Death and His Shadow

by sugarswirls

Raito Yagami is your typical star student. That is, until one night when he catches a deadly fever and L, a bored god of death, phases through his bedroom window to take his soul away. But how can he steal the soul of someone who won't die? AU RxLxR

11. Thunderhorse

DS

Disclaimer: Own it? Psh! I have to take out a loan every time I want to by a Tootsie Pop.

Me: Well, I'm very –ahem- glad all of you are so EAGER for me to update… However, I'm extremely busy this school year. I have honors classes coming out of my ears and lately, the gods of RPG Maker XP have chewed on and mulled over every piece of my brain and determined it to be a light, nutty flavor.

Chibi L: In any case, please pardon the tardiness. Swirl can't help herself.

Me: Totally. I'm actually trying to code and illustrate my own RPG. Me! By myself! With my own characters!

Chibi Raito: I'm looking forward to your failure.

Me: Aren't we all?

Chibi L: -eye roll-

Me: As a bonus for waiting so gawrsh darn lawng, I've made this chapter extra gawrsh darn lawng.

Chibi L: Turn back now. For your own good. This thing's at least forty pages in Word.

Chibi Raito: Sweet wounded Jesus…

Me: I've added a little intermission, complete with BOLDED, NOTICEABLE TEXT SO YOU KNOW WHEN TO STOP.

Chibi L: Stop there if you want to catch your breath and continue some other time.

Me: I thought about making this doohickey into two different chapters, but what the hell. I don't like awkward endings, so I'm doing things my way (Longest chapter in my history w00t).

Chibi Misa: Hah! As if any of you guys care about that. Welcome to more Death and His Shadow! Sit back, grab some popcorn, and enjoy the show. Read, review, and relax!

D S 11

Raito despised how his week was going. He had to make a speech a few days ago, which he hated. His relentless monologue consisted of a series of comfortable lies that the college officials wanted to hear. Ryuzaki had followed him to the podium like a love-struck German Shepherd. He sat behind Raito the whole time and stared into space.

That was all Raito could remember. He had forgotten the details of his speech.

He met with Halle, another event he couldn't remember anything about, and had his 'secret' conversations with Ryuzaki as well as Teru. Saturday bled into Sunday, and it seemed as if Monday hadn't really been there at all.

In short, Raito's week had been very, very boring.

Ryuzaki, bemusedly spinning himself in circles on the floor, was evidence to the monotony of the matter. He, who Raito assumed to be at home in all sorts of lazy situations, complained numerous times about the lack of things which had been going on lately.

True, there were more than enough events which should have been spicing the day up. Raito could have demanded to know his stalker's name, devised a plan to kill him and his familiars in an anonymous way, gone on more dates with Teru, tried to figure out where Halle's allegiances lay, and so forth. The brunette refused. He sat on his bed, glared at the ceiling, and adamantly insisted on doing absolutely nothing.

"I'm sure you know this," Ryuzaki remarked blandly, waving his feet back and forth in the air, "but I'm quite bored."

"So am I," Raito admitted with a sigh.

"So why aren't we doing anything productive?" Ryuzaki inquired dryly, as if he'd known all along that Raito was wasting his time.

This was odd. Wasting time wasn't something Raito did on a daily basis. Perhaps he just lacked his usual vim and vigor about life. Life itself was, currently, more depressing than it had ever been. Raito needed something spontaneous to happen which concerned no voluntary act on his part. He knew that if anything exciting was going to happen soon, he wouldn't be the one to initiate it.

Killing had become very common and uninteresting as of the present. Raito would walk by the occasional TV shop or giant LCD screen, snapping at whatever criminal name showed up first. Granted, this wasn't his best plan of action. His stalker could infer that every death that took place that week was linked to the moment Raito was passing by a television screen.

Currently, Raito didn't care.

Son of a bitch.

"Ryuzaki," Raito groaned, mindless of all cameras. The addressed stopped squirming about on the floor and blinked up at him. "Yes?" he replied with a tilt of the head.

"I'm depressed," said Raito.

Ryuzaki's eyes went dull with a similar lack of enthusiasm. He puffed a noisy breath from his lips before sinking back down to the floor. "And why is that?" the mini-death grumbled.

"I don't know," Raito remarked flatly.

"Well, there's not much I can do about that now is there?"

"Probably not."

"Think then. You're awfully fond of thinking."

"I've been thinking."

"Then you shouldn't be having any problems."

"I'm not thinking the right things, Ryuzaki."

The mini-death emerged at the foot of the bed and dragged his upper half onto it. "Not thinking the right things?" he quoted, "And what would you mean by that?"

"Thinking about all the things I want to be doing, and coming up with reasons not to do them."

"Hmm…" the mini-death hummed sadly, "That is a problem." He then blinked his giant, coal-black eyes and tilted his head slightly as if some wondrous thought had just struck his mind. "Perhaps you need a bit of inspiration."

Raito laboriously hefted the top half of his body off of his bed and peered unevenly at Ryuzaki. "Inspiration?" he repeated skeptically.

"Quite," The psychopomp hummed enthusiastically.

Raito rolled his eyes and fell unceremoniously back onto his quilts. And how was he to get his inspiration? Raito was damned if inspiration didn't bust through his window right then and force him to do something.

Luckily, or unluckily as the case may have been, inspiration came in much the way Raito had imagined it.

Minus the James Bond music, shattering glass, hollering, and gunfire.

Through slitted eyes, Raito watched as something black and vulture-esque floated through his window. It caught Ryuzaki by surprise and he twisted his head around to squint at it. The black, winged apparition moseyed away from the window, shot a bug-eyed, stupid glare at Raito, grinned with a mouth full of needles, and said, "Yo."

Raito snorted at it. He waved his hand dismissively and sighed, "Talk, Ryuzaki."

He didn't need to open his eyes to know that Ryuzaki's eyes were twitching peevishly at him. The mini-death grumbled underneath his breath, "'Talk,' he says…"

Raito listened, apathetic, as Ryuzaki explained the situation. Cameras this, bugs that, et cetera. The brunette could not pretend he wasn't shocked to see Ryuk, though. The past few weeks, Ryuk had disappeared. Vanished, it seemed, into thin air. Yet here he was, wide-eyed and dumb as he usually was, and he hadn't missed a beat. Raito wondered with a slight squirm of the toes if Ryuk had been stalking him around.

"Oh," Ryuk belched in his customary imperceptivity. He glanced up at the ceiling. "I don't see any cameras."

Raito rolled his eyes. Oh yes, the police were going to put Hollywood film cameras in every corner of the room.

Dumbass.

Raito noticed with amusement that Ryuzaki's mood had deteriorated to devious sarcasm. "Of course you can't see them," the mini-death hushed theatrically, "That's because they're invisible cameras, Ryuk."

"Hurmmmm?" the half-dead vulture breathed and scratched the tuft of oily black hair on top of his head. "Invisible cameras?"

"Oh yes…" Ryuzaki murmured cryptically, "They're everywhere, you know."

The shinigami made a show of scratching his chin with long, black, ribbon-like fingers. "That's very interesting."

Raito snorted at him and rolled his eyes. What an idiot.

"Wait!" Ryuk suddenly piped up with raw enthusiasm, "If Raito can walk around snapping his fingers and there are cameras everywhere, wouldn't he have been caught by now?"

Raito glared down his nose at the shinigami. Perceptive little bugger when he wanted to be, wasn't he?

Ryuzaki never missed a beat. "Oh, you never know..."

The shinigami turned the notion over in his hollow little head for a while. He then fixed Raito in place with a fish-eyed, glassy stare. "Are you worried?"

"No."

"Hurmmmm…"

Raito rolled his eyes. He couldn't communicate verbally with Ryuk and tell him what a dumbass he was. He could only use the vaguest of phrases. Thus, he relied on Ryuzaki to channel his frustration.

"You're not the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"

Ah, there it was… Ryuzaki's dry, frank manner of speech never ceased to amaze.

Delightful.

"Hurmmm?" Ryuk thought for a moment, doubtlessly with his ribbon-fingers somewhere on his face again. "Oh," he puffed suddenly, the tired, malnourished hamster in his head slowly limping on its wheel, "I get where you're coming from."

The crackle of evil in the air was more than enough to signal Ryuzaki's flat, straight, and deadly accurate glare of disapproval.

Ryuk rambled on, oblivious to the heavy air, and had something vaguely interesting to say. "By the way, there's something I came here to tell you guys."

Raito sat up in bed and hunched over his knees, almost intrigued by Ryuk's words. "Do tell," was all Ryuzaki said. Ryuk gave both of them a once-over and addressed the mini-death, "You know the white, spongy shinigami I told you about?"

"Yes?"

"Saw her yesterday," Ryuk breathed.

For some oddly disconcerting reason, Raito didn't like the look on Ryuzaki's face. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked rather ambiguously to no one in particular. Ryuzaki furtively ducked his head between his shoulders and glared shadow-eyed at Ryuk.

The shinigami took his hint and explained, if a bit singsong, "Rem. She doesn't like you much."

Uh huh… white shinigami. The only remotely white shinigami Raito had ever laid eyes on was that 'Sidoh' thing. A memory did click, however. He remembered Ryuk mentioning something in the distant past about the female shinigami who's Death Note had malfunctioned. If he recalled correctly, she'd been trying to kill him with a heart attack.

…

"…You look like you've about figured it out," Ryuk laughed clumsily.

Figured it out? Of course Raito had figured it out. He'd also figured out how positively disgusting and horrified one could feel in the pit of his stomach. Raito felt as if his lungs had turned to stone and were well on their way into his gut, squishing his spleen, his liver, and every last cell of intestinal tissue on the way.

The thing that had given him a heart attack was back. No, more mortifying: It had never left. It had been biding its time. Now it was circling him, like the pale and ever-watching shadow of a hawk, waiting to take him down.

When Raito said he wanted something involuntary and exciting to happen, this was NOT what he had in mind.

----

L sighed. Granted, given the precariousness of the present situation, there was not much else he could do. Raito was most definitely frazzled, appearing as though he'd been struck in both shins with a piece of steel framing. L imagined that the sensation was the same.

L averted his gaze to Ryuk, who had suddenly barked a peal of lazy laughter. He eyed the skinny, oily mass of tar and feathers and wondered if Ryuk possessed the apparent mental vacuity L had at first accused him of having. It was difficult to imagine Ryuk as a criminal mastermind, but not difficult to imagine him taking pleasure in the pain of others.

Chances were, he loved to watch Kira squirm.

L had opted for the 'silent contemplation' method of dealing with the situation. So far, it was working.

Working, in the sense that L hadn't broken anything yet.

Proclaiming the combined frustrations of one mute Raito Yagami and himself, L hissed, "What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Nothing," Ryuk replied frankly, "Unless you wanna' try and do something."

L glared flatly, shoulders slumping as he heaved a heavy sigh. "I suppose you're not going to tell us the area she's frequenting?"

"Not really," the shinigami breathed.

L fluffed his feathers up in a puff of righteous indignation. The nerve! Floating into Raito's room after all this time, scaring him out of his wits, and refusing to inform him how to counteract the evils of which he'd become a recent victim.

L felt like shouting his head off.

He had Raito's nerves to consider!

Instead, however, he chose a frustrated, darkly angry tone of voice. He growled, "Then what, prey, was the point in telling us?"

Ryuk tilted his jester's face and mused for a bit. "Just thought you might like to know."

"Did it ever occur to you that, in opposition to being told half of the story, we enjoyed our blissful ignorance?"

"Lotsa' big words."

"You should have left us alone."

"Hey! Let Kira-boy over there talk for once."

"He can't talk."

"Really?"

"Cameras."

"Oh. Right," Ryuk scratched a spot on his side, "Shame."

L noted how scratchy the shinigami was feeling that night. He made an acidic remark about it. "Mosquitoes get to you?"

Ryuk stared dumbly at him with his globular fish-eyes. "'Course not," he announced proudly, "Mosquitoes can't bite me."

Brilliant.

It occurred to L that Raito was no longer occupying any corner of his peripheral vision. Interested, he rocked back on his heels and scanned the room. Raito was still on his bed, but had fallen backward and was currently endeavoring to halfheartedly suffocate himself with a pillow.

L raised an eyebrow.

How many times had that happened now? Was it a habit L should have been worried about?

In the midst of all this, he was inclined to remember Raito's sincere hope for inspiration not ten minutes ago. "Inspired?" he asked impishly with a thumbnail between his teeth.

A fuzzy voice, like that of a tiger surrounded in goose down, emanated from Raito's pillow.

"Dammit."

"I suppose you'll have to get out of bed and do something now," L grinned in spite of himself, taking part in Ryuk's annoy-the-hell-out-of-Kira pastime. Like a bolt from the blue, Raito's pillow was suddenly halfway through L and well on its way to the computer. The mini-death whistled as it found an unlikely mark in the table lamp next to the television. The lamp wobbled to and fro, desperate to keep itself upright. Meanwhile, the pillow lurked villainously where it had dropped at the foot of the desk.

L eyed the pillow a second longer, lest it decide to attack him again.

"Whoa," whistled Ryuk.

"Apparently," began L with an eye focused on the pillow, "You're not in the best of moods."

"No," growled Raito.

"It's not like you to be this violent," L pointed out. The brunette had been marginally calmer in slightly more strenuous situations. Currently, however, L supposed his mind was overloaded.

Shinigami here and there, popping up to say 'Hello' with a pen in one hand and a Death Note in the other... Given that, he was led back to the reason he'd been angry in the first place.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell us about this 'white, spongy shinigami' of yours?" L deadpanned.

"Maybe," Ryuk mused, "I'll have to think about it."

"Think now," L warned.

Ryuk eyed him the way an angler fish eyed any other fish, teeth and all. "I don't have to think if I don't want to. I could care less, really."

