*Light's POV*

L was weird that morning when I woke. I straightened myself in that chair, my back sore from the position. I stretched, my bones cracking along to the notes of the piano. I yawned, but L didn't turn to face me. He nervously continued to play.

Was nervous the right word? He didn't turn around and his fingers were stuttering in their actions. It was almost as if he were ignoring me, lost in his own small world.

Had he been playing all night for me again? He should have gotten some rest. He shouldn't have stayed up playing just for me. I was grateful, but he was human like anyone else. He needed his rest.

"How are you feeling?" L finally asked, the notes falling flat as his hands stilled. But he still didn't turn to face me.

I was silent, slowly moving into myself. I still felt sick, but I didn't feel like I was dying. I didn't have that outstanding want anymore. It was still there, but it was quiet enough that I could push it away and ignore it. I'm sure that it would come back as the day continued on because the medicine would wear off and I knew that L would keep me within the 24 hour limit. I had scared him too badly the last time.

"Ok," was my answer. r. "A little sore."

"That's to be expected." L gave a small nod. "Lay on the couch next time, please."

I gave a confused look at him, but he still didn't turn towards me. That was so unlike him. Did something happen when I was asleep? "Is everything alright?"

"We..." L trailed off, leaving a deep pit in my chest. We what? What happened? "We need to talk."

"A-about?" I stuttered. Where was this going? When I couldn't see his eyes, I wasn't sure where the conversation would go. I needed to see his reactions, his facial expressions, his tells. Well, he was rubbing his toes, but he wasn't lying. Was he nervous? There it was again, a hesitation in L's movements. A stumbling.

He slowly turned to face me on the piano bench and his face was pale and sunken and his eyes held a certain sadness to them. Worry filled me and I tried to get to my feet, but he raised his hand to stop me, the chain clinking between us.

"We can remove that now, if you would like," L mumbled. He reached over to where a cup of tea rested and picked something up, tossing it to me. I caught the small object and looked to the palm of my hand to find a key. If I would like? Did he enjoy being chained together again? "Light?"

I glanced up from where I was working on removing the cuff around my wrist. "Yes?" I questioned, meeting his gaze with my own.

"When is your graduation?"

The question caught me a bit off guard. I was expecting something else entirely. I wasn't sure what, but it wasn't that. "You know the date," I replied, turning my attention back to the cuff. It unlocked and I let the metal fall to the ground, leaving a red mark on my wrist. I rubbed the sore area, greatful to be free.

"Why didn't you tell me you were giving a speech?" L said, drawing my attention back to him. "I expected you to be top of your class, but I didn't think that you would be giving a speech."

I sighed, a hand running through my hair. I really didn't want to have this fight, but at least it was over just my speech rather than the problem that was looming over us. And I really didn't want to fight when I could feel the edges of my migraine slowly returning.

"I didn't think that it would matter. How did you even find out?" I asked, sitting up fully, but avoiding his eyes that studied me carefully.

"Watari mentioned it."

Of course he did. Though, I couldn't be mad at him. I could never be mad at Watari. He had given me everything so that I could have my world back. My father still worked with Watari, so Watari would have heard about my graduation speech.

"I'm very sorry I didn't tell you." Maybe if I apologized now, I could stop this fight before it really started. "I just figured that since you couldn't come, you didn't need to know."

I could see the gears turning. I could see him thinking. It was written over his face, but it was more in hieroglyphics than in a language that I understood. His thumb moved to his lip in thought. I just really hoped that he understood where I was coming from.

"Are you going to be able to write it all and speak it by the date?" l questioned. "You still need to pass your finals."

"I'm the top of the class, a few finals with be nothing so long as my withdrawals stay at bay." They wouldn't be hard for me to pass. I was well off with my studying and I had a very good memory. I could pass them. "And with your help, I'm perfectly capable of writing out a speech in English."

