Raito and Lawliet

There was only a 12% chance that Light would be here before his door tonight after moving out of their shared room, now that he is free of the chains that bound them to each other. So when the unlikely outcome manifests itself, looking at him with unsure eyes and silent lips, L is left uncharacteristically planless. However, sending Light away does not even seem to be a barely acceptable or satisfying option. No, L wants... needs to engage with his prime-suspect in some way. But he does not want to argue. He does not want to accuse and he does not want to fight. And he most certainly does not want to cry. No, he has already reached hard-fought acceptance, bitter though it may be. So, he stares at Light vacantly, processing every unspoken word and every foolish sentiment with feigned emotionlessness. The air between them had changed over the course of their chained month together and something palpable and heavy still hangs over their tired heads. They tried dismissing it of course. Ignoring it. Butchering it till it no longer had any breathing space. But apparently, this stupid thing is highly resistant to their mutual attempts to destroy it. So, L succumbs to it flippantly and takes the only option he cares to see left.

He lets Light back into their once shared room and does something only a dead detective walking would have the freedom to do without being compromised. He pulls the unsuspecting boy before him into a hungry kiss and prides himself on doing something Light hadn't foreseen. Chapped lips meet smooth ones and the receiver gasps softly in surprise, but there is no protest, only acquiesance... as if the only thing stranger than making out with his enemy is not making out with him. But just being enemies would be too simple. They were always doomed to cross lines that would complicate what they meant to each other. What Light gets out of allowing this indiscretion after he has won, L does not know for sure. If it came before the boy had secured his victory, L would have had a fair clue. Gaining trust. Influencing decisions. Getting an ego boost. The last reason might be it even now. Perhaps Light... No, Kira just wanted to collect the promised trophy for his victory. L knows that he had always been seen as some sort of prize. He strongly suspects that Light would've wanted to play with him a little more before having him, but had the opportunity stolen from him by L's impatience. If so, L had indeed succeeded in keeping Light from drawing out his misery and he will revel in this largely meaningless conquest... he is hopelessly petty after all. Stress on the hopeless part.

Light sighs softly against L's lips. He didn't really come here for sex, not that he didn't want to have sex with the detective. He did for quite sometime now. He just didn't find it to be the most emotionally appealing experience to do it this way. For some reason, he can't just think of this as some glorious vanquishment. Rather, his mind is occupied with the fact that he would have to live with the after-effects of sharing his body with the man he is going to kill. Nonetheless, he's factored in the microscopic possibility of sex happening anyway. He's even prepared accordingly. Yes, true, he'd come here to talk, but he has no clue what to say or where to start. There is nothing meaningful he could say anyway. Unlike him though, L seems to know why he let him in and this means that the detective will lock him out that door the moment he attempts conversation. So, Light doesn't dare risk it. He'd do anything for now to not have L push him away. He'd do anything right now to just be with the pallid man before him.

The kisses only get more intense as L pins Light against the closed door. He does not know if it is undignifying or morally reprehensible to sleep with the man who would be killing him. Especially if he is doing it for no other reason but empty catharsis. He doesn't take the time to evaluate it. Well, if he would be dying for the supposed crime of opposing Kira anyway, he'd rather add real ones like making out with him. When Light pulls away for a second to catch his breath, he does so only to reveal a pair of painfully tortured eyes. L smirks. Perhaps Light would only let the flood-walls of feelings free when it no longer poses any threat to himself. When it is finally safe to be so indulgent of the weakening emotions of loss and longing. No. Lies. Light felt nothing but pride at having defeated him, L decides in a hurry and reels the younger man back in, almost immediately. Light tries to keep up as steady kisses give birth to desperate ones. L is holding onto him almost as if he would break into a million pieces if Light stopped touching him. The detective does not look into his eyes again for the entire duration of their sexual exchange and nor does he allow Light to look into his own. No, L doesn't even dare look at Light's face for most of it. His eyes stay on the boy's throat where they are meant to be. He only wants their bodies close, not their metaphorical hearts. No, he would keep his heart as far away as possible from Light's deceitful one. L truly has no idea what he's doing or what he's doing it for anymore. He only knows that he doesn't want to stop now. Because Light would probably kill him the minute their entirely irresponsible escapade is over.

