A/N: And here I go again. No. No. No! This is it! I promise!

Think of this as a closing companion to the last story (of sorts), my friends. Yes. That I can deal with. Lol. Though I am kind of sad that no one has been able to identify the type of disorder(s) L's been diagnosed with. *pout* I thought I was being obvious… C'mon, you guys! Take some guesses! Lol.

On a side note, I've got to apologize for the lack of updates for my stories you guys. My emo-ish mood (which I know you wouldn't think would suit me being the type of person I am) just won't allow me to concentrate on my multi-chapter stuff (along with the other million and one factors smacking me in the face at the moment) and I don't see things changing anytime soon what with life going on with its bitchy neediness and all -.-; But I'm trying everybody! I mean it!

Kind of. ^.^; Eh. Enjoy what crap I'm able to shove your way in the mean time kiddies!

Key Note: I believe that many people reading this will either love or hate this piece. To each his own. Lol.

Disclaimer: Don't own DN and I definitely don't own "Painting Flowers" by All Time Low.

"Show my cards,

Gave you my heart-

(Wish we could start all over…)

Nothing's makin' sense at all.

Tried to open up my eyes,

I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright…

When I wake up

The dream isn't done-

I wanna see your face

And know I made it home.

If nothing is true,

What more can I do?

I am still painting flowers for you.

I am still painting flowers for you."

-"Painting Flowers" by All Time Low

Title: Painting Flowers

I don't think I've ever felt so frighten in my life.

Is that an understatement?

Am I being intentionally vague?

Yes.

But I can't…

I just can't bear to speak of it yet.

To even think of it.

But that's a lie, because it always there, the picture of him lying on the ground as the splatter of red covers his torso and slowly pools underneath his body.

As I sit here watching you sleep (the only way you actually sleep now is by being tranquilized; what kind of sleep is that?) I wonder why I haven't left yet.

Why do I keep torturing myself like this?

Somehow you grew to care for him; why didn't you leave at the first sign of trouble?

But I'm not crying.

I'm not.

I hate this.

I hate you.

I hate myself.

What the hell am I doing?

Light didn't even flinch as the doctor spoke of their options, the words 'institution', 'medication' and 'counseling' causing a rise of resentment to flourish throughout his body.

"He'll need to be monitored for awhile and if he keeps waking up so violently we might have to keep him restrained a bit longer than first planned…" The unnamed doctor murmured.

"Don't you think that the reason he's reacting so violently is because he is restrained?" Light snapped, lack of sleep and nourishment finally getting the best of him.

"I'm sorry but its standard procedure here." Doctor No-Name winced as Light shook his head in disappointment, obviously too tired to rightfully snap at the man they way he should have. "And visiting hours should be up soon, so…"

"Can I please have a couple more minutes to myself then?" The cankerous brunet asked as patiently as he could.

"Right..." Watching as the young doctor slipped out of his patient's room as quickly as possible, Light held back a cough as he laid his head on the metal railing of the bed. Dark hair clashed against the pale white sheets of the pillow L's head was propped up against, the dark circles under the unconscious man's eyes much more vivid due to the bright light shining down upon them overhead.

Thin fingers traced the contours of a sunken cheek as dry red eyes closed, imagining himself somewhere else, anywhere else…

You're still sleeping.

Unconscious.

I don't know how else to phrase it so 'delicately'… not part of the land of the 'living' anyway.

Remember when I used to tease you about the bags under your eyes and how they made you look like a zombie? Is it sad that all I'm thinking now is that at least you're getting your sleep somehow?

I know, I know, I shouldn't be making jokes yet. But… but I don't want to think about it yet.

Is that ok?

Are you ok?

Why do I even care?!

Because he's gotten under your skin and no matter how much you deny it, he's important to you now.

Why did you do it?

Would you even tell me that much if I asked?

I don't think you would. You didn't even tell me you were thinking about doing it to begin with. Why the hell would you tell me why anyway?

Just hurts…

Why does this hurt?

"Ah, you're going to have to leave the room Mr. Yagami."

"What?"

"Examination."

"And?"

"I'm sorry but you're not permitted to be in here at this time without his consent and, uh, he can't really give his consent at this moment as you can see…"

Light gave the doctor and nurse standing beside him a dirty look before he gathered himself and stalked out of the room, trying to keep himself together as best as he could so as to not have a meltdown outside his boyfriend's hospital room.

Minutes passed and Light felt his eyelids begin to close as he leaned against the wall behind him, the nurse situated behind the large blocked station across the hall giving him a sympathetic glance before going back to her work.

