It's a grey, early morning, barely five. You slip out of sleep quietly on Monday to find Ryuzaki awake, and watching you; his thumb pressing against his lip and his expression thoughtful. You're restless, and you could turn over and pretend to go back to sleep, but you don't feel like it, so you say a soft "good morning" instead. The quiet, somehow, seems apt. As though fitting in this early hour.
"Good morning, Light-kun," he replies.
You sit up, get out of bed and Ryuzaki follows as you go to the wardrobe and pick out your clothes. You take a quick five minute shower, then get dressed. When you walk back into your room, Ryuzaki goes over to the windows and pulls the curtains halfway, to let in some of the sun, and you notice, not for the first time but with the soft clarity of morning, the dull purple blossoming across his skin. He notices your gaze. He must see, too, that conflicted pull between a strange feeling of pride and a feeling that you've done something terribly wrong, something you should be judged for. After all—he's not really your enemy, anymore, is he? This is… something else. It means something else.
He takes your hand in his. Brings it up to his face until the tips of your fingers are resting against the bruise, tracing its contours across the line of his jaw. "Do you like it?" he says.
"Ryuzaki—" you pull your hand away, glancing aside.
"I do," he adds, offhandedly, and you look back at him startled. "It's a memory of a good game. As is this," he pulls down his sleeve and points to the ones on his forearm.
"It isn't right though," you say uncomfortably.
"Isn't this the same Light-kun who said 'neither of us care about morals?'" Ryuzaki says with a grin, and nudges your shoulder.
"That's different."
"Why, because other people will know about it? I'll just tell them we got into a fight. You look just as bad, you know." As though to demonstrate, he presses his finger into your own cheek, right on top of a bruise. It sends a dull pain through you, and you shove his hand away.
"Hey, cut it out," you complain.
"Well? Like I said. A fight. No one will be surprised by that." He pokes you again, and you swat at him.
"You'll get into a whole other fight if you don't cut it out," you warn, and he steps back, holding up his hands in surrender but still grinning.
/
You're on the roof. It's just past six, and you're able to hear, even from this high up, the slight dip in sound that still characterizes those early hours in the city; just starting to bleed into the busyness of the coming day. You're on the roof and standing in front of the grating, like you have for the past three days, unable to push your foot that scant inch more into the space above and below you. The very tip of your shoe brushes the metal. A soundless scrape, but the vibrations travel through your bones. You feel ill, tired, angry. But even your anger is tired now, doing nothing but tearing itself to shreds, uselessly, with recriminations against you, and Ryuzaki, and the entire world which dares to exist.
"Light-kun," Ryuzaki says quietly. The first thing he's said since you've got onto the roof, and almost inaudible in the space, and the noise, the sound of the breeze.
You turn your head to look at him. "What?"
He nods to your watch. "I wasn't sure if you realized your ten minutes was up."
"Well maybe I want to stay out longer," you retort.
"Of course. We can do that if you want."
You glance back down. That long line of silver that is the wide strips of grating, bisecting the concrete. It's like a river without a bridge; or any other great, uncrossable force. "Never mind. I'll go back in but first—"
You have to act without thinking it over. Without losing your nerve.
You take the step. For a second, there you are: suspended between earth and sky. Nothing underneath you.
The knot in your stomach turns into a burning lance; your breath almost strangles you, and you're afraid you might actually—who knows what you might actually, but whatever it is, it's something to avoid. You're stepping back, once, then again, all your barely-gathered composure shot. It's like the vastness of everything was just waiting for your arrogant decision to pounce. Your hands are shaking, and the space between you and the door is enormous—unfathomable. You're not sure you'll get back inside.
You're not sure it will fix the horror in your gut even if you do.
Ryuzaki is gripping your arm, taking one step back after another. And so you stagger with him, your fingernails pressed against your skin with the force of your clenched hands. You stare at your feet—only at your feet—and the concrete below them; but you can still feel the power of the air, and the vastness of it, in the wind that tugs across you, in the brightness from every side. You feel inept, restless, wrong, and you hate all of it. It's easier to focus on that than the fear that's dragging at your insides like you're being burned; than the way your skin doesn't seem to fit anymore—any of it. All of it. One step in front of another.
You're at the door. You're inside. It closes behind you with a pressurized whoosh, and Ryuzaki steers you further from the doors.
"Light-kun, that was careless of you," he chides, as you lean your forehead against the wall, stare at the blankness so you can't see the windows at your back; Ryuzaki stands behind you. Between you and it, as though he could keep the entire force of the universe at bay.
You laugh, strangled and a little wild.
"I was tired of being stuck there," you say. "I was so tired of it."