He thinks it's laughably ironic, how the highest form of comfort he can now find is in the arms of his soon-to-be-murderer. When the tears finally begin to tickle his nearly non-existent eyelashes, he pretends that they don't exist and Light pretends for him too, even as he tastes their salty tang on L's lips. At some point, things take a turn for the worse. The rough kisses, primarily L's fault, lead the chapped skin on the detective's lips to break and soon, Light is left tasting L's blood. He pulls away once more, looking horrifiedly concerned and the detective laughs gently into his mouth. Well, you've always wanted to taste my blood, haven't you?

He pulls the boy back in without a word from his bloody lips. Light keeps himself sinfully pliant as the antagonistic nature of their true dynamic does nothing to stop L's arms from exploring the taut skin on his abdomen. No, it only emboldens him further. Light shivers under the touch of cold fingers against his warm skin. And although L takes the liberty to explore every inch of Light's torso, the shirt never comes off... because L doesn't want to admire how beautiful his suspect looks underneath his pretty clothes. As his heart races faster than it had ever, Light pulls the detective in over himself, settling his back onto the bed behind them. He tugs gently on the other's unruly hair to cradle a pallid face against his slender neck. He is sure L licks his jugular with what can only be medical or rather, murderous precision. It does nothing to scare him away. L could have already killed him at a hundred different times if he wanted to. L only wants to see him solved. Exposed. Defeated. Prosecuted. Dead, not necessarily. But for Light, those things will be far worse than death.

Despite the coarseness of their exchange, L does not leave a single mark on Light's glistening skin. It's almost as if he wants to be a ghost who can only be seen when Light closes his eyes. So, Light does and pictures the face that he is not allowed to see. For some inexpressible reason, L understands the act and smiles at the strangely endearing gesture. There are no more tears in his eyes when he straddles the younger man under him, stopping to evaluate their next moves. Of course, Light would not want to leave any evidence in L's soon to be dead body. Of course he'd open his legs for him while pretending to open his heart. Any feelings of endearment that L felt are instantly lost. L tugs at the waistband of Light's pants and Light gets the hint to lift his hips for him as he strips the boy of his pants without delay. L wonders if he should run now... when he can. No, he decides. He has nothing to lose. No reason not to go further. He pauses unnecessarily to note that Light's legs have the muscle definition of a Greek God and he tries hard not to appreciate the work of art as he lets his hands explore the flesh of the boy's perfect thighs. Light moans softly against his tongue when L squeezes his ass firmly. He pulls down the annoying pair of boxers till Light is naked and hard and vulnerable before him, but the boy's manhood receives none of the attention his asshole would. Light knows that he would have to take care of himself. So, he runs his fingers along his length leisurely, taking his time, opening his eyes to focus them on L's sweaty collarbones.

L places himself between the boy's legs and decides to be cruel. He places careful kisses on Light's hips that he knows will haunt the boy far after he is gone. Light does not have the will to stop him, so L takes his time to torment the boy, breaking the dispassionate and clinical nature of their otherwise lewd exchange for something that seems deceptively close to affection. The illusion of power he seems to have over Light at the minute is more intoxicating to L than any substance he has ever known. It almost feels like the real thing. He smirks at their inverted positions as he grabs a bottle of lotion from the shelf beside them, lowering his baggy jeans only till where it's necessary.

Light's poor asshole does not receive any elaborate preparation. Light thinks it's perhaps because the detective believes that Light as a teenager spent time seducing older men or perhaps it was just because he just wants to watch the boy suffer. It is not the L's fault really, he decides. If God-complex driven mass murder was not past him in L's eyes, opportunistic promiscuity would hardly be. L needn't know that he'd be his first. He didn't need to feel compelled to be tender. It's not like Light would deserve it anyway.

