The next morning Roger had approached (cornered) L in the kitchen and asked him to oversee the eight o'clock class, and because Raito (his official scapegoat) wasn't conveniently standing next to him at the time, he'd had to concede to the "request." He wasn't particularly fond of spending time in the classroom but it did give him the chance to study his prodigies in their natural environment. Since his arrival, he had watched over the children a number of times, so his presence amongst them was not out of the ordinary. They went about their business just the same.
However, upon his arrival at the classroom that morning, the loud chattering (that he had been able to hear all the way at the end of the hall) came to an abrupt end. L could not say he had ever experienced this phenomenon from any of the children before—they were all such a talkative bunch, and he had felt that that would never change simply on account of him being there.
Feeling every gaze turn his way—some curious, some hostile, but all intently staring at him—L scratched his head in bewilderment.
What exactly was going on here?
One of the children stood up, a skinny boy with glasses and mop hair. L heard him mumble something to his table before he marched up to the detective and said in a voice wanting to be taken seriously, but which was rather difficult for L to do since said boy had to look directly up to speak to him, "Is it true? If it is then that means you're a traitor."
L pointed at himself upon hearing the word "traitor," making certain that it was being applied to him in the sense that he thought.
The boy nodded his head, looking both authoritative and disappointed at the same time. "So it is true?"
L shrugged. "I have yet to hear the charge. Are you practicing for a future career in the judicial system—your vague accusations and strong appeal to the audience are both essential tools for any lawyer. I daresay that you are well on your way to defending criminals in a court of law."
The children all looked to each other, confused as to why the detective was still playing dumb.
The boy with glasses shuffled nervously, like he didn't know what to do next, so another child came forward. She had dark hair and was of even shorter stature than the boy that came before her. "We might as well just say it," she urged the class on, but when no one jumped at the opportunity to inform the detective of his misdeed—all waiting for someone else to speak the embarrassing truth—she sighed and then blurted out: "We work our butts off. It's not fair that you give your title to the guy your boning."
L stared at her strangely, but then had to turn his attention to the rest of the class and their deluge of comments/accusations:
"We can't compete with that. Sure he's smart, but becoming your successor shouldn't be a beauty pageant."
"I thought you were different from the other stupid adults."
"C'mon, it's not totally L's fault. That guy probably seduced him or something…"
"Seduced him or not, this is our future we're talking about. I don't care if he's having L's babies –"
L turned on his heels and left before he could hear the end of that sentence. No one had noticed his exit either, too embroiled in talking among themselves that they did not even realize the object of their conversation had disappeared.
But L couldn't wait for them straighten out their facts. He had other pressing matters to attend to, like dealing with a certain brunette who was having fun at his expense.
L had no doubt in his mind who had turned the entire teenage body of Wammy House against him, and, as he walked into the room at the south end of the second floor, he found said culprit lying on his bed, flipping through a magazine and giving the impression that so far his Sunday had been a very relaxing one.
Raito glanced up, and when he saw who it was, he went back to reading his magazine. L didn't take offense at being so flippantly dismissed. Raito had a weird (but not so much) fascination with magazines. L supposed he was only interested in the articles about Kira (which they had plenty off) and would skim through them in between any serious reading or studying.
Not intimidated in the least, L walked up to Raito, took the magazine from right under his nose, and tossed it to the side. "I need to talk to you," and the way he put it left no room for argument.
But to expect his words to go unchallenged was simply wishful thinking on his part.
Raito, glancing over at the discarded magazine, turned those amber eyes on him next. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, I do not give you enough credit for your twisted sense of humor—now follow me." L grabbed Raito by the elbow, then pulled him to his feet and started for the door, Raito's elbow still in his grasp.
"Do you mind explaining what exactly you're doing?" Raito eyed the fingers clamped around the bend of his arm.
"I am confident that this talk that we are about to have will revert to an argument, so I am taking you to the garage so we can yell to our heart's content and not bother anyone."
"We're about to have an argument?" Raito asked with a chuckle in his voice. "I actually don't feel like it today." Despite the expression of these sentiments from Raito, he let L pull him to their destination nonetheless.
"Now," L said while locking the door behind him. He strode past Raito and then opened the door for the black Mercedes Benz that also called this garage its home, one of his hands motioning towards the leather interior.
"Get in."
Raito raised an eyebrow. "And why should I?"
"Because I not only predict an argument will break out between us, but a fist-fight as well. This enclosed space will ensure that when I kick my foot out, you will be there to receive it."
Not finding his joke funny in the least, Raito scoffed at him and walked around to the other side of the car—who knows, it might stop the situation from escalating if he had something big and immovable standing between them.
"Come here," L called in that ridiculously obnoxious and bossy manner, the one that he unconsciously took up with people when they weren't doing what he wanted them to.
"I am very angry with you. I am sure you know why."
"Look" Raito quickly began in his defense, because to deny at this point would impede progress, "Near saw the hickies on my back and asked about them. I didn't think it was a big deal at the time, so I told him the truth."
Though he'd forgotten to mention that he'd tweaked the truth a bit.
Leaning into the passenger side of the black car, Raito innocently rested his hands one on top of the other on the cool expanse of roof. "How was I supposed to know that he would turn around and tell everyone in the class?"
Actually, Raito had been counting on Near to tell Mello and for the news to slip out that way. Once Near or Mello were the source of the rumor, that would make it much more believable than if he had ever said anything. None of the children at the orphanage trusted a thing that came out of his mouth, but they would trust one of their own, and particularly the two at the top of the class.
