Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS #1

"I am serious, L. The kids hate me," Light complained.

It was late in the evening, and the two of them were in their bedroom. Whereas Light had already called it for a day and had just had a relaxing shower, the older man was still crouching in front of his laptop.

"There is an eighty percent chance you might be exaggerating, Light-kun," L muttered without taking his eyes away from the laptop screen.

"It is not an exaggeration," Light replied. "And I thought we have agreed not to use the kun anymore. Can you at least stop for a minute and look at me while we are talking?"

L finally stopped typing and turned around to look at the youngster.

"Are you happy now?"

"I would be happier if you took my words seriously. The kids hate me."

L nibbled his thumb. A tiny smile was showing behind thumb and nail.

"Maybe they need a little more time to get used to your being here. All in all, I would say they are dealing with the changes pretty well."

"You really think Mello is dealing with the situation well?" Light was indignant.

"Perhaps there had been some displays of childish jealously, but it is just natural for that to happen."

Light groaned. He knew it would be nearly impossible to make L change his mind regarding the kids. It was a sore spot between them. Although the thing they had was worth every single Wammy kid who ever existed, it was still a sore spot.

***

When he had first met the detective, Light could have never imagined how much his life was going to change because of him. It was his father, Soichiro, who was to be thanked for, according to L, for he had been the one that had made the greatest detective in the world be curious about meeting that perfect child of Yagami. And thus, Light had started jumping into a new student at college, one who shared names with a male idol and seemed to be as weird as brilliant. By the time he had confessed to be L, the detective with whom his father was working in the Kira case, and he had asked Light to join the task force, the strange student had already grown into the youth. And when Kira, no, Higuchi, not an unstoppable deity-like being at all, but a despicable human who had died under the same tricks he had been using to kill others—the specifics of the modus operandi were never sorted out—when Higuchi had fallen, L had asked Light to stay by his side when he were gone from Japan, and the young Yagami had accepted.

It had not been love at first sight, but it had been the closest thing to it. Interest at first sight, curiosity, attraction. That was a first for Light, who had never been really interested in anyone, being them girls or boys. Maybe good-looking boys had caught his attention here and there, although he had preferred going out with girls to fit the image of social perfection he was so fond of. L had torn apart every preconception Light had about relationships. Even now that they were living together, Light sometimes eyed his lover and could not believe how such a dishevelled, quirky man could make his heartbeat run mad, his blood boil with desire. Sixteen-year-old Light Yagami had laughed at his peers when they had been reduced to hyperactive hormones. Nineteen-year-old Light's hormones were making for the delay in being taken into account with a vengeance. Mix this with the fact that L was not a man who revelled in depriving himself of the things he liked—sweets were the proof of it—and you will understand why there were times that night and day became one extended journey of moans, sweat, and tangled bedsheets.

It had not been love at first sight, and he did not believe in soulmates like his sister Sayu did, but if soulmates were about growing and realization, he could not have found anyone better than L. He was intriguing, challenging, a mystery to be deciphered. And his being unapologetically him had made Light embrace parts of himself he had been afraid of embracing before. Since he had met him, inhibition and boredom had no room in the youth's life.

He did not believe in soulmates and could not stand the idiocies his mother called romantic novels, but the day L had said to him I love you with a slight vibrato in his monotone, Light had felt as if he had been basking in warm, radiant sunlight with background Puccini being played.

He did consider romantic stories foolish, with the humble maiden or stable boy gaining the heart of the royals, but he was dating a millionaire. Light was self-confident and did not consider him to be a lesser man for not having the money the other man had. Anyway, he sometimes thought it could be a nuisance to be involved with someone who had so much power and money in case they ever split up. In fact, he had already been told to sign a confidentiality agreement. The agreement had nothing to do with them as a couple, however. It had to do with one of L's many secrets—Wammy's House and the kids it sheltered.

***

Watari (Wammy) had turned out to be much more than a mere assistant. His relevance in L's life story had been the next big revelation about L's background Light had learnt. All in all, he was okay. Although the man might give the word stoicism a whole new layer of meaning, he treated Light with real fondness. Besides, he had said to him some lines that the youth cherished in his mind—I am grateful you are here. Since you are with L, he looks happier and healthier. He is more relaxed and sleeps better. Yes, Watari was not bad, even when Light had put together titbits of information that showed a darker side to the institution, some ruthless ideology they had given up a few years ago, after some BB case. Well, the source of the titbits had mainly been the blond little beast, and he did not trust him a bit, but the fact that the BB case deserved some lines in the confidentiality agreement was enough for Light to be suspicious. Truth be told, he would rather not know the details of that episode, even when L had promised to tell him one day. By the way, it had been the first of the two times the detective had told the scrawny beast off, so it had been worth it.

Watari was okay. Roger, the caretaker, was dull. He was often simply annoying, with his never-ending complaints about the children. Really, if he could not stand children, why did he work there? Maybe he had had some relationship with Watari long ago, had signed a confidentiality agreement, and when it was over, he had been stuck there for the rest of his life. The youth had even had a couple of nightmares because of these thoughts until he had disciplined himself into not wondering about the issue evermore. So, Roger had become a dull blank.

The kids were another story altogether.

Most of the kids he had not to bother about, as they were not part of their daily lives. The kids who mattered were four, two boys and two girls. They were the so-called L's successors, and that had been their first question when L had introduced Light to them.

"Is he a new successor?"

"No, he isn't. He is my partner."

