Disclaimer: My name is King, send all your pox germs to me so I don't have to write my three midterms, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
II: Things Important
CH10
The Sugar
"Hello? L? I-is that you?" Light nearly pleaded thought the damp darkness, and L purposely allowed his breathing to become more rapid and audible so the boy would hear what direction L was coming from and back away.
The bathroom smelled faintly of mold, and L's ears perked in delight when he heard the only rightful resident of the bathroom make noises of panic when he nearly backed into the half-full tub.
"L-l?" the deep breaths became uneven and the small noises of palms slapping against tile became hysteric. L stilled and held his breath, then quietly maneuvered behind the boy and the only sounds in the tiny bathroom were Light's frantic breathing and his slow advances towards the door.
When the sliver of light sipping though the cracks of the closed door was closer than L would've liked it to and Light's hysteria subsided, he hovered over where he'd seen the faintest outline of Light's body and let out a long hiss.
Light yelped and bolted towards the door, but L caught the hem of his pants and slammed his side against the tile, and the tremble of the impact knocked off some toiletries from Light's sink.
Hysteric gasps fanned L's face and resistance he met when he grabbed silky wrists was the same as if Light was fighting for his life.
Exiting.
L shook the boy and slammed him against the tile again, and whether it was the cheap tiles or his own force, a few tile chunks rained from the wall.
Light whimpered deliciously and became momentarily confused, his wrists slacked in L's tight grip and L had to pin the boy to the wall with his body or else he would slide down.
His body... Light's body trembled and radiated heat and L blamed himself for not allowing the pretty thing enough time to undress and get into the tub.
"L?" Light muttered in desperation.
"Liiight," L hissed into the warm ear and released a wrist to pull the boy up by waist.
Light sighed in relief and carefully, the free wrist wrapped around his neck and discreetly tucked his hair for confirmation.
"It is you," he muttered gently in an effort not to aggravate L further, "you didn't need to do that". His silky voice still trembled and the force he had in it faltered, and L let go the other wrist to lean them against the wall only to find some oily liquid on the tiles. The soft hair at the back of Light's head was also wet and oily and L supposed a few more slams like that and he'll knock the boy out-cold.
He really had to count them, he figured.
Voice still shaking slightly, Light offered, "I was about to take a bath, c-care to join me?"
L said nothing and allowed his fingers to travel along the sweet curve of Light's jaw and collarbone, across the clothed chest and over the small bump in his pants. Light draped his other hand across L's shoulders, and L patted the harness with the back of his hand.
"Hmm," said Light.
What was he expecting?
L specifically pressed his hip painfully hard to Light's sex and grabbed his throat. The poor naïve thing said nothing until it started to choke, and then the hands came off his shoulders and he, still gently, tired to push L off.
"L, stop that," he hissed and L wrapped his fingers around the pulsating throat harder, and nails dug into the back of his hand and delicious vibrations and faint screaming they caused made L's own member twitch.
Light wasn't in the weak and pathetic caliber, no, and L watched out for those long legs, but other than that it was too easy.
The clawing at his hands became more erratic and L loved it, and he leaned in and kissed the breathless lips, and Light nearly bit him.
Little twit.
L chucked the boy to the floor.
Two.
The darkness was black and obsolete and L could see nothing, just like little Light, and the difference between them was that L could hear and recognize noises for actions, and Light could not. So he waited patiently when the thing on the floor regained his senses, pawed around and picked up a toiled brush.
Disgusting.
"I would put that down, or I will get creative with where I will put it."
Light squealed and dropped it, and picked up a tile shard instead.
That will help you, L thought critically. He leaped at the boy and the armed hand sent the shard aiming for L's face but L caught the hand with the tile and squeezed. The sharp tbit cut into the soft palm and shattered, and all of those but into the soft palm, and Light screamed and a few drops of blood hit the floor.
Light kicked and slapped and crawled and bit, and L decided to skip the whole ordeal to the good part.
Buttons went flying and fabric tore, and just to keep the boy entertained, L pulled on hair and twisted fingers while he was at it.
Light thought L was going to kill him.
"Get up," he ordered and when the boy stood naked and bruised and cut by the smashed tile, L really wished he could turn the light on and admire his body.
Stupid thing.