L gave him an incredulous look, as if he couldn't believe he would feed him such a sugar-coated version of the truth when they both knew better. In his defense, Raito was putting it this way in the hope that his politeness and tact would be returned: after-all, he would be unable to get his point across if they started screaming at each other from the start.
"I know I was the one that asked you to give everyone the impression that you were a candidate. That way, it would put pressure on them to perform at their best," and the way L kept pausing after every few words, like it was an effort to get them out, precisely conveyed the anger the detective was currently feeling. "By the rise in scores I can see it has worked and I have you to thank for that.
"But," the word was then followed by a sigh, "I asked you to play the villain, not be the villain. You've been pushing them harder than I intended and now I realize that has nothing to do with my wishes."
Then as far as non-sequiturs went: "They called me a traitor." L then stared at him as if he wanted to jump over the hood of the car and kick him in the face. "I have never been called a traitor in my life."
But you've probably been called everything else in the book, Raito thought and smiled outwardly at L. "Why are you letting them bother you? You're a grown man," Supposedly. "Do you think they could understand what goes on between adults?" Raito walked back around the car, his fingers dragging across the smooth black exterior as he came to a stop behind L.
"They would understand if you weren't so mean to them," L responded and Raito could hear the pouting even in that deep and nasally voice of his. "And now that they have associated me, their amiable mentor, with you, their natural enemy—"
"Does this have a point?" Raito asked with a tick in his eye.
"Yes, the point is that in their eyes, their role model has become tainted and deemed a traitor. You have ruined about a decade's worth of trust and blind faith and have replaced it with suspicion and hypocrisy. You have also hurt my feelings and my male pride." L stared at him in the reflection of the car's window. "I would say 'nice going' but I think I have made my point."
Sighing deeply, Raito pressed up against L's back, wound his arms around his neck, and rested his chin on the closest shoulder.
He hadn't set out with the intention of hurting L. When they'd fallen into bed together, he had been genuinely frustrated and angry. It was afterward, when he had visited L, that the thought had crossed his mind. It was the anger, he supposed, that made him do it. He was going to be indebted to this person for the rest of his life, and L could promise to try to make it better until he was blue in the face, it did not change the fact that Raito was still going to be under him for a very long time. He wished he were fine with that. Maybe he would be happier if he were that easy-going. But Raito knew he could never be complacent with his lot in life.
So that night, his ambition had taken over, and he had pushed and pushed until L had agreed to sleep with him again. Frustration had already made all the children targets during his spare time, but that didn't stop him from becoming even meaner.
Also, L calling him a cold-blooded murderer to his face had made him hold a grudge, and Raito was the type that could hold grudges for an eternity if no one reasoned with him.
"So what is it that you want?" L questioned, the detective unable to mask his hostile tone, nor did he want to.
Raito toyed with the neckline of his shirt. "Want?" he asked, mimicking L from yesterday when he had cornered him by the door to his room.
"Yes, you want something if you went through all the trouble to piss me off?"
Because L was giving special treatment to a "candidate," the children saw his actions as unforgivable, and he was in no position to explain himself to them. Raito, on the other hand, though considered enemy number one, could still fix this for him by pretending to drop out of the race, thereby appeasing the children who felt wronged.
L could try to demand that Raito do this for him simply because he said so, but using threats like that would only make the brunette grow cold towards him, and it would also make him even harder to handle.
L didn't need that.
But certainly he didn't want something like their petty feelings for each other mucking up what he considered a noble competition between the youth. That would be unfortunate. So if he didn't want this to affect anyone's scores, or this news to reach Roger, he would have to clean this mess up quickly and negotiate with Raito.
L didn't think that his former caretaker would give him any grief about his sex life since that was clearly his own business, but Roger would at least inquire after it if Watari called, and that was a problem in itself.
The last time Watari had checked up on him and the subject had turned to Raito, L had declared—almost boastfully—that everything was under control. Of course his reassurances had stemmed from the fact that he had been sleeping with Raito at the time. He knew Watari hadn't thought it was a very good idea for him to keep Raito alive, so if he found out that he had not only gone back on his word of keeping Raito at a distance, but more importantly had put himself in a position to be taken advantage of, the older man would no doubt give him an earful. He didn't think his lying about sleeping with Raito would bother Watari as much as his lack of control over a situation that could have very well been avoided with some restraint.
At a very young age, L had been taught to never let his emotions get the better of him. Watari had always stressed that point, and, at a fundamental level, L understood why that was, but only now that he was going against those wishes did the detective truly understand the value of that advice.
L sensed that Watari had not only opted out of accompanying him because of the need to visit his two daughters, but because he had wanted to see if L could control himself when no one was there to stop him, or chastise him for actions that he knew were wrong.
Watari leaving him alone with Raito was possibly his way of urging him to quickly get this emotion under control so he could properly focus when he returned to work. The older man might view him as the son that he never had, but L was also an investment that he had poured time and money into. For his investment to suddenly take on such an incapacitating weakness meant that something had gone wrong and now measures needed to be taken to get L back on the right track.
Since Raito was root of his weakness, throwing him into immediate vicinity with the brunette was going to force him to confront this obstacle and change, either for better or for worse.
Clearly, he was not off to a very promising start with the way things were going. L could almost hear the masked criticism. He could almost hear that tone of voice that Watari took on when he was opposed to L's decisions, but would not confront him on it, only patiently waiting for him to see the errors of his ways.
Not in the mood to be so indirectly criticized (he got enough of the direct kind from Raito), L found himself preferring to just cover up his mistakes rather than making them further known.