L had not elaborated his answer, which was fine by Light, who did not want everyone privy to his private life. Then, L had talked a little about Light's many talents and his role in the resolution of the Kira case, and then the introductions were made. Light displayed the correct amount of charm to be simply liked by the kids and not adored by them—he knew people usually ended up idolising him and could be blinded by his natural charisma. The exchange was not as agreeable as it was supposed to. Pleasantries were cold and scarce, and faked, and the growl that left the throat of the blond kid—Mello, a boy actually, not a girl—did sound threatening for such a scraggy creature.

"It will be okay," L commented afterwards. "They are getting used to a change in perspective. We are encouraging co-operation over competition nowadays and added up Matt and Linda to the equation. They are doing alright. Another change will not mean much trouble."

Even the greatest detective in the world might be wrong sometimes.

Chapter Text

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS #2

The fourth kid, Linda, was seemingly a friendly and kind-hearted girl. She reminded Light of his sister a bit, though he had to admit that Linda had a more mature personality than Sayu. She did not seem much interested in fighting crime. Why had she to, when she had been gifted with outstanding artistic talent? Drawing and painting were the fields she favoured, though she also had a knack for sculpture and design. In the future, she would do great in any artistic field of her choice.

Her sensitivity was translated into a gracious demeanour. She addressed Light with a nice blend of politeness and shyness. The first week he spent at Wammy's, she drew an exquisite set of kanji as a present for him. It showed gusto and a good technique, although she would need more time to master the art of writing in Japanese, to tell the truth. That was an opinion shared by L, who was nonetheless content that the four kids had started studying the Japanese language formally. "Matt already had some good command on principle, for he has an interest in mastering anything and everything that has to do with video games. Mello is a natural at learning languages, and Linda and Near have joined the team. It is your being here what has inspired them," L said once.

For a while, Light shared L's view and thought himself to be an inspiration for the kids. In fact, soon after the present, Linda asked him for permission to draw a portrait of him. It was flattering, but Light remembered some friends of his sister who were always blushing and giggling when they saw him, lovestruck. That was not what he wanted to happen at his new residence. In order to be polite, he gave her permission while keeping a respectful distance at the same time. The product was a small collection of sketches with beautiful portraits of Light's face. Then, the girl stated that it was not enough, that she had ideas, that inspiration was flowing through her. She shut herself in her studio in a binge-painting session during days on end. Light had to admit that it was just natural that beauty would engender beauty.

The day of the exhibition arrived. There stood a dozen pictures on canvas which were regarded by everyone who saw them as brilliant and outstanding. Everyone considered them to be masterpieces; everyone but Light. The pictures showed portraits of a Light that was radiant and handsome to the extent of causing the audience Stendhal syndrome, but those Lights also bled out arrogance. The expression and gestures talked of a man who was judgemental and unforgiving. And evil.

"I have named the series The Night God to honour Light-senpai's lineage," she said in Japanese. L nodded in approval, and she blushed. A little snake dressed in the colours of outmost innocence.

Light also nodded without conviction. He was so shocked as he tried to keep his poise that he did not comment on the most remarkable (creepy) traits. Here it was an angelic Light illuminated in white and golden, except his shadow was a dark humanoid creature with demonic wings. There it was a Light that looked down at the world from the top of a tower, and why had he got a scythe? Why had she painted his eyes in glowing crimson?

"I am curious about the apples, Linda," Light said with the coolest voice he could muster.

"Ancient symbolism," she said behind doe eyes.

"They are symbols for the fallen from grace," Mello elaborated.

Light replied with such a smart remark that the blond pest reddened in embarrassment. At least it was easy to make the annoying teen lose his temper and get into trouble.

"Give it time. Perhaps you'll become the next B," Mello grumbled.

That was the second time L took the boy aside and scolded him. The conversation must have been a tough one, because when Mello left the room he had red-rimmed eyes and his lips trembled. Light smirked, and the other bared his teeth at him. Goodness sake, a rabid dog would be better company than that boy. Nevertheless, he made a mental note of reminding L of his promise to tell him about the BB case some day. So many Bs to be comfortable.

Coming night, L appeared carrying a couple of the pictures with the intention of hanging them on the wall of their bedroom. Light was horrified.

"What do you think you are doing?"

L opened his eyes so wide that it looked like the cutest panda had trespassed the door. That was the gaze Linda had mimicked a while ago.

"Don't even dare," Light warned.

"You do not have to worry about these pictures leaving this place, I have bought all of them," the detective replied. "Besides, they really honour your gorgeousness. You look magnificent."

"Magnificent and evil. And fallen from grace."

"Devilishly handsome," L remarked. His lips curved into a suggestive grin. "I am supposed to be represented by the blue sky with white clouds. In this one, you fall away from me. In this other, the sky seems to cover you."

"I see the difference. Remove those horrors from my sight."

"There is no need to be so serious. Linda has just followed her inspiration. In a few days she will be painting numinous landscapes. Artists turn reality into something symbolic which does not resemble reality anymore. It is just poetic vision."

At that point, Light took the pictures himself and stored them among the countless rows of long-sleeved white shirts and blue jeans in the dressing room.

When he came back to the bedroom, L got close to him, hugged him from behind, and whispered in his ear, "I won't let you fall. I'd rather cover you." L's voice was husky with arousal.

Light was not that easy. If L was turned on by the idea of role-playing, may it be Light's way. And as a god would do, he made the detective worship him all night long. L complied so happily that they did not leave the bedroom until a whole day had passed by.

Maybe art really suited L's temperament.

***

The third kid, Matt, was one of those people that anyone would describe as nice. Somehow, he had found the perfect balance between being an introvert and an extrovert. For example, for his birthday celebration, which was held in early summer—the real date was not revealed, for every and each of the four kids had inherited L's obsession with secrecy—he spent half the day surrounded by the other children of the orphanage and half the day playing alone with his video games. (There was also a nocturnal escapade with Mello that had Roger cursing his luck, but that was another story). Actually, the amount of time he wasted on gaming was too high for the third most brilliant mind among the Wammy kids, so Light had the need to let the redhead know his opinion on that issue. The kid listened to his advice politely and disregarded it. In the end, the boy was as nice as obtuse. He would never be a good detective.

