Roughly two months had passed by in a blur that made Raito question if he had even been present to correctly ascertain that.
He supposed it was because he was strangely preoccupied with the little things that made up his days -- routines that would have bored him silly and back when he was still in high school, but now were somewhat relaxing: from waking up in the morning, eating breakfast, going out to get some exercise, avoiding L or searching him out for his amusement, and the other small tasks that he would tinker around with or abandon to his whimsy.
It was …different from what he had come to expect out of life.
School had always been there, an easy taskmaster to please, but a tedious one that needed to continually be kept up with. He liked school, not to get him wrong, for the first couple of years he had been so taken with it that he'd been in a frenzy to prove himself.
However, that passion, like the many others before it, had burned itself out by the time he hit high school, when he'd left the tennis team because he found it wasn't fun anymore… when he found out that a lot of things were pointless and did not keep his attention as he would have liked them to.
Upon entering high school he'd been a little depressed, but between homework, Juku, and his school-boy pride, which was no longer functioning on the desire of outside approval, but on his own want of being the best -- an instinctual reaction sprung up from the mentality of always being "number one" and needing to continue – he'd never had the time to reflect on his choices.
That transition had been a confusing time for him, but he'd come out with the conclusion that he liked the way he was living his life so far and that he was better for it.
Though it had not taken away from the boredom that he phased in and out of during that time, he was still focused, albeit leisurely, but being at his level during those years, leisurely was all it took to get perfect scores on his exams and graduate the top of his class.
Raito could feel the difference that was then and now in his blood.
He knew exactly what had changed in him to turn his outlook into what it was today: the reason why food tasted better and he could lose himself in quiet moments in front of the window.
It was because he had faced ultimate despair in the many silent-as-night cell-rooms that L had trapped him in for those painful months. Stared it in the eyes, fought it down tooth and nail, pleaded with it, gave himself over to it… Raito had become disgustingly familiar with that shadow of human nature that crept into the heart when faced with only the options of surrender or death.
He could sense that something had snapped in him during that time, had simply broken off and was now residing somewhere in snow-filled Russia, like a glacier that had cracked partway through the journey, one half moving on while the other sunk to a place that was no longer accessible to him.
A nagging ache had burned itself onto his brain, like those memories that were no longer his were trying to swim back to the surface and announce their presence to him. But Raito knew better than to think there was anything there.
Sometimes he wished he could remember, but then those fragments of memory that were already in his possession proved to be more than he could handle some days.
'Was it a good thing that he had lost his them?' he would ask himself, but he could never come up with a definite answer.
He'd been furious that he'd been made to give up a part of himself upon hearing the news, and a month had hardly been enough time to work out his emotions so that he had come here bitter and resigned.
Raito could clearly recall the anger in his heart at being locked up, the sheer murderous rage that would take a hold of him every time he sensed someone moving around outside his cell, every time he sensed L watching him through the glass, like he was some kind of rare animal on display. And the fact that he could remember such hate for L, when the deathnote had taken away all emotions tied to his other half, meant that "Kira" had not been the only one with a grudge against the detective.
Though going by the things said in the journal, his other persona had been so desperate to kill L that it did not take much to figure out who wanted his death more.
It was clear that the detective would have had to take precautions with him.
Obviously the rules of the deathnote that would have allowed Raito to keep his memories, if L had gone that route, were messy ones, but insuring personal safety must have crossed the detective's mind when he decided to erase Kira out of existence.
Natural enemies that they were, Raito doubted his former self would have been content to leave things the way they were, and he doubted L would have wanted to take the chance.
But the detective was misleading himself if he thought Raito would be easier to handle.
After all, L had already taken so much from him. He had separated him from his world: from Japan, from his family, from any future career choice that he would have wanted to pursue. And most abhorrent, he had halved his lifespan.
L had taken the possibilities out of his life and given him only one narrow path to travel.
It was only a natural response that Raito would want to expand that road, give himself a wider berth of functioning that would keep him satisfied until he grew apathetic and wanted more.
He was ambitious, but not impatient, and his stay in Russia had made his enduring personality that much stronger, to where L's words of rebuke and flat-out refusal to let him have his way served only as encouragement.
And what he currently had his eyes on was L's title.
It was a small victory, but one that would pave the way for others if L surrendered it over to him.
And for these past months, he had been using different means to ensure that he got it.
Raito tapped out the last sequence on his laptop and pressed the Enter key with finality.