Raito, annoyingly enough, had taken that reaction into consideration when he'd decided to sleep with him and instigate matters between himself and Wammy House. L could see this situation no other way when the next words to be murmured against his ear were, "There is actually something that I want."
Having his expectations fulfilled (and not in a good way) left L moody, and he shoved at the brunette with his elbow, attempting to put some space between them. He was not in the mood to play nice with Raito anymore. "I am going to have to find a new pet-name for you because even Satan has his limits."
"Well, Satan didn't have to deal with you on a regular basis," Raito retorted, all that convenient sweetness departing from him in the same curt fashion that he was abandoning his spot behind L. "You think I like doing these things. I don't enjoy deceiving people, but what else am I left with when you won't even listen to a word I have to say. You can't just take from me and not expect me to want anything in return."
Without him wholly conscious of the motion, L stiffly cocked his head to the side, as if he could not believe what he was hearing. "I hope you are not implying that I still give you my title. We are negotiating now because you are promising to leave this topic be. I can give you something else, but that position is out of the question and do not ask for it again because it is not yours to have. You cannot just snap your fingers at me and expect to be given everything you want. Not to disrespect Soichirou-san, but I am not your father and I will not dote on you like he has."
Raito gave him a horrified look. "Do not arbitrarily bring my father into this argument, you bastard."
"This is why I said 'no disrespect,'" L stressed. "Please do not take my answer out of context—"
"You have some serious nerve."
"And you have taken the words right out of my mouth," L answered back. "In the end, it is up to me to decide who will succeed me. It is not up to Raito-kun, who in the past five minutes has tackled this argument under the mistaken notion that he is the ruler of the universe and destroyer of all that is evil."
From the other side of the car, L heard Raito clenching his hand. He actually heard the straining sound from his fingers tightening into a fist, and L supposed anyone at this point would have had reservations about sarcastically calling Raito Yagami "ruler of the universe" and "destroyer of all evil" to his face.
Raito was prone to violence when angered—a simplistic reaction from someone so complex, but L could not deny that he was also prone to violence himself when he was up against a situation where no amount of reasoning could help him. His resorting to violence, he supposed, was his frustration over his inability to reason his way out of this. With anybody else, he would have already won this argument and been in the kitchen enjoying a slice of early morning cake. He could have been eating cake right about now. But unfortunately for both of them, when it came to reasoning skills, they cancelled each other out…like hydrogen and hydroxide ions in a water molecule, which left them with no choice but to look elsewhere for determining a winner. And "that elsewhere" was steadily taking the shape of a fist-fight.
He knew it was the wrong approach to take. No person should ever feel the need to hit the person they loved. It didn't matter if that person was the same sex, you didn't lash out at them. Ever. And yet here he was, knowing full well that if Raito threw the first punch, he would certainly follow it up with a kick to the ribs and an attempt to tackle him into Roger's Mercedes Benz, so he could muffle all the noises they were going to make while beating each other up.
Maybe the reason he never felt bad about hitting Raito was the fact that the brunette always hit him back, and very hard at that. To him, it was a joke to ever consider this some form of abuse or bullying: one victim and one bully was needed for this to be called abuse, what they had was no victim and two bullies, which did not qualify as abuse but simply as a lot of misdirected testosterone.
It truly could be worse. They could be trying to kill each other right now instead of simply wanting to beat each other up. It wasn't like he could consult a manual or find a source with prior knowledge on how he should treat Raito as a love interest. He highly doubted that there was such a dating handbook out there, which took into consideration that the person he was trying to court was also the same person that had killed hundreds of people a day for about one year, had plotted to not only destroy him but use his position to further his schemes, had then seduced him, mind-fucked with him, and finally siced fanatical priests on him.
He also doubted that any manual would take into consideration that he had kidnapped his love interest, locked that person in the basement of his Russian facilities, tortured them for about half a year, and then stripped them of their memories so they no longer proved to be a menace to society/him. If there was such a book that could give him advice while taking into consideration their rocky back-history (to say the least), L would have bought one for himself and then he would have bought one for Raito. He also would have given the writer of said book his entire fortune because that was the least he could do after this person had made him so happy and so not confused.
But he was getting off topic. Luckily, the sounds of more intimidating fist-clenching was there to bring him back to his reality. Raito's voice was also there to bring him back, but its serious tone combined with the subject matter that it chose to tackle at that moment made him feel like he had zoned out again, or it proved once more that Raito Yagami could say some utterly ridiculous things with a completely straight face.
"If I was 'the ruler of the universe' I wouldn't be having this conversation with you right now." Raito put his hands on the car and leaned over it. "And if I was 'the destroyer of all that is evil' you certainly wouldn't be standing here in front of me having this conversation in the first place."
L propped up his elbow on the roof of the car and stared at Raito in amazement. "Was that a threat, because threatening the person who you are asking favors of is never the wisest course of action to take. It does not incite within me the sudden urge to hand over my title to you, if that helps."
"That's fine," Raito assented quickly, which threw L completely off, "Because I don't want your title…" Raito paused and his gaze drifted to the side. "I want to create my own detective."
As Raito's words dawned on him, L felt his mouth go dry, the surprise of the moment seeping into him like hot-air in a balloon, steadily filling him up, so there was still a tiny part of him unaffected by this news, still deflated and numb. L let that part speak for him, but knew that calm would only last a minute. "No, I have already witnessed what you can do with a faceless representation of your ideals. I do not want to see that happening again."
"You're blowing it way out of proportion."