"There is a seventy percent chance you have been too hard on Matt," L commented between one sip to his tea and the next one.

"He was not paying attention to the lecture I was given them. I am not hard on him; you are condescending."

"I cannot be sarcastic and condescending at the same time, Light, you have to decide how you regard me."

"Yes, you can. Remember poor Matsuda."

"Matsuda-san never had a single complaint about me."

"That was because he did not understand half of what you said to him."

The detective added up one more sugar cube to his tea and smiled faintly.

"I thought we were talking about Matt."

"I will think about it," Light yielded.

After the fiasco with the girl, Light decided that Matt might not be that bad after all and might deserve a second chance. Thus, around a week after the Exhibition of Horrors had happened, the youngster resolved he would approach him again. He planned the meeting for the afternoon before he travelled to Oxford to attend some tuition and exams. L and he had been freed from the kids' presence for ten days. L had even cancelled a meeting with them twice. The first time had been because of the erotic marathon the paintings had provoked; the second time was due to a new case that had been disappointingly easy to solve in the end, but had them entertained for seventy-two hours. Time enough for the waters to still. He had prepared an impressive speech which would let the boy thinking about it. When Light returned from Oxford, his words would have ripened inside the boy and, through him, would have shaken the other three successors' misconceptions as well. Hopefully.

He got into the room. A faint odour of cigarettes lingered, too subtle to be noticed by anyone who were not as observant as Light was. There were some armchairs and a couch, but Matt sat cross-legged over some cushions on the floor. As usual, he was playing, this time with a console which was not portable. Light asked him to stop in order to listen to him, the boy obeyed. Light played the part of the sympathetic and wise elder brother. He poured down on the boy every perfect word he had rehearsed.

Then he glanced at the frozen image on the screen and stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is that?" Light asked.

Matt eyed the screen.

"That? Oh, a fighting game. Not that great a game. Too easy, terrible graphics. But you can customise the fighters. See? Mine has goggles."

"You are fighting Night God," Light said. He could not take his eyes from the awful vectors that made up some sort of brown-haired red-eyed character dressed in a suit that might remind of the one Light was wearing at that moment. Not the only resemblance, indeed, if you forget about the dark wings and the scythe.

"You mean the villain? Yep, I was inspired by Linda's work," Matt said. He resumed the fight, pressed all the buttons on the joystick at the same time, and Night God was history. "See, dude? Too easy."

Keep composure, Light commanded himself.

"Matt, I am a little concerned for all of you. I know what L means to you, but these tantrums are simply ridiculous. You would not want to be regarded as childish and petty, would you?"

"The children here, we are all orphans, you know? Some tragic stories, actually," Matt replied. "Watari found us, gave us a shelter, an education. He gave us L, a purpose. If he has made it and made it spectacularly, why could not we? Not always a blessing, truly. It has been a burden for some. I would not trade places with Mello or Near, you see. The last couple of years were okay. Meeting L in the flesh, getting acquainted with him more or less. Dude, I thought for years he was just a computer program invented by Watari! And the change in rules and expectations has been good for Mello, less pressure. But now he is not well. He cried. And it's your fault." His voice spilt dark overtones.

Light took a long, deep breath. It seemed that Elder Brother was not going to be enough when he was seen as Wicked Stepfather. He resumed his speech adding the precise words to convey feelings of understanding and care. Soft clapping marked the end of the speech. Light turned around and found Mello standing next to the open door.

"Bravo! Superb! How moving! You could make the perfect con artist," Mello said. A half-eaten bar of chocolate had dropped to the floor. "It's a pity you have some mannerisms that betray you. When you lie, your palms are up, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly, and you bend your neck forward two millimetres."

"He also changes his typical inflection and sound pattern. There is no intonation rising except when the lie he wants us to buy the most is pronounced," a calm voice stated.

Both Light and Mello startled. They moved towards the voice, which came from the albino ghost in pyjamas who had been hidden behind the couch the whole time, silently making a puzzle.

"Near!" Mello barked. "Why are you pestering Matt?"

"Don't start it all over again, Mello, please," Matt begged.

"He is not annoyed by me, so technically I am not pestering him," Near answered.

Just then Light took the lead and left the room and the building. Roger was waiting for him outside with a car—he was the one who would drive him to the train station. They spent the trip in glorious silence.

"Do you allow the kids to smoke? I think I smelled tobacco or similar stuff. I may be wrong," Light said when they arrive at their destination.

"Smoking? Oh my! You have been talking to Matt, have you? That boy again," Roger groaned. "I say, they do not learn. I swear these children can destroy one's nerves."

Light nodded.

He had just started to feel real sympathy for the caretaker.

Chapter Text

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS #3

At first, Light had felt something akin to fondness for the youngest kid, Near. He owned the most brilliant mind among the Wammy orphans; that was enough for Light to have some respect for him. In addition to that, Near was calm and quiet, and minded his own business most of the time. Furthermore, he did not like L as much as the others did, a fact that prevented him from making scenes such as the ones Light had to suffer from the blond beast.

"Near is the first option in the race to succeed you, isn't he?" Light asked L one day.

It was a bright spring afternoon with blue skies and mild temperatures. After a winter of everlasting rain and greyness, the day was like a ray of joy and hope. The youth had convinced the detective to go outside for a walk. They were enjoying a stroll around the pretty surroundings of the building, past the gardens to the countryside fields.