As if his tiny steps and held breaths told L nothing about his plans of bolting, so L waited until he did, and when he did, he just grabbed him by the bloody hair and tossed him into the general direction of the bathtub.
The bangs and splashes told L that that one should count for two, so that made four very hard blows.
No more, he ordered himself when he realized Light was drowning in the half-full bathtub. Definitely no more.
He fished the boy out of the hot water and recognized the tub was still filling, switched the knob to shower-mode and made sure Light was sitting and not face down in the water, and casually took off his own clothes. By this time, Light would regain parts of his cautiousness.
"Can you hear me?" L said, stepping into the tub and leaning over the confused person. Light made a positive noise and L figured he shouldn't push it with orders and pulled the wet body up and leaned him against the cold tile so that he was in direct spray of the water.
Light pushed him away weakly, and L slapped him. No response.
We'll see about that.
He spun the boy around and with no preparation of himself of the tiny puckered entrance, slammed inside. Light screamed and his tight, raw passage clamed down.
Very tight. L would decide if he liked it or not later.
The dry and hot passage and so tight L groaned and almost wished he stretched it out before diving in. It bordered pain for him, and he was sure Light was in hell.
Without a pause, he pulled out and sunk his thick, erect member back in, and Light screamed again, and then he screamed again, and again, and his screaming faded and all there was to hear in the darkness of the demolished bathroom was water spilling over the edges of the tub, the hissing of shower and soft, dry rhythmic noises and L's occasional groan.
Japanese and overall Asian sweets were substantially different from western sweets L was used to and liked.
Because sugar farmers in Asia were so high-maintenance and consumed most of the sugar they grew (as well as constantly went on strikes), sugar in sweets was deficient and substituted with gross things like red beans. After his first visit to Japan and being beastily acquainted with sweet ricecake soup, L realized his luck of being raised in a country where sugar farmers weren't lazy.
"Ryuzaki, are you listening?"
"Yes Raito-kun, it is not surprising that two more members of Yotsuba were found dead; Yotsuba-L must have gotten fired."
Though L had no particular care for crumpets, he had really grown to appreciate those as an enormous cultural part of his British upbringing and overall cultural tradition.
"Ryuzaki!"
"Yes, Raito-kun."
This traditional Red Bean paste thing that Matsuda dragged in, however... It looked like it was made from red beans.
"Ryuzaki!"
Gross.
"Leave him alone Raito, he's just a little overwhelmed by all the death..."
In fact, it looked so unappealing... Bleh.
L turned his stare to Light who looked far more appealing than the Red Bean paste thing that was probably made from red beans.
"You look like a kicked puppy, Ryuzaki. Knock it off."
"It is because I feel little overwhelmed by all the death."
"You are so not overwhelmed by all the death."
"Boys!"
"My apologies, Yagami-san. Because two Yotsuba executives have turned up dead within the last 12 hours as per L's written promise, I believe it is best to let the nature take its course; if they are smart, the rest boarded their private jets and are on their way to Jamaica."
Light was so pretty when he was angry, it was almost like after having sex with him: at both instances a few strands of his pretty hair would always be out of place, his eyes narrow, cheeks rosy and lips puffed.
L particularly liked when the boy had that angry blush because it was just so adorably out of character... And stark necked and blushing, Light would bring him truffles and milk, and L would eat them.
"However, I do not believe it is L that is currently hunting Yotsuba."
"Yeah. It looks like Yotsuba-L has turned on Yotsuba."
"That's probably it," chief signed in a manner that reminded L of Watari sighing when L would turn down his vitamin shake, "the guy is professional though, very much so, it almost seems as if... he isn't worse than L himself. We- we should consider ourselves very lucky."
Vitamin shakes were disgusting, but Watari always preached how if L were to continue on his highway to diabetes, he would at least have to have vitamins so his body could support him.
Boring.
One minty candy or ten, they were still minty candies and as far as L was ever concerned, minty candies never killed anyone unless someone was stupid enough to consume the entire box along with candies.
L wasn't stupid at all, though people tended to think he was stupid when in came to sweets, he wasn't. L ate his entire box of minties one at a time to avoid choking.
"We can't just leave it alone until he's finished with Yotsuba though. We have to catch him... somehow."