Minute up. "Would you like me to tell you the total number of criminals you killed in your time as Kira? I will tell you and then we can decide who has just made the understatement of the year."
"L," Raito said, annoyed, "I'm working for you, and any progress I make will benefit my employer—which is you."
"Why can't you be content with Eraldo Coil and Deneuve? They have already established personas and their reputations are par to none."
"Except for yours," Raito cheekily reminded. "You specifically made both of them so you could make yourself look better."
"That may be true," L candidly admitted, "but I did not create them: they were actual detectives who I defeated and then assumed the identities of."
Raito gaped at L.
"That's even worse!" he shouted in disgust. "You want me to assume the identities of your defeated enemies?!
L shrugged. "Do not take it so personally."
"How could I not!" Raito fired back. "God, you're so—" He made an aggravated sound and tossed up his head at him, fuming in that prissy way that with anyone else would have made L instantly walk out of the room, but with Raito made him stand at attention and on guard.
In hindsight, L was glad he had opted to relocate to a region of the house that was bare of the usual trappings of any room. He was particularly glad that he had not chosen the kitchen to do this in because knowing the brunette's penchant for throwing things at him when he was especially furious, L would have walked away from this argument with a knife in his head.
But then again, there was a car here…
"And what's worse," Raito continued, "is that if I agreed to pose as those two, I'd be aiding and abetting in a crime. I'm sure you had them killed off when they weren't looking." Raito scoffed at him when he was met with no reaction. "I know you operate within the gray zones of the law, but you're more criminal than detective, and as someone who's going to work for you, I feel uncomfortable with your methods. I feel you should rethink a lot of them and clean up your act."
L had a god-awful smile on his face, like he thought Raito's little justice spiel was just too funny. "You are not hurting my feelings, but if I can speak from one criminal to another," Raito frowned at that, "I can promise you that my indiscretions against humanity are a drop in the bucket when compared to yours. It also helps that no one has yet to catch me and I doubt they ever will."
It was not the first time Raito had thought he would be working for a corrupt bastard, but never so vehemently and with such a desire to do things right. He was the son of the chief of the NPA, after all. Justice was in his blood. "No," Raito said firmly, "I can't in good conscience just step into the shoes of two murdered men. Even if I have to die," he resolved and knew that was not a promise he should make so lightly, knowing the company he was currently keeping.
"You are being melodramatic," L said. "I would much rather you admit to not wanting those two positions because they have 'loser circle' written all over them than have you feign righteousness, though you are particularly hung up on the word, so maybe I should not be surprised when it pops up into your thinking every now and again."
Raito glared heatedly at L and the detective put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
"I understand why you want to create your own detective. Coil and Deneuve are already set in their behavioral patterns—one is money-hungry and the other is a complete coward. Neither personality trait fits you, so I think it would not be long until your clients saw discrepancies in your character, from the way you would handle cases to the type of cases you would be taking." L cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "You have a strange purity and altruism to you, so that will undoubtedly clash with the two in question. Now that I think about it, your creation would probably be a sincere, justice-proclaiming moralist.
"I fear for the future," L concluded after a thoughtful pause.
"You can't handle competition," Raito said in a challenging tone.
L didn't seem to enjoy being called out on his skills as a detective. "I would like to see you try," he told him flatly.
"So is that a 'yes' on the new detective?"
"I don't think I have a choice in the matter," L admitted and scratched his elbow gruffly.
Giving Raito his title was out of the question, as that position was fated for either Near or Mello.
Over the course of years, both boys had certainly proven themselves in academics; however, if academics were the only criteria he was going on, Raito would have gotten his title hands down. What L needed was someone who would follow his lead on how to solve cases. Near and Mello were still very young and did not have any experience as detectives, and as such, they were more open to his methods, unlike say someone who was too opinionated and had a firm set of beliefs on matters of what constituted as justice.
Now he was not looking for a robot that would agree with him at every turn, but a successor that understood that as the new L, he would need to incorporate some of his predecessor's views into his thinking and from there use that as his basis of objectivity. It might seem like his ego talking when put like that (and some of it was) but a large portion of his reasoning also had to do with the fact that using his methods had gotten the job done. Given that he had a 100 percent success rate on every case he had worked on, following his methods was an obvious conclusion. Not to mention that Wammy was the other deciding factor on how the new L should or should not behave. Watari also had confidence in L's methods, so he would like to have them continued on down the line. And what L meant by "methods" was not so much technical as it had to do with the frame of mind he tackled each case with.
Detective work was his hobby and to view it as anything more or anything less was going to interfere with his objectivity. The only time L had ever fallen off this path was when he had gone after Raito and gotten himself caught up in a pissing contest to define justice. Before that, he had never had an opinion either way, but Raito had this way about him that made L want to show-off and prove him wrong, made him want to win and inflate his own ego.
When a detective became too judgmental on the morals of the criminal he was chasing, he had already lost one-half of the battle. To bring in high-handed opinions of what was right and what was wrong was not what he believed the role of L should fulfill. L should act as a balance between the criminal element and police organizations around the world, and he should use whatever means to get the job done, without feeling restrained by either side. That was what L should be. Raito could not work with criminals (the irony of that) and was quick to sympathize with law enforcement because of his father. He would view his position as L as one of sacrifice, sanctimony, and duty. The complete opposite of what L felt his position should stand for. Raito was ill-suited to be the next L, but he was not ill-suited to become a detective.