"That has not been decided yet. Whereas he has plenty of qualities to be the chosen one, he lacks others," L answered. "That should not be news to you, Light. Your father fights crime, and you have been in a real investigation. You know that, although genius-level intellect is of outmost importance in resolving the hardest mysteries, it is not always enough. Other skills are essential as well: leadership, courage, resourcefulness, physical prowess. One must at least be able to defend one's own life if necessary. Near is too co-dependent. He will need not only an assistant like Watari, he will need the support of many others. It is not that easy. On the other hand, Mello is always second best regarding method and intelligence, but you've seen the boy. He could lead a mafia gang if he put his mind on it. The best solution would be co-operation. In the future, they could best me if they worked together. This is what we are trying to foster."

From Light's point of view, the Mello talk did not intertwine well with the allure of the day, so he changed the topic.

"Enlighten me. Is this change the reason for Near not showing much devotion to you? Or is it his lack of enthusiasm what made you change your mind?"

Right after he had asked the last question, he regretted having asked it. L's posture became stiff. A frown framed his eyes.

"If you are suggesting this is the reason for my decision after the explanation I have just given to you, you have not been paying attention. Actually, you are wrong. He disliked me before. Since I have been meeting the kids in the flesh, he simply has a respectful disinterest in me. It is fine by me. I have never intended to have fan clubs, I am not that narcissistic."

A heavy silence fell upon them. Light realised he had touched a sore spot in L, reopened some old wound. In the time they had been together, he had come to know that L did not take in a blow in a kind manner. He always stroke back, sooner or later. He well knew that the word narcissistic would hurt Light.

"I apologise. I should not have said that," L said. He approached Light and touched his face shyly.

"I am sorry, too. I did not mean to distress you," Light replied. He leaned towards the touch of the detective's hand.

"I know. It is my fault, I overreacted. How could you have guessed? I have known people who were obsessed with me or the mantle I wear. It was not a pretty experience. I prefer healthy detachment."

"Do you want me to be detached?"

"No, not you. Not you."

Light stared at him. L's eyes shone with unusual passion, his lips trembled slightly. A soft breeze entangled his dark hair as he stood barefoot on the grass against the backdrop of clear waters and flower beds. I love you, Light thought.

"Don't worry. I am here, I am close to you. I want to get closer," he said before his mouth melted into L's.

They kissed, caressed, fell down gently on the grass, lay among the flowers, shared every ounce of love they felt for each other. Light wondered if one could burst out because of sheer bliss.

When they came back to the building, they were tired and dishevelled, and absolutely happy. As they reached the gates, they saw Near hunching over a blanket on the ground. He was stacking dice with his right hand while twisting a lock of hair with his left one. He stopped to gaze at their dirty clothes, messy hair, and flushed faces. He gazed at them, and kept on stacking and twisting. Oddly, Light felt judged.

***

In hindsight, Light acknowledged that the blame might not be put on a big mistake, but on a chain of small ones. The meetings L had cancelled and the scene Near had witnessed that spring afternoon had undoubtedly had to be taken into account. Nonetheless, there had been quite a few others.

For instance, there was that morning, the one when Light had found the albino boy botching up an otherwise flawless puzzle by placing the wrong piece in the wrong place. Light had fixed it up in silence, then he had granted the kid a grin that was meant to be shared. No smile welcomed it back, just unblinking cold eyes and perfect quietness.

For instance, there was that maths exam which was invigilated by Light instead of Watari. Walking by the rows of students, he took notice of several errors in Near's answers. He was somewhat disappointed in the boy, somewhat glad that the kid's mind were not a match for his or L's. What if the kid was unusually fidgety that day? Did that really matter?

Perhaps, the turning point in the friendly relationship that could have been and never was happened the afternoon Light tried to use Mello's jealously and envy of him as common ground to get to Near. Therefore, he approached him and let him know of his opinion about the scrawny beast. Near did not say a word until Light had finished talking.

"You may not be as smart as L says when you can be so misguided. I do not dislike Mello." Near's reply was sharp. He raised his hands and moved them in front of Light's face. Some of his fingers were hidden under finger puppets. The only puppet which was pretty and did not look ridiculous was the one that resembled Mello.

Soon afterwards, the puppets were remodelled. L's one stopped looking weird in order to look cute. Mello's one gained a new material that made it lovelier than before. On top of that, a new doll had joined the group, a hideous one which had the countenance of a nitwit and had been made of the cheapest material one could find in a trash bin. The human model for the puppet was Light Yagami, of course.

Even then, the youngster did not despair. He still hoped that he could sway Near to be on his side.

Too much for hope, for that was the moment when Moonbot made its grand entrance.

The day he listened to the kid calling the ugliest of his robots (or action figures, boundaries were not firmly established) by that name, he had to count to fifty in order not to seethe. It had not been that subtle an idea, using Moon instead of Tsuki, Light's name true kanji. At least, there was no Night God that time around. Perhaps it would not mean a thing. He would know. Near always spent about a couple of hours in one particular corner playing with his toys. There were lots of bugs and cameras among the devices Light was being trained to use. He chose some of them to record the kid.

After a week had passed by, the youth got comfortable and started watching the tapes.

The first day, Near spent little time with his toys. He played for a while, then he moved on to make a puzzle. Every robot was stored in line. They stood up proud and tall in a lower shelf. Every doll but Moonbot, which was left on the floor, discarded.

The second day, Near played out some kind of Cyber-Apocalypse. At the end, everyone survived the ordeal, save Moonbot.

The third day, the boy entertained himself customising the toys, removing pieces and putting them together again. The doomed toy finished the day with its left arm in place of its right one, and the other way round.