You close your eyes. Ryuzaki steps closer; rests his chin on your shoulder, presses himself against you, and wraps his arms around your waist with a gentler heat than the burning. The winding coil of your breath loosens; the tight muscles of your shoulders finally sag. Three counts in. Seven out. One breath, long.
/
There's no hurry to get downstairs. It's barely seven. And you're wrung out; it seems cosy and safe to slide black under the blankets in your bed; the drapes half-open in the room. Not to sleep but just to feel the closeness of something. And Ryuzaki seems happy to oblige. He lies on his side in front of you, pressing his cold feet against yours until you shove him, and then he concedes with a pout.
But, absently, twists the cuff of your shirt between his fingers.
You're still dressed. There's something kind of amusing in that, you think: both Ryuzaki and now yourself all dressed up under the covers.
"Light-kun… what makes you so determined?" he asks.
"Be more specific?" you ask.
You're watching him but he's not looking at you; he's staring absently at his hand, at your sleeve. "Going onto the roof," he says.
"You seriously don't understand why I'd do something like that?"
"I know why I would," Ryuzaki says. "But as for you… no. Not really. Thus the question."
"Well…" you think for a minute; half-shrug. "If I don't, it's never going to change, is it?"
"Then you want it to change?" Ryuzaki says.
"I mean, yeah, of course."
"Why?"
Why? "Because I can't go onto the roof without feeling like something's attacking me. That's not really—" your blasé answer trails off into awkwardness and you fall silent. "So, it seems pretty useful from that standpoint," you say at last.
"Useful for what?"
"Uh… what do you mean? Useful for… going outside. Which I actually like to do. I mean… I know that might be hard to believe," you say wryly. "But also just. Useful. If I can't function outside of this box that's a pretty big weakness to leave exposed."
"So it's self-protection," Ryuzaki says.
"I guess. Partially."
"I understand," Ryuzaki says. "But, if you're just worried about protection, you know I could make it possible for you never to have to go on the roof again."
"Well that doesn't sound ominous."
Ryuzaki gives you a quizzical look. "I wasn't trying to sound ominous, it was a legitimate offer."
"Thanks," you say, with a smile. "Really. But it's just something I have to do. And anyway… isn't it a little arrogant to say you can really make sure I never have to go out there again? You can't predict the future, you know."
"True. But judging from past example, it's quite possible. I've done it myself on occasion."
"Note the 'on occasion', Ryuzaki. Also, what are you talking about?"
"You don't think I actually lived out of hotel rooms continually, did you?"
"I don't know. Maybe? Are you saying you have a secret castle somewhere full of spy stuff?"
"No. I'm saying that the greater percent of my cases—let's say, 75% actually—were done from within the confines of one room. And I'm still the greatest detective in the world."
"Not to brag or anything," you tease.
He huffs, a half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "I'm just saying… weakness doesn't have to stop you."
"Well, I wasn't going to let it. But what's your reason for being such a hermit? I know you don't have a problem with going outside."
"Social ones," he says. "Something so tiring, frustrating, and with so little reward… well, I just couldn't see why I should bother. And, when you're nothing but a face on a screen, it's easy to have an intimidating reputation… omnipotent, even."
"Almost godlike?"
"Yes, I suppose. But a real person… is just a real person." He gestures to himself vaguely. "Flaws and all."
"I guess so," you say. "But you know… I think only a real person can live." The thought is a strange one, occurring only as you say it, and you feel out the words, considering. "I mean, a god will always remain a concept. An ideal, right? And, like you said, he'll never really be you. So to try… maybe even to fail… to take risks and, to be weak, like you said… maybe that's what it is to be alive."
"If so, that would make life a generally unpleasant situation," Ryuzaki observes.
"No, not really. I mean… like, think about it. If you'd never gone out to solve the Kira case, you wouldn't have met me."
"Ah, because meeting Light-kun is the highlight of my life."
"Very funny."
"You don't think that would've been better?" he asks, suddenly turning serious.
"What?"
"If you hadn't met me. Since I ruined your life."
"I never said you ruined my life," you say. "Seriously, Ryuzaki. When have I ever said that?"
"You don't have to say that. It's self-evident."
"Wow."
"I'm not trying to insult you," Ryuzaki says quickly.
"You'd better not be."
"I just meant, since now you're stuck here. And you can't even go on the roof. None of this would've happened if I'd stuck with my usual tactics for solving cases."
"I guess so. And I'd also probably be dead."
"...That is quite likely."
/
You're not really thinking about the picture the both of you make by the time you go downstairs, so when the task force does a double take upon seeing you and Ryuzaki, you're baffled for a moment.
"So," Mogi says at last. "What happened?" He gestures at his face.
"We were in a fight," Ryuzaki says blandly.
Fortunately, no one even mentions the hair. Maybe they think the explanation covers that too.