He was getting better at creating viruses, he thought, as he watched his latest one run rampant on the connection that this side of the house shared.
Closing the laptop and smiling at the sound of doors suddenly opening and slamming, and multiple footsteps hurrying down the hallway, Raito nearly laughed aloud when distinct voices cut through the once quiet corridor.
"Seriously, whoever's doing that needs to cut it out or I'm going to stab them."
"I'm not doing it. I have a paper to turn in tomorrow."
"Does anyone have a book on the Study of quantum physics and the grand unification theory? It would really help me out since my computer's flipping out right now."
"I'm going to tell Mr. Roger about this."
Everyone had a computer in their room – the exception being Near, who god knows what he had in his room except toys -- so routinely dependence on the machine was already fixed in practically all of them.
The children of Wammy House were all little machines in a way. They were given the rudimentary schooling for their age group, and then on top of that, they were expected to complete advanced work that had nothing to do with an age group and everything to do with weeding out the weaker ones from the pack.
Homework was assigned, but the weekly cumulative exams were ultimately what decided who was in what place.
And the grading for those exams was a meticulous process that Roger was forever buried in. Raito had once offered to lend the older man a hand and then had found himself simply continuing to help out after that. He could not say he minded, especially when Roger was more open to suggestions from him after he finished the correcting (a task that Raito was plenty good at) and they sat down to discuss any noticeable progress or lack thereof for the files the older man had to keep.
This usually took place in his office, around a striking ebony chess set, which Roger kept on a small mahogany table between two matching chairs.
He didn't have tea time every five minutes like L, but his schedule for it was on the dot, and every day at three he would pull out a china-set that was as elegant as the chessboard and invite Raito to join him.
And it was here that Raito would sometimes "comment" about what he thought would be the acceptable level of work for everyone. He'd always make it a point to say before he even touched on the subject that he thought everyone was improving, and then he would "innocently" follow that by "Maybe they need to be challenged more?"
Then Raito, "out of the kindness of his heart," would offer to create a new exam for the next test date. Roger had been hesitant about the idea when he had offered, saying it might be too much work for him, and the tests were fine the way they were, but the brunette subtly pushed his point until several digging comments later, Roger gave him access to the test files.
Raito supposed he got a big crack out of making each and every child in this house miserable, because the first time they saw the test he created for them, there was a lot eye bugging and "wtf"- expressions that made Raito promptly walk out of the classroom and laugh himself stupid against the nearest wall.
He might be still having trouble sleeping, but it was a comforting thought to know that now he wasn't going to be the only one. Not with the nightmares those kids were going to have from the results of their exams.
"I was in the middle of an online deathmatch and then it signs me out because I lost my connection. That's not even funny." Matt looked to the person beside him for some sympathy.
"Yes, your troubles seem great," L told him. "But I don't see what it has to do with me."
"But I've tried everything and I can't get it back on, so my only conclusion is that someone's messing around with our internet for kicks. And nobody in the orphanage is that evil, so I'm pretty sure my problem lies with Kiyoko."
L sighed and lengthened his strides so he could get away from the boy. "Again, I do not see what this has to do with me. Also a word of advice, Kiyoshi-kun is a very short-tempered individual, so please do not call him that to his face. I do not want any of my successors to go missing. Though that would somewhat upset me in your case."
"But what about my problem?" the boy persisted.
"It seems you only become talkative when your games are put in danger. I am happy that you have found something that you can devote yourself to, but I am also equally happy when you keep your problems to yourself." L realized that despite being taller and having longer legs, getting away from children was going to take more than physical attributes.
"I don't have a problem with him – it's just that today he's crossing the line. You should have seen my score."
"Where is Mello?" L asked as the reminder of the blond should get Matt to go away.
"He's studying like he's possessed; and when I went to go see him, he threw my handheld out the window and broke it."
'Ah' L thought, seeing his solution in front of him. "I will give you money to buy a new one if you leave me alone."
"That teaches me bad morals," Matt replied, like he somehow was above that kind of thing, even though it was common knowledge around the orphanage that he liked to steal. "Oh I get it." He pulled up his goggles. "You're going to see Minako-san. That's why you're in such a hurry to ditch me."
He gave L a knowing look.
"I saw her today wearing a skirt this shor—"
Before Matt could finish his sentence, L slapped him in the back of the head and looked on indifferently as the boy rubbed the spot.