L refused to be intimidated. With a glare as sharp, cold, and flat as a plane of glass, he demanded, "When you change your mind, you'll be sure to let us know."

"Sure," belched Ryuk.

The mini-death glared him down, eyes completely unwavering. Ryuk tilted his stupid head and a long, icy silence ensued.

L wondered what, if anything, was rattling around in the shinigami's empty little skull. Check that. There was definitely something crawling around in there, but L couldn't discern its size, creativity, or malice. He wasn't used to ignorance, and his lack of knowledge was beginning to irk him. It would appear that shinigami weren't the most perceptive of creatures, but perhaps they weren't the stupidest either. L kept an eye on Ryuk.

"You guys are weird," Ryuk yawned at last. He turned around carelessly, as if to leave by the window, and then jumped to his toes. The shinigami whirled around, his ridiculous grin forever plastered on his face, and whistled, "Saayyy… Raito! You got any apples?"

Raito sat straight up, giving Ryuk a down-the-nose death glare. "Absolutely not," he refused with his arms crossed across his chest.

Ryuk slumped. "Not one?"

"No."

"Nowhere?"

"No."

Ah… L knew what this was about. Raito was afraid that the other rooms in the house were bugged. If an apple were to suddenly float up into the air and eat itself into oblivion, there were bound to be a few raised eyebrows somewhere in Tokyo. L knew for a fact that there were no cameras or bugs in the fridge, so he was home safe.

Thank God for that.

"Bah," Ryuk dismissed with a scornful wave of the arm, "You're no fun."

"Go away," commanded Raito.

"Fine," growled Ryuk as he sailed forlornly through the panes of glass and wafted into the street.

"You're in quite the foul mood today," remarked L, regaining his indifference.

"And you're not?" the brunette hissed with amber eyes gleaming dangerously.

"I've taken my time to consider your predicament," L half-lied, "and I've deemed it to be no threat to you."

L was a liar, of course, but Raito's happiness was currently the only thing that mattered. When the mortal politely asked him why Ryuk's white shinigami wasn't a threat, L replied, "If she's the one who tried to kill you with a heart attack and that strangely convenient fever, she hasn't tried anything for a long time. Perhaps she's lost interest in you."

"What about the subway?" Raito countered ambiguously.

The mini-death sighed, still depressed about the multitude of mistakes he'd made that day. He wasn't good at admitting failure, so he stuck with an answer that wouldn't make himself sound stupid. "Perhaps we were a bit too cautious. Though the man did have guns in his pockets, I don't believe he would have shot you in such a crowded area."

Raito rolled his eyes and sighed, "Whatever…"

L blinked several times, blearily and depressingly without enthusiasm. It was extremely unlike Raito to be this lethargic. Maybe he was sick?

Quite suddenly, as if his bed had burst into flames, both of Raito's feet were on the floor. L tilted his head queerly and squinted. Raito had recently taken to walking over to his desk chair and alighting on it like a bird of prey. This was new.

Raito had quite a habit of changing his moods…

L would have to keep that in mind.

"And what would you be doing?" L asked, genuinely interested, scooting over the floor to Raito's desk.

"Something productive," was all Raito said.

L rolled his eyes. "Would you be able to indulge further details of this 'something productive' if we were outside?"

"Maybe," Raito shrugged with his eyes half-closed. L sat, patiently, and waited for the sigh heralding the mortal's decision. Finally, he yawned, stretched, and informed the cameras, "I guess I need to go for a walk."

L deduced that this was a positive development and rolled about the floor as Raito gathered various articles of clothing that he'd need for his walk. "Might as well go get some coffee or something," he muttered more to the room than anything else.

----

Out of the house, and in desperate need of a furtive reason to be so, Raito flipped his cell phone open and dialed Mikami's number. He swallowed a lump in his throat when he was reminded of the picture that was still on his phone.

A giddy feeling came over him when he thought about how soon he'd have to plan his stalker's demise. Firstly, he'd have to confirm the man's name. Secondly, he'd have to figure out whether or not he was alone. Thirdly, he'd have to execute the unsuspecting victims in a manner that was in no way traceable to himself.

Raito blew a puff of air at his bangs.

Why hadn't he done it earlier?

Ryuzaki was glaring woefully up at him with those shaded holes-for-eyes. He slumped as he trudged heavily at Raito's heels, looking generally pathetic. "And you're calling him…" he muttered.

The brunette cast a silencing glower over his shoulder. Mikami's name had become something of an expletive when used around Ryuzaki. If Raito mentioned anything remotely resembling any syllable of Teru's first or last name, the mini-death would squint his eyes, curl his fingers, and snarl or stick his tongue out as if he'd tasted something nasty. Also, Teru was no longer 'Teru.' He was 'him,' 'he,' or 'that guy.'

Raito was abruptly torn away from his thoughts when a scratchy "Hello?" blared through the speaker.

It had only recently occurred to Raito that he might have been interrupting something. Suppressing a flustered feeling, he managed a smooth, "Uh, hi. Teru?"

"Speaking," the voice yawned.

"This is Raito."

The voice immediately took on a warm tone, "Oh! Raito! Sorry, I didn't check my caller ID." Yaawwnnn… "Just woke up, you know."

"It's one-o-clock in the afternoon," Raito deadpanned, wondering why punctual old Mikami would be sleeping in.

"Hm?" the voice sounded mildly surprised, "One already? I must've stayed up longer than I thought."

Not entirely inconvenienced by casual conversation, Raito asked, "Why were you awake so late?"

"Essays," Teru grumbled, voice still husky from sleep.

Raito laughed to cover up the flighty feeling in the pit of his stomach that Teru's tone of voice had evoked. "Essays, right. About what?"

"Current events," the older man mentioned before venturing a light, "Hang on a sec…" and fumbling around for something out of his reach. After he'd gotten a hold of whatever he'd been aiming for, he casually rambled on, "I volunteered to research anything in the field of law."

"Like what?" Raito asked, fond of questions and having nothing else to say.

"Kira," said Teru.

Raito froze for a second, wondering what to say. "Everyone's still hyped up about that, huh?" he offered his input somewhat awkwardly.

"Of course," Teru stated as if Raito's strangeness hadn't occurred to him at all, "Kira has slowed down a bit recently, but that doesn't mean he's disappeared altogether."

"True," admitted Raito through clenched teeth.

So if Teru noticed Kira's sudden decline in judgment, A and W had probably noticed by then as well. Naturally, they would deduce that Kira was under some degree of pressure. Without a doubt, they'd already linked Kira's hesitation with their spies.

Currently, Kira kicked a pebble on the sidewalk and blew a puff of air at his bangs. Why was everything so difficult? He'd have to oust his own stalker along with any others.

But first, Raito would have to figure out who he was and who he worked for.

A loud sigh resounded through the speaker on Raito's cellular phone. "Actually," Teru hummed, "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

Somewhat distractedly, Raito answered, "Yeah, sure."

"You survived one of Kira's attacks, right?"

"So the story goes," Raito fake-smiled. How the hell did everyone know about that?

"Not to use you or anything," Mikami assured, "but I was wondering if I could interview you about it."

"Interview?" Raito scoffed, "What are you, a reporter?"

"Oddly enough, that's my second vocational choice," the other man mentioned nostalgically. "Journalist, actually," he corrected. He then took a moment to think, it seemed, and came to the conclusion that he'd said something wrong. "I didn't mean to offend. You don't even have to think of it as an interview. Consider it a get-to-know-you sort of thing."

Raito considered his choices for a moment. He wasn't doing himself any harm in talking to Mikami as long as he chose his words carefully. He'd seem awfully cold if he turned Mikami down.

"It's alright," Raito conceded grudgingly, casting a searching eye at Ryuzaki.

The mini-death was trotting at his heels, unconcerned with the world. Ryuzaki shrugged his shoulders in response to Raito's glance and muttered Teru's curse-word-likeness under his breath.

"Good, good," Teru chirped, "I was wondering where I could meet you."

Where indeed?

"He's still following you," Ryuzaki deadpanned, referring to Raito's stalker. The brunette rolled his eyes. Ryuzaki could be quite the rain cloud when he wanted to be. What did Raito care if he was being followed? It had become commonplace recently, though he wished it would stop.

Wait a second…

Oh, perfect.

"Say, Teru," Raito purred into the phone, "Why don't you and I go out for a while."

"Where did you have in mind?" Mikami hummed appreciatively.

"An amusement park," Raito mentioned, "How about Spaceland?"

"Spaceland?" Mikami laughed a bit incredulously at the other end of the line, "I haven't been there in ages."

Raito shrugged his shoulders. The amusement park was grounded in the interests of older children and romantic teens, but Raito could testify that it was as good a dating destination as any. "Well," he drew out his vowels as if he were fidgeting with his toes and twisting his hair around one finger, "I guess we don't have to go there…"

As Raito expected, Teru ate his words at the speed of light and reasoned, "Anything for you, Raito."

The brunette managed a genuinely impish grin. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Behind him, Raito could hear Ryuzaki practically chewing his fingertips off.

"So where should I meet you?" Raito swaggered, pulling at a strand of his hair. His not-boyfriend paused for a moment in thought before agreeing to meet Raito in two hours at the bus station in front of his apartment building.

Hanging up turned out to be a more difficult matter. Mikami insisted that he wasn't going to hang up first. Raito, likewise, aimed to be a gentleman. They agreed to hang up the phone at the same time, on the count of three, and both ended up asking each other at the same time after three whether or not the other was still there.

It happened two more times before Raito gave up.

"Goodbye, Teru," he laughed, feeling absolutely ridiculous.

"Goodbye, Raito," Teru replied in an equally ridiculous way. Teru, however, seemed better-versed in the art of girlish goodbyes, and refused to hang up the phone first.

"Fine," Raito sighed good-humoredly, "I'll hang up first."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

After a block and a half of walking and arguing in a slightly more mature 'No, you first!' sort of way, Raito resolved to hang up his phone.

"That was painful to listen to," Ryuzaki muttered.

Raito cast the mini-death a withering glare over his shoulder. "Believe it or not," he growled, "I have to keep things interesting or my relationship with him goes down the drain."

"Fine by me," Ryuzaki grouched, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Raito hissed an aggravated sigh and dug his nails into one side of his head. Why couldn't Ryuzaki just chill out for a second?

"Listen, okay," Raito growled at Ryuzaki, "I've got a plan-"

"Another one of those?" lamented the mini-death, feet melting miserably into the concrete.

"Would you let me finish?" Raito shrilled angrily through gritted teeth.

A pause.

A very long pause.

"Yes, Raito-kun," sighed Ryuzaki with an audible slump to his voice, "Forgive me for interrupting."

If anything, this comment only served to ignite Raito's divine rage. Why? Ryuzaki's voice wasn't sarcastic. He hadn't said anything horribly wrong.

So why was Raito so angry at him?

Because he felt bad for yelling?

Guilt, perhaps?

Or maybe lo- Oh hell no. Raito was not going to go into that today, no matter how much he wondered.

Knowing that Ryuzaki's pathetic sniveling shouldn't have evoked the emotional response that it did, Raito flew into a quiet, confused rage. Not having any other solution to the problem, he blamed the mini-death.

Raito spun on his heels, mindless of anything within earshot, glared hard enough to melt steel, and hissed a cryptic, "Why do you have to do that?"

"Do what?" Ryuzaki blinked innocently, genuinely taken aback by the brunette's sudden fit of anger.

Quietly and with as much poise as possible, Raito spasmodically quirked an eyebrow and gritted, "Apologizing. It makes me sick."

Ryuzaki furrowed his brow and gave Raito a dull, sooty glare. "No apologies then? Frankly, I'm not sure what to think of you anymore."

As Raito was wondering at a coherent answer to Ryuzaki's insult, a red mustang roared past. Curiously, the street went from bustling to silent.

Raito narrowed his eyes and peered loathingly at the other pedestrians lining the street. He slapped his rage on them then, sneering and wondering why every last one of them had to go mute all of the sudden. What was more, they were all staring, moony-eyed where the mustang would have vanished over the curve of a little hill.

Seconds later, and the street was full of murmurs.

Temper severely piqued and lacking a reasonable target to lash out on, Raito turned back to Ryuzaki and hissed, "What was that?"

Ryuzaki was dead silent, nonexistent eyebrows raised and one foot scratching at fraying jeans. Raito expectantly tapped at the fabric of his coat. When Ryuzaki insisted on saying nothing, the brunette intervened. "Ryuzaki," he growled warningly.

The addressed hiked his eyebrows further into his hairline and mimicked Raito's arrogant stance. He tilted his head to the side, tapped one foot on the ground boredly, and bored through Raito with his unconcerned black eyes.

"Say something," Raito growled. Yelling at someone who wouldn't reply was about as much fun as pulling teeth.

Ryuzaki blinked and chewed boredly at a corner of his bottom lip.

"What are you getting at?" Raito deadpanned as his shoulders slumped. His pent-up frustration was racing around in his head, looking for something to attack, and finding nothing.

A deep breath and roll-of-the-eyes from Ryuzaki. "I so assumed-" Yes! Finally! He was talking! "-that keeping quiet would keep me from angering you, Your Highness."

Hah! Perfect! Raito could have danced with joy at Ryuzaki's insults. His enthusiasm was renewed at having someone to shout at. When Raito accused, "There you go, saying all the wrong things at exactly the wrong time," what he meant was, 'Thank you so much for giving up and letting me win.'

The mini-death sensed this with a shake of the head and grumbled, "And I thought I knew the way your mind worked."

Wrong. In his head, Raito announced proudly that no one knew how his mind worked and therefore the argument had been his victory.

Sensitive as ever to Raito's thoughts, Ryuzaki rolled his eyes and mentioned offhandedly that he had nothing to do for two hours.