"With my help," he mumbled causing me to wince. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have fucking said that. "I don't mind helping you. I wish you would have told me though." It was as if a relief shot through me and I could finally relax. "I do want to be part of your life, Light. Please understand that even though I am dead to the world, I am not dead to you." He turned back to the piano, picking up some light chord progressions very high up on the keyboard. They were so high, it sounded like the ting of a music box. "Or, at least, I hope I am not dead to you."

Those words caught me. They held me hostage, deep and cold. Did he really feel that way? Did I ignore him that much? I really thought that I had been trying my absolute best to be with him whenever I could. I knew that with school work and soon everyday work would come between us, but I didn't think that it would be that big of a deal.

Or maybe I just wasn't contemplating the correct issue. Maybe the feelings were based the bigger problem between us. The one that we had been avoiding. The one that was slowly driving us apart. We both wanted to hide from our feelings. I knew we both did. We had taught yourself to hide away from the world whatever we could, and now we hide ourselves away from each other.

And this was a problem that no one else in the world had ever faced. This was a problem that help books and therapy and the internet could help. I couldn't just Google how to discuss bringing your fiance back from the dead. I couldn't ask Dr. Sutcliffe to tell me which path I should take to make living this new life easier. I couldn't go to a bookshop and buy a book titled: How to Patch up a Relationship with Your Lover Brought Back to Life from a Death Eraser from a Shinigami.

But I wanted that. I wanted the guide book with the best route to take. I wanted the map with the path marked out in bright red marker. I wanted a street sign that said: This Way To Joy And Happynes, with happiness spelled wrong. I wanted to know which way would cause the least amount of pain for the both of us. But I wasn't going to get that. It just wasn't going to fall from the sky like the death note had. Nothing was that easy.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" I questioned when I finally found my voice. L's playing didn't break. He was more in control now, but I could tell there was something else on his mind. Something foreboding.

"Have you heard anything more about the Kira case from your father or people at work or school?"

This again, was not the question I was expecting. He was avoiding the subject as much as I was. When would we finally break?

I want the death note.

"No. Nothing. I will pay better attention to the news," I said softly, my nails digging into the palm of my hand at the thoughts that kept popping up. I didn't need the death note. I didn't need the death note. I only wanted it. I didn't need it. Deep breath, move on. "And what about the Paris case? Did you finish that one?"

"Yes." His voice. I didn't like the way he was speaking. I didn't like the tone. It was distant, almost like he knew something that I didn't. Something important. "The outcome was dull, you don't need to worry over it." That wasn't like L at all. No case was ever dull. No case was worth passing up. No case could be spared an explanation because he loved to see my reactions, loved to hear my thoughts, loved to gage my mind.

"Lawliet?" I asked in a soft voice, rising to my feet.

"You need to take some more medicine and then get some more rest. I am under the impression that you will not want to miss your therapy session. I will be more than happy to wake you when it is time for you to leave."

I couldn't fight him. His voice was resolved. This was final. I had to obey. I sighed and turned for the kitchen, but stopped at L's voice.

"And please, for now, don't call me by my name."

"There's something bothering you," the blonde therapist said, chewing on the end of her pen.

I picked up the glass of water that was on the desk in front of me and took a long sip, but my mouth was still cotten dry. There was a mountain of things bothering me, but I couldn't tell her. She wouldn't understand. I would be locked up in a mental ward for the rest of my days.

"What's on your mind, Light?" she tried again, pressing just slightly.

What could I give her?

"I just had a fight with my roommate before I came." Could I call it a fight? I wasn't sure what to label it, but it had left me feeling uneasy. She waited patiently for me, the end of her pen clicking in her teeth."My parents are coming for my graduation and my roommate and my parents don't much care for each other." I wasn't sure how else to put it.

"Can they set aside their differences for you? This is your day. Your achievement," she pointed out, pushing her glasses back up as they slid down. Glasses... She had never worn glasses before.