"Minako-san is free to wear her clothing however she sees fit, and you and every other boy currently in the throes of puberty will look at the parts that are covered."
Walking on, L made a shooing motion and informed him that: "Roger is the one who holds my funds, so please go talk to him about your concerns."
"Okay, but aren't you going the wrong way," Matt noted as he watched L bypass the staircase.
"When I visit Minako-san is no one's business, and that goes doubly for Kiyoshi. Now go away before I tell Mello you have a crush on him."
"S-shut up," Matt suddenly stuttered, losing his usual cool and running down the stairs at full speed, clunky boots making it sound like a procession of ten and not one.
L was not trying to be mean-spirited, but he knew Matt did not really care for anything he had to say.
Unlike Mello, who was quite compliant with his wishes, and Near, who was barely halfway conforming to what needed to be done, Matt had absolutely no interest in becoming his successor.
If anything, he was just hanging out in third place because a certain someone was in second.
He didn't have an ounce of drive beyond having fun, and because of that, he could never catch up to Mello or Near, who now were on a totally different level from him.
Matt lied and stole, and occasionally Roger would catch him in the back of the church smoking, but he was generally a good boy, with no great aspirations for the future and a whole bunch of time to kill on whatever he thought was important for the moment. He might not make the best of choices for his future, but it was a good idea on his part that he had latched onto Mello early in life. That way, the blond's infectious enthusiasm for being the best, or at least some of his motivation, would seep into the redhead and give him some direction in his life.
Or that was the theory anyway…
Passing by Mello's door, L could not help but perk up his ears.
The blond had to be under a lot of stress if he had broken Matt's handheld, knowing how attached the boy was to the device.
Raito was certainly not making it easy for any of the children, especially Mello and Near, who after some weeks of attention from the brunette, were probably feeling the full brunt of his revenge.
It certainly did not help that Raito was on such good terms with Roger, and was getting the man to give him permission to alter the tests to his liking.
However, despite what was going on in the institution, L would not intervene, even though he had been accosted by several children over the week over Kiyoshi's unfairness -- and really, that was the only word that could be used to describe those tests that Raito came up with. Even L was not in a hurry to go near the classroom when he heard it was exam time.
He did (kind of) feel bad for the children, but the important thing to remember here was that, when Raito was busy terrorizing the children, he was simply too busy to terrorize him; and in his book, that was what most mattered.
Of course, they still occasionally bickered. But to anyone who had witnessed Raito at every stage of his investigation, from his kinder self to the utterly warped and manipulative side, they would agree with the observation that he had leveled-out in quite a remarkable way.
Of course he still treated him no better since his arrival at Wammy House – he was just as flippant, insulting, and withdrawn about the way he went about his day. L could get the distinct feeling that he was being snubbed some days, with the next drawing him back in full force.
He liked to think he had no control over his emotions when he was with Raito, a conclusion that made it easier to let himself relax in his presence and say things that should be kept to oneself.
Though in turn, Raito's poise never allowed the brunette himself to be fazed by his words. He only brushed them off; maybe once in a while he would give him a strange look or avoid eye contact, but that was the gist of it, and if L had realized what was happening sooner, he would have been more careful with the way he casually approached certain topics with the brunette.
It wasn't that Raito was brushing them off, or ignoring him – he was actually taking them all in, one syllable at a time and with a slow-seething anger that had built itself up until another comment from him would surely upset his tower.
It had started with a casual but inappropriate comment from L, one that incurred a pause in Raito that was more felt than heard. It seemed to rub him the wrong way, and he responded with his own casual comment, albeit one that was meant to sting a little.
L had not been able to drop it from then on because this certain topic was very dear to him, as it would be, since it called his feelings into question for the brunette.
And it was from here that things turned ugly.
"I do not know if we are misunderstanding each other again or you are trying to be funny, but it is more than just like, Raito," the detective informed him.
"I love you."
Thick as the silence was that followed such an admission, the response from Raito was surprisingly airy.
He laughed.
"No offense, but I doubt what you're feeling for me is anything that serious. I mean," Raito picked up his magazine and began flipping through it like this topic was not worth his time, "you did a lot of horrible things to me. I don't think anyone that truly loves another person could do that to them. I'm not saying you don't have feelings for me," he said, practicality saturating his words, "but love is different. We slept with each other for about two months -- that's not love, that's sex."