The fourth day, Linda visited Near and stayed by his side the whole time. One was drawing, the other was playing. When Roger called them for dinner, Linda helped the younger kid to tidy up the room. The toys were cherished on a small cradle. They were swaddled and cuddled like babies. It was not difficult to guess which one was neither swaddled nor cuddled.

The fifth day, there was another session of toy disassembling and fixing. That time, Moonbot lost his head—literally.

The sixth day, Matt was in the room. The boy in white pyjamas staged a fight between all the good guys against the evil one—you know who. Matt made cheering noises anytime the evil robot was knocked out.

The seventh day, Mello strode into the room shaking some sheets of paper in the air. "Can you explain this?" he asked. "You reached the perfect score, congratulations," Near answered. "I mean your test. You failed it on purpose." "I did not. I realised I had made some mistakes afterwards, but it was too late," Near's voice was as calm and aloof as usual. "So what?" Mello asked. The younger kid ended making the current puzzle and turned around to look at the older boy. "Light was the invigilator in the examination classroom. I am not comfortable when he is the invigilator. He is irritating, I cannot focus properly."

The blond little monster cursed in whichever Slavic language he had decided to use that day. He glared around twice and asked, "Is it true what Matt says? Where is the thing?" Near pointed at poor Moonbot. Mello rushed along and stamped his feet on it until it became a wrenched wreckage of pieces. Next, he pulled the other's arm. "Stand up and follow me. We are going to revise the notes together; you have to retake the exam."

Near stood up without a complaint and followed Mello, who was still gripping his hand and pulling him. A smirk lit up the albino's face.

That was the sign to stop watching the videos. Light took the tape, left the studio, and thought it would be great that a new Kira appeared so that L and he had to work in the case for a long, long time far away from Freak Orphanage.

Chapter Text

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS #4

There were different types of enemies.

Light was skimming the pages of a treaty in computational geometry when the idea came unbidden to his mind. He stood up from the ergonomic office chair and peeked at the neat workplace, deep in thought. He sat down again, took a sketch book and one of the pencils from the holder. He drew a perfect circle freehand, calculated the diameter, and drew it as well. Antipodal point of a point, diametrically opposed. Those were worthy opponents, enemies who always looked at each other's eyes, always watching. That sort of rivals respected one another, their ideologies could not be that estranged, but acted on them from different points of views, by means which would grow more and more incompatible. They would push their foe's limits. They would be playing a relentless tug of war until one of them was destroyed or both charged forwards and crashed into each other so that the opposition became a conjunction. Deep inside, Light suspected that L and he could have been that kind of enemies if they had met in a world where their goals had clashed. He was grateful that it had not been the case. He would rather pull L into him and enjoy his lover pushing him in a more physical and pleasurable way.

He drew a new circle and several geometric shapes. The vast majority of enemies lived in angles. Their feelings could vary from mere indifference to disgust or hatred. Their actions could also vary in intensity, from avoidance to aggression. Their relationship might change overtime. Maybe the departure point was something stupid. In the end, they were mean and ordinary. There was nothing special about them.

Finally, he drew two concentric circles. Even with the same centre point, these foes would never meet. They were alien to the other, anathema. They could be running clockwise or counter clockwise and never reach a common understanding because they had been born with an innate instinct of enmity against the other. A confrontation between these enemies could make for a playwright which would be more likely a farce than a tragedy. He stared at the drawing and sighed in exasperation.

L was the centre point, and Light and Mello were the concentric circles.

***

Twenty-three days after Light had been formally introduced to the four successors, L decided to get them together for a practical task. The chosen case was the Kira one. L gave the students some information about the tactics and specifics of the investigation, and asked them to think of ways to sort out some of its problems. Light gave them some directions, then he stood listening to their opinions. Linda's answers were not accurate, though she offered some creative ideas which could be worth trying in the future. Matt was only interested in the technology they had used. Near's deductions showed great precision; not perfect yet, but wait a few years and they would have a first-rate mind. Regarding Mello, Light did not really care for his answers, but for his attitude. Since that first growl, the youngster had realised that he would be not able to get on with him no matter what. Although he was hard-working and ambitious, virtues in Light's eyes, he was also moody, overemotional, and unstable. He tried too eagerly to catch L's attention; he was too loud. He was too much of anything that Light found annoying in a person. It did not help that the dislike was mutual.

Giggles and chuckles made the youth get back to the present moment. It took him a few seconds to remember that L had told the kids to imagine what would happen if one of the people in the room were Kira.

"So?" L asked.

Mello winked at Matt and Linda. "Were Kira among us, Light Yagami would be the only possible victim. All of us know his full name."

Light frowned. L looked at him with an apology dancing in his blank expression. With Light's outstanding curriculum, information about him had found its way through the academic circles in Japan and into the clutches of anyone who knew how to hack computers and read the Japanese language. That kanji gift and the sudden interest of the successors in learning Light's mother tongue made new sense. No need to use a fake identity to apply to Oxford evermore.

Light knew how to behave. He measured his words and replied, "Don't forget that my work made a mark in the Kira investigation. It is unlikely I might be an easy prey."

"Besides, your assumption has at minimum two flaws," L added.

"Were L Kira, everyone here would be a potential victim. He knows all of our names," Near stated.

"Don't say stupid things. L would never be Kira," Mello exclaimed. "Anyway, I see the point. The other main flaw is the possibility of Yagami being Kira. However, that would mean that he could not kill any of us, for he does not know our names." The giggling resumed.

Light summoned his most charming smile. "Maybe you are right. Nonetheless, you should know that in his last days, Kira developed the ability to kill just by looking at a face."