Well good luck with that, Matsuda!
L mentally noted that if Matsuda caught 'Yotsuba-L' (as they called him), he'd give him a congratulatory minty.
One of the problems was that L had only one minty left, and hastily calculating the probabilities of Matsuda catching 'Yotsuba-L', L just ate his last minty himself.
Let's change the prize to a toffee, just in case somehow Matsuda manages to defy the concept of a zero percent chance.
L still had four toffees left, after all... well, three do fill the cavity of his mouth perfectly to still allow room for chewing, so technically, he had one truffle to give to Matsuda should he catch 'Yotsuba-L'...
"How are we going to do that? No evidence, no nothing... it's the same as catching death by old age."
"Well... we could always find one of Yotsuba members and wait until Y-L shows up..."
L ate the last toffee as well, since if that idea worked and Matsuda did win the toffee... Blimey he wouldn't very well claim it since he'd be dead.
Death this, death that...
Couldn't these people just sit back, have their tea, have that red bean paste thing that stood untouched in front of L like its dietary value was that of a rock, smoke a baccy maybe (Yagami-san and Mogi looked like they would enjoy that) and talk about literature and Chinese porcelain?
Death, dying, dead people... obsession with death is disturbing everywhere L went and whenever death was brought up.
Death, death, death...
When a member of the taskforce even hinted at death, L just wanted to shake him.
It was sort of like the urge he had every time he saw a SmartCar: when L saw a SmartCar, he wanted to run up to it and tilt it.
Even throw candy wrappers.
That's how annoyed it made him.
He always wondered what would happen if in the middle of their conversation about death, L would unhunch his back, calmly arise from his chair, pull out a Beretta from his pant leg, and shoot somebody square between the eyes. That would give them death to talk about.
Why hadn't he done that yet?
With what he assumed was a deep thinking expression, L hugged his knees so that the palms of his hands would press sharply into two cold hunks of metal strapped to his ankles. Right now he wanted nothing more than to trace them with his long fingers, feel every curve, every line, every imperfection that made the guns so beautifully perfect, yes, pull them out and lay them out facing walls, symmetrically, almost like wings spread out... Take out every bullet and lay them out side by side in a perfect, dashed line and steady them as their cylindrical body tried to escape L's fingers and roll away. Oh how many times had he disembodied those guns, sometimes still loaded just to savor the idea that at any given moment they may go off, and just as slowly and carefully, he would put them back together, piece by piece, suppressing the urge of to just put the sons of bitches together and shoot something...
Fuck the guns, fuck the damn investigation team that was about as useful in investigating as the cleaning crew... if they would all just get the fuck out, he'd grab Light, bend him over and make him scream and plead, he'd tair him apart just as he would with his beloved guns, trace his curves and lines and imperfections, penetrate him in a way that would make him his, his own, nobody else's, not even an entity, just L's, only L's...
Oh, just imagine the expression on the boy's face if right now L were to calmly arise from his chair, pull out a Beretta from his pant leg, and shoot everybody square between the eyes. Those beautiful chocolate eyes would widen in horror and his mouth would make a little 'o' and his hands would go helplessly limp as everyone around him collapses. But he wouldn't panic just yet, no he wouldn't, he would stand there, rooted with fear to the ground, eyes locked with the single eye of the shiny pistol staring straight at him, just inches away, awaiting death... but death wouldn't come yet, instead would come a command, and Light would obey because his mind would be blinded by white horror... and after, and only after would those gorgeous eyes fill with hysteria and panic because he would realize that after L was done, he would embrace the his silver friend with his fingers yet again and press it to the boy's temple, and skill naked and half-erect, Yagami Light would cease his existence...
Saturday at 9, the time L made a promise to Light to kill him, damn it, he should have done that as soon as they got to the headquarters, all those times after they got to the headquarters, should have, hell, 9PM was behind the dumpster when Mello had fun with his little siege; L should've killed Yagami Light then... except he woke up next to the boy that morning, just like all those other mornings, he wanted nothing more than to make him coffee and stroke his beautiful hair and smell his own semen all over that beautiful body, morning after morning...
"Have any of you gentlemen had breakfast yet?"
"Ryuzaki, it's four in the afternoon."
