A/N: A special thankie to Barranca, thanks for for the lovely reviews on this and my other stories! Aaand Funny Concept; I hadn't really thought about but I suppose you could say L's straying quite close to a new...occupation. He is a ghost though really, you can tell because incubususes can be identified by an unnaturally cold penis. (Lol that's according to mr. wikipedia.) So now you know.
The Lover
The division, the careful separation, the splintering of Light Yagami's life, the regulation that he dedicated such time and effort to, the smooth tape, the reinforced locks, the phone off the hook, changes now.
It becomes in many ways more acute, more severe. How sweetly Light Yagami used to smile, to charm, to flirt even. Now his life has been swiftly separated into those neat partitions; public and private, work and personal.
The mark of a true workaholic, a genius, a dedicated man; his colleagues see little difference in his behaviour. In fact most of them barely perceive any change at all for Light Yagami is still the same polite yet driven young man that he has always been. It is only the bruises they notice, those strange, delicate little colourations on Light's milky skin. No one comments on them.
It does become clearer though to those men who have been working under 'L' for the longest, including that core investigation team that also worked under his late father. Light becomes more withdrawn, more…distant.
Light Yagami's eyes used to glitter, his smile used to radiate a glow. The loyal, veteran members of the team have seen Light change before but the charm that Light possessed has never become so low, so dark, so obscured from sight.
Light is still handsome. Light is still polite. But his polite words are cold and are not provided unless solicited out of necessity. His skin is paler now and his eyes are starting to gain a weary look.
He doesn't socialise like he used to. It used to be his favourite game, the manipulation, the control. Now he doesn't seam to have an interest in any such customs and expectations.
The other day Light left headquarters, his movements still precise and refined, and Matsuda had smiled at him and said goodbye and Light had raised his head to form a immaculate smile and then turned and left. The young man was shocked; Light was the epitome of rigid Japanese manners. He always observed every little polite custom. He always greeted people appropriately. He always said goodbye. Even more disturbing to Matsuda's practiced eyes was that clean, cold smile. It was so thoroughly dissected.
Light did not care about other people anymore. Once he left work he returned to that beautiful, unnatural isolation he had carved for himself.
Ryuk wasn't even there anymore now, a thought that calmed Light every time he put his key into the lock, Light had told him that it was necessary for him to stay away from his apartment now. Ryuk believed that Light had somehow compromised himself in one of his tactics, letting someone touch the death note or a piece of it and now it was unsafe to have a shinigami around where it might be seen. The creature didn't care anyway, Light still brought him apples.
Light had a new routine. The locks and shutters were all gone. Light would light candles around his room then, with their small glow flickering in the dark he would slip into the bed, naked. He would smile at the low light; 'eerie, romantic.'
He smiles at the thudding of his heart, at the deceiving solitude, he lies there naked in his bed, alone, and waits.
At some point in the night then the curtains will shift. The candles will flicker. Sometimes a disturbance shakes them and then with a soft breath they are extinguished. The smoke curls in the air around an indistinct figure.
Then Light feels the sheets shift, the soft first touches on his skin.
His lover joins him.