However, L didn't want Raito wielding too much power and this request for a detective-title was a push in that direction. It was not a good precedent to set, but L would concede this time if it meant keeping Raito well away from his own title, which was a very worthwhile endeavor, if he did say so himself.
"You can do this," L said, "but if you over-step your boundaries with me, I will have no problem killing off your new detective and returning you to Coil and Deneuve duty. We will talk about all the restrictions I plan to place on you because of this change, but for now I must figure out a way to break this news to Watari. It will require an excuse that both makes me look good and is believable. I predict that will take some time to come up with so I will be in my room. Do not disturb me."
L walked to the door and unlocked it. Then he turned around to look at him. "Unless you have baked a cake, which I would recommend you do, soon, because I have yet to forgive you and the plausibility of my excuse may hang in the balance."
The window ledge was a dull sensation against the back of his thigh.
Shifting, Raito made himself more comfortable in his makeshift seat. He rested the side of his neck on the glass pane of the window, gazed out at the garden, but was unable to discern any definite shapes past the sunspots clouding his vision, only the colored blurs of blue outside the windowsill, wavering in wind and seemingly unfettered to a stalk.
Blinking the sunspots out of his eyes listlessly, Raito turned back to the hallway where on the wall opposite from him, lights like water-currents wavered and his almost translucent silhouette flickered in and out of existence in it, thinning as passing clouds interrupted the sunlight coming in through the window behind him.
Raito touched a finger to the watch on his wrist.
He had known that L would be angry with him for what he'd done, but that was only natural. If there was one thing Raito could count on when it came to the two of them, it was that whenever they tried to talk to each other, someone was always bound to walk away from the conversation pissed off.
For the past few weeks, Raito had felt like he'd been the one assuming that role more often than not—which had not improved his mood, if his snideness towards everyone around him was any indication.
It was hard; L didn't understand how hard it was some days… Having to scratch and claw for his attention, for a chance to speak his mind and express his own desires…. Raito didn't want to fight with L, but he didn't want to stay quiet with the man either. If he wanted to Raito knew he could ignore L for the rest of eternity. He also knew that if he wanted to, he could make L so miserable that the detective would forget about all those feelings that he supposedly had.
But how was that in Raito's better interests? How was hate going to better his situation? How would turning a cold shoulder to a person who held power, power that Raito more importantly craved for himself—how would that turn Raito into a person who would be able to look at himself in the mirror without cringing? Raito was not especially proud of the things he done during the past month, but he had no intention of ever stopping.
L had power and influence, more than anyone Raito had ever met. The amount of sway he had over the governments of the world was sickening, but at the same time Raito was drawn to that part of L like a moth to the flame. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued with that power or that he wanted it for himself. His other half had even taken measures to take L out of the picture and usurp his role for that very reason.
Power.
Having more power might not liberate him from L, but it would make this bearable. It would make his captivity actually worth it.
And the only way Raito could see himself acquiring that power was by building a reputation.
When a reasonable amount of time had passed for L to resume his detective work, Raito had been instructed to take over the roles of Deneuve and Coil from Watari. But Raito knew he would not receive any satisfaction from building up the reputations of two cowards, and dead men at that. He wanted his own detective alias and the ability to create a persona that was in keeping with his own ideals. He wanted that alias to represent justice, not the fake sense of justice that L doled out selectively, but a system that worked for the people and at least tried its best not to leave anyone out. Raito wanted to be a preventive measure rather than a justice that worked after the fact. He wanted so much and he would need so much power to have it all realized.
L's power.
L had said that he loved him. Now whether his feelings were genuine was of no concern to Raito. He had foolishly argued with L on that topic when he should have known better.
People who claimed to be in love didn't want the object of their desire trying to convince them otherwise, even worse, telling them that their love was just a really strong case of lust. That insulted them, and Raito should have seen L's prickly comments a mile away. For that reason, L's feelings were not up for discussion now.
The only thing that Raito needed to know was that L desired him and the fulfillment of that singular physical drive was compelling L to be less of a bastard to him than usual.
Now it might sound under-handed the way he handled L's feelings for him, but Raito had not made any grand pretenses of love when he'd approached the detective. In fact, he thought he was being rather straightforward in how he handled the whole ordeal. He had told L that he didn't love him, nor did he believe he ever would. But he had also admitted to wanting a sexual relationship with him. As far as emotional honesty went, Raito was being completely upfront with the detective.
After they had slept together that one night, Raito could have dismissed it as a mistake and not even bothered to apologize. That would have hurt his plans, but he would have not bothered if he thought L liking him was more of a hassle than a blessing. He could have moved onto Misa. And he did. No use in denying that after he and L had started sleeping together, he had started fooling around with the blonde too. He wasn't doing it to be spiteful either, just using it as a point of comparison.
Raito had no idea why he wanted to have sex with L—a guy, a really annoying guy, who treated him like his personal butler and whose every other word to Raito was either an insult or a really lame compliment. It was so bizarre how someone like this could arouse him, so much so that he'd actually jumped him in frustration…
It was that kind of thing that made Raito hesitate towards analyzing himself and his own sexuality.
He was straight… or he was pretty sure he was straight. He'd had sex with Misa just fine and had enjoyed it for what it was. So Raito could not really wrap his head around why he wasn't able to leave L alone. It could have something to do with Kira and his residual emotions for L. Spending two years living with someone was going to make you very comfortable with that person whether you liked it or not. But Raito couldn't overlook the other reason for this attraction, the reason that had probably sparked all of this into existence:
Danger.