'I'm so tired…'

The door creaked open after what seemed to be an eternity of staring at the tiles that compromised the hospital hallways, the doctor happily nodding at Light and telling him how wonderfully L's wounds were healing up-

(Every wound except the ones still bleeding within his head)

And how they were pretty sure that they would be able to take the stitches out sooner than they thought and perhaps not sedate him as much so long as he didn't physically harm anybody-

(Especially himself)

And calmed down immediately after-

(Calmed down how)

"Are you alright Mr. Yagami?" The doctor stared into Light's listless brown orbs with a sturdy concern, hands slowly climbing up to grasp at his face-

(Only L should be allowed to do that)

And flash a light into his eyes-

(Pain, nothing but pain)

As flecks of blue and purple caught Light's peripheral vision and he felt himself become light-headed in response-

(So tired…)

"I'm ok." Light slurred, "Just exhausted is all."

The doctor nodded suspiciously before leading the young man back into his lover's room, golden brown eyes rimmed with red veins and a permanent frown etched against those once-beautiful lips.

"Perhaps you should rest a bit." A disembodied voice whispered into his ear as Light re-situated himself back into the uncomfortable plastic chair and leaned back against the cushion behind his head.

"I'm fine." Light whispered as he closed his eyes.

A nap…

Just a tiny nap would be fine.

Whenever I close my eyes, I get nauseous.

Did I do this to you?

Just like you've managed to infect me, have I infected you as well, L?

It's like you're under my skin, in my blood, swirling through my bones-

All I can think about is you.

And I hate it.

"Mr. Yagami?"

Light nearly grunted as his arm was shaken gently, a soft hand stilling him before he could tumble out of the chair. A pair of warm green eyes crinkled at the corners as the nurse smiled down at the startled writer, his reaction expected. "Visiting hours are over, Mr. Yagami."

Giving the middle-aged woman a near-pleading look before snapping out of his exhaustive emotional state and stumbling out of the chair, Light mentally berated himself as he nodded and gave the best smile he could summon under the circumstances.

"You should rest Mr. Yagami." The pretty (and quite motherly) nurse informed him before making her way out of the hospital room, leaving Light to gather his things in peace.

Glancing back at the still prone man serenely 'sleeping', Light caressed one of the leather straps holding down L's wrists and felt his vision become blurry for one quick second-

'It's time to go, Light.'

Gathering his laptop case in one hand and tracing the length of the man's body with the other, Light cringed in self-disgust.

'This is what we've both been reduced to then.'

I tried so hard to delude myself into thinking that you were ok when really we both knew you weren't.

Your own therapist warned me about what would happen if I wasn't kept on my toes. Hell, your psychiatrist straight out told me I should have had you committed once I found out your diagnosis whilst he handed me that first slip of paper (the first of many to come) with some long complicated name scribbled on top of it, eyes wise to your future antics as he stared at you out of the corner of his peripheral vision.

But I thought (naively, I'll admit) that you were getting better. You were taking your meds (was he really?) and you were making your appointments ( and how do you know that?) and I was keeping up with your condition as well as I could at home (obviously it wasn't well enough), so why couldn't you get better?

What was the point of getting you all this help if it did nothing for your well being?

For my well being?

For both of our sanity?

There were a couple times I thought about jumping the boat and letting you ride it out on your own-

But I couldn't do it.

Not then.

But… what about now?

Light didn't even nod at any of the nurses or doctors as he made his way out of the hospital and scurried into the large parking lot, his brown eyes dilated with exhaustion.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

Throwing his case into his backseat (what had happened to his usual carefulness?) and slumping forward into the driver's seat, Light leaned against the steering wheel lodged directly in front of him and shivered.

'Should I be driving like this?'

He felt drunk and lethargic off the ending thrums of adrenaline steadily dwindling out of his system, but the urge to actually close his eyes and dream was not there. Grunting at the effort it took to straighten himself up and smash his key into the ignition, Light slowly pressed onto the break as the engine roared to life.

The sudden want to rest disappeared as a rush of reality hit his senses.

He was going home alone again.

Again.

Slowly pulling out of his parking space with a disinterested twist of his arm, another shiver crawled up Light's spine even though he knew for a fact that he was no longer cold.

The urge to sleep vanished without a trace.

It's not that I miss you

(Is it?)

Or that I need you

(Don't you?)

In order to survive.

(What's survival living all alone? A bland existence with nothing worth living for…)

You've become a habit, is all.

You were something (someone) to take care of in my spare time. Something (someone) that occupied my time when my writing became a bit dull or I wished to indulge in a bit of conversation with something (someone) other than myself.

You weren't supposed to mean anything.

This entire relationship, it wasn't supposed to amount to anything.

Distraction, distraction, distraction…

How did you suddenly become an addiction without me realizing it?

Light stared down at the carpeted floor of their living room, one of the legs of the couch propping his back up as his hands hit the matted ground in a swinging motion that was unlike him. The ruffled texture of the fabric tickling the sides of his raised feet scratched against the prone ankles partially swathed by the rough denim running down his legs, his toes wiggling as Light blinked dumbly at them.