L stared down at the floor. "You do not realize how much you are insulting me right now," he told him, quietly, patiently…
Raito looked back at him indifferently, eyes empty and lucid, clear like the glass of ice water perched on his desk. They lowered after a while, returning to the magazine in his lap, skimming the pages with seldom interest. "Like I said: no offense. It doesn't really bother me that you're attracted to me, but just to let you know, I have a problem with how you choose to label it.
"To me, it seems ignorant to call it love when we both know that's not what it is."
L watched Raito flip through his magazine some more, the lack of empathy on his part astounding, but in hindsight not expected. When he wanted to be, Raito could act very cruel, but what was worse was how much crueler he could get when he was wholly unaware of it.
"Don't worry," he continued, "I'm not judging you or anything. I mean, we were practically joined at the hip for a year. It's easy to believe you've fallen for a person when they've become a fixed aspect of your life for that amount of time.
"Plus, you were always so invested in everything little thing I did, always looking over my shoulder and analyzing my actions, so it shouldn't be surprising that you got a little carried away."
L felt his stomach twist in discomfort at how Raito was calculating out his emotions and turning them into ugly things that perfectly reflected their circumstances.
"We had fun while it lasted, but I don't think that justifies you throwing that word around with me like I'm a naïve idiot." Raito crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, stretching.
L did not meet his gaze. He felt beyond insulted by every word that made its way past Raito's lips, but besides that slow boiling heat in his chest, he could not find it in himself to properly defend his side.
Raito turned the page in his magazine, and the quiet around them was sliced by the sound. "I just thought you should know where I'm standing on the issue.
"I don't think it's going to be easy working for you, but it does help when everyone is clear on what boundaries need to be enforced. I think it's important that you know where you stand with me and I know where I stand with you, that way, we won't unintentionally make things worse between us. After all," he reasoned, "you did say you wanted us to get along and I see no other way to accomplish that unless we reach an understanding about your 'feelings' for me."
L felt his temper dip and sway, and his mind jolted back to the many times past in which Raito would taunt him through the glass of his cell simply because he knew he could get away with it.
What came upon him at that moment was the rare burst of anger that he had never known until some months prior; it crept over him, replacing his usual stony composure with resilience similar to a single matchstick.
Why? Why only this person -- why was it that only Raito could infuriate him so when he knew better?
L locked his jaw but the words were out before he could stop himself.
"Do not lecture me about something that you've never experienced. I am not in the mood."
On the desk, the ice in the glass chinked, those mini-icebergs losing their footing and reclaiming new ones in the same breath that Raito had raised his head.
"What?" he prompted, the coolness in his voice freezing the air between them.
"I said," L repeated, "do not take that high tone with me when the only person you've ever been in love with is yourself. I know what I feel for you and all your bitter rationalizations are not going to take that away from me. I am not at all interested in hearing your opinions about what you think 'I feel' when it is clear that you do not understand the emotion in the first place."
The room had gone deadly silent after his words.
Raito was now staring at him deeply, his once flimsy and unresponsive attitude pushed away by the quaking in those amber eyes.
Everything in his being seemed to fissure and tremble in that moment as he locked eyes with L. The air was equally taut, and it would have remained that way too, if not for the great heave that rolled through his body, as if a strong current had billowed everything up to let it fall back in its natural place.
Composure, hard fought for, sighed out from between Raito's lips as he gave L a patronizing look.
"You sure are a piece of work, aren't you?" he said. "I don't appreciate you snapping at me because it's convenient when I say something you don't like. You seriously need to grow up, L."
Sensing their argument was taking that turn for the worst, the detective stood up from his seat.
Like he had said before, he was not in the mood to fight with Raito about this. It would be best if he left before the brunette provoked him into saying something that he would not be able to take back with a mere apology.
But even with that knowledge of what was to come, L was still unable to keep his mouth shut when it mattered most.
"See?" Raito practically heckled, "you've finally shut up because you know what I'm saying is the truth."
L's hand stilled at the doorknob.
"Keeping quiet is not always a bad thing," he said as he turned around and abandoned his escape route, "it would certainly benefit you if you tried it once.
"I had hoped we could be civil about this, but you always make everything so difficult."
Raito laughed derisively and put down his magazine. "Oh, so I'm the difficult one?"
"Be quiet Raito, and I'm not requesting it of you," L said. "I treat you as an equal because I care for you, but if you want me to start treating you like a cold-blooded killer then I won't hesitate do that either."