Ah yes… two hours. The two hours he had to wait for Mikami.

The two hours he had to wait until his plan was set in motion.

Which brought Raito back to the reason he'd been angry in the first place. He wanted to share his brilliance with Ryuzaki. Currently, however, that whim had gone its course. Ryuzaki would just have to wait and witness his superior intelligence.

He set his mind to wondering what he'd do for two hours.

Adolescently, he suggested that Ryuzaki and himself both go window-shopping. Ryuzaki replied that if he'd ever heard a queer proposal in his lifetime, that was it. Raito replied quite stubbornly that he wasn't gay, though he had a sinking feeling that he was in denial. Ryuzaki affirmed that he was, indeed, in denial.

Raito sighed forlornly, enthusiasm gone.

Heh… denial.

----

Raito had resolved not five minutes ago to wander aimlessly about every avenue and byway until by sheer happenstance he fell upon the bus stop in front of Mikami's apartment one hour and fifty minutes from then. That he even knew the location of the other man's apartment was a colossal stress-factor for L.

During one of Raito's periodic inspections of a nearby display window, L made his worries known. "How do you know where he lives?" the mini-death asked, selfishly pulling at a strand of his messy hair.

"He told me once," Raito mentioned casually with his eye on a shiny, new, portable DVD player. L's eyes drooped in a depressing way. "I suppose he'll be inviting you over to his apartment sometime…" he groused.

Raito glared peevishly at him, one corner of his sneer visibly twitching, and said, "It's not like I'm going to go over there and sleep with him or anything."

At the magic phrase, L's face contorted into a scowl and he melted into a stagnant pool of emo between the cracks in the pavement. Through his misery, he could hear Raito scoff. "I said I wouldn't, okay? If anything, you should be happy!"

"Oh no, I'm happy," L wailed, "It's the fact that you even considered the action that I'm worried about."

"Grow up, Ryuzaki," Raito sighed as if the world was only a huge inconvenience, "What would you think of first if someone you didn't know, someone interested in you, gave you their address?"

"If it were him," Ryuzaki spat, "I'd see someone for shock therapy and a little hypnosis before ripping up any shred of evidence that his address ever existed."

"That's because you're jealous," Raito deadpanned.

Recalling that they'd already had this conversation before, L announced, "Yes, Raito-kun. I'm jealous."

Notwithstanding the high frequency of L's confessions, Raito still appeared uneasy. He pulled his fingers over his eyelids, massaging in circles and sighing all the way. "Ryuzaki, how much do you like me?"

Hmm… now there was a question. Despite his rampant feelings, L forced himself to calm down and consider the question. Raito deserved an honest answer.

He enjoyed Raito's company much more than strawberry shortcake, he thought that Raito's eyes were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, he wanted to throttle anyone who spoke the least bit amiably with him, and he'd been utterly crushed whenever Raito insulted him. When Raito was in danger, L panicked. L did not panic. He thought things through rationally and decided through much reflection the best course of action. His attachment to the brunette mortal was in direct contrast with his rational habits. Before he met Raito, L had never considered he'd harbor any affection at all for anything fickle, expendable, irrational, and ultimately temporary.

Temporary.

If Raito were to die…

Hm.

'Hm' was the only articulate emotion he could put into syllables. If he would have put sounds to the horrors thrashing around in his gut, he wouldn't have been able to hear himself think. If Raito were, through some mysterious and tragic consequence of the universe, to die… L couldn't quite put his finger on a reaction. He wouldn't kill himself. He wouldn't go on a furious rampage.

He would simply cease to exist.

Simple as that.

Through much contemplation, L arrived at a suitable answer. "I don't like you, Raito-kun," he stated logically, "I think it's something more than that."

The weather reflected Raito's mood perfectly. His usually bright brunette hair seemed oddly at home against the dull grey sky and his posture lost its confidence. Raito slumped against the building's brick wall, scraping his jacket along the ridges. Collectively, along with his scuffed sneakers and faded blue jeans, Raito radiated gloom.

Any normal man would have puffed his chest out proudly upon hearing that he was admired. Speaking of normal, under other circumstances, Raito would practically parade around the room at the drop of a compliment. That smug smile of his would slither onto his lips and his eyes would glow with pride. His shoulders would square and he would radiate such dignity that any close bystander would be cured of cancer.

L didn't get it.

He said, 'Gosh, Raito, you're the prettiest thing I ever saw,' and the addressed dove miserably into a vast quagmire of depression.

L wondered whether Raito's condition warranted worry, but knew better than to ask for fear of bruising the brunette's ego. He resigned himself to sit quietly on the rim of Raito's personal space until the storm passed.

Raito sighed with his eyes fixed on a grain in the concrete. He dug his hands deeper into his jean pockets and shifted his weight first to his right foot, then his left.

"I need to talk to you about this," he admitted after a long silence, sounding as if he were condemning himself to death. L didn't appreciate the tone of his voice. Warily, he ventured, "You don't sound like you want to."

Raito sighed painfully, shifting his feet again with his eyes downcast.

"I have to."

L immediately discerned that a glum Raito was, in all likelihood, the worst thing he had ever seen. Aiming to lighten the air if only for a second, L mentioned, "Well, now we have something to talk about for an hour and forty minutes."

Raito breathed a humorless "Hmph."

As L waited for Raito to react, he took his time to notice how many people passed by and accepted with a turn of the head that the brunette was just a very good-looking, schizophrenic street bum. Most of them kept their distance, probably intimidated. Raito had adopted a nasty habit of following them with his eyes.

Speak of the devil…

"Let's go into an alley or something," Raito mumbled beneath his breath.

L quirked an eyebrow. Raito wasn't normally this hesitant, but his behavior was understandable, considering the nature of his predicament. "Won't your stalker be suspicious if you suddenly disappear down a dark, dusty alley?" L asked with a thumb between his lips.

Raito's shoulders heaved again in a deep sigh. "I guess…"

L knew Raito well enough to predict that if he were to discuss such matters in public, the embarrassment would be too much.

Suddenly, Raito breathed one of those gloomy sighs he was so fond of and shoved himself off of the brick. He wordlessly made his way to a bench on the opposite side of the crowded street and collapsed into it. L followed. The brunette then took out his cell phone and flipped it open, pretending to dial a number.

Ah.

L knew where this was going. He felt sorry for Raito, putting himself in this much stress. At the same time, he wanted to cheer for the mortal's sense of urgency. That he was resorting to such desperate measures in order to talk to L was a sign in itself. Raito was determined.

L perched calmly on the flaking, green-painted, wooden bench while Raito struck up a bogus conversation between him and an imaginary person. He wasn't performing his cell-phone charade for his stalker, though. He just didn't want any bystanders to look at him like he was a lunatic.

Raito and his pride…

"Ryuzaki," Raito began the meaningful segment of his not-conversation, "I know you've told me before, but I just…" he sighed, trying visibly to keep his cool, rolling his eyes for good measure. He glared accusingly at L, the fingers on his free hand curling painfully into the soft skin on his palms.

L recognized Raito's anger for what it was. This was how he dealt with emotions he wasn't familiar with. When Raito was afraid, he yelled. When he was confused, he threw a fit. When he was embarrassed, he throttled things. L's only conclusion was that he didn't often experience negativity.

Raito growled through a set jaw, "I don't know how to word it, okay."

L shrugged his shoulders, knowing that if he got all gushy and gooey, Raito would storm off out of shame. He took the casual approach, trying to lull the brunette's temper into something tamer. For the first time in his life, L announced the three words he never thought he'd say and felt like they actually meant something. He wished they'd have been uttered under more romantic circumstances, but neither L nor Raito were good romantics.

"I love you, Raito-kun," L announced, feeling butterflies suddenly metamorphose in his gut and attack the lining of his stomach. He ignored the fact that he sounded every bit like a pre-teen girl and awaited Raito's reaction.

The mortal hissed a few times in what sounded like a plethora of 'tch's and 'keh's. L could tell by the wild look in Raito's eyes and the way he kept burying them in his free hand that he was completely unprepared for L's confession. Maybe he was just having trouble accepting being crushed on by an imaginary cloud of chilled air.

"I have a hard time believing that," Raito barked icily. As Kira twiddled with the antenna on his phone, L mentioned, "It's true."

"How do you know?" Raito asked, sounding a bit more weary than angry this time. L interpreted his slow change in attitude as a positive sign. "Well," L breathed, "First off, I think you're terribly attractive. Would you like me to go into further detail about that?"

"No thanks," Raito bit.

"I see," L shrugged the oppressive atmosphere off. "I think you're incredibly smart, if a bit impulsive."

"Gee, thanks," the brunette snarled defensively.

"Actually, I find it cute," L mentioned harmlessly, "And without your impulsiveness, I'm afraid you wouldn't need much help from me." He carefully studied Raito from the corner of his eye. The brunette's amber eyes were darting right and left, though ever focused at the pavement in a catoblepatic way. "I rather like helping you, Raito-kun," the mini-death elaborated.

He should have known better than to expect a response to flattery. Raito had decided to be angry, and he couldn't rant very well to a compliment. Not wanting to put him on the spot any longer than required, L elaborated, "I try to keep my distance from you and Mikami-" Feh. Like breathing asphalt, that name. "-but I can't help myself. I don't like the idea of someone else touching you, potentially kissing you, and eventually going much farther than I care to describe. I'd like to think I can partake in the activities you and Mikami-" Keh. There it was again. "-could partake in eventually, being humans. Alas, I can't."

Oh boy. If L went any farther, he was going to embarrass Raito so much, he'd keel over and die.

"Like what?" Raito scoffed, "You want to… kiss me?" He spat the word out as if it was a popcorn kernel stuck in his teeth.

"Of course," L stated as casually as he could.

"And… what else?" Raito asked grudgingly. L knew very well that Raito had a perfect idea of the things the mini-death would want to do to him. However, he was Raito, and he was proud.

L sighed. "Hold you. Snuggle, wrap my arms around your waist… that kind of stuff."

Well, he didn't want to scare Raito off…

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a girl," the brunette spat, eyes still focused on the pavement.

L shrugged, trying to keep his side of the conversation open and carefree, "You don't have to be. It's more complicated than that." He used the word 'it' because 'love' would send Raito into a rage of self-consciousness.

"The way you're describing it, I'm the girl in this relationship," Raito muttered darkly.

"We're both men," L mentioned offhandedly. Then, purely for spice, L offered, "We can settle things like men." He narrowed his eyes and grinned at Raito, "If you ever want to challenge my authority, we can fight it out, but I'm actually quite strong."

"I'll keep that in mind," Raito groused with a roll of the eyes.

L was content to let Raito think of another topic of conversation. After a minute's hesitation and antenna-tweaking, the brunette asked, "So… what's it like…" and here he squirmed. L had a vague inkling of his intentions and chose to save Raito.

"Being with another man?" he interrupted.

"Yeah," Raito snorted, "that."

"Dunno," L mused, "Never tried it. Though Mello and Near were quite happy for a while."

"Really?" was L's only clue that Raito wanted him to elaborate.

"Oh yes," L clarified gladly, "They did everything together. I suppose they knew each other far longer than we have." The mini-death was well aware that he was delving into Near's dirty laundry, but Near was dead and Raito was curious. "Mello became Kira when he was only ten years old. He was a very intelligent child, if a bit selfish. He'd taken to beating smaller children and stealing from people purely for attention. He had a tragic childhood, Near said."

"How?" Raito asked with curiosity cloaked in impatience.

"His father died in the Thirty Years' War and his mother overdosed on arsenic," L mentioned, not wanting to go into detail. "Anyway, he was supposed to be stabbed to death by a drunkard one night, but ended up crushing him with a wine barrel. So Near was stuck with him for a few thousand years."

"Interesting," Raito grumbled.

"Yes…"

"So why do you hate him so much? Mello, I mean," Raito asked, veering dangerously off track. L could deal with it, though, as long as the conversation suited Raito.

"He used Near. Manipulated his feelings. It started when he found a gang in Los Angeles. Near and Mello had been close as ever, and then Mello started disappearing in the middle of the night."

Raito nodded, if a bit guiltily, "You think he found someone else?"

"Yes," L mused, "though Near never knew for certain."

The brunette sighed, now drawing a circle in the pavement with the toe of one shoe. "So that's why you hate Mikami so much?"

"Partially," L admitted.

"Why do you think Mello ran off?" Raito asked with the curiosity of a six-year-old.

"Well, Near put Mello's safety above all else," L drew out.

"So he stayed intangible in order to keep Mello out of trouble," Raito mused with a thumbnail in his teeth, much in the way L would have.

"Yes. As you can imagine, that wasn't good enough for Mello."

"I can't understand it," Raito growled. L tensed up in case the aforementioned brunette blew his top. "So being close to Near was more important than staying alive?"

L puffed a breath of air at his bangs. He should have seen that one coming. "Mello was an impulsive person," he deadpanned, "He lived in the present."

Raito 'hmph'ed at L's side as if he thought Mello's thought process dangerous and ridiculous.

Oh well… L couldn't hold it against him.

The little 'hmph' Raito allowed earlier had turned into something of a chortle. L squinted accusingly at him and wondered what he was laughing at.

"I thought you said you didn't know much about Mello," sneered Raito.

L blinked, confused. Well, apparently he knew more than he gave himself credit for.

"So," Raito continued, leaning forward in his seat, phone still to one ear, "You want us to be like Mello and Near, but minus the cheating and death?"

"Better than Mello and Near," L clarified slowly.

The bench became very silent after that. Raito had reverted to running his fingers along his cell-phone and avoiding eye contact. L had drawn his knees further into his chest and rocked back and forth on the bench.