'L hates this color carpet.' The writer absently thought to himself as he deliberately (and harshly) ran his hands against the carpet as if to push the floor away from him, barely wincing at the burning sensation stinging his palms. 'Why did I pick this color if he hated it so much?'

The bland beige held no answers for him as he ran his hands through the fabric again, his skin becoming raw from the force of his own pushes.

(Sleeping… you should be sleeping)

Absent thoughts filled with nonsense whispered into his ears as Light's eyes began to close, his clothes cold and heavy against his dry skin. The tough fabric of his pants suddenly felt like weights upon his legs as his head dropped against the smooth cushion of his couch, the snowy white material flushing out his complexion whilst simultaneously bringing out the red threading against the whites of his closing eyes.

(You should sleep…)

The world washed away in a flash of darkness as those eyes finally shut, Light's head lolling while his hands twittered into a full stop.

(There's nothing worth paying attention to here…)

Things made sense

(Always)

In the land of his dreams.

I can't tell you how much I'll miss you

(That's a lie)

Because I might not.

(That's a lie)

I want to be able to finally let you go

(That's a lie)

Because maybe then we could both live in peace.

(That's a lie)

I don't want to have to keep telling myself that one day you'll get better when we both know that you won't. I don't want to have to keep repeating the same mantra to myself day after day after day while you live in your own world and-

(Forget about what we've shared-)

Leave all the hard work I've put forth into your recovery as if it never meant anything.

(Why do you continue to lie to yourself? Just tell the truth)

But if you don't want to help yourself, all the help in the world won't mean a thing.

Everything I've ever tried to achieve with you will be for nothing.

Is that how you want to think back upon our relationship? Just as a set of obstacles that, in the end, meant absolutely nothing?

Tell me, L. When did we become so ugly?

(Finally…)

He couldn't remember falling asleep, but waking up, he was drenched in a moment of clarity.

The dark abyss that contained his forgotten dreams ebbed away as the familiar dull walls clenched Light into place, greasy hair hanging over glassy eyes still begging for sleep. Fingers itched against the day-old jeans hanging off his thin frame, the need to write overcoming all other necessities.

He had to do this.

He had to.

Picking himself up off the ground, Light made his way into his office and sagged within his chair, a leather-bound book of paper fumbled for within the farthest right hand drawer of his desk as it practically towered over his shrinking figure.

This was the right thing to do…

Wasn't it?

'You're going to drive yourself crazy doing this, Light.'

Exactly.

That was his reasoning.

And L.

L would be dragged down with him.

L didn't need that.

He needed a strong support system-

(But who does he have other than you?)

Brushing away all other thoughts from his head, Light pulled out a nice-looking ballpoint pen from his collection of many and let the point of the writing utensil fall onto the page, his eyes scanning the piece of paper as the words seemed to liquidate from his brain and course down into his arm and rush through his fingers in a flurry of elegant swirls only Light Yagami could entertain in the midst of an avalanche of muddled thoughts and forming ideas.

(Have you really given up?)

And so he wrote with only one goal in mind.

'Goodbye…'

I can't remember ever wanting to hate you until now.

When did this beautiful feeling between us fall apart?

Is this true passion; either wanting someone with all of your body, mind and soul or wishing to destroy them in every sense such a word can imply?

This strain of walking a line so fine is killing me. I just want to go back and remember what it was like when everything wasn't quite so complicated and you were just L and I was just Light and we were ok.

I want all we had back.

I want it back.

Before the stupid voices and crazy hallucinations and the strange silences and blank gazes and horrible fights and petrifying fear. Before the wants and the hates and the tiredness. Before the before and the after and all the malignant stuff in between. God, is this the end, L? Is this the…

Is this the end?

I think it is.

And it hurts.

Will you forgive me for this? For being so selfish when I should be the exact opposite? Is it even selfishness if you know you won't be able to do a damn thing anyway? That's the question I ask every day, L. Is what I'm doing now really all that selfish when I know if you stay with me you'll

(He'll go away)

You'll die.

You'll die if I take you home.

God.

I didn't want to face it. But I have to. I have to be strong. I have to be everything you're not.

So…

Love me even as you forget about me. And I'll love you as I remember everything about you. And maybe one day, you will get better and you'll be the one smiling L. Just like before.

Just like before.

If nothing else, don't lose yourself completely L. And maybe then, I'll be able to keep you too.

And even though this world (existence) may lay in between us, I know that you'll at least always be mine in my dreams.

Light felt himself sigh as he let his head fall onto the desk.

He was still so tired…

And as he rested, something told him that that wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

A large envelope sat in front of him whilst he closed his eyes once more, a large letter L winking down at him as he was once again thrown into his world of mental chaos and make-believe dreams. Things he wouldn't remember. Memories he couldn't seem to forget. But that was alright.

Tomorrow

(Can you really do it?)

Was just another

(Just another lie)

Day.