"Splendid, let us go to the western-style pancake house across the street, thank you for your treat, Matsuda-san."
"Pancakes!... Hey, wait -"
Thank sugary gods Japan imported sugar to compensate for their lazy sugar-farmers and dehydrated sugar trees.
--
"I'm very sorry you have to do this, Yagami-kun," said the chubby female officer Light and L were following though the maze of the morgue's basement. "Her... family refuses to claim or even ID the body. Poor girl. No matter what she's done, they should at least burry her with respect..."
The woman blabbered and Light walked beside her, looking pale, and L shuffled behind him savoring a pineapple-flavored sucker. At first, the woman had given him a look that said he should get rid of it, 'he was about to see a dead body', but L suggested that he wasn't going to poke Takada with the lollipop and then put it back in his mouth because that wouldn't be sterile. She sized him up and gave in, allowing him to trail behind as she escorted Light to the cooling room for Takada's ID.
"It's... nice of your... friend to come along," she chipped in an improperly executed compassion, and Light just nodded, hanging his head in mild, fake despair.
Liar, liar.
Light was a liar.
An ace. An actor.
A masochist.
L was shagging a masochist. Mello'll bite his arm off.
The masochist was pale and nauseous as soon as Yagami-san informed him he'll ID Takada, and the lying twit looked as remorseful as an angel.
Liar.
From the second he heard about Takada's untimely death, Light lied his pretty face off; 'Kyomi? Oh, really? I can't believe it. Did she?' The boy knew something.
So L kindly volunteered Watari to escort them. When Light tired to convince L he had no reason to come with, he figured he really, really knew something. Goody.
Light walked, and with every clack if his dress shoes against stone floors of the morgue, he seemed more composed as well more did he look like he was going for no more than an ID. He leeched the woman's sympathy and warped it into his own image of no-more-than-concerned-ex.
Aha. So what he needed to lie was people convincing him his lie was true.
What to do, oh what to do.
L's lollipop was almost up, and he wondered if the morgue sold sweets.
"Do you sell cake in this building," he said implying that the woman should tell him where they sell cake in this building. Of course they didn't.
The woman gawked at him in amazement, and Light stilled in his tracks, looking as guilty as he did before the woman's cooing.
Too easy.
"We should hurry and see Kyomi," Light ignored L's existence and pretended L did not just ask the most self-centered question he possibly could.
"But Raito-kun! Takada-san will be still there when my sugar supply runs out!" L thrust an almost naked stick in front of Light's face so the boy could understand the problem.
Light seeped the air though his brilliant white teeth, straightened up his back and continued walking like a goose while the woman explained to L that they did not sell cake in the morgue.
Ah well, cakeless L did his job at least. Light looked ready to barf.
"This way," said the woman when they reached the end of the long, narrow hall and held the metal refrigerator-like door ajar for them to enter. Metallic cells arranged in a grid-like pattern chilled the cool room with their dead stainless-steal doors.
Curiously, L turned to look at his better half. Surely he realized behind each of these metallic flaps was a dead person?
Yes, yes he did.
L bit hard into his thumb to avoid snickering.
The woman approached one of the death cells and L observed Light as his eyes widened slightly and he paled even further. To him, things were going mighty slow and every second was agony... L wondered how he could stall the process even further, but that wasn't necessary.
The woman pulled out the rack and undid the death blanket. The girl on the metal tray was beautiful, her cropped hair framed her sharp face and all that really spoiled the lovely image was the bullet crack in the dead-center of her forehead.
Light nodded and closed his eyes, sorrow overwhelming his features just like it should.
As they exited the temporary cemetery, Light politely excused himself to the bathroom looking as sick as ever and the woman told him not to wander and wait for his friend, instead L spied.
Light was definitely puking in there, and L did not disturb him.
Five minutes later as he emerged with very fine trail of acid on his breath, and just for a faint second Light had an odd look on his face. Remorse. Genuine remorse. And guilt. As quickly as he spotted Ryuzaki, regret overwhelmed his face, as genuine-looking as they would, but fake.
"We should go," he muttered quietly and L strolled to the right of him.
Remorse, huh.
L mused over the idea of Light mind-controlling his psychotic ex to kill a load of people, and ultimately target L.
Kira, Kira, is that you hiding in there?