…At least until Misa finally gets back. Even though it's perfectly possible for her to get back to her floor without passing through the main floor, she always makes it a point to drag Matsuda down for at least a couple of minutes so she can say hi to you, and the moment you hear her bouncy steps approaching—then stopping short—accompanied by a shriek of "Light? What did you do to your hair?" you sigh. Composing yourself while still facing the computer. Then you smile amiably and swivel your chair around. "I cut it," you explain to her, a little patronizingly.
"It looks atrocious! Have you been walking around like this all day?" she says, walking up to you and reaching towards the ends as though in sympathy. You lean back a little—the last thing you need is Misa feeling invited to touch your hair.
"Yeah, well, there's not really anything I can do about it," you explain.
"That's because you didn't have Misa's help!" she explains. "I mean, really, why didn't you just ask me to cut it for you? Doing your own hair is so much trouble."
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," you start, as she tugs your arm. "Misa…"
"Light…"
"Misa, no."
"I've seriously cut hair loads of times, it's not an issue," she wheedles. "You want your regular haircut, right? I know what it looks like, I can manage it. Do you see these bangs?" she points to her own forehead. "I did that. And the layering on my hair. This is easy-peasy in comparison!"
You look at her in some surprise, and she tugs again on your arm, so, after a moment, you stand up.
She's got your arm in a vice-grip and is already towing you over toward one of the ground-floor bathrooms. Ryuzaki follows, muttering audibly, "he wouldn't let me do his hair."
"Well, I'm not surprised!" Misa says, giving him a disdainful look that Ryuzaki matches with one of his patented 'who, me?' expressions.
As soon as the bathroom door closes behind the three of you Misa's got her purse open and is rummaging around, triumphantly pulling a pair of scissors out a moment later. Why does she even have those with her?
"Okay, just stand still for a sec," she says, standing up on her tip-toes to get a good look at you and frowning in concentration. She reaches for your hair, one hand empty, the other wielding a blade, and you have a single instant with which to feel the full weight of regret. If she screws this up… a moment later she's making a few quick, decisive snips. You close your eyes and remind yourself that you already kind of hated how bad it looked, and Misa's infatuated with you—there's no way she'd dare to make it look worse. At least on purpose. As for her actual skill, well… she moves around you, first to one side, then the other, then the back. "Um, will you move?" she says to Ryuzaki, who "just happens" to be standing in her way… more than once, at which Ryuzaki sighs loudly. As if he had any excuse… this is a public bathroom, and there's plenty of room on either side, so much so that he could go the whole six feet on any side without impediment.
Finally, Misa announces, "Done!" She skips back with a smile as you open your eyes, sliding her scissors back into her purse, and you turn around to look into the mirrors. It looks… maybe a little shorter than you like to keep it, but on the plus side she's managed to completely even out the wreck you'd made of your hair, and you look like a functional human being again. You choose to see that as Misa being actually useful for once, rather than anything about your abilities or lack thereof. You let out a breath and then give her a sweet, kind expression.
"Thanks, Misa. It looks great."
"Anything for my Light!" she chirps.
"You're right, Misa-san," Ryuzaki says. "He does look better now."
Misa glances over at him dubiously, but then resolves to take that as a compliment. "I know, right?" she says. "I mean personally, there's nothing I hate so much as a bad haircut." After a second, she adds, "you should think about letting me cut your hair sometime, Ryuzaki."
"Thank you, I'll pass," Ryuzaki says drily.
"Pity," Misa adds, syrupy. "Your looks could do with all the help they could get… unlike my Light…" she winds her arm around yours and then gazes up at you adoringly. "Who always looks heavenly, no matter what!"
"Yes, I agree," Ryuzaki says. You gape at him, while Misa scowls, shooting him a glare and tightening her grip around you. He adds, a beat too long after, "...that my looks could use the help. But, since I'm definitely past hope," he says with exaggerated mournfulness, "I suppose I'll just have to go back to my very important work and take Light-kun with me…" he walks out the door at a sudden brisk stride, and you lurch after him while Misa clings onto you with all her strength, feeling like the rope in tug-of-war. After a moment, you walk after him, and Misa is dragged along behind you, unwilling to let go of your arm.
/
It's twelve thirty, and you're upstairs, changing into your pajamas. As you pull your shirt over your head and then wait for Ryuzaki to re-attach the handcuff, you say, "I thought you were giving up the Kira investigation."
"Yes, I am," Ryuzaki says, clicking the mechanism home. For a second, his touch lingers on the edge of the metal, against your bare skin. You glance over at him, but he's already kneeling, unhooking the strap from your ankles.
"So, if that's the case…" you say. "Why all the jealousy in front of Misa? If there's no point trying to get a confession anymore?"