"So," Raito started up again, less angry, but still shy and in annoyance of being so, "How far would you… want to go?"

How far indeed…

"Only as far as you'll let me," L murmured, trying to ease Raito into the idea. Once again, he did not want to scare Raito off. He ventured a searching glance at Raito's face. Much to L's unsaid delight, the corners of the mortal's ears were growing redder and redder. If L wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the genesis of a blush creeping across the bridge of Raito's nose.

L had a sudden curious thought. He kept in mind that this thought of his could send Raito flying into a fit. Cautiously, he approached Raito with his curiosity. "If you don't mind my asking, how can you be so open and comical with Mikami, but everything I say or do sets you off?"

"…Sets me off?" Raito questioned with an eyebrow quirked.

"Yes," L mused, "Either you yell or you don't talk at all."

Raito took a deep breath and fiddled with the buttons on his phone. "Like when?"

"Now, for example," L offered. Before Raito could attack him, though, he elaborated. "You could joke and tease with Mikami about dates, food, and whatever else, yet when I suggest that I might harbor feelings for you, the atmosphere gets rather stuffy and oppressive. Why is this, do you think?"

During L's monologue, Raito had stopped fooling with his phone. L waited calmly, his own eyes averted to the mortal's beloved concrete.

"I don't… really know."

L thought that Raito knew quite well. Something was keeping him from disclosing it. He'd learned not to push the brunette into a corner though. The reply suited him fine.

Hastily, as if the last question had aggravated him somehow, Raito glanced at his phone and announced primly that only a half hour had gone past. To which, L had replied, "Any other burning questions?"

"Not right now," warned Raito.

L let it slide.

----

Oh, that was horrible.

Horrible, horrible, horrible.

Raito felt as if something had fossilized in his stomach. He should not have started that talk. He made a complete idiot of himself. Ryuzaki acted so calm and articulate, and then there was Raito, fumbling for words and raising his voice when it needn't have been raised. He was an emotional wreck and Ryuzaki knew it.

Raito was in dire need of something to take his mind off of his mistakes for at least another hour. He wandered back out onto the street where their argument had begun. He thought he saw an appliance store somewhere around there and wondered vaguely if they sold cameras.

As he speed-walked down the sidewalk, he couldn't help but notice Ryuzaki's steady pace at his heels. Damn thing followed him everywhere. Why couldn't Ryuzaki just leave him alone?

Raito darted into a bookstore and leaned up against a shelf in the far corner of the shop.

He buried his face in his hands and breathed deeply the scent of bleached paper and sandalwood incense.

Massaging his eyes as he tended to do during periods of high stress, Raito tried to think coherently. This wasn't supposed to happen. Where had Raito's self-control gone? He wasn't supposed to get angry at Ryuzaki. None of this was Ryuzaki's fault.

Raito could only blame himself for being, as Panda-Boy said, terribly impulsive.

He could tell that the aforementioned psychopomp was writhing where he stood, debating with himself on whether or not to ask him if he was alright. Damn Ryuzaki and his consideration! He knew exactly what Raito couldn't stand and he purposely stayed away from it!

And here Raito was, throwing a fit, considerate to no one but himself. To top that off, he'd probably captured the attention of everyone in the store.

Dammit!

This was not a good day.

He forced himself to calm down. After all, Kira wasn't this fickle. Kira didn't suffer mood swings. Kira was calm, poised, and confident.

Raito took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and shaking his hands out to clear his mind.

Okay.

Not thinking about Ryuzaki anymore.

Focusing on how the hell to stay entertained for another hour.

Raito straightened his jacket, plucked a novel silently off of one shelf, and acted as if he'd meant to storm into the building in the first place. Much to his displeasure, his novel was a romance novel.

Well, shit.

He crammed the vile thing back into the dark cavern from whence it came and searched for something a bit more enlightening. Apparently sensing Raito's unease as he often did, Ryuzaki announced that he'd be hovering around the shelf labeled 'philosophy' if he was needed. Raito nodded curtly and marched over to the other side of the shop.

It was at that point in time when it occurred to Raito that his family would be wondering where he was.

He fumbled with his cell-phone and managed to withdraw it from his pocket. He dialed his home number and held his phone to his ear.

Beep…

Beep…

Beep…

Raito rolled his eyes. Of course. His mom had taken Sayu to the mall and Soichiro was still at work. He left a message on the machine, telling all of them exactly where he was (insofar that he'd been invited to Spaceland with a friend and wouldn't be coming home until later).

Then, having a premonition that neither Sayu nor Sachiko would check the machine, Raito dialed his father's work number.

Beep…

Beep…

Bee- "Hello?"

"Hi, Dad. It's Raito."

"Hm? Raito? Do you need something?"

"Uh, no," Raito said with a scratch of the scalp, "I just called to let you know I'll be gone until late."

"…Late?" Soichiro's voice became more ominous in a split second.

"Um… yeah," Raito whined like the horrible liar he was raised to be, "I got invited to Spaceland by a friend from school."

"You didn't ask my permission," Soichiro mumbled, doubtlessly under the impression that Raito's 'friend' was a date. As Raito expected.

He sighed and shook his head. "Dad, I'm in college now. Do I still need your permission for everything?"

Soichiro grumbled at the other end of the line, "No, I suppose not, but it's nice to know that you still care about my opinion, Raito."

"Sorry, Dad," Raito sighed, "I'll ask your permission next time. So… bye."

He honestly expected to end the conversation right there, but his father's voice blared over the speaker. "Hold on, hold on. You and I aren't done talking yet."

"What is it?" Raito asked, mildly and genuinely alarmed.

"I can tell when you're lying, Raito."

Oops.

"What do you mean, Dad?" the brunette asked, wondering what punishment awaited him for sneaking off with his 'boyfriend.'

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Soichiro's voice boomed.

"No, Dad. Nothing," Raito replied defensively. If he was going to play his part right, he was going to act the Fight-the-Power Rebel role all the way.

"You're not lying to me about going out with friends and sneaking off with a date instead?"

As indignantly as he could manage, Raito scoffed a "What, you can't trust me?"

"Raito," Soichiro warned.

"Listen, Dad," Raito barked, "I'm old enough to make my own choices. You can't police me around all the time."

"Raito! How dare you talk to me like that!"

Oh boy. Raito could tell that he had a barrel of fun waiting for him when he got home. Perhaps Ryuzaki's unintentional suggestion of staying at Mikami's house for the night wasn't such a bad idea…

Oh, brilliant.

"You know what, Dad?" Raito yelled, conscious and uncaring that he was in a bookstore, "I'm not your little boy anymore. You can't tell me what to do! If I'm going on a date, then you can't stop me!"

He'd attracted the attention of an older woman with thin glasses. She goggled rudely at him and scowled. Raito, however, sneered at the fact that she had her business nametag on upside down.

"Raito! I swear! What happened to you? You were such a good kid until that happened! Sometimes I wonder if Schizophrenia's the only thing that's gotten to you!"

Ah. Now here was something for him to build on…

"Are you saying there's something wrong with me now?" Raito exclaimed.

"Of course not! You're only disobeying your father's orders, lying to your family, and fantasizing about nonexistent human beings! No, Raito, of course nothing's wrong with you!"

Wow. Raito didn't think it was possible for the old man to get so angry… Still, he could work with Soichiro's outspoken emotions.

He laughed into the receiver. "You know what? Fine. I am going on a date. See if I come home afterward, Dad. Good-bye!"

Raito triumphantly hung up and clicked his heels gleefully on the polished wooden floor.

His raised voice had attracted more unwanted attention. Eyes peered at him from behind thin-rimmed glasses and Ryuzaki decided to poke his head furtively around the corner. Raito turned his head hotly at the lady with the glasses. He stared at her down the bridge of his nose and jerked his head upward in a quick nod.

"Dad's a dumbass."

The four-eyed woman nodded slowly, seeming to understand.

Good.

Raito sashayed away then, sweeping past any watchful eye with the grandeur of a mountain on a salt flat. Ryuzaki followed him as usual, itching his foot and glancing casually about. They were on the sidewalk for quite a while. Raito contented himself with window-shopping while Ryuzaki bemusedly performed handstands on the sidewalk.

Raito was in the midst of comparing the prices of two miniature LCD televisions when he felt something wet explode on the curve of his nose. He quirked an eyebrow and sneered accusingly at the sky. The clouds were heavy and dark with rain. Raito knew that his date wouldn't amount to much if the weather got any worse.

Then again, the way he had things planned out, the weather would only help.

----

L would have expected Raito to glare and shake a fist at the oncoming storm. Instead, the brunette grinned and stretched his arms behind his head. L rolled his eyes. Raito was becoming quite the supervillain.

L could only wonder what manner of ill lightning was crackling inside Raito's head.

Judging by his yelling on the phone earlier and the intuition L's eavesdropping had procured, Raito was planning something very morally evil indeed. L knew L liked Raito, and Raito knew L liked Raito.

Yet he was still planning on spending the night in another man's apartment. Was this an acceptable practice in the human world or something? L found himself wondering at his sanity.

Raito suddenly hop-stepped away from the display window and marched away from L at an alarming pace. The mini-death, against his better judgment, followed. "We're leaving already?" he groused, not entirely looking forward to the rest of the evening.

"Yes," Raito announced primly, straightening the lapels of his jacket.

"Why?"

"If I'm going to get to the bus stop on time, I have to leave now."

"You have half an hour."

"Precisely."

L's shoulders slumped and he puffed out one corner of his bottom lip. "Just how far away is this bus stop of yours?"

"Oh," Raito sang, "not far."

L rolled his eyes. Of course. He was in Tokyo. Half an hour's walk was by no means a relatively great distance. He continued his relentless dirge at Raito's heels, refusing to make any wry remarks for the duration of his walk.

Lo and behold, halfway through their walk, the weather above their heads began teasing them with spurts of unruly precipitation. L didn't mind getting wet, of course, as it could not be done. Raito, however, was a different matter. L's sudden alarm was subdued by the brunette's cheery greeting of the rain. Raito's shoulders were already dotted with moisture, but he looked happy as he'd ever been.

L could only raise an eyebrow in speculation as to Raito's references concerning his 'plan.' He'd mentioned it earlier, and it had gotten him into a nasty fight. The fight ended well, though, at least in L's opinion, so he was no one to complain.

Finally, the curved steel and Plexiglas bus station wafted into view through the rain-misted air.

Raito grinned at it like it was an old friend of his and went into an unusually mechanical walk. L noticed this. He peered into Raito's eyes on a whim and found what he saw to be very interesting. Raito's eyes were distant and out of focus, functioning on a higher plane of sight. His mind wasn't on the bus stop. He appeared to be thinking very vividly about something.

L let him be; watching out for any pebbles and pitfalls Raito could unknowingly wander into.

By the time he'd reached the street, the brunette's usual swagger-step had resumed and his eyes were sharper than ever. To top that off, he maintained a smirk the size of Okinawa.

L only sighed.

It was at that moment in time that he realized Raito had taken his right hand discreetly out of his pocket.

And snapped.

L gave him a scrutinizing once-over. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Oh, you'll see…" he sighed, very happy with himself.

L eyed him warily, sticking both hands into his jean pockets. "Well I certainly hope you know what you're doing."

"Of course," smirked Raito.

L rolled his eyes. Oh yes. He was going to have the longest night in his life.

No sooner had Raito set foot on the cracking concrete of the sidewalk, on the opposite side of the street, than a familiarly mundane voice reached L's ears. "Ah! Raito-kun!" hollered a flustered, agitated-looking Mikami.

Raito waved a polite hello at him before trotting daintily in his direction. He appeared mindless of the state of his jacket and the dark, muddy water seeping into his pants. Mikami was dressed informally, his coat an apparent second thought, in a black tee-shirt and a pair of loose, ivy-hued, twill pants. There was a decorative bangle shoved curiously over one of his wrists along with a shiny, silver watch.

L bit at his thumb.

Since when did he care what anyone was wearing?

Intrigued, he glanced down at his own attire, tugging listlessly at the hem of his sweater. Perhaps a change in wardrobe would be in order.

Bah.

Who was he kidding? His ensemble was comfortable. That, and he hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes with him when he ventured to the human world on what was supposed to be a short trip.

"Hey," Raito's smile glittered, "I was right on time, wasn't I?"

Mikami scratched the back of his head and laughed amiably, "I suppose, but I wish the weather would have cooperated with our date…"

Raito barked a laugh, then leaned in and whispered, "I like rainy days."

About four feet away, L stood rigidly and clenched his fists. Damn Raito and his teasing… L was only so nice to him, but noooo… No good-natured play for L! He gritted his teeth and forced himself to adhere to the spot.

Tall, Dark, and Geeky swaggered a bit to the left, silently rising to Raito's challenge. Perhaps against his better interests, Mikami ventured, "You'd still want to go on a date with me to Spaceland in the rain?"

"Why not?" chided Raito with a matter-of-fact gesture of the hand.

An approving, disgustingly affectionate grin attached itself to Mikami's face just then, and L resisted the urge to cough up everything he'd eaten in the past week. Thoroughly mortified by Raito's closeness to his arch-nemesis, L brooded with his back-turned, keeping an eye on the stalker waiting just across the street.

He still caught little snippets of their conversation, though.

"You amaze me, you know that?" Mikami's voice…

"I amaze most people," Raito said with an audible shrug.

"You're quite confident for someone your age, aren't you?"

"Hmph."

"I like it."

"I know."

L was on the verge of tearing his hair out. Alas, he was saved by the bus as it came rumbling around the corner. He caught a hastily whispered, "That's our bus," from Mikami and watched as the stalker's posture went rigid with recognition. Lovely. So not only was L going to be stranded on a bus with the man he wanted to strangle, but also the man endangering Raito's life.