The real possibility of failure, the challenge that came along from fighting against all odds…
Raito might not understand all Kira's thought processes when it came to L, but the amount of danger L had posed to him during those two years—the amount of danger he still posed to him now—that must have gotten him off faster than L going down on him.
Kira had thrived on that danger, had wanted it, had then wanted to overcome it. The thrill of doing something that was impossible, maybe even a little bit improper-- if it wasn't the entire reason, then it had to be a part of why Kira had slept with L. Had to be a part of the reason why he slept with him now.
Holding the watch up to the window, Raito peered at it through the haze of sunlight and spinning dust-motes.
Time had stopped for Kira, but had started back for Raito Yagami, as if he'd been asleep this entire time and was now only waking up. Or, as he gave precedence to his other half, was it more appropriate to say that he was finally going to sleep after having stayed awake for all this time? But who was to say which one was the right interpretation to take? He was tired either way, whether from dreaming or waking, and in all honesty, he didn't want to think anymore. He was just so tired of thinking about it, really.
So he was grateful when he spotted the person he'd been waiting for, the entrance of the white-haired boy pulling him back to his present and reminding him of all the things that needed to be done.
Raising a hand midway in the air, Raito uncurled his fingers at Near slowly, ever fond of the unamused look the white-haired boy would get on his face when he waved at him playfully. Near wasn't as good about handling teasing as L, who specialized in bugging Raito as much as he did in reading the criminal mind. It could be because of Near's young age that Raito's teasing wasn't appreciated very much, or it could be because of his nature that was a tad more serious than L's. Whatever the case, it didn't change that fact that messing with Near was more fun that one would expect.
Near turned an uninterested gaze his way, like he had come across a potted-plant instead of a human being. "You seem to be in a good mood."
So he had noticed. Well Raito wouldn't deny it. "I am, but I don't think I can say the same for you," he pointed out as he took in the darker than usual aura that was surrounding Near. "Is there something I can do for you?"
Near aptly turned a suspicious look his way.
"What do you want?"
Raito thought it was time to cut to the chase. "I came to tell you I'm dropping out of your race. That's all. I'd also appreciate if you passed on that message to Mello, but I know you won't have any trouble doing that, seeing as how I've gotten this far," and Raito absolutely loved the way those dark eyes grew even darker with resentment.
"It's actually all thanks to you that I'm in such a good mood," Raito admitted breezily. L wouldn't have budged on the decision to give him a new detective persona if he hadn't riled up his successors. They had served him well.
"Why are you dropping out?"
"Because it's boring," Raito lied. He had dropped out because a better position had opened up, but he wasn't about to tell Near that. In comparison to what he had gained today, L's title was piddling. The power to create was what Raito was after.
"You should be more thrilled by the news. I won't be intruding in your competition against Mello anymore," Raito said but knew Near's irritation mainly stemmed from all the hoops that Raito had made him jump through in order to reach the truth. For a person who didn't like to waste his time on anything other than playtime, the past few days must have been especially annoying for him.
"It gives you more time with your—" When a child exited the classroom, Raito chose instead to hold up his pinky finger to convey his point. He didn't know why, but it was great fun to annoy Near. He'd even go so far as to say it was almost as much fun as annoying L.
Almost. Near was much easier to read than his predecessor, so before the boy had any notions about pulling one over on Raito, some maturing was in order. L had asked him to act as a sort of catalyst for his young successors' growth and development, after all, and who was Raito to say no.
Leaning forward into Near's personal space without so much as a warning, Raito audaciously pecked him on the cheek. "No hard feelings," he whispered into his ear.
Near's frown deepened. Then with that same sour expression on his face, he took the back of his hand and slowly dragged it across his cheek, wiping away any and all traces of the kiss, all the while boldly staring him right in the face.
"I'd rather not have my first kiss stolen from someone whose mouth switches between two partners on a daily basis."
Raito would have laughed, but he was too busy trying to look serious. "So…do you want me to break up with them and go out with you instead?" Raito made a show at puzzlement. "I'm not into shouta. But in five years you will turn eighteen," Raito gave him an assessing look, "and the resemblance is uncanny. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were his illegitimate son. You definitely have a cute face, and if the resemblance becomes more pronounced as you mature, I'm going to end up being your number one supporter for the next L."
That seemed to finally do it, and giving him a disgruntled look, Near turned around and headed back the way he came, the teenager in him unable to take prolonged sessions of teasing from someone older and silver-tongued to boot. Raito smirked at his retreating form. He really shouldn't be teasing Near like this, but he just couldn't help it. The things he said to Raito, though very uncute and highly insulting, still entertained him more than it should.
The music room was like any other room at Wammy House—filled rarely but empty regularly. It was not very far from the library and kitchen, taking up a small corner on the western side of the orphanage, in the shadow of the old church; but because of its "out of the way" location in that dark recess, it seemed far-removed from the rest of the orphanage. The poor lighting and location had even started a rumor a long time ago about the music room being haunted and how ghosts would come out if it heard anyone playing.
Near found this rumor absolutely ridiculous, as there were no such things as ghosts, and for an institute that prided itself on rational and methodical thinking, this was hardly the place for such rumors to take root. Though it didn't seem to matter how smart the residents of Wammy House were, if a rumor sounded interesting, everyone would spread it around all the same. What mattered sometimes with rumors, Near realized a long time ago, was not its feasibility, but its utter ridiculousness.
This ghost story was the same.
Everyone wanted to amuse themselves, and since Wammy House didn't have any interesting lore of its own, they would make one up. A really stupid one, Near concluded, but something that was theirs nonetheless.