So he does not ask the detective to slow down, not even when it moves past the point of discomfort and into the realm of pain. The pain finally morphs into the faintest notes of pleasure and Light realizes that he is making involuntary noises he didn't know he could make. Strangely, he doesn't feel even the slightest sense of shame or embarrassment for his utter loss of control over his senses. He knows that the severity of L's thrusts are not entirely intentional, but it happens to be the natural progression of things. It happens to be just the kind of borderline brutality he needs, so he doesn't ask for anything else even when it burns like the paper he used to kill Higuchi... and like the lies he's been telling L ever since. He turns his face to his side. L smiles wryly when he notices the shimmer of fallen tears on Light's cheeks, because he knows it has nothing to do with the physical pain being inflicted upon him. In fact, he knows the physical pain only makes the mental hell bearable for the boy. So, L decides to allow the kindness in lieu of the raw emotional honesty he is being given.

It feels dizzyingly euphoric when he finishes. Better than he would have liked for it to be. He doesn't know when Light finished, only that he has. He feels a tinge of regret, knowing that it just means that he'd been too self-centered to provide the boy the pleasure he was supposed to. A failure. He grimaces, knowing that he would probably never get a chance to return the favor. It is so stupid that he cares about something like that, given that Light would soon kill him. He grabs some tissues and cleans them both off carefully. It's the gentlest thing he has done so far and Light's eyes threaten to tear up even more. L buries his head into Light's stomach as his mind feels as spotless as the day he was born. Light runs his fingers through his hair as if to offer comfort or whatever it is that he is offering. While L knows that he will die soon, he now also knows that Light will be not be much better than a corpse after he becomes one. And so, every post-coital kiss of destruction he is allowed to inflict on the boy only leaves him strangely satisfied. He is concerned that the Kira case is making him sadistic, but he accepts Light's twisted little offering without rebuke nonetheless. When the kisses finally stop, Light is worried that the detective would ask him to leave immediately, but no such dismissal is made. L, thankfully, is not in the mood to treat him like a prostitute.

When the detective finally pulls his jeans back up and lies down beside Light, no words are exchanged. No reassurances are given. No confessions are made. There are no apologies because there is no insincerity. But Light's eyes linger on L's heaving chest long after the deed is done. L has forgiven him because he understands him and Light knows it to be true because there is neither anger nor animosity in L's eyes when he is finally allowed to look at them again. One might even be moved to say that the detective loves him as he traces the outline of Light's right hand, holding the boy's supple palm in his own for no apparent reason. Light is put to sleep under his calming touch. The ghost of a kiss to his knuckles is the last thing he feels before succumbing to a nightmarish slumber. Nightmare L apologizes to him for failing him and the world... for not solving this case. He even apologizes to him for dying as if Light weren't the one to willfully cause his death.

When his eyes flutter open in horror, Light notes that the detective has disappeared, and he swears frantically as he slips on his clothes haphazardly. What if Rem had killed L while he was still asleep? God...

Light heaves a sigh of relief when his search leads him to find the detective standing alone on the terrace in the rain. Something in him breaks at the display of the tragedy before him. And something in him flips a switch that he didn't even know was still in commission, but he is endlessly grateful that it is. Love. He knows that it is too late for a philosophy lesson. Too late for meaningful reconciliation... although he wishes that it wasn't. Light does not have the means to change his mind, but he also does not have the means not to change his heart. For it is not with him anymore. Rem is called off. Misa's memories are removed. Her notebook is obtained. Plans are irreversibly changed. Yet the bells don't stop ringing because now they are ringing for him. Because he is a selfish coward at best. Light settles his back against the railing as he sits down on the stairwell. He wishes he knew a better way to tell L that he loves him more than anything he has ever known. That he needs him even more than he needs himself. He doesn't even know if L will get the message or if it would mean anything to him. Maybe L would just scoff at Light's dead body and declare his victory as he stands over it. Maybe it would go down as one for the books, where he won by seducing his stupid suspect. Light would understand if that is how it is. The last thing he sees is a soaking white shirt coming hurriedly towards him and his lungs finally cease to breathe. There's a small sheet of paper in his hands which reads his own name and his dead fingers unfurl to drop it. L falls onto his knees before Light as he picks up the sheet of paper with shaking hands. His fears are confirmed. Light's name is engraved upon it in beautiful Kanji. L shivers. He feels colder than the corpse of the boy he made love to... not even more than just three hours ago. No, he did not make love. He used. That was all he did. Apparently though, he'd been far more effective using his body against his suspect... as opposed to his mind. And he hadn't even known that to be a possibility. He knows that he wouldn't be alive now if not for their unexpected tryst. He turns the paper over to see the words, 'Love kills Shinigamis' on it. L hopes he is right about what it means as he feels the early signs of hypothermia set in. He feels wobbly.

