Disclaimer: GET YOUR H1N1 SHOTS I AM NOT KIDDING YOU, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
III: Devil's Trill
CH24
Happiness – pt.4
It was a nasty laughter, and L felt disgust tug at the corners of his lips.
As the young man before him laughed not only his heart, but his throat and lungs out as it seemed, L could only think of one thing to do to stop this, and that was reaching out and slapping the young man in the face.
He didn't.
He held back even as his sticky fingers curled into a half-fist around the sheets, even as his habits pushed him closer to the laughing, naked boy on the other side of the bed.
Shut him up.
Or leave.
L did neither, nor did he back away when he realized what Light was laughing at.
The scar.
L was suddenly more aware of the scar than he had ever been. The thick scar, fresh under the improperly healed surgical tissue, about an inch under another circular scar, slightly left of the center of his chest felt like a part of him that was not really a part of him at all.
The skin over the fake heart felt alien, and the plastic heart itself felt like Light's arm reached inside of his chest and ripped out the alien thing.
It was as if the thing was intended for Light's personal amusement, because the hoarse and hysteric laughter still came out as small hiccups when L found his hands around a sweaty throat.
And Light looked at him, from under him still somehow managing to look down at him, choking on air that didn't come as L squeezed his throat harder, with a large grin on his face.
Light liked this.
Light really was a masochist.
The satisfied smirk didn't leave the beautiful face when both of them, much to L's dismay, clicked into their appropriate places. L was really strangling the young man under him, even when one hand clawed weakly at L's grip and another pushed against L's chest. Light was dying.
This was the deal, L realized.
Light's life was pulsating weakly in L's grasp, and as much as L would despise himself for taking this precious life, he knew he could, at any given moment.
L's happiness was drained; he would be miserable with Light alive or dead. And this made Light happy.
It was the deal they made all that time ago in that cheap motel near a library with a koi pond.
Light's life for L's happiness.
No amount of brilliance and cleverness and wonderful lies L found so attractive, not even a loss of everything Light owned could substitute for the price of a life.
No scars, no love, not even a heart torn fresh out of L's chest would substitute for the price of happiness.
A futile gasp.
A hand that dropped from L's chest and smacked lifelessly against the naked belly.
Beautiful caramel eyes that drifted shut.
Fingernails withdrew from L's clutch, and Light's hand fall loosely on top of L's knuckles.
It was like they were finally holding hands.
In peace.
Glass.
His pockets were full of shattered, broken glass. The folds in his jeans and his shirt and his hair and even his skin were all perfect places for tiny pearl-size pieces of glass to get lost in. There were millions of tiny shards and slivers, all disconnected and scattered, never to be whole again.
Most of them were clear, and much like expensive diamonds, they glittered brilliantly in the red and blue lights of police and ambulance sirens.
The ones what weren't diamonds were rubies instead. They were dull and red and colored in streams of flowing blood. Blood was everywhere, accompanying glass in a small trail of shards and crimson behind him.
No, no he wasn't walking, he was being walked or dragged by at least six police officers.
They were walking him towards the police cruisers. His hands were bound behind his back and he could barely keep his eyes open.
Glass was small and not sharp enough... it was treated glass.
Like from windshields in cars.
He looked behind him.
A car, a beige new BMW was flattened on the driver's side and lay upside down on the pavement littered with scraps and rubber. The slivers of metal reminded him of silver tinfoil, and the car itself was like a mutilated piece scrap metal. Rocks were around it… no they were concrete pieces broken off from the row of shattered two-ton highway separators.
Was he in that?
Shouldn't they put him in an ambulance instead?
He looked around, more confused than when he found himself with pieces of glass sparkling all over his body like glitter on a Christmas three.
He looked down at the ground and realized he was only walking with one leg, the other one was dragging behind him like a lifeless log.
He was being dragged.
Noise…
Car...
Speed…
Glass…
Blood…
What happened to him?
He looked sideways, around for anything to see himself in.
A mirror, he needed a mirror.
The only one he found was the reflective surface of the back window of the police car he was shoved into.
He was covered in his own blood.
He was wearing a white bloody shirt.
His jeans pant leg was soaking in blood up to the knee.
Other things he noticed, not as prominent as injuries, glass and blood were small things.
For example, he had black hair.
And what a glorious mess it was!
Hadn't he ever washed his hair?
Or even heard of a basic grooming?
He just couldn't remember.
Not a thing.
A/N: before you freak the fuck out at really short chapter, follow these simple steps.
1. Review this chapter.
2. Wait 24 hours for chapter 25 ;D This is a double update. For obvious reasons, I couldn't just leave you with this chapter for a month, could I now?
What the hell happened to me?
I dropped this for a month because I could not look at the same chapters that needed revision anymore, and was doing Nano.
Alternative Gods
LightxL (finally the other way around!)
Heavy stuff. Will publish when I figure out what to do with it. As DT is coming to an end (even though there're still 6 chapters and 4 chapters of prologue), I needed another baby, so well. Another mindfucking MEGAFIC you will like! ;D
It's too late at night for me to be talking. I need to read my L Change the World, too…
Oh, I actually do have a public service announcement. Go get your H1N1 shots. No, it is NOT over yet, and if you think, "tralala, I'm so lucky I dodged the 1st wave and I won't get it on 2nd wave, even if I do it can't be that bad anyway, tralala," YOU ARE WRONG. GET THE SHOT. GET THE SHOT. GET THE SHOT. I'm serious. YOU REALLY REALLY REALLY WANT THAT SHOT. TRUST ME.
CH25: The Saints are Coming
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The Magic Button