Raito froze, like he couldn't believe that he had crossed that line with him.
"Get out," he hissed.
L did not move. "When you hurt me, I will not hesitate to hurt you back. Do not think –" his words suddenly veered off when he saw Raito pick up the glass on his desk and hurl it right at him.
It shattered against the door in fragments too small to see, and the passing voices outside the room came to an abrupt halt.
The walls in this house had always been paper-thin, so it would have been too much to expect anyone to not hear that.
"I said get out."
L looked down at where the shards had scattered themselves, and as if his legs were on autopilot, he mindlessly walked back into the center of the room.
Obviously it was not a good idea what he was doing right now, especially when the look he had been pinned with by Raito was ready to tear him apart.
He could hear him breathing, the sound distinct in the quietness that had enveloped the room, and the image of Raito in his cell, tied to a chair, but still defiantly glaring at him, sprung up in his memory like a weed.
Livid with anger and something more, Raito shook off his daze and came back to himself. "How dare you…" he quaked, "…you think you can talk to me however you want because I accepted your deal and opted to stay alive."
There was an engulfing quality to the way Raito was gazing at him now, like he was trying to devour his entire existence in small bites and make it into his own. L did not think Raito had ever been conscious of that look, especially when under the influence of strong emotions, so it would not do him any good to fault the brunette for using it against him now, for making him feel less self-assured in his arguments.
"You seem to be under the impression that the only reason I'm alive right now is to make you happy.
"Is that how you see me, L?"
The detective hesitantly opened his mouth and Raito shook his head, stopping him.
"I might not understand everything there is to know about love, but if you have such a low opinion of my character, then it's not hard to see the extent of your so-called feelings." Standing up from his seat, Raito continued to speak with an assurance that made it difficult to go against him. "In fact, I know exactly what you're really chasing after, even if you won't admit it.
"I know how much you hate losing," Raito told him and L clammed up at the absolutely spiteful expression that was aimed his way. "And from the moment we first met, that's exactly what this has been all about.
"This has nothing to do with love and everything to do with getting what you want. You think it's love because you feel a need for me. Don't make me laugh. If you loved me…" he reasoned, sauntering up to him like he was discussing nothing but the weather, "…you would have done anything for me." He jabbed his index finger in the middle of L's chest, where his heart was beating madly at their sudden closeness. "But you're too busy setting up everything so you're the only one that benefits."
It was so ugly; the way Raito viewed everything. For someone so idealistic, he had such a cynical way at looking at others and judging them on standards that he deemed just.
"Do you enjoy cheapening my feelings?" L asked, restraining himself.
"You can't cheapen lust," Raito answered frigidly, closing that gap even further. "The thing that blows me away is how you've convinced yourself that you fell in love somewhere along the lines. At the time, you knew nothing about me, you weren't sure of my personality and you were more suspicious than anything. You said it yourself; you can't build love out of that kind of relationship. So what you ended up with was some twisted and half-baked assumption that was more dependent on what we superficially had in common than my actual emotional state at the time."
L breathed in and turned his head away. "You do not know when to stop, do you?"
"I'm making a point," and without so much as blinking, he grabbed the detective by his chin and turned his head to face him, "so you should listen."
L sharply turned his head and Raito caught him, but this time by the throat.
"I'm really sick of your condescending attitude, as if you think you're better than me." The loose hold on his neck tightened a fraction, like Raito wanted to see his reaction, and when L stood there, unresponsive, he sighed and his arm fell away. "If you're love is so pure, then you would think you could be a little more humble towards me."
"And since I dethroned you," L answered back, "you would think you could ditch the 'holier-than-thou' attitude."
Insulted, Raito made to callously shove him away, but before he could, L grabbed him by the arm and pulled him against his chest, fitting his mouth suddenly to his so that when Raito made a surprised sound it was quickly swallowed up.
L took hold of his other shoulder and pulled him closer until that last bit of determined resistance from Raito died and he was met with the smooth surface of an amorous mouth. It closed on him just as he was melding into it, and he could feel his body immediately responding, almost anticipant of what was to come despite his mind warning him against it.
Raito made a soft, appreciative noise in the back of his throat as L changed the angle of his mouth, and L could not help but swiftly come to conclusion that he would have done anything at that moment to hear it again.
He felt himself harden even more, and pressing against the warm leg in front of him, he tried to ease that ache as best he could.