Gasps replaced the chuckles.

"And this is an excellent topic for an assignment," L said. "I want you to write an essay on the issue taking into account this last piece of knowledge. Now you can keep on with your other tasks."

The kids left the room, not before Mello had changed his stormy look for an adoring grin at L. What a pest. The chat among the students lingered after them.

"Yagami could make a convincing criminal, couldn't he?"

"Yep, he tries so much to be so perfect."

"Suspicious."

L smiled. "It is great they second-guess everything. Your being here is making them sharper."

Not much enthusiasm could be found in Light's nod.

***

"Mello tries too hard to get noticed," Light said nonchalantly as he chose the jacket he was going to wear that day.

L had just taken a shower and was still in the bathroom. His voice sounded muffled through the closed door. "I agree he is very competitive."

"He tries too hard to get noticed by you."

"I embody the goal he strives to reach."

Light remembered the times the boy had interrupted them with a poor excuse, the times he had appeared out of nowhere to show off before L, the times he had just clung to the detective one way or another. "It's not only the mantle. He idolises you."

The door of the bathroom opened. Clouds of steam and white towels followed the older man into the bedroom. "Although I am positive that is too bold a statement, it is widely acknowledged that young apprentices often get attached to a mentor they admire. It will not last."

Despite his words, some concern was indicated by the tone and the glazed eyes, a hint of past memories. Nevertheless, it was getting hard for Light to focus on the issue when L was in front of him enwrapped by the steam, half-naked, water drawing rivulets across his chest and flat stomach, aiming to his navel. There was something about the mix of L plus wetness that always made Light's blood run hot in his veins.

"That makes sense," he gave in.

He also gave in to the desire to lick the drops of water from every inch of his lover's skin.

***

"Doubles. A senior and a junior in each team."

That was exactly the twelfth time Mello had suggested the same. Light had been able to dodge the idea for a month. By L's humming, the youngster foresaw there would not be a way to avoid it that time around.

"Only if everyone agrees in playing as a way of having fun and not for further competition," L warned.

"Absolutely!" Mello yelled. It seemed that the boy could only function in three modes: Unashamedly Overexcited about Anything and Everything L Said and Did, Mad Dog, and Silently Scheming Light's Downfall.

"We can't count on Linda. She must rest for the impending athletics competition," the detective added.

"I see. So, I will play with you, L. Near can play with Yagami," Mello proposed. If Light had not hated clichés, he would have rolled his eyes.

"I am not playing. If I must lose, I'd prefer to choose my colleague-in-defeat myself," Near replied without standing up.

Instead of fuming, the blond kid laughed out loud. His reaction caught everyone by surprise. Perhaps the boy's only mode was Unpredictably Unstable. L worried his thumb happily and eyed Light. He knew the meaning of his gaze, They are getting along better thanks to you. Maybe shared contempt could make people get closer. Maybe rolling eyes were not clichéd enough to be above Light.

"Alright, it is Matt then," Mello said, voice still shaking with laughter. Matt opened his mouth to argue. He thought twice, shut it down and left his games aside.

There they went. Neither Matt nor Mello were good at playing tennis, for both favoured football. The difference stood in their attitude on the court—whereas Mello asked once and again for L to teach him how to serve or move, Matt basically ignored any feedback Light gave to him. Soon it got clear that the only ones who were playing a game of tennis were the adults. Matt was acting like a fool—a dangerous fool who had Light ducking the redhead's racket most of the time. Mello was focused on making all of his shots a threat to Light's physical integrity. After a while, he lost patience and stroke back. A striking volley, and the tennis ball hit the blond nuisance's face. He swore, L approached to see what had happened, Light feigned worry while he rejoiced inside.

Clank.

He saw the flying racket which he had escaped in the very last second hit the ground and could not believe his eyes.

"Sorry, dude. I'm so clumsy," the damn redhead apologised.

"It is nothing, L. I am fine, I am strong," the damn blond cooed. When the detective moved away, Mello granted Light a murderous look.

Mercifully, the rain finished the match soon after. While they were leaving the court, Mello started yelling—again.

"Look at the score, L! We've won!"

Matt had run away, Near was nowhere to be seen, and Light stood in the middle of the court seeing the scrawny beast patting L's back, touching his arm, stealing some contact suspiciously similar to a hug.

Light narrowed his eyes. Uneasiness took hold of him.

What was the kid's age, exactly?

***

Since that day, the youth did not refrain from using his brilliancy to get the annoying kid in his place. Two could play the same game.

***

The problem with moody people lay in the fact that they did not always react according to plan.

Save the four successors, none of the children knew L's real identity. That had given way to funny theories. The most widespread was the one Matt had also believed in, that L was a complex illusion orchestrated by Watari. Another theory pointed out at L being Roger's oddball of a nephew, Rob, who could be seen coming round the place from time to time. Ironically, that Rob was actually L disguised as the caretaker's relative. The third one assured that the detective was the friendly foreign teacher who spent half a year at Wammy's and half a year overseas. Light learnt that he was the sleuth formerly known as Eraldo Coil. The man had lost his alias and a detective war against L while gaining a new vocation—good thing an adult at Wammy's really enjoyed working with children.

Other hypotheses also caught fire here and there. The current hype involved Light being L. Depending on the day, the youth spent his time subtly feeding the children's gossip or pretending he did not know a word about it. If his lover found the situation uncomfortable, he did not let it show. From his lack of remarks, Light understood it amused him.

Not everyone took it L's way. By not everyone, he meant the blond pest.

He had finished giving a lecture and was walking down one corridor when he found Mello munching some chocolate, waiting for him, as awful an image as it could be. As he saw Light, he began mumbling in Russian. At least, he was not calling him names. Light had come to recognise expletives in seven different languages since he had had the misfortune of crossing ways with the boy.