As the stalker speed-walked across the street, L followed Mikami and Raito into line. They paid their way onto the bus and chose a seat second from the back. L realized Raito was giving him a good vantage point for sentry duty. The mini-death leapt onto the ridge of the back of the seat, perched almost clumsily on it, and melded halfway into the wall.

This was no easy feat, of course.

Not to mention, it was the second loudest thing L had ever heard (The first being Mello's chocolate-withdrawal-induced fits of rage). The engine was uncomfortably situated directly behind him. The aluminum wall rippled and shook ceaselessly.

L hoped that Raito's 'plan' wouldn't take too long.

Interestingly enough, before the engine roared into action, Raito's stalker had time to discreetly seat himself directly in front of L. This was an interesting development…

L had quite the view of his shoulders and the back of his head, all of which seemed not the slightest bit agitated. Raito seemed in a likewise state of blissful content, hanging rather uncharacteristically about Mikami's shoulders like an expensive and unusually agreeable feather boa. L muttered to himself, subconsciously melting further into the engine.

Stupid Mikami…

The engine died suddenly, prompting a glance out of each window from L. The bus had stopped to let someone on. The mini-death took no pride in discovering that the bus's new occupant looked a lot like Ryuk, minus the wings and the malnutrition. He was a squat, fat, unattractive man. The little Ryuk-esque puff of hair decorating his forehead was hardly a decoration at all. His eyes bugged out of his head and L noticed the distastefully sly grin he had on his face.

The engine guttered and L braced himself for the inevitable blast of noise that was sure to follow.

Instead, he heard the click of a gun.

"Awright ladies and gentlemen, this bus has just been hijacked!"

Oh hell no.

L knew better than to abandon his post, though. There was a rat in this particular bus-jacking.

He focused his gaze forward on Raito and Mikami. As the criminal yelled something like, "Anybody makes a move and I'll blow their goddamn head off," Mikami's shoulders stiffened and he drew Raito closer to himself. L rolled his eyes. Much more than half of him feared for Raito's safety, but the other more obnoxious, possessive point-zero-zero-one percent wanted to pop Mikami's face off for being that close.

The stalker was also tensing up. L could see the hairs at the nape of his neck bristling in a forest of needles. All would-be wrinkles vanished from his coat in the blink of an eye as his shoulders stiffened to the likeness of crucifixion cross.

Interested more in Raito's wellbeing for the moment, L ignored the hijacker stalking the isle with the bus's ever-stretching, corded phone gripped in his grubby paws. The psychopomp crawled across the ceiling and down a pole, casting a wry eye at Raito's expression.

On the outside, the brunette was the incarnate of terror. Eyes wide, muscles stiff, every finger and toe flexed to a point, leaning desperately into Mikami's side. Yet, L knew merely by the flash in Raito's eyes that he had absolutely everything under control. From the bus, to the hijacker, to the rain: Raito was master of all he surveyed. He gave L a quick wink before dramatically recoiling from the pacing criminal.

"…And if you get smart with me or call the cops, I'll kill every single passenger on this bus! You got that?"

L had only caught bits and pieces of his ranted conversation. The hijacker wanted such-and-such amount of money delivered to such-and-such a place or so-and-so died…

Typical.

Despite the creep and crawl of his spine, L reminded himself that Raito was in control of the situation. He had no need to fear for him. Perhaps the stalker should have been the subject of L's fretfulness. He was fidgeting tensely with something tucked into his coat. L knew in a second that it was a firearm.

All things considered, an enclosed metro-bus was nowhere to hold a gunfight.

Suddenly, the hijacker's buggy eyes were focused in Raito's general direction.

L didn't like that.

He stomped over to the brunette in question and alarm bells immediately went off in L's head. Raito visibly shrank into his seat and Mikami was still as a stone.

"Weeeellll! Whad'a we have here?" the hijacker tapped at his thigh with his pistol. His eyes roved over Raito and Mikami in a way that made L's bones creak. "Interrupted you on your little date, did I?" he sneered.

He stood there for another moment, deciding what to do with his newfound discovery. Then, he slapped his pistol on the side of his jeans again and announced, "You know what? I've changed my mind. For every two minutes my money doesn't get here, I'll pick off one of your passengers!"

The foreign agent in the back corner gritted his teeth and frantically fiddled with his coat. L would have done likewise, but with one exception. He would have blown the fucker's head off long before he had a chance to come anywhere near Raito.

Shinigami-man took one last appreciative glance at Raito and his comrade before gleefully twirling his pistol around one finger and turning around. "Who will it be… who will it be…" he whistled. The bus was packed, and every row of passengers his glare passed over visibly swooned and sweated in anxiety.

"Raito," an urgent whisper from behind.

L turned back to see Mikami speaking in a hushed tone. "If he comes after you again, I'll grab his arm and pin it down so he can't shoot. I might not look it, but I'm a black belt in karate. All I need you to do is lay low and I'll-"

"No," hissed a deeper voice from behind, "It's too dangerous. Let me handle this." L blinked several times in rapid succession as he began to realize what Raito's aim had been. Against his morals, he couldn't hold back the impish smile playing across his lips.

Oh, Raito.

You little devil, you.

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Raito sneered quietly.

The man appeared taken aback, eyes flicking about for any sign of action. "Trust me?" he whispered.

"You could be the hijacker's accomplice," Mikami cut in. "It's a much more common practice than you'd think."

"You… you need proof?" The agent asked desperately, the hijacker's returning form reflected in his eyes. He fumbled with something in his coat and shoved it into the back of Mikami's arm. "There."

Both Raito and Mikami scrutinized the folded leather, which L had come to recognize as an FBI Proof of Identity. The purely evil glitter in Raito's eyes and the excited shaking of his fingers communicated only one thought to L.

Bingo.

Mission accomplished.

Mikami tossed the ID back as Mr. Who-will-it-be came marching distractedly back up the isle. He nodded curtly, silently affirming his trust with the agent. Mr. Agent-stalker gulped in visible relief and clamped his fingers over the invisible weapon in his coat.

The hijacker stopped directly in front of Raito again and grinned, "I've changed my mind again!"

L tensed up on the ceiling. He was starting to wonder if this was part of Raito's plan. It may have been his acting, but Raito looked nothing short of petrified. He stayed silent, not even bothering to plead against the cold, shiny barrel which had suddenly pressed itself to the side of his head.

The look in Mikami's eyes suggested that he was ready to spring against the stalker's better advice. The stalker's gun was halfway pulled out of his coat. L was enraptured.

As soon as the gun was cocked, a plethora of interesting things happened.

Mikami shot two vertical feet out of his chair and lunged downward at the criminal's heels. The stalker grabbed a hold of the hijacker's gunning arm and twisted it behind his head, cramming his pistol into the man's back. Raito fell backward against Mikami's empty seat.

Mostly, L heard a lot of yelling.

The hijacker yanked his arm away from the stalker and gave Mikami a weak, restrained kick. Mikami, as L was surprised to note, had become something of a madman and devoted himself wholly to snapping the man's ankles using leverage. L knew very well that the stalker's gun was a bluff. Granted, a loaded one, but with his hostage squirming so much in a crowded area, he'd never shoot for fear of injuring a civilian.

L sat, dormant, on the ceiling, and glanced wonderingly down at Raito. The brunette had shielded his head with his arms and assumed a defensive stance. Nevertheless, with his back turned to the action, he was laughing his head off.

A breaker of mortifying fear and relief crashed into L. He shook his fists and dug his jagged nails into his palms. His toes tightened around the ridge in the ceiling and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. "This was your big plan?" L harped as loudly as he could.

Raito laughed and laughed and laughed…

The following noise sounded much like this:

"You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Scream! Shout! Clang! Shout!

"Get offa' me, you little- GAH! My foot!"

Scream! Shout! Clang! Yell!

"You're under arrest! You're under arrest!"

"Raito-kun, are you even listening to me?"

Scream! Shout! Crash! Clang!

"Raito-kun!"

And if one had listened a little harder…

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Heh… heh heh heh- HAHAHAHAHA!" gasp- "AHAHAHAHAAAAA"

Hysterical laughter. Absolutely hysterical.

L left Raito to laugh himself silly and returned to quiet observation of the Dynamic Duo and their conquest of Hijacker-man.

Hijacker-man kicked one foot out of Mikami's grip and stumbled forward, lashing out with every extremity. He fired two harmless bullets at the floor, each ricocheting to no-place in particular. The third bullet, however, was shot off during a spasm of the arm, finding an unwilling target in the form of an old woman. L sympathized as she screamed, collapsing into her chair and bleeding profusely from the head.

L could tell by the glossy look in her eyes that she was already gone.

Pity…

Perhaps he'd wave hello to an acquaintance of his in a minute or so. Another psychopomp.

Oblivious to the sudden death, Stalker-man wrenched Hijacker-man's pistol out of his grip and released his hold on Hijacker-man's arm.

Hijacker-man elbowed Stalker-man in the gut and kicked out with his imprisoned leg, jerking Mikami off of his person. L noticed with critical hilarity the way Hijacker-man's foot bent as he scrambled away, brandishing the merits of Mikami's work.

Hijacker-man raced away on his lame foot and rammed into the bus doors yelling, "LET ME OUT, GODDAMMIT!" L wafted outside just in time to see Hijacker-man stumble into the shimmering street, a few raindrops collecting on his peninsula of Ryuk-esque hair…

Before a car swerved and, over the slick asphalt, met his temple squarely with the brunt of its right rear wheel-well.

----

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN

Chibi Raito: Oh come ON! Give your eyes a friggin' break!

Chibi L: Hm? Why are we here already? I swear, we must be standing on at least… twenty more pages worth of words in size twelve Times New Roman font in Microsoft Word.

Chibi Misa: Lotsa' words…

Chibi Raito: This is… kind of embarrassing.

Chibi L: Shall we continue?

Chibi Raito: Why not?

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN END:D :D

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN END:D :D

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN END:D :D

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN END:D :D

INTERMISSION!!!ONEELEVEN END:D :D

----

Raito felt that his horrified eyes were the perfect diversions to the wicked smile threatening to traverse the bottom half of his face. He'd left the bus not one minute ago in the protective, possessive wake of one Teru Mikami, only to witness a bolt of lightning shining off of the rain and blood streaming into the gutter. Raito didn't know what satisfied him more: the coldness of Kiichiro Osoreda's pale white hand, the warmth of Mikami's arms, or the awkward ring of Raye Penber's name.

Raye Penber.

Raito could almost laugh at its hilarity, and yet, he could say it all day. Raye Penber.

Raye Penber!

Ray Penber, Raye Penber, Raypenberraypenberraypenber!

Say it fast and it sounded like a foreign condiment!

Raypenberraypenberraypenber!

Raito was a bit shocked that he belonged to the FBI though. Boy, wouldn't the NPA be pissed when they learned who A and W had entrusted with the safety of their country!

Oh, this was just too perfect. Raito's complicated plan was executed so precisely, Raye Penber couldn't possibly have seen through it.

Raito found out that there were many things he could do. He could manipulate anything. He used the clouds to his advantage, imagining a vivid rainstorm before Osoreda's death. The streets would be slick from oil and water; perfect conditions for a car wreck.

Not only that, but Raito had discovered an essential detail that L had forgotten to mention. He, Kira, could do what no shinigami and his Death Note could do.

He could force people to kill other people.

Over the tangle of arms and legs that was Raye, Teru, and Kiichiro, Raito had witnessed Kiichiro's bullet go crashing into an old woman's skull.

She was the same old woman with glasses that Raito had seen in the bookstore. He'd seen her face well enough under those glasses and her upside-down nametag had given him more than one devious idea.

Raito already had an inkling of what he was going to accomplish before then. At that moment, though, he could have basked in his own glory. Raito was, after all, the most intelligent high school graduate in all of Japan.

It occurred to Raito for the first time since the subway incident that he didn't necessarily need both a name and a face to kill. He needed only a face. However, if he didn't want his victim to die instantly, within a split second of his snapping, he needed a name to keep in his head.

He could have gotten rid of Raye in a more expedient manner, but he would have thrown himself to A and W's wolves. If he had snapped at Raye in the subway, as he would have without Ryuzaki's intervention, the man would have dropped dead instantly and Kira would be as a fox in a tree, hounds barking and frothing at the mouth on the dirt beneath him.

"You deserve an Academy Award," Ryuzaki grumbled, obviously agitated as told by the curling of his toes and the worried state of the hems on his sleeves.

Raito wasn't given the option of retort, as he was being hastily pulled away from the scene of the crime by a very aggravated Teru Mikami. The taller man had practically tucked Raito into his coat and stolen him away. The manner in which Raito was pulled against Mikami's side suggested fear and flight on Mikami's part.

Raito was flattered that the older man didn't want him in danger longer than was necessary.

"Wait," an urgent voice called from Raito's blind spot. Teru halted in his procession of possessiveness, and Raito could practically feel the older man's eyes glaring accusingly in search of the culprit. Kira, however, had taken that average, deep voice to heart.

It was Raye Penber's voice.

Rayepenber the French condiment.

"Listen," Raypenber hushed, "I don't want anyone to know about this. I'm on a confidential mission and if the Japanese police discover me, I…"

"Don't worry," commanded Teru, well… commandingly, "We won't tell anyone. I understand."

"Great," Raypenber sighed, "Thanks. Well, I don't want to be around when the police show up, so…"

And nothing more was said. Raito wasn't able to enjoy the silence properly, as he was soon being tugged further away from the bus. He found himself being eased out of Teru's grasp and placed resolutely on the concrete directly facing him. The older man nudged a wisp of Raito's hair out of his eyes with the pad of one thumb and asked, "Are you alright?"

Genuinely surprised by the gesture, Raito maintained, "I'm… I'm fine…"

"Are you hurt?" Teru asked, a bit louder and more hysterical than last time.