Though the grip around his arm, constantly impressing upon his wrist and hand, was distracting him. Raito's weight was also shifting, like he was trying to find a solid foothold, and L would have ignored it, if not for the way Raito had gone rigid in his arms.
Pulling back, L felt his weight suddenly tipping forward from the strong hold Raito had on him; and despite the results of their usual bouts, he was skillfully flipped onto the bed, one of Raito's hands now pushing down on his nape and the almost presence of his body against his as he hovered behind him.
"That was compliments of the two psychos you locked me in with for such a long time," Raito whispered harshly into his ear.
L tried to get back up, but Raito straddling him from behind impeded any movement by squeezing his legs around his sides, easily forcing him back down as he settled his full weight on his lower back and kept the grip on his nape firm.
"Having to put up with that day in and day out," Raito continued, "don't kid yourself into thinking we're on level playing fields now. I doubt anything you could do to me would hurt as much as getting repeatedly punched in the stomach by a 200-something pound man."
L hated to admit it, but he was right.
Raito had gone into the torture with a normal threshold for pain and had come out with a tolerance that now probably matched his psychological endurance. What L had done when he had locked Raito up was comparable to taking an already dangerous knife and then sharpening it.
"I really don't like it when someone thinks they have control over me. I especially don't like how everything was on your terms when we were in France." Raito rose up, and kneeling over him, he deftly slipped a hand into his jeans. L went still as he felt fingers trailing and then closing around his erection.
"I've been feeling strangely frustrated for these past months, and since it's not something I'm used to feeling, I don't really know how to handle it." Raito began to lap at his ear teasingly, and L both hated and found it absolutely perfect the way he had gone right for his weak spot.
"I don't want you to get the wrong idea about what this is since I don't love you, but if you want to get on my good side, then you'll do this for me."
L felt wind on his back as his shirt was pulled up and away, but his mind was obviously more focused on what Raito was doing with his other hand, soft palm stroking him into compliance as he was divested of his jeans as well.
He should have fought back or even attempted to for his pride...
...but really, what was pride in comparison to the pleasure awaiting him.
He had always been the type that cared more for gratification than for worrying about what would lead up to it afterwards, and all his habits were manifestations of that trait. They were only there to serve a purpose, whether to make him feel better as cake did, or to make him feel less anxious as when he bit his nails, and however strange they were and however much someone might look down on him for it, he would never deny himself those small desires.
And since he never cared to deny himself anything he wanted, why in the world would he start now?
L covered the hand moving on him with his own and squeezed his fingers until the hold around him was equally as tight.
Digging his toes into the bed underfoot, he was only able to hold back a tiny fraction of the sounds he was making as Raito continued to pump him, the rest lost to the bedsheets.
He could feel Raito getting into position behind him, all still a blur of observations until he actually felt him pushing inside.
It was unbearable without any lubricant, and the entry made his climax suddenly that much farther away, his erection losing some of the impetus from pain.
However, once Raito had established a cadence and his voice broke across his own -- those sweet dulcet tones that he was all too familiar with when Raito was lost in his pleasure – he felt an answering call in himself; and with senses sharply attuned to the body behind him, his climax was suddenly situated in a place that was reachable.
Raito had redoubled his motions on him and L felt himself shuddering but not coming. He was so ready that he actually felt himself lurch, a thread of precome escaping from the tip and webbing across Raito's fingers and seeping onto the bed.
"Good?" Raito crooned in his ear, and L was too incoherent to answer, utterly light-headed from the nearness of that purring voice as it caressed down his sweat-damp neck and the slow and thorough way he was now working him.
Lying there tense and apprehensive, he did not give back to Raito, knowing the brunette liked going at his own pace rather than having himself rushed along in the frenzy that his other was currently experiencing merely from his hand.
It was pretty much over for him when Raito began to kiss him on the neck, his orgasm being wrenched out of him and spilling out from between their joined fingers; the brunette following him not long after, silken strands tickling his back as his head hung down and he panted for air.
Everything had gone muted in that moment of respite, like the world's noises were wrapped in cellophane, and hovering there between love and reason, and watching as Raito slid his hand away so he could wipe it on the sheets under them, L found himself closing his eyes and not caring anymore.
A/n: These two need therapy. Lots of therapy.
1. Juku – cram school
2. Kiyoko – female name that means "pure" and "child"