"No. I don't think that that will work," was my answer. "They just can't see eye to eye. I doubt they ever will be able to."

"Your English is getting better. I can tell you're more confident." There it was again. Every session. Why did she feel the need to say it? I didn't understand. Maybe it was another part of her OCD. "Would you mind telling me more about your relationship with your roommate?"

"What do you want to know?" I asked, sitting forward in my chair enough for me to take another sip of my water.

"I hope you don't find me over stepping any lines, but do your parents not like him because you two are together?" Her eyes didn't leave my surprised face, but her pen left her teeth and wrote down in my file on her desk. How could she tell? I had never once mentioned any type of romantic relationship with her. But she had given me an out. I could blame it on that.

"Yes." Her eyes shot up to me at the hesitancy in my voice. But there wasn't any judgement in her gaze behind the glass. "My father doesn't approve."

"Alright, I would like to work on that if you don't mind.," she said, returning her pen to her lips and somehow leaning further into her uncomfortable looking position.

I gave a shrug as my answer and rubbed my head. My medicine must have been leaving my system, I could feel the spike of a migraine starting. I would just have to push through it. But why were they always worse when I came here? Maybe it was just the emotional dilemmas I went through each time I came here.

"You said you met your partener at work," she muttered, digging through her notes for our last meeting. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read over her handwriting. "And he is a detective. What kind of work were you doing?"

"My father is the police chief in Japan and sometimes I would tag along when he went to work." It wasn't a lie, just wasn't the whole truth. I did that a lot. I felt like I lived on half truths. "I met him then."

"Can I know his name?"

I opened my mouth but stopped myself. That could have ended horribly. That would have been an absolute disaster.

"Rue," I finally answered. I couldn't tell the truth. I had to live in half truths. I had to remember to live in half truths, especially here.

I want the death note.

My hand went to my head at a sharp pain. My migraine was getting worse. I reached out and took another sip of water before rubbing my temples.

"And that would explain why he is significantly older than you." She was more talking to herself than to me.

"I wouldn't say significantly," I whispered. L wasn't older than me. Maybe physically, but he and I would always be the same age. We would always be the same mentally and emotionally. We were in sync. Or, at least it felt like it.

"So how did the relationship begin to form? You told me that he was..." she trailed off, looking through her notes again. "Difficult to deal with in the beginning."

"Yes. Let's just say..." I paused, trying to think through the stinging. "We had different points of view."

"And you were able to work through that?" There was the scratching of the pen through my tightly shut eyes. Would I ever get better? Would they ever stop? I nodded and clenched my jaw. I shouldn't have moved. "Ok. And how did you two grow closer?"

"We worked closely together on a case."

"You helped your father on a case?" She hummed in interest, writing again. I tapped my foot anxiously. I just wanted this feeling to go away.

I want the death note.

"Yes, I would help on occasion. Rue and I ended up very close. Closer than I wanted at the time, but it wasn't all bad. He's brilliant. It was nice to have someone whose mind worked at the same speed as mine. Someone who wasn't a goldfish." I took a deep breath and did my best to push all my other physical feelings away.

"Of course. I understand." She nodded, pushing her glasses back up again. I stared at her for a moment as she continued her notes. Was she wearing lipstick? I had never seen her wear lipstick before, but the light pink was at the end of the black pen she was using. "It's a nice feeling to have someone who understands us. Someone who is there for us."

I gave a nod. It was nice. She was right.

"And then you two moved out here together. Was it for your relationship?"

"No. I came out here for school. He was a just a nice addition."

"And Rue can just move around the world?" She gave a interested look. Did she really want to know? Did she enjoy these types of stories?

"He's privately hired," I muttered. How much more could I give her? I was walking a fine line. I needed to be more careful.

"I see," she muttered, writing yet again. "How long have you two been together?"

The thought caught me off guard. I had never thought about it before. How long had we been together? Officially, it had only been several months. Even if I did count when he was in the ground, we had been together less than a year.