"No," Raito regained his composure as far as he deemed necessary for the crisis at hand.

Raito was infinitely surprised when he was pulled into an uncomfortably desperate embrace. Teru's arms encircled him and drew him in so quickly as to force the air out of his chest for a moment. He registered long, thin fingers massaging his shoulders soothingly and the soft press of lips on one corner of his face.

"I'm sorry," he muttered self-consciously, "Raito, I'm so sorry."

Raito scowled against the face nuzzling into his hair. He failed to see why Mikami thought any of this was his fault. Then again, judging from his attack on Osoreda, Raito could infer that Teru wasn't the most rational of people.

"It's… It's alright. I'm alright," Raito muttered, "I know how to deal with situations like that. I know how… My dad's a detective."

Teru would have none of it.

"No," he swore into Raito's hair, "We should never have gotten on that bus…"

"And where would we have gone?" Raito argued, trying to ward Teru away from the brink of an emotional breakdown.

Though Raito knew very well the answer to his question.

"I don't know," Teru evaded expertly, "To a movie… dinner… something like that. I should have offered the instant the rain started…"

"We're both fine," Raito sighed into Teru's shirt, wrapping his arms gingerly around the other man's back.

"I didn't know if the first two bullets connected," ranted Mikami, "and when I saw what the third one did… I couldn't help but wonder if you were still alive…"

"And here I am," hushed Raito. Then he lied, "I was worried about you, too."

"Oh for shame!" cried a distant, wailing voice.

Ah. Raito had forgotten that Ryuzaki even existed…

Curiously, he ventured a muffled, "Shut up, Ryuzaki."

"Hm?" asked Teru, gently pushing Raito away from him in order to look at him. The brunette shrugged under the scrutiny and said, "Nothing. It's nothing."

For a long while, Raito was left only with the sounds of the rain hitting the sidewalk, the wetness in his hair, the horribly sad mellow to Teru's eyes, and the steady whining of Ryuzaki.

The last of which, Raito could do without.

"Let's go."

The brunette blinked a few times, honestly surprised by the randomness of Teru's suggestion. He observed the older man skeptically, wondering what his motives were. His eyes fluttered rapidly from right to left.

Perhaps he was hearing the rising squall of the sirens in the distance.

Hm…

"But we'll be fleeing the scene of a crime," Raito argued as Teru tried to pull him away, "Last time I checked, that was bad."

"Everyone knows who the culprit was," Mikami cut in quickly, "And I don't want to be around when the police get here. They just complicate things."

"Police complicate things?" quoted Raito as a devil's advocate, "I thought you wanted to be a lawyer."

"Prosecuting attorney," Teru corrected hurriedly, "because I want to get things done. Now… I really don't want to get involved with this. I don't want to get you involved in this." The older man looked down on him sadly, his black hair drooping into his eyes, "You've gone through enough trouble for one day."

Raito sighed, defeated. Apparently, a determined Teru Mikami was a force to be reckoned with. He didn't want to seem suspicious, fleeing a crime scene like this, but Raito supposed it was harmless. After all, A and W did not yet know that he could kill using other methods than heart attacks.

"Alright," he conceded.

Teru gave him a conciliatory squeeze of the arm before the two of them unassumingly and simultaneously fled from the sirens.

Raito managed to walk quietly for a few minutes. The rain was still falling, much to his delight. This way, he would have an excuse to further anger his father and stay the night at Teru's. He doubted that, under normal circumstances, Teru would have allowed him to spend the night. If his earlier concern was anything to rule by, the older man was more spurred by Raito than he was by his own welfare.

The rain, combined with Soichiro's unspeakable anger, would suffice as an explanation.

There was always the chance that his father could get desperate enough to send law enforcement to raid the apartment and extract Raito from therein, but Raito doubted his father would make such a rash decision. He'd be giving himself away along with the plans of any higher power he was working for.

"Raito-kun," a drab voice lamented, "I thought you'd like to know this: I'm dreading your thought process as of the present."

Raito cast a secretive glance at Ryuzaki and mouthed, 'Deal with it.'

The psychopomp visibly deflated, as if that was possible with his currently diminutive stature and self-satisfaction. "I suppose it was my optimism that regarded our earlier conversation as productive, wasn't it?"

Raito shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. The little bastard just had to bring that up again…

"Forgive me," Ryuzaki pled wryly. When Raito cracked open his eyes, he noticed with distaste that the mini-death was miserably examining the sidewalk and following at a much greater distance than usual.

"Something wrong?" asked Teru. Raito snapped his line of vision back to his not-boyfriend and replied offhandedly that it was nothing, not entirely wanting him to believe it.

If he was going to play his part in this act, he was going to do it completely. Schizo-Raito all the way.

His eyes wandered a bit too noticeably back over his shoulder. There Ryuzaki was, looking about as cheerful as a drowned puppy, dodging cracks in the sidewalk. Try as he might, he couldn't fight off the bashfulness he felt at discarding Ryuzaki in such a way.

He shouldn't have been surprised, though. Ryuzaki was becoming a greater emotional burden each day. Raito was afraid that at any moment, he might start caring.

Who was he kidding?

He already had.

Teru flagged down a cab, perhaps frightened by Raito's retrospection that they were being followed. As he filed about in his wallet for cash, he mumbled for the driver to take him to the address of his apartment, only a few blocks away.

The driver nodded and Raito shuffled into the mediocrely kept back seat. Mikami handed the driver his cash beforehand and sidled in after Raito. Ryuzaki, oddly devoid of any devious comments, melted into the front seat beside the unwitting cabby.

The five minutes it took to get to Mikami's apartment were spent in awkward silence, not even Ryuzaki muttering anything small as a syllable.

----

"So, do you want me to drive you home? I have a car."

"No…"

"Why not?"

"Well, could I just… stay the night with you?"

"Raito… please. Let me drive you home. Like I said, you've already gone through enough trouble for one day."

This was exactly what L was afraid of. Not only would he have to ward Mikami away from Raito all night using various supernatural methods of persuasion, but he would also be forced to endure the sweet-talk.

Mikami's fridge would have to serve as collateral until L got his Raito back.

His.

His, goddammit.

He wasn't about to lose Raito to any stick-in-the-mud mortal, voluntarily or otherwise on Raito's part. L wouldn't have it. No more Mr. Nice-guy. He had resolved to bark orders to Raito all night. No more kissing, first of all. Doubtless, Raito would disobey him for the hell of it, but L would resort to drastic measures if the need arose. He would break things. He would flicker lights. He would haunt the entire apartment until Raito knew that L was the boss.

L determined what was legal and illegal.

L wrote the rules.

"My dad is really angry at me…" Raito whined, making himself sound like an abused child, "so I'd rather not go home tonight."

Mikami's- curse him –demeanor softened somewhat. "You're afraid of your father?"

"Right now, yes," Raito sighed pathetically.

Mikami thought for a moment, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. He heaved a heavy rush of air before conceding to Raito's evil demands. What he didn't know was that with Raito came L.

And with L came impending disaster.

He plotted as he followed Raito and Mikami into the foyer of the mundane, brick apartment complex. The carpets were an average cream color with the usual frequency of coffee stains. The walls were a drab beige and rimmed with adequately carved wood. The stairs creaked, the air was musty, and all in all, L was determined to discover Mikami's apartment to be the most mundane thing he'd ever seen.

When they'd reached the top of the third stair and trudged down the hallway, stopping at a rather bland wooden door, L sharpened his mind in preparation for the longest satire he ever intended to think.

Key in the door… Mikami fiddled with his hair in his free hand. Door unlocked… Raito stared at the floor. Door open, and…

Well.

L was on the verge of giving up and walking off.

As much as he'd love to accuse Mikami's furniture of being generally tasteless, he found himself appreciating the leather and simplicity. The door opened directly into a small living room, complete with huge, wall-encompassing windows and a beautiful view of the street. A slightly curved white leather couch stretched in the lower center of the room, a decent-sized, glossy television screen yawning against the opposite wall. Another prim piece of white leather furniture, being a lounge chair, loafed in a near corner of the room next to a simple steel floor lamp. Potted plants stood just outside the windows, enjoying the weather on the balcony.

To top the affair off, everything rested in meticulously white carpeting.

Everything was WHITE.

White and steel, with a splash of color from the contemporary art pieces stuck everywhere and the rose-finished trim near the base of each wall.

Much to his delight, L found the perfection of Mikami's apartment the most disgusting thing he had ever seen.

"This is nice," hummed Raito appreciatively, absorbing the lighting and interior design.

"Feh," spat L.

"I'm glad you like it," replied Mikami with a slump of relief.

"I love it," Raito announced, genuinely wondering at the state of the neon-white carpeting, "It's so… clean."

"Really? I was afraid it was a bit dirty…"

"Are you kidding?" Raito wandered into what L supposed was the kitchen, "Look at these floors! They're spotless!"

L bit at his thumb. So Raito liked everything clean and orderly, did he? Ah, well, L got the hint that when Mikami mentioned 'dirty,' he wasn't describing his floors.

"Yes," laughed Mikami, "Now stay here for a moment so I can go clean the rest of my house."

Whether or not that was meant to be taken as a racy statement, L kicked mud at it and declared it filthy. The instant Mikami was out of earshot, Raito whirled to face him in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Grow up," he barked with his arms crossed and his shoeless feet tapping impatiently at the wood floor.

"Oh 'grow up,' must I?" L retorted hotly, "I fear it may be you who needs a crash-course in maturity." L wasn't going to go light on him this time. Raito was getting what he had coming to him.

Raito was unprepared for this remark, apparent by the unveiled shock in his eyes. His face began the slow procession to a blush. "Don't tell me what's wrong with me!" he barked, "And don't tell me how to think, either."

"I'm not telling you how to think, Raito." Hah! No suffixes. Eat it, Raito! "I'm telling you how to act. If you're going to hang around with Mikami and fool around, there will be consequences."

"I think I can take care of myself, thanks, Mom," Raito sneered, "Besides, you'll just hop out the window for a few hours!" he gestured dramatically with his arms in great, waving arcs toward the window, "But you've tried that before and you always come back!"

"Oh no, Raito," L did it again! "I'm not going to leave. I'm going to stay here, and if either of you tries anything funny, you especially, I will make your evening a hell-on-earth. Understand?"

Raito seemed at a stuttering loss for words. Of course he was. Usually, L never treated him as anything less than an equal, and L was beginning to take guilty pleasure in treating Raito like a child. He made his sadistic goal to turn Kira as submissive as possible. If L's night on Raito's balcony in the rain was anything to rule by, the guilt trick was the loose stone in the brunette's fortress.

"I'm not going to try anything funny," Raito defended. Well wasn't this odd? Raito never defended himself passively. He always threw another insult without care for its landing. L's devilish plot of absolute surrender was already wavering on its foundations. Unwilling to give up that easily or fall into what could possibly have been a trap, L fired back, "You'd better not. I am not to be pushed around, as you have done lately. I am not to be trifled with. When I say no funny business, I mean it."

"I just want to sleep in peace. You know I couldn't have gotten a good night's sleep with my dad yelling at me," Raito reasoned.

"And whose fault is that?" L retorted.

Raito averted his eyes and sulked. L wouldn't be fooled that easily. He'd heard the whole argument over the phone, including the part where Raito intentionally made his father angry.

"I need this, Ryuzaki," he sighed, finally.

L's eyes nearly bugged straight out of their sockets. Needed what?

"Being a rebel will justify my reasons for keeping to myself all the time. I need more evidence that I'm just a normal teenager, not Kira."

L knew that. What he couldn't figure out was why Raito was willing to go to such lengths to prove his innocence. "Won't your father worry about your sudden personality change?" L inquired with a thumb to his teeth.

Raito clicked his tongue. "No. I've been gone a lot, saying I'm 'with friends.' I've always spent time alone in my room, too. He never knew until now that I might have been doing something other than studying."

"Hm," hummed L irrelevantly, "That doesn't change the fact that I don't want you getting too close to Mikami."

"But…" Raito sighed, "If I don't, I'm doing him an injustice-"

"You've done him enough injustice by using him in the first place," L stated resolutely.

Upon hearing this, Raito was struck down. "I'm not… I just…" he suddenly knotted a hand in his hair and whined, "Why do you have to do this?"

Angry at being put on the spot again.

L rolled his eyes. There was no answer to that question, easy or not. Even if there were, L knew from experience that Raito wouldn't have it.

"You aren't justice, no matter how much you may think you are," L muttered, "And you very well know that there is more injustice to be had by the unfair treatment of certain persons, the names of which I hope I needn't remind you."

"You jealous son of a bitch!" Raito hissed.

L was getting angry again. To emphasize this, he straightened from his slouch, squared his shoulders, and curled his fingers around his hips. "Is it just me," he argued, "or have we gone through this many times before?"

Raito growled and worried the belt-loops on his jeans.

L began to pace around the living room carpet. What if he'd been misreading Raito's obscure, scrawled, thrown-about signs? What if he'd misinterpreted Raito's feelings? He'd seen a glimmer of hope today and the day when Raito had walked home from his first date. Was it the wrong kind of glimmer?

Was it L's optimism?

Did Raito have absolutely no feelings for him at all?

"Raito-kun," L lamented, slipping back into respectful terms of endearment, "If you hate me, just tell me." He stopped pacing and gave the brunette what he imagined to be the most miserable double-o in the history of the human world. Raito was going to say, 'Duh!' of course. L had been such a fool for hoping.

Raito, in all his infernal hesitation, twitched a finger and remained silent.