He didn't think anyone past the rumor's lifecycle, which had been about a month (barely), took it seriously anymore. Not to say that it wasn't the butt of a joke during its lifecycle, because it had been (a lot), and everyone at the time had seemed to get a kick out of running into the music room at night and then hiding so they could scare their friends when they in turn came to scare them.
Like he said before, completely ridiculous.
But there were times for Near when he found the music room strange. He was, however, more inclined to believe that these feelings stemmed from his perceptions rather than supernatural forces, or rather the associations his brain made between certain memories and this room. Particularly, the sounds that would wonder out at all hours of the night, created again not by ghosts but by an actual person, one that would enter into this room as any other child, pick up a violin, and then play to his heart's content. The erratic way in which these solos came up to him, sometimes a month from the day or hours afterward, suggested that person did not play for any scholastic reasons. Possibly they played just because they could, and that made sense since many of the children were like that at the Institute. They did things just because.
But there were times when the playing would frequently end up on days after an exam. Near supposed it was a form of stress relief, and he was right to think so when he found out that the violinist was none other than Mello. It was a long time ago—the fact that his peers had been spreading ghost stories around should have implied what age and mind-set they had been in—but the past years did not stop Near's brain from connecting the far-off sounds of a violin with the strange aura of the music room.
It was the ceaseless haunting quality of the music now stealing into the hallway to meet him that made the room seem so eerie and out-of-sorts. Near listened as Chopin's "Nocturne" faded into the silence and "Ave Maria" trembled into place behind the door. Unconsciously, he found himself rubbing at his cheek, specifically where Kiyoshi had nonchalantly placed his poisonous lips not too long ago. Near grimaced at the action when he'd meant to knock, feeling suddenly stupid for letting Kiyoshi get under his skin so easily. That guy was seriously out of control…
Raising his hand with a deliberate motion, Near knocked on the door louder than he wanted to.
Matt was the one to answer, and the redhead gave him an odd look before saying under his breath, "You have bad timing."
Near didn't respond, but instead his gaze transferred to the raised platform in the middle of the room where Mello was seated. The blond didn't look particularly angry as Matt had made him out to be, his eyes closed and concentration on his playing.
All the curtains had been drawn back in the room, so Near could see the church across the way and the shadows it was casting on this side of the orphanage. There was a sheet of light that existed between the two buildings, untouched by the shadows and transformed into concentrated brightness the moment it hit the window pane and slanted across the floor towards the platform, towards Mello whose blond hair shone like spun gold when caught in the afternoon sun. The intense color, flaming like it was about to catch fire, had muted the surrounding of the music room, made everything seem so washed-out that it was too easy to spot Mello in that crossing of light and darkness.
Now that the oak door was open to him, Near could hear the full effect of the music; more than hear it, he could feel it rising and swelling from the center of the room, like a mass that was gaining speed and power with every minute that passed by. And as Near stepped past the threshold and moved closer, he could feel the air around him trembling, quivering, as if ready to collapse in on itself if that bow eased up for even an instant, as if those few notes were actually holding all the physical space around him together.
"Why are you here?" Mello asked, sensing him close by but not stopping. "Nevermind," he dismissed in the same breath and opened his eyes abruptly. He set his violin down and the drastic quiet that followed seemed to add more weight to the severe expression that Mello then turned on him. "I just don't get you. You tell me not to say anything to Matt and then you turn around and blab everything."
Furtively, Matt and Near glanced at each other, neither one about to disclose the circumstance around yesterday's conversation.
"Then Matt tells Linda for some reason..."
The boy in question raised his head. "Hey, I was worried. You were acting weird…and when Linda asked what was up, I told her. Did I mention how weird you were acting yesterday?"
"I wasn't—" Mello stopped right there before his voice rose any more than normal. "That doesn't matter. You shouldn't have said anything. What the hell was going through your head?"
"Whoa, this is my fault?" Matt turned in Near's direction, throwing attention on him that the white-haired boy would rather avoid. "You saw how weird he was acting? Tell me I wasn't just seeing things?"
Near saw, but to corroborate Matt's side of things would be to throw open a door that he would much rather leave closed. In the last few days, Near had learned answers to questions that he didn't even want answers to. So suffice to say, he wasn't going near this subject with a twenty-foot pole. This wasn't what he came here for, anyway. He was the bearer of enough bad news, as he was certain Matt wouldn't be so pushy for answers if he knew the other reason why Mello hated Kiyoshi.
When Near remained quiet, showing Matt just how forthcoming he was planning on being in this matter, the redhead rubbed the back of his head tiredly. "For some reason, I always end up looking like the jackass here."
Mello made an annoyed sound. "You know something, you two are brainless. Now everyone in class knows. How's that going to help any of us."
"You know what doesn't help," Matt interceded, "you yelling at us."
"Then fuck you and your big mouth," Mello snapped at him.
"Well fuck you back for not being able to shut my big mouth up before it could blurt everything out in concern."
Near would have told them to both go fuck themselves, but he had dragged Mello into helping him and by natural procession Matt had come along. So truthfully, Near had no one to blame but himself for what was happening now. Mello also seemed to agree with this logic, because in the next instant he glared at him. "I'm not mad at you, Matt," the blond calmly said as he continued to glare at Near in a very telling way. "The person who I'm really angry with is standing right in front of me."
"Cool because I hate to fight with you too," Matt admitted in one breath and subsequently broke the record for the fastest "forgive and forget." Matt and Mello were not really known to start fights with each other, their strong suits laying elsewhere, like in the making-up department. So it was no surprise to Near that they couldn't stay mad at each other for more than one minute. Call it the BFF syndrome at work, all Near knew was that this spelled trouble for him.
