Even if you don't leave one, a thank you is still in order.
-Das Dale