Huh! Postponing the inevitable, was he? Perhaps he wouldn't say 'no' after all. He'd say something like, 'I want to be friends.' Raito didn't want the mini-death to fly off, leaving him to die after all. "What's wrong?" L taunted, "Can't tell me? Can't say to my face what you're thinking in your head? I'm ugly, I'm stupid, I say all the wrong things, I wear no shoes, my hair is dirty, or how about insulting me for existing? Believe you me, it's caused me more problems than it has you."

"Ryuzaki," Raito sighed painfully, trying to keep his dignity through fleeting attempts at eye-contact, "I don't hate you…"

"Of course not," L mocked, "because if you hated me, I'd disappear. If I disappear, you die."

Halfway through his sentence, L realized what he was doing and he flowed with it. It had been his unconscious aim to make Raito as angry as possible. Raito's true colors flew like a flag when his emotions came through.

Raito mumbled over a bitten bottom lip, "I'm trying to-"

"Try not. Do," L mimicked in a furiously cryptic voice a line Yoda would have found familiar.

"Don't push it, Ryuzaki," Raito barked. L could tell by the fire in his eyes and the sudden burst of confidence that if L had been human, the brunette would have punched him.

"Tell me how much you hate me, Raito," L hissed, spreading his arms and curling his fingers, "Tell me so I can let you go."

Let him go? Who was L kidding? He was going to be hopelessly beached on the desolate shores of romance. At least if he was certain that Raito hated every bone in his body, he could give up and rot in peace.

"Ryuzaki," Raito hissed, voice low, "I don't hate you!"

"Raito, why do you have to do this to me?" L wailed through gritted teeth, yanking violently at his hair. "Try as I might, I cannot read your mind! Tell me straight out! What do you think of me?"

"I can't say it!" Raito lamented, nails digging into the sides of his face. "I can't!"

"Say it! You hate me, you always have, and you want me to leave you alone!"

"I can't!"

"You will!"

"I can't say it, Ryuzaki! I won't!"

"And why not?"

"I can't," Raito cried for the umpteenth time. Much to L's horror and intrigue, a shake had found its way into the brunette's voice. He'd dug his palms into the contours of his eyes and shuddered. A slow, guttering breath, "I just can't."

Without much warning, Raito retreated into the kitchen, found himself an alcove between one counter and another, and didn't come back.

----

Kira didn't cry.

Crying was for women and boys who stayed home. Tears weren't for men. Soichiro never cried. Teru never cried.

Raito never cried.

When he felt that telltale sting spreading from the bridge of his nose and seeping into his eyes, Raito panicked.

Because men didn't cry.

Especially not over this.

He never felt so much as a pinch behind his eyes when anyone else yelled at him. Granted, he hadn't been yelled at many times. Notwithstanding, he'd desensitized himself with sad movies, the occasional inappropriate thing in the strictest available class, and once in a while, a fight with his father.

Nothing made him cry.

Nothing.

He was angry and confused. Upset. He knew that Ryuzaki should not have brought any form of guilt, and yet he did it on a regular basis. When Soichiro ranted over the phone, Raito had felt nothing short of smug. If Teru ever raised his voice, Raito was certain he wouldn't care.

And then there was Ryuzaki, who made Raito want to find a closet and never come out.

Raito didn't hate him, but Ryuzaki seemed certain that this wasn't the case. He said he wanted Raito to hate him so he could 'let him go.'

What also scared the living shit out of Raito was the fact that this statement made him uneasy. It wasn't because of the 'I leave you and you die,' part of the bargain that had him spooked, either. Raito knew very well what was making his skin crawl.

He didn't like it.

It mortified him.

When his girlfriends decided he was expendable, or vise-versa, the rejecting party had merely to say, 'We're done,' and so it was. Raito was sure that a breakup with Mikami would do no measurable damage on his nerves.

When Ryuzaki hinted toward disappearance, the brunette had a panic attack.

Raito leaned his back against the side of the counter and tried to force away the tightness in his lungs.

It shouldn't have been there, and he was angry at it for creeping in. The spasmodic tremors in his hands were completely unwelcome. He dug his nails through the fabric of his jeans and into his thighs.

He managed a scornful laugh. What a sight he must've been. If Mikami were to walk in right then, Raito would have died on the spot. His eyes were probably red and puffy, his arms and legs were shaking like maracas, his hair was a mess, and he couldn't even breathe right!

All because of something stupid Ryuzaki said!

It wasn't right!

It wasn't right!

Now those goddamn tears were coming again! Raito could feel them bleeding from the corners of his eyes. He buried his face in the crooks of his elbows, pressed his back into the counter with the soles of his feet, and bit down on his tongue until his eyes dried up again.

Raito had his pride. He reasoned with himself that the mini-death was no one to be concerned about. He was blowing everything Ryuzaki said out of proportion.

Raito and Ryuzaki were both angry. Both of them said stupid things when they were angry. All he had to do was swallow his shame and wait until Ryuzaki calmed down. Despite how deeply the mini-death felt about Raito, he would cool off eventually and Raito would be in control again.

He pushed off of the counter with his arm, rolling his shoulders once he was off of the floor. Raito casually swept the dust off of his pants, sniffled his first and only time that night to clear his nose, and examined his face in the reflective surface of Mikami's microwave door. He squinted, trying to make out the redness of his eyes, and then decided that it wasn't important.

Raito raised his head up, standing straight and proud, and plotted his gait with mechanical efficiency. He could sense Ryuzaki lurking just around the corner of the doorframe and he wasn't about to let himself appear stricken. He blew past Ryuzaki without a word. Raito felt the skin on the nape of his neck rise stiffly and he knew that Ryuzaki's eyes were tracking him across the carpet.

Raito kept his eyes carefully focused on the wall in front of him.

Ryuzaki never said a word.

The brunette ran a hand along the leather sofa as casually as he could before deeming it suitable for his lounging pleasure. He flopped onto it and pretended that no notable events had recently occurred.

A tall, dark, silent shadow morphed from the part of the apartment Raito hadn't been shown.

Raito watched from the boundaries of his peripheral vision as Teru gravely made his way across the room. The steady rhythm of his feet on the carpet ceased directly over Raito's shoulder. After a moment of tense silence, Teru asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," replied Raito without a moment's hesitation.

Silence.

Teru shuffled his feet and Raito wondered if he seemed too far off for the other man to find believable.

"I heard you yelling," the tall shadow murmured quietly, almost in the manner a tamer spoke to a tiger. Raito feigned dispassion as he yawned, "Just an old acquaintance of mine. We had an argument," and he added, "over the phone," for safety.

"Sounded like a big argument," Teru grumbled as he settled into the opposite side of the couch.

Raito dismissed the idea with a flick of the hand. He wondered how much Teru had heard and understood, but he kept his curiosity to himself.

Interestingly, the other man delved into his personal life and reflected, "You make enemies quickly, don't you?"

Raito's response to this was to gaze incredulously at Teru and blink several times in rapid succession. "Not usually, no," he retorted, having nothing better to say, "I just keep in better touch with my enemies, I guess."

"Enemies," barked Ryuzaki, fiery mood still alight.

Raito ignored him.

"I see," Teru mused. "Am I allowed to ask about this person to whom you were speaking?"

Ah ha. So he did understand what Raito and Ryuzaki had been talking about. The brunette could easily have grinned and waved a haughty hand, saying, 'just an old boyfriend,' or 'we broke up years ago,' but Ryuzaki would have gotten the wrong idea.

Oddly, the possibility made his spine prickle.

In lieu of an explanation, Raito ventured, "It's a sore subject."

"I see," said Teru.

Ryuzaki lurked unhappily in the corner.

"So…" Teru saved Raito from having to explain further, "Do you watch football?"

Raito replied that he did, though he didn't follow the sport. He didn't watch much television anyway, and when he did, he was watching the news, tennis, or soap operas.

Football was an admirable sport, though, and Raito knew enough about it to retain interest.

Though, he couldn't understand for the life of him why Americans called it 'soccer.'

Teru's impressive television flickered on, displaying a range of color far wider than the one Raito took for granted on his own set. A thought occurred to him then, and he needed as many random thoughts as he could wrap his arms around in order to block out the suppressive atmosphere that was Ryuzaki. "How can you afford all of this stuff?"

Teru blinked at him, then admitted, "I don't have much else to spend my money on."

"You sure you don't have rich parents?" Raito kidded with an impish grin.

Old Fluff-and-Feathers did as Ryuzaki described him to do, puffing out all of his notable features in defiance.

Gah! There he went, bringing the fuming, moping mini-death back to mind…

"Like I said! I have nothing else to spend my money on!" Teru dragged Raito out of his reverie with an indignant snort. "And if you must know," he sulked, "My family doesn't believe in financial help."

Raito surrendered with a wave of both hands and fell back into a silent mood. Having Teru there, though, commenting on certain kicks and goal attempts, did more than enough to buffer Raito's spirits. He wasn't about to slip into a depression just yet.

"Don't get too comfortable," Ryuzaki warned from behind, voice effectively resonating about the room. Raito breathed a puff of listless air into the room and sank in his seat.

Raito predicted that the next few hours of his life would be spent without incident.

Wrong.

Ryuzaki had not been lying when he said he was going to mold Raito's night into a hell-on-earth.

Teru's arm had slithered halfway around Raito's shoulders when suddenly, the floor lamp near the lounge chair was mysteriously extinguished. Teru muttered at the empty room and cast a leery eye in the lamp's direction. Raito suggested that the light bulb burnt out.

The second incident, however, was not as easily remedied. Raito and Teru had been engaged in an enrapturing conversation about the Freshman Fifteen. Apparently, their faces had gotten too close together and- "What on earth was that?" Teru yelped, freezing in his spot when something from the unexplored section of the apartment crashed and shattered.

Raito shrugged his shoulders as the agitated older man crept out of his seat and slunk toward the door. He disappeared for a time, during which Ryuzaki morphed through the wall behind the television and 'hmph'ed to himself. His raccoon eyes flickered to meet Raito's in a flash and the brunette cursed himself for looking down as he did.

Teru thundered into the room then. "I can't understand it," he muttered, "That was my favorite vase…"

Wisely, Raito remarked, "Maybe our closeness is making certain restless spirits angstier than usual…"

"You think?" Teru snorted in wry humor.

"Why not?" suggested the brunette with a shrug of the shoulders.

"You believe in ghosts?" Teru grinned as a lion with a mouse trapped in its claws.

Raito played the part of the unwillingly superstitious teenager. "No," he denied as he twirled a lock of auburn hair in his fingertips.

This secretive remark of Raito's summoned Teru's unlikely library of horror films. Raito marveled at the haphazard rainbow of DVD spines lining the prim little hutch against the wall.

He picked one, an obscure title, and pulled it out of line with a well-placed index finger.

Several times during said obscure film, Raito subconsciously drifted toward Teru, or vise-versa depending on the scene, and something miraculously supernatural would occur. Once, Ryuzaki announced to the air that he was going to start a fire with Teru's toaster and Raito recoiled, pretending to have an itch. Another incident involved the mysterious disappearance of the remote control, which Teru then found to be in said toaster, a silent threat of the house fire Ryuzaki was not at loath to start. The third and most notable time (though these incidents weren't merely limited to three) found the fan on Mikami's ceiling rotating without provocation.

Teru noticed this.

"Alright," he announced loudly to no one in particular, "I'm beginning to consider what you said earlier."

"About the restless spirits?" Raito grinned.

"Yes," Teru admitted dryly, eyes focused grimly on the ceiling fan, which quietly maintained its relentless, moderately-paced spin. "I don't believe in ghosts, but this is much too strange to be coincidental." He then eyed Raito queerly and asked, "Do you think we should call someone?"

"I doubt that would do anything helpful," Raito reasoned in all truth. He could clearly see Ryuzaki kicking bemusedly at every other fan blade as it moseyed by.

"What do you think would help?"

"All honesty?"

"Yes."

"Sit over there."

Teru shuffled experimentally onto the other side of the couch.

Whirr. Whirr. Whirrr… Whirrrrrr…

Bam.

Stopped.

Ryuzaki had done a peculiar victory dance with his heels before halting the fan with one toe. Raito gave him the evil eye, attempting to offset his unintentional display of eye-averting surrender earlier. Ryuzaki met his gaze with a passive eye as cold and sharp as a plane of glass.

"I think it worked," muttered Teru pointedly.

"Yeah," Raito deadpanned without relenting to Ryuzaki's shadow gaze.

"Does that mean I can't snuggle with you anymore?" Teru whined theatrically.

"Yep," Raito crowed smugly, reaching his arms behind his head in a comfortable yawn. Teru leaned over, coming dangerously close to falling over, just to elbow Raito in the side.

Ryuzaki made a loud noise of discontent and whirled the fan one last time.

"Wow," remarked Teru with his shimmering black eyes focused on the ceiling fan once again. Raito noticed just then that he wasn't wearing his glasses.

Interesting.

Teru agreed not to come anywhere near Raito on the playful terms that he would be doubly molested the next time they met. Raito agreed to Teru's rules, but laid no claim on the magical interference which would undoubtedly happen. Teru quirked an eyebrow and asked whether Raito had strange mind-powers that he was using to keep the older man away. Raito replied with a calm, "Powers? Hah! What powers?"

Their dinner consisted of two microwaved cups of ramen, upon which Raito reflected that Teru must not have been a very good cook. Ryuzaki eyed their food selfishly, and as if having a sudden flashback of insight, whisked himself into the kitchen. Raito hoped Teru wouldn't need anything in that fridge of his.

After his second horror film had run its course, Teru declared that, taking into consideration the nature of recent events, he'd had enough of the supernatural for one night.

They rounded out the night with one of Raito's personal favorite soap operas. It was a rerun, but the brunette found the nostalgia comforting as he recited line after line in his head. Teru, on the other hand, was new to the affair, as became apparent by his relationship with the nearest throw-pillow. He squished it when the main character said, "I'm pregnant, Ichigo!" and especially when she announced, "But the baby's not yours!"