"Provided you are skipping classes, I presume you have an important message to deliver," Light said with faked patience. "It would be more courteous and effective to deliver it in a language I could fully understand."

The kid gave an angry bite to what was left of the chocolate bar and spat, "You are not L. You will never be."

Here we go, Light thought. He had seen it coming.

"I know. I am proud of who I am. I am not the one who strugles to be someone else." He knew that the words would cut the kid like daggers. He did not care. He was fed up with him and his pathetic fixation.

Mello's face became a mask of rage. The tantrum would follow it—the same old song. It had been entertaining for a while to use the kid's inferiority complex to provoke that kind of reaction. It was growing old nonetheless, and Light had better things to do.

"I must go, Mello. If you don't have anything else to say, duties must be accomplished." He resumed walking.

"I have never beaten him."

Light stopped. "Excuse me?"

"I have never beaten Near."

To be fair, that was not true. As L had stated, Mello had skills that the albino lacked. However, Light was not going to lend him a hand. "I understand it is not easy. It must be embarrassing to be beaten by someone who is younger."

Mello smirked viciously. "You nailed it."

Next thing, Light found himself trying to stop the whirlwind of claws and kicks and punches that were unleashed against him. As he dodged and swerved and took some blow or another, his mind handled many thoughts at once. How could the boy look so scraggy and hit so hard? Was it alright to hit back when he was supposed to be the responsible adult? And how had he missed the real meaning behind the 'beaten' part? And could he remember if he had ever felt so enraged before?

People arrived, hands and arms struggled to separate the fighters. There were shouts, grumbles, cursing, kicking, and then it was over.

Later on in the infirmary, Light was still trying to calm down his anger and embarrassment. They had placed the two patients in different rooms, so he did not have to bear the mad dog's presence. Some small comfort.

A soft knock on the door announced L's arrival. He took a chair and crouched beside the bed where the youth was sitting down.

"I told you, L. That boy hates me."

L was infuriatingly composed. "It was a stupid quarrel. Physical damage is minimal, just a few bruises and scratches. It is highly probable he did not mean to hurt you. You did not mean to hurt him either."

"He bit me!" Light fumed.

"Do you want to be vaccinated against rabies?"

Light groaned. The detective's poor attempt at lighten up the mood had failed spectacularly. He acknowledged it and tried to make for it.

"We do not condone his behaviour. Both Watari and Roger have talked to Mello and scowled him. I will talk to him as well, we will look for solutions. Anyway, we should display some sympathy. We know how hormones can be a hindrance in our teenage years. Biology, the natural world must be taken into account. Nowadays Mello is the oldest of the kids. He might have the need to clash horns with another strong male to prove a point—the young male defying the old one over territory."

Light did not reply. He stood up from the bed and threw his fist against the detective's face. He took him off guard, so L was thrown away backwards because of the strength of the blow.

"Ouch! What was that for?" L looked shocked.

"Blame my hormones, I'm still a young adult. Blame natural instinct. The young alpha male must defy the old one!" Light shouted.

For the first time since he had known him, L did not retaliate.

Chapter Text

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS #5

Boredom. Twelve days had passed by since Light had come back to Japan, and everything which had to be done had already been done. The first four days had been spent overcoming the jetlag, being reunited with his family. The next week had been dedicated to sorting out the bureaucracy necessary to validate studies. Besides, he had given a lecture before the oh-so-sycophantic audience, met some classmates, despised their envy. Fortunately, paperwork would be finished in a couple of days. To-Oh was as tedious as he remembered.

Boredom. Day twelve meant he was the guest of honour in the little party the former Kira Task Force had thrown, so he had to put up with it. It was not that bad—the place was nice, the food was tasty. They were also celebrating his father's promotion, and not many questions about L were asked. Light had the sense to feed them some harmless gossip about the latest case they had solved, so that he smoothed his way out of more troublesome inquiries.

The party was going okay, but then, some of the men started drinking a bit too much, and the conversations began revolving around personal relationships.

"Aizawa is living a second honeymoon with his wife, it's sooo romantic," a tipsy Matsuda slurred.

Aizawa groaned and threw his chopsticks at the younger man. Matsuda fell on his back in an attempt to avoid the hit, and the others laughed.

"Well, I have to say that cutting the hours I work has saved my marriage," Aizawa admitted. "But what about Mogi here, hitting on the celebrities?"

"Oshida-san is Ryuga's manager, and I'm not hitting on her," Mogi said quietly behind his glass.

"Mogi has been assigned to protect Ryuga Hibiki from the threat of stalkers," Ukita explained.

"What happened to that poor girl was horrible," Matsuda sobbed.

Light nodded. A year and a half ago, a model called Amane Misa had been murdered by a crazy stalker. He had known about it because he had had to comfort a desolated Sayu. He had made his sister the promise to become a great detective who would see criminals pay. The world and his laws were not fair, but he knew for sure he could make a difference, could embody justice. Just like L.

Light emptied his glass, stood up, and approached his father. It was getting late, his patience was wearing thin, he did not want to think about L. It was getting harder not to do so, with Matsuda now rambling on about Misora Naomi, an ex-FBI agent who had helped them during the Kira case and had worked with L before that.

"...yes, Misora-san has finally called off the engagement, broken up with that douchebag. Fi-na-lly. She's staying in Japan, could join the NPA, don't you think? She's so clever! And beautiful!"