"He knew I would help him because I wanted to know the truth, but I wonder if he's been withholding information since the beginning," Mello accused.
"I told you everything I know," Near said and that was the honest truth, though he'd never gone into details about his conversations with Kiyoshi and no threat made upon his life would convince him to do otherwise. He would take that to his grave.
"I doubt that," Mello said for the sake of being difficult. "But I'm not going to accuse you of anything heinous. I'm just saying this is your fault. We have no idea how L's going to react to this getting out."
"I think he'll be fine with it," Matt threw out off-handedly as he took out his Gameboy, content to leave these matters to Mello now that they were on the best of terms again.
"I don't think we have anything to worry about either," Near agreed. They weren't the source of conflict for L. No, that came in the form of a know-it-all brunette who was in dire need of an attitude adjustment. Near didn't know about L specifically, but having your lover brag about how much they had you wrapped around their little picky finger was bound to annoy anyone. He would think that "prince charming" would have seen the trouble a mile away and smartly kept his mouth shut.
So why Kiyoshi had still told Near, expecting him to turn around and tell Mello—it just didn't seem like him. The last thing he should want to do was really piss off the person that held the position he wanted. He should be upset that his scare-tactics had backfired, and yet earlier that day, Kiyoshi had met Near with such a pleased look on his face.
It just didn't make sense. After acting so territorial for all these months, he was dropping the chance to become L's next-in-line like yesterday's garbage. The only reasonable conclusion Near could take away from his strange behavior was that Kiyoshi had something to gain from perpetuating the rumors and angering L. But exactly what remained the question.
What was worth sacrificing L's title?
"You know something," Mello said suddenly, suspiciously, hitting the nail right on the head. "Spill it," he persisted and stood up from his seat. Mello was a good head over him and was currently using that fact as a means of intimidation. Green eyes stared down at Near, unwavering in their scrutiny, the porcelain face they were set in completely motionless, still like the head of a doll, until something seemed to catch his attention and he reanimated. He got right in his face and Near moved his head back involuntarily.
Mello sniffed at him. "Is that…cologne?"
"Kiyoshi's not in the running anymore," Near said on reflex and didn't like how he'd blurted that out, as if it should serve as some sort of explanation for why he was smelling of brunette.
In the back of Mello, sitting on the platform that the blond had just occupied, Matt mouthed the words "the true successor of L" at him while giving him a silent round of applause. And it might be a joke, but Near wished misfortune on the other boy all the same.
"Huh? What're you talking about?" Mello demanded in the foreground, no longer concerned about what or whom Near smelled like.
"Kiyoshi dropped out." As casually as if he had been standing in a line for a ride that he didn't want to go on anymore, Near might add.
"Can anyone bail out so easily?" Mello asked, shocked. "Can he of all people bail out so easily? He's working for L, so is it that easy to say 'I don't want to do this anymore, let me do something else'?" There was a faint tinge of desperation to Mello's question. Near heard him make a faint sound, a cross between a sign and a frustrated sob, and he wisely stepped to the side to avoid Mello's oncoming wraith.
"Dammit," he seethed under his breath. "That son of bitch has been playing with us this entire time."
"Uhh…" In the background, Matt raised a hand hesitantly. "Can't we look at the bright-side of this, like you have less to worry about now that that's guy's out of the picture?"
"That's not the damn point!" Mello shouted back and his reaction would have startled anyone who wasn't used to the blond's harsh way of speaking. "How can I compete with this guy if he's not there to compete against? What am I supposed to do against an enemy that goes into hiding?"
"Well…" Matt hopped off the platform "…I can tell you what you can do and that's nothing. You should let the answers come to you instead of the other way around. Involves less hassle."
"You would say that," Mello said. "But the slacker mentality is not my mentality. Go peddle it elsewhere."
"It can be anyone's mentality if they try hard enough."
The irony in his words made Mello stare at him extra hard. "No, I can't. I won't. Leave me alone: I need to think." Mello had a determined look on his face as he said this; however, anyone could tell from his tone of voice that he wasn't angry anymore. When it came to calming the beast, Near would rather leave Matt in charge, as it was pretty much known around the orphanage that Mello had a soft-spot for him.
"You've had all morning to think. C'mon, we did all the stuff you wanted to do." Matt nudged him in the shoulder with a finger. Then when he saw that he wasn't getting a reaction, or not a big enough one, he began to tug on Mello's wrist. "Let's go. I bought a new RPG and the position of 'Grand Summoner of HellSpawn and Eater of Human Flesh' has your name on it." He tugged again and was met with some resistance, but not much this time, and it wasn't long until that determined expression softened.
Apparently the mention of HellSpawn and Human-flesh in the same sentence made Mello happy.
"Everything will work out fine, you'll see," Matt said as he pulled Mello to the door.
Of course Matt was full of shit. Things were not okay and Near guessed the other boy knew it too. He would just rather sweep things under the carpet because that was the easiest route to take. Plus, if it got Mello to stop fixating on L…'s title for just one moment and simply hang out like he used to, then that would probably make the other boy's day.
"Hey Near, you coming?" Matt said and subsequently interrupted his thoughts.
Near kept his face blank, even though the offer from Matt naturally confused him. Mello had yet to put a word in otherwise, which he found also strange, because usually the blond was quick to voice his dislike for him. The silence dragged on before Matt casually added as his explanation:
"I need another player to unlock the bonus stage."