Oh, who could it be, who could it be…

Raito knew that the father was played by the up-and-coming pop-star, Ryuga Hideki.

But he wasn't about to let anyone know.

Interestingly enough, Ryuzaki's matte black eyes were trained on the screen as well. Having doubtlessly spent the refrigerator, he was in search of a new means of entertainment.

At least he wasn't being as annoying anymore. Honestly.

The clock struck eleven.

As if on cue, Raito let his fatigue be known. He yawned and shut his eyes for a few seconds.

"You tired?" Teru ventured with a smile. Raito glanced wearily at him. He noticed by the squint to the other man's stare that his contacts were drying out.

"Yeah," Raito admitted with another yawn, "I should go to bed. I have an appointment with the psych-ward tomorrow."

Teru's eyebrows absorbed any questions he may have had.

"Well, I guess I should be off too," he mentioned, singsong.

The only light shining in the room came from the flickering television. Footsteps which Raito periodically heard on the ceiling had vanished. The sun was down and the streetlights blared. All in all, Raito's fatigue was multiplying with each night-like quality of his environment.

"So," Teru's languid voice drawled, "Do you want to sleep out here or in my room?"

Raito and Ryuzaki shot him a simultaneous dirty look.

Teru laughed and ate his words. "By that, I meant that you'd steal my bed and I'd sleep out here. Whichever works for you."

Out of the courtesy of his soul, Raito refused to take Teru's room from him. That, and he wanted to get to sleep as quickly as possible. The day was catching up to him.

The brunette yawned in earnest this time, reaching a palm up to his mouth. He didn't need to utter a syllable before Teru was up and out of the room with an, "I'll be right back."

Teru's lights cast fading white beams on his carpet as they bent through the open archway. Every once in a while the fleeting shadow of Teru, accomplishing this detail and that, would block the light.

Soon, the figure which reemerged from the archway was not Teru, but a bipedal mound of drooping quilts. It stumbled into the room and muttered laboriously, "This apartment tends to get cold at night because of the windows-" it gestured with a lean to the wall-encompassing panes of glass on the room's far side, "-and I thought you might need these."

Hm. No wonder Raito's feet had been getting so cold.

The blanket-monster had made its way to the side of the couch opposing Raito. It unceremoniously dumped itself onto the couch, sheets of every manner of fabric flailing to and fro. Who should emerge from the mound but a very accomplished-looking Teru Mikami. "I guarantee you'll need all of them," he crowed.

Raito took a gander at the colossal mass of cotton, polyester, linen, wool, and rayon which had been spilled onto his couch.

He goggled.

"Where did these come from?" Raito asked, a bit delirious from the sheer weight of the fabric.

"Well," began Teru with a meek scratch of the head, "I figured you needed them more than I do, so…"

"No," denied Raito.

"'No' what?" asked Teru.

"You're taking them back."

"You don't like my blankets?" whined Teru in mock-agony.

"You'll freeze to death," remarked Raito.

"I'll be fine," the dark-haired man dismissed with a wave of the arm. Before Raito could object, Teru announced that he was drawing the curtains to keep the heat in. He also asked if Raito wanted a change of clothes to sleep in.

Raito replied that no, he was fine in his jeans.

Teru brought him a set of blue, plaid, flannel sleepwear anyway.

Out of courtesy, mind you, and not the fact that his goose bumps were suddenly testifying to the brunt of the temperature, Raito retreated into the bathroom and changed into Teru's pajamas. Raito could wrap his fists in the leftover sleeve material as well as trip over the folds of his pajama pants, but he figured loose pajamas were more comfortable anyway. That, and Teru had some mighty luxurious laundry detergent.

He pussyfooted out of the bathroom, working the secrets to remaining un-tripped in loose clothing. Teru was waiting for him in the living room.

Raito sighed and slumped, defeated by Teru's innocent good nature.

The brunette had been gone all of two minutes and he already had a lavishly made bed waiting for him in the living room. Comfortable, downy pillows replaced the overstuffed throw-pillows and the cushions of the couch were draped in layers of every manner of fluffy-looking cloth known to man.

"You're too nice," Raito deadpanned honestly.

"I try to be," Teru managed a disarming smile while he waited for Raito to test the bed he'd made. Raito did so, crawling experimentally beneath the shell of fabric, day-clothes packed under one arm. He found it to be irresistibly cozy. An overwhelming riptide of languid warmth pulled him beneath the blankets and he refused to come back out. Raito selfishly pulled his quilts up around his face and buried his nose in the four pillows Teru had provided him.

"Comfy?" the older man asked with dry wit.

"Hmm…" Raito drawled coyly, "It could use a little perfume…"

But he was lying. Raito was surrounded in the most heavenly material he'd ever smelled. He would have to record Teru's laundry detergent.

"Huh," the older man chortled, "You're out of luck."

"I think I can handle it…" Raito yawned.

Hmm… sandalwood-ish… a little cinnamon… something sweet…

Teru sighed another wistful laugh before striding over to where Raito was curled contently into his nest. Raito glanced up to see his rich, black hair haloed in the light from the archway. Teru's black eyes were soft and clear and his lips curled upward in a light smile. "Can I get a goodnight kiss?" he asked.

Raito's eyes flickered over to Ryuzaki on the ceiling, giving him a glare that said, 'You had BETTER not ruin this!' Ryuzaki only drew his bottom lip out, puffed a sigh of air, and said, "Make it quick."

Honey-brown eyes brought Teru back into focus. He hummed in his throat before turning his head and smiling a smug affirmative.

Teru leaned in and Raito closed his eyes.

"Oh for shame…" muttered Ryuzaki.

Teru's lips were soft and gentle, not pushing toward some ulterior motive. Warm, and comforting. The sensation was gone as soon as it came, though, short as it was sweet. Teru's lips lingered for a wistful moment before he thought better of himself and the heat of his body faded altogether.

Raito cracked open one eye and smirked

"G'night," he mumbled.

"'Night," bid Teru with one last affectionate ruffle of the hair. He walked away slowly, like he wanted to stay, but knew he couldn't. The kiss spoke of that too, but Mikami was conscious of his limits, and Raito respected him for it.

Teru vanished through the archway and all light was suddenly gone from the apartment. The only sound Raito could hear was the steady clicking of the clock on the wall.

And the aggravated sighs of one brooding psychopomp in the shadow of the ceiling fan.

Face half-buried in blankets, Raito curled into himself when he noticed the unnatural frigidity of the air. He dared a gander at Ryuzaki. In the muted luminescence from the curtains, Raito could only make out two gleaming white and black orbs floating in the distance.

He retreated further into his fortress and closed his eyes without a sound.

"Happy, are you?" a dark voice resonated from the gloom.

No answer.

"I hope so," the voice continued, "I hope that pathetic excuse for a kiss made your trip worthwhile."

Raito shut his eyes tighter against the humiliating stab of Ryuzaki's words. He was determined not to let the mini-death win this round. Kira had to be a big boy and stick up for himself.

"And I hope he makes you happy," Ryuzaki sneered darkly through his teeth.

Raito glued his lips shut using mere force of will.

Having waited for a reply and receiving none, Ryuzaki muttered, "Nothing to say, have you? Going to leave me in suspense for another day?"

Raito gave in. "Ryuzaki…"

"I've seen the look on your face all evening. If you find me disgusting, tell me."

Dammit, this again? "Lay off," Raito demanded lowly, "I already told you, I don't hate you."

"Then what do you feel?" Ryuzaki sneered.

Dammit, dammit, goddammit! Raito pulled his blankets over his head in an attempt to drown out any other vocalizations from an angry psychopomp.

He didn't know what he felt! He'd tried to discover that earlier in the day, but his brain couldn't hold onto the concept long enough! In a nutshell, Ryuzaki had told him that he was very much in love with him.

Raito had been grappling with the concept of falling in love with a coon-eyed, monkey-toed nonhuman for a long time. He couldn't understand it. There were no fluttery feelings in his chest when he was around Ryuzaki, there were no wistful glances exchanged. There was no touch, no smell, no taste, no anything to Ryuzaki.

He wasn't physically attractive, articulate, or sociable. So why the hell couldn't Raito visualize being without him?

Ryuzaki was just… there.

Perhaps that was what made him so important.

Raito was used to Ryuzaki. He'd become like a second state of consciousness. He was always there, annoying much-needed words out of Raito. He was on constant lookout for anything remotely dangerous and expressed borderline hysterical worry over every single hair on Raito's head.

He cared.

No strings attached.

So why did Raito snap whenever the mini-death mentioned love? Why could he kid around with Teru and not Ryuzaki?

Because Ryuzaki's opinion mattered.

That was why.

For some reason mysterious to Raito, no one's words cut deeper. He hated admitting it. Raito loathed thinking so highly of anyone but himself. Perhaps that was the reason he couldn't understand the emotions Ryuzaki left in him.

His pride had become an invisible barrier, meant to keep disgrace out, which instead trapped Raito's freedom of thought within. The brunette recognized it as a weakness and naturally tried to shove it out of his mind.

"You sound awfully thoughtful," Ryuzaki bit from the edge of Raito's consciousness, referring to the silence in the room.

Tired, frustrated, and in desperate need of answers and sleep all at once, the brunette pulled his blankets back past his chin and sighed, "I can't answer your question." His denial was becoming redundant, but Raito could imagine no other method of refusal other than 'I can't.'

Because it was true.

If Raito admitted that he was a jumbled mess of emotions that were much less than hateful, he would be doubly admitting failure and the frailty of his own thoughts. Anything he felt for Ryuzaki was by no means fitting to a man of his divine stature. Spilling his gushy, garbled guts onto Teru's nice, clean carpet was not an option.

Raito could not do it.

Even more humiliating: Raito had no idea how to answer. He knew he didn't hate Ryuzaki, and that was it. It was impossible for him to decipher his own thoughts. It was as if his subconscious had coded them, knowing that Raito was better left in ignorance of their content.

"You can answer me, and you will," Ryuzaki demanded from his spectral shadow on the ceiling.

"No," Raito refused.

"And why not?"

"Because I-" Shit. Here it came, like hell's locomotive, and Raito was powerless to stop it, "I don't know the answer!"

He could sense rather than see Ryuzaki's shoulders slackening and drooping toward gravity.

Raito failed.

He gave up.

He gave way to Ryuzaki's assault and he had dishonored everything he stood for.

His pride was in shambles. Of all the humiliation in his life, Raito had never admitted to ignorance.

Ever.

Raito was number-one in Japan! Each and every year, he had test results to prove it! So why, for the love of God, did he not know how to respond?

Why couldn't he answer Ryuzaki's goddamn question?

Amidst all this, Ryuzaki hadn't said another word, yet Raito could feel through the palpable silence that he was no longer at his post. The mini-death had crept along the ceiling, scaled the wall, and landed on the floor. He was considerably closer, though in what direction Raito could not discern, and the brunette could tell by the prickling of all the hairs in his scalp.

The ominous presence that was Ryuzaki lingered just inside Raito's personal space.

A long silence, and then, "I wish I knew what to do with you," Ryuzaki sighed heavily.

Not having anything remotely helpful to say, Raito sank further into his cocoon of blankets and folded his arms against his chest. He waited for what seemed like hours in the stagnant darkness, listening only to the dull roar of nocturnal traffic and the beating of his own heart. He'd been expecting Ryuzaki to ramble on about some detail or another, but the voice never came.

He finally closed his aching eyes and breathed a sleepy sigh, hoping to slip blissfully away from his troubles.

Needless to say, he was jolted back into the awkward world of lucidity when the very troubles he intended to escape wrapped their invisible arms around him.

Literally.

Slim ribbons of amber enclosed vast pools of black when Raito stared, wide-eyed, at the arms which had so suddenly appeared.

Ryuzaki had weightlessly settled himself against Raito's side and currently held his midriff captive.

Weightless…

Raito's eyes narrowed again, sleepily. Ryuzaki may not have been human yet, but he could still influence material things… He was using Raito's quilts as a hug-buffer. Against both Raito's frustration and his morals, a twitching, sneering smile jerked unbecomingly onto the brunette's lips.

He was being embraced by a lovesick cloud of arctic air.

Ryuzaki was tragically depressing.

And hopelessly in love.

Raito accepted the gesture, doing nothing to hinder or encourage it. It occurred to him that Ryuzaki's grip would leave arm-sized impressions in his quilts, but he doubted the mini-death would let himself be caught so easily. He trusted Ryuzaki to find something better to occupy his mind with before Teru came to call.

In summation, he decided against shrugging Ryuzaki off.

Comfortable in his shell of cotton, linen, and mini-death, Raito drifted out of consciousness.

----

Chibi Misa: Congratulations! You've just finished the LONGEZT CHAPTAR EVAR!

Chibi L: Moof!

Chibi Raito: No…

Me: -pant, pant- Is that enough of a chapter for you?? A two-fer if I do say so myself.

Chibi Misa: -squints at forty-story tower of words- It's kinda' like two chapters in one…

Me: Hence the intermission. Thought you guys might need a page break.

Chibi Raito: In any case, pardon the tardiness. Swirl was being an idiot for two months.

Me: Pretty much. That, and I was too busy watching Raito and L have their little 'I R JUZTIS' fight in English! Haw! English voices! L's voice screams, 'I R SMEX!' and Raito's makes me go, 'EEEEEE!' I've heard some complaints about their voices, but who cares what other people think?

Chibi Raito: Scratch that.

Me: Erm, yes. Who cares what other people BESIDES reviewers think?

Chibi L: Review! For cookies and for smacking Swirl on the ass and telling her what a bad girl she is for making you wait.

Me: Meh…

Chibi Misa: Review, review, review!