Cannabis--1968
AN: I'm kinda bummed because my trip to Sioux City was postponed until August. Oh well.
Also, explaining why L was so pissed off with Light (sigh--it's not going to be explained in the fic..heh..) Light lied to everyone, and took notes on people like they were animals just waiting to exposed to the American populace. Also, Light will eventually have to lead a very normal life with taxes funding the war L so despises.
Okay, I'll stop blabbing.
I own nothing
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"And by all mean, keep continuing to suck the government's dick". His words had cut like a knife.
I felt the tears leak out of my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away. L still hadn't returned to the apartment, which left my mind in a mass pile of goo.
Would he finally kill himself? I kept thinking, not moving from the floor where I had been dumped. L had started this! I blamed silently, curling up into my body like a roach. I knew that to be to untrue, that it wasn't anyone's fault.
Except for your's, Damn rational thinking. If you had just opposed Charles' demand to come here, this would have never happened!
Again, I knew that wouldn't have worked; Charles Madison would've fired me on the spot if given the opportunity. He was a WWII vet who held a grudge against the Japanese people (or any minority.)
I thought about leaving 710 Ashbury all together; just packing up my things and leaving. I still had enough money to get me to Salt Lake City, and then I could just hitch-hike to St. Louis.
Again, my plan was shot down. What if L really did get hurt? What if he came back to 710 blazing mad on cocaine or heroine?
I knew that I wouldn't run away, so I stayed curled up on the floor.
A few hours passed before I was startled awake by a hand taping (actually poking) my forehead. My eyes flew open, expecting to meet owlish eyes, but slight disappointment filled me as I stared into Jerry's be speckled eyes.
"Jerry?" I asked, my voice slightly cracking from misuse.
Jerry heaved a sigh of relief, sitting back on the floor. "Thank god you're not dead." He murmured, scratching the tip of his nose.
I shot up from the floor, grabbing hold of one of Jerry's large hands; my thought process returned to my roommate. "Jerry! We have to find him! He could be dead, or dying, or-or!" Jerry just stared at me like I was a loon, a fuzzy eyebrow was raised in question.
I let go of his hand and pointed toward the door. "L! We had a fight, and he ran out of the apartment. He's suicidal, did you know he's suicidal Jerry! That's why we need to--"
"Whoa! Calm down Light!" Jerry stood from the floor, placing two hands on my shoulders. I realized that I was shaking. Jerry cleared his throat, "L's just sleeping down stairs. Sometimes he just…crashes; ya know, insomnia?" I did realize that L rarely slept; when I would get up to use the restroom downstairs and it was five in the morning, L would be writing something on his hand or the wall.
I nodded; Jerry continued, "I fond him slumped on the stairs, so I took him to my place. He explained to me briefly what your fight was about."
I looked down at the green carpet and fiddled with the edge of my shirt. "Jerry…I'm sorry…?" I hated sounding so meek.
Jerry shrugged and stretched with his arms over his head. "Whatever man, ya got to do something to eat."
We sat on the floor, our backs leaning against the couch. Jerry had gotten out a glass pipe, the color deep purple, and had filled it with pot. The second it began burning, I said, "Jerry…can I…?" I gestured toward the pipe with one hand and held my head with the other.
Jerry took a hit, nodded and blew the grey smoke toward the door. I took a small hit, ignoring how the smoke burned the lining of my lungs. I liked how my muscles relaxed, and I sighed how euphoric I felt.
Jerry let me have a few more hits before he put away the pipe. We sat in silence, the light growing steadily dimmer with each passing moment.
"…do you love him?" Jerry asked suddenly, his profile becoming a dark silhouette.
The heady scent of pot wafted around us; I nodded slightly. "Yeah…at least I think so." It felt weird, and slightly freeing to actually say it out loud. Jerry only replied with a softly hummed 'hm'.
Five or ten minutes passed, and I turned to the hippie. With a slightly clouded gaze, I scrutinized that Jerry was like the father that I had never really known; which was odd because he only looked a few years older than myself.
My real father had fled Japan after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with my mother. I was born two years after that. He was a bitter man, but I guess that was understandable considering what he had gone through…
A week and two days I would leave the Haight-Ashbury. My eyes widened and a small gasp left my throat. I hopped up from the floor, causing Jerry to look at me again. "I have to see L!" I shouted, waving my arms wildly.
A fuzzy eyebrow rose, "Do you really want to? He seemed kinda pissed off when I woke him up."
I nodded and scurried to the door. I rode the high, and burst through Jerry's apartment door. A dark skinned man looked up from a piece of paper that was lain on a large dining room table, an eyebrow raised; though he didn't seemed to stressed about it, it seemed that he had seen things like what I had done dozens of times. I ignored him, and let my eyes land on Jerry's couch.
L was cuddled up in a cocoon of blankets, his wide eyes closed. I stumbled over to him and placed the pad of my middle finger on his pale cheek. His black eyes fluttered open and landed instantly onto me.
"Light?" L's voice was husky from fatigue; the bottom portion of his face was covered, but I could tell he had something of a frown on his face. "You look like hell."
Thankfully it wasn't the greeting I had expected; I more so imagined sharp knuckles making contact with the bridge of my nose.
I looked stupidly down at my attire. A dark grey tee-shirt and rumpled jeans with frayed knees. I grinned, showing L that I didn't care.
L sat up from the cocoon of blankets, and stretched his long arms over his head. I saw he had changed out of the stripped green and black sweater and remained in the white button down shirt beneath.
I couldn't help myself; I hugged him tightly, earning a small squeak of surprise to come out of my 'victim'.
"L-Light! What the hell are you--"
"I' sorry L." I looked up from the crook of L's neck. His dark eyes looked slightly troubled. "I'm sorry that you found my…notes. I'm sorry that I'm a fucking moron." I felt like kissing him. So I did. "God, L…I think I fucking love you."
L's wide eyes bore into my own, and I could see the beginnings of a grin twitch at the corners of his pale-pink lips.
All we got was a soft "Aww" from the man who sat at the dining room table.
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I love that guy. He's my favorite--laughs--
So Light FINALLY admits to L that he (and I quote) "Fucking loves him" --laughs again at my witlessness--
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