"As a very successful businessman, I want to establish a chain of cake stores in Japan's morgues; what does Raito-kun think of this idea?"
Light smacked him rather hard.
It wasn't that L had some kind of sick pent-up grudge against Light; that really wasn't the case and if it was, there were other ways of dealing with it.
L done whatever he'd done because he felt like it, and because he could.
He wasn't going to make a habit of it, no. There was nothing in overpowering Light and making him submit with force that wasn't in giving it to him in a bed. He knew Light wouldn't resist anyway and L could do pretty much whatever he wanted. He just felt like it.
And since guilt wasn't as nearly strong of a feeling as a craving for sweets, L found no necessity in feeling guilt at all, though he supposed he probably should.
But he didn't.
And so when he knocked out the power in Light's residence and caught him around his waist and clamped the caramel eyes shut, he really didn't mean it when he apologized.
And Light really didn't mean it when he said it was okay, and to make things fair, L lied and promised that he would never do such a thing to him again.
Light thanked him for the promise, not being truthful either.
After a second of consideration, L pulled out the silky blindfold from the back pocket of his jeans and gently tied it around Light's eyes, pausing only to admire the velvety flesh of the boy's cheeks against his fingers.
Light was quite a thing to look at and touch.
L spun him around and stared at his face. The boy stood motionless in false anticipation, but in fact probably didn't care what L would do at this point.
Good, he understands then.
Light, under no circumstances, will be allowed to even think about developing a Stockholm Syndrome on L.
No way in hell.
He could like Ryuzaki and hang around him as moral support all he liked; that was a partial reason L developed a second persona and spoon-fed Ryuzaki Rue to Light. Ryuzaki Rue was a safety mechanism for both of them.
For Light, Ryuzaki was a safety net, a friend, and an anti-suicide remedy.
For L, Ryuzaki was around in case he wanted Light for longer than he should. Which already happened.
Light's time of death was scheduled at exactly 9PM.
Over a week ago.
Coincidentally, it was the exact time Mello decided to fool around and do his petty raid, and it was the exact time he and Light were hiding behind the dumpsters in that alley.
1,3,1,3.
B. B.
But B wasn't L. B had nothing to do with L. B was wrong. 13 was wrong. 13 was backwards.
Backwards, 13 made 31.
Between the first and forth of his murders, the pattern of 1-3-1 was apparent, but only day-wise, and just day-wise. A day did only have 24 hours, after all.
Backwards, 13 made 31.
31 hours, not 24.
Exact number of hours between victim 1 and 2 was 31, 62 hours between 2 and 3, 31 between 3 and 4. 62 again between 4 and 5, last one, 5, had to be Light.
If 31 was X, then 62 would be exactly 2X.
Once, twice, once, twice.
Not 13, 13.
12, 12.
And just as 13 made a B...
...12 made an R.
R. R.
Ryuzaki Rue.
Light never got that, and when he guided the boy towards his own bedroom, L realized that he did in fact have a sick pent-up grudge against Light; Light was supposed to figure it out, and he never did.
If Light figured it out, L would have no choice but to kill him, and by now he'd be back in Britain, snacking on crumpets and drinking tea.
If Light never did, well, he would die anyway, unless L felt like letting him live.
L pushed Light on the bed grudgingly, and the boy didn't do the normal 'oof' people made when they fell. Instead, he held it in, and a moment later he let out the tiniest of throat noises.
Light was afraid, Light was pleading.
He should be afraid and pleading, L heard his mind say. He agreed, and hopped on the bed and spun the brunette thing around by his pretty hair.
Light squealed again, and L had to stop and decide if he liked that.
He didn't.
He narrowed his eyes and glared daggers at the helpless thing under him; it looked composed, though tiny traces of terror shook the rosy bottom lip. No, L didn't like that, he hated it. He raised his hand and struck the quivering thing across the face, and this time the thing whimpered.
"Stop that!" he hissed and dug his jagged fingernails into the sleeves of the beige dress shirt. His knuckles turned white, and the boy started shivering everywhere, though no tiny noise escaped his throat this time.
Slowly, he released him, leaned down and gave those soft and rosy lips proper treatment, and felt the stiff body under him go lax.
When L made love to Light that night, Light was very quiet.