That was mind boggling to me. It felt longer than that to me. We had always been together. There had never been a time when L hadn't been in my life. He was somehow there, even in memories I knew he was specifically missing in, he was still somehow there.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time, but most of it had been good. A lot had been bad. The good things didn't always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things didn't always spoil the good and make them unimportant.

"A few months," I finally answered.

"That's quite a bit to go through in such a short amount of time Light." She brushed back a piece of hair that had fallen from her tightly pulled bun. "You are in a new relationship that your family is unfamiliar with, you have moved very far away from home, you have a new school, a new job, and all together a very new life. How do you feel like you are managing it?"

I wished I could tell her. I wished I could spill all of it. I wish someone other than those two men back at home knew what I was going through. If only they knew. If only someone would understand. If only... I wanted to tell so desperately. Tell someone who wouldn't judge, who wouldn't set rules and limitations on me. Someone who wouldn't look at me differently now that they knew the truth...

I'm managing it," I answered softly. What a lie. Every day was a struggle far harder than the day before. But it was worth it. I truly felt like it was. L was worth anything.

L. That detective. That brilliant mind hidden behind sugar coma eyes and unruly hair.

I want the death note.

"Light, I think that's good for today. We'll meet again next week," she said, her lips turning up slightly in the corners in an almost smile like shape. "Get home safe."

"Thank you," I responded, getting to my feet and reaching out to shake her hand. With that, I left the room and headed for the car that was going to take me home.

L was working away when I got home. He nodded his head in greeting and gave an extremely small smile that didn't light up his eyes and returned to his computer, absentmindedly stacking up sugar cubes. Watari was standing beside him, pouring him a cup of tea. It was as if they were back to normal. They belonged together. They had been together almost all of L's life. It was so natural looking.

I sighed slightly and nodded back before heading for the stairs, for my room. I shut the bedroom door and leaned back against it. My head was swimming, and I was starting to feel sick again. after my shower, I would need to take a bit more medicine.

I moved to the bathroom and closed the door as i undid my tie, before turning on the water to get it to the correct temperature. I unbuttoned my shirt and placed the fabric next to my tie, but stopped. Beside my tie was the death note.

My blood froze and my hands went to my head. Not again. Please. Not again. I couldn't take this! It was everywhere! That death note was with me in every breathing, waking moment. I couldn't get rid of it.

Steam began to fill the room, fogging the mirrors, but somehow not dimming my sight of the death note. I just wanted to scream. I wanted this to end. I wanted all of this to go away. Why was Ryuk doing this? Why?

All I had to do was ignore it. It went away if I just went on with whatever I was doing. That's all I had to do. Simple. Easy. I turned my back to the death note, but came to an abrupt stop. The black book was propped against the door. And then there was another one beside the shower. Three, four, five. There were more.

It had to stop at six. I knew that there was only aloud that many death notes in the human world at a time. They had to stop. They had to. But they didn't. They covered the floor, the sink. Filled the shower, pooled around my legs.

Soon the pile was up to my knees, making me unable to move. Whispers poured through me demanding: Use Me!

Panic tightened my chest as I pulled at my hair, tears forming in my eyes. Why was this happening? Why now? Why!? Someone tell me!

My muscles constricted as if they were trying not to let the others breathe, intent on dying. My breathing grew shallow against my heavy rib cage, my lungs screaming, begging for oxygen. Anything that would make my body function.

My waist. Death note after death death note surrounded me, pushing me under, that whisper nagging, scratching at my brain, making it bleed. Use Me!

And my mind was static, the scratching the only sound I could hear as I was drowned in the death notes with my hand writing in them.

The steam took up the spaces between the note books, smothering me. Making me hot. Making me melt.

Use Me!

Use Me!

Use Me!

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't handle it. I needed out. I wanted out. This had to end before I completely lost myself. Let me out! Someone help me! My mind is broken! Please... God, please.