A guttural sob escapes his throat when Light's body slumps over onto him. He cannot breathe. It hurts almost as much as when his Mom abandoned him on a highway in London. Before he has the time to process Light's death, he feels a presence behind him. Rem looks at him expressionlessly.

"Misa has given up her memories. She is not Kira anymore. She won't be killing anymore. So if you end your search for her, I will spare you," he hears Rem say. He knows Light had asked for Rem to say this, because Light had thought that L would value his life more than comprising on his ideals, especially now that the real Kira was dead and the second Kira was a airhead model with zero recollection of her true past. But Light has also given L a choice by communicating to him that Shinigamis die if they act to save the life of a human they love. L is grateful for the knowledge because he knows he can't let Misa get away. At least Light's killings were motivated by some twisted notion of justice. Misa's were not. They were merely motivated by attention-seeking.

"No," L says simply without intonating any defiance. He does so because this has always been to him about justice. The fact that his words will only cause him to die does nothing to dissuade him. "Spare the others," he begs as if he doesn't know that Rem would have no choice but to. She would die killing him after all.

Rem writes his name down quickly and he tries to distract her before she completes the second name. "You ruined her life, you know? You made her Kira. Someone will find Misa. And the chances she won't kill herself after learning of Light's death are not even 0.0056%," he says breathily but calmly as he scoots closer to Light's body, curling into him. He rests them both against the wall behind them.

"No, you're lying!" Rem shouts as she stands shell-shocked. "She won't. She'll not do that," Rem denies the truth, mostly to herself. "Misa," she starts but her body begins to disintegrate and soon she is nothing but dust.

L clutches his slowing heart and closes his weary eyes for the last time, joining Light without complaint. Guess they were going to be a sequel to a Shakespearean tragedy. Raito and Lawliet. Haha.

Two bodies are found 5 hours later by Watari at the behest of Souichirou Yagami's concern for the missing boys. The CCTV confirms that the man's son killed himself and that L, in his own last moments embraced the boy without a second thought as if he were the most precious thing to him. Matsuda steadies the Chief who nearly succumbs to what feels like a heart attack, although it isn't. Watari informs him that the bodies ought not to be touched or moved until after the crime scene is analyzed by forensic experts.

"It's over, isn't it?" he asks and Watari nods, before making a solemn call directing Mogi to arrest Misa Amane with the necessary suicide prevention mechanisms in place. L had told him that the chance of her becoming insane if prevented from dying after receiving knowledge of Light's death would be 100%.

"Light loved him," he hears Souichirou say finally and under any other circumstances, he knows that those words would not have been uttered without disapproval. "He loved Light too... perhaps more than Light loved him," the man adds softly. Watari gives him a small pat on his back before walking away, somewhere where he can mourn his loss alone. The loss of the little boy he'd raised and loved. Even in his last moments, L had been so intelligent. Watari knows that the name whose completion was stalled by L was his own. "Matsuda-san, can you please take me home?" Soichiro weakly asks the speechless younger man beside him after Watari is gone. He wipes away his dried tears, sighing in agony. He knows that he will come to pick up the pieces tomorrow, but for now, he needs to be home with his wife and daughter. For now, he needs to not break into pieces. His son is Kira. His son is dead. He has been betrayed by the baby boy he adored from the moment the child was born. And he knows that nothing in this world will do anything to remove the poisoned knife Light has plunged so deeply into his shattered heart. "Thank you," he tells L's corpse. "I'm sorry we ever doubted you," he adds with a respectful bow. "I'll take myself home, Matsuda-san. Kindly take care," he tells the still dumbstruck man beside him, his pace now more stoic and steady than it ever had been. "Actually, no. Join me, son. You don't have to be alone today.