He looks up at you. For a second, with the strap held in one hand, crouching where he is, he is striking in his sharp and glittering clarity. Sometimes you can forget how intense he can be; when he wears those vacant, foolish expressions that puts others at ease, letting them forget quite how much of a danger he can be. But the dark, unsettling focus with which he looks up at you, now, is only what lies beyond the façade; the Ryuzaki—the L—that truly is the world's greatest detective, and the world's greatest killer.
"Would you believe me if I said it was real jealousy?" he says in a low voice.
"Not a bit."
"Well." He stands up, then, and shrugs. "Let's just call it keeping my options open. …Plus," he adds, a second later, "Misa-san sometimes irritates me, and I like to wind her up."
It's flippant. Probably true, at that, but even as he wanders over to his computer, scooping it under his arm, you consider the first part of what he said, and feel a sting like a physical sensation, a body-wide trembling rage. You have to call it rage, because you don't know what else to call it; and yet, like so many things when it comes to Ryuzaki, there's edges to it that are unfamiliar to you. Keeping my options open. Is that what he's doing? Still waiting to see if you and Misa would be better served as cannon-fodder for his crusade?
"Ryuzaki—" you say; and he places his computer on the bed. Turns to look back at you, and all thoughts of saying something rational evaporate. Instead you're surging toward him, your hand clenched and aiming at his already-bruised face; a rattling punch that seems to drag the insides of your chest with it. In the same instant that your fist connects he's kicking out, sending you back a pace and then tugging the chain towards him when you're off balance. You crash into the bed and he's got one leg across your throat, holding you down with the unspoken possibility that he could squeeze, crush the air from you. You grab his hair, pull him down and struggle; still, you know who the winner of this fight is already.
"Light-kun," he says. "That wasn't very nice."
"Fuck you," you spit at him.
"If you want me to believe you, perhaps you should stop behaving like such a hypocrite," Ryuzaki says evenly.
"Oh, I'm behaving like a hypocrite?" You laugh sharply.
"You say manipulation is against your ideals. Then you say you have no morals. Then you're concerned about abusing me. Then you punch me with no provocation. I think you can see why I would be confused."
"First of all, you're not confused, so don't even try that. Manipulation is against my ideals. It's messy and I don't like it. I don't see how that conflicts with morality or lack thereof."
"How would you describe morality, then?" Ryuzaki says. He shows no move to get off you, so you stop struggling, aware that it's, at this point, all rather fruitless. You sigh.
"Seriously? A philosophical discussion right now?"
"A practical one."
"Morality is the set of social constructs people create in order to support their societies. What constitutes 'good' and 'evil', 'acceptable' and 'perverted', 'idealized' and 'reviled'. All these things change according to time and place and context, and when it comes down to it people still act according to their baser instincts anyway."
"A cynical viewpoint, Light-kun," Ryuzaki says. "It almost sounds like it comes from me. I thought you were the eternal optimist?"
"I'm realistic. I fully support better, more functioning societies. Ones without war; where people can live with less fear, less crime, and less violence. Because it's rational; it makes sense. Does that make it 'good'? Does that make the alternative 'evil'? How the fuck should I know?" you say, brittle.
He stares at you for a long time.
Quietly.
How much more obvious can I make it? you think, frustrated. I can't just say, 'I know you're Kira.' I can't say 'I agree with what you're doing and I don't even want to stop you.'
"Very Kira-like of you to say, Light-kun."
"I'm not Kira, Ryuzaki. You know that."
You speak evenly, and he seems to take in everything about you in that moment; after a second he rolls away, letting you out of the chokehold. You sit up, feeling the sudden lack of dull pressure against your throat, which you reach up to and massage absently, while Ryuzaki huddles in a forlorn pile, facing away from you.
"You're right, Light-kun," he says at last. "You aren't Kira. Not right now."
"Yeah," you say. "And I'd like it to stay that way."
"Would you?" he asks, dully. "Being stuck here, with me, forever a suspect… I can't imagine anyone would be happy with such a thing."
"Well then you're suffering from an acute lack of imagination." You move closer to him, close enough that Ryuzaki could pull away from you or stiffen if he wasn't welcoming your presence. In fact, for a second, he does; but then with a ragged sigh he's turning around to bury his face in your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around him.
"I don't know what to do with you, Light-kun, if I'm not trying to make you confess," he says, his voice muffled into your skin. "I don't know what to do with the world if I'm not searching for perpetrators and solving puzzles."
For a moment you don't answer. The admission feels momentous; like something you should respond to. One more thing tying us together, right? you think with ironic humor, knowing already what the right response would be. "I don't either, Ryuzaki," you say. And as you say it, you realize with a strange, uncanny sort of dissonance, that you haven't been lying after all.
.
.
.