It was entertaining to witness how the ill-conceited interest on Misora Matsuda had felt had developed into a full-on infatuation. Besides, Light agreed with his opinion about that Penber—he was an incompetent who had lost three agents before being dismissed from the Kira case, and even then, he had dared to rage at his fiancée, the smart one in the couple, for helping the task force.

However, the conversation was leading him to memories he'd rather not recall. He talked to Soichiro, both excused themselves, and left the place. Driving home, memories caught up with him and refused to go, for the idea of Misora was entangled with his first kiss with L.

Those were also his first days with the task force, and he felt more alive than ever before. He had to admit that Ryuga, no, Ryuzaki, no, L, was mostly accountable for his elation. He did not know which name to give to the electrifying sensation he felt every time he interacted with the detective, but it was there, and it was true. Then, one day, he saw from the end of the corridor how L and Misora left one of the rooms of the HQ. They were relaxed, muttering something to each other. Misora stopped suddenly to correct L's posture. Both were sweating, both moved along to get to another floor. Light saw them leave, speechless. The next forty-eight hours, he found himself acting irrationally. In the end, L took him aside to speak in private. No sooner had the door closed than L clashed his mouth against his (sparks!), withdrawing right after. "There was only a fifty percent chance Light-kun's behaviour was a product of him being jealous, so I needed evidence of his interest in me," he said. "If it is not the case, I apologise. If it is so, Light-kun should know that Naomi-san is just instructing me in capoeira."

Instead of replying, Light pulled the detective towards him and kissed him with all he got. The sparks became a bonfire, and Light stopped thinking and plotting.

Once in his old bedroom, staring at the ceiling, he realised that longing and loneliness had come around to join the boredom.

***

"I'm sorry for what I did. It won't happen again."

Mello spat the apologies; Light muttered an acceptance. Neither of them believed a word they said. Watari and L, on the other hand, were appeased, or at least it seemed so.

It was not enough for Light—his pride hurt so much. He gave L the silent treatment. His resentment grew when the other man did not acknowledge it right from the start. When he finally noticed it, he tried to fix things with little success. Words and excuses were useless. Therefore, he decided that spending money would do. When Light saw the expensive watch, the pair of gold cufflinks, and the collection of silk shirts and tailored designer suits, he felt cold inside. He refused to accept the presents and pointed out he was not on sale. L looked hurt, a fact that made Light even angrier, for he was the one who had been slighted. Their relationship became so strained that the youngster resolved they might need some time away from each other. As far as he had to travel to Japan sooner or later to visit his family and manage college issues, he thought it might be the right timing. L did not try to stop him.

Ironically, the flight's ticket was bought with Watari's (or L's) money. Light left England feeling like a hypocrite and without being sure if they had split up for good. Heart matters seemed not to follow reason or planning.

***

He lounged around the thirteenth day. The fourteenth day, the bureaucracy at To-Oh was finally over. That night he received a video message in his computer. His stomach clenched. L and he had not got through since he had arrived in Japan. They had tried to do so, but words had become a wall between them. Too much for two geniuses, so they had thought it would be better to avoid contact for the length of his stay—if he was ever to come back. So, a message was (hoped for) unexpected.

It was not L, it was Watari. With finesse and discretion he let Light know he would be welcome at Wammy's whenever he wanted to return. He also mentioned how L had shut himself down with his computers and sunk himself into binge-working and binge-eating, not to forget that he had been insomniac for the whole time Light had been gone.

He barely slept that night, and he got up in a sad mood. Although he tried to keep his poise all day long, his mother must have sensed his distress, because she tried to cheer him up to no avail.

"Mum, can't you leave Light alone? Don't you see he's lovesick?" Sayu said.

"Don't mock at your brother. He has been studying and working very hard. He is under the mentorship of the most important detective in the world, and that is a great responsibility. He is not living abroad to look for romances," Soichiro stated.

"Don't be silly, Sayu-chan. Which girl wouldn't want to date your brother? Anyway, it would be a good idea if Light could see a nice girl in the meantime. What about that lovely classmate, Takada-san?" Sachiko suggested.

"Mum, Light doesn't like that girl. You've tried to convince him to date her a dozen times, and he's refused again and again."

"Sayu, behave yourself," Soichiro warned her. "This rant is over. We are making Light uncomfortable."

Light remained silent, picking at his food. He eyed his parents. They could well be alien creatures. Either they were in denial or they were blind.

That evening, his sister visited him before going to bed.

"I am fine, Sayu. The girl that presumably has me lovesick does not exist."

"Is it a boy, then? Is it that L?"

For a moment, Light lost his voice. He cleared his throat, smiled confidently, and finally answered, "You do have a wild imagination, little sister."

Sayu frowned. "I'm not a child, I've grown up! I'm not as smart as you, but I'm observant. You never looked interested in anyone until that L appeared. You talked about him like he was something awesome."

"I don't think this conversation is appropriate."

The girl sighed. "Listen, I won't annoy you. I just want you to know that I'll be here if you need to tell Mum and Dad. I'm on your side."

She moved towards the door to leave the bedroom.

"Sayu?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She came back and hugged him.

As he saw her go, he thought that no matter what the IQ said, his sister was better than any Wammy brat in the world.

***

Light spent the night thinking. Despite everything, L had always been proud of Light. He had introduced him to his dear ones, had opened his home to him. Watari and Roger knew they were together. It was highly probable the successors also knew the truth by now.

On the contrary, Light had not told his family about his preferences, least of all told them about the true character of the relationship he had with L. His parents could not be that stupid—they were just holding on to the fact that Light had never been clear. They might think L was just some sort of experiment, a mistake. After all, Light had never acknowledged him.

Could well look as if he were ashamed of L, ashamed of his feelings, which was not true.

Because he felt for him. He really felt for him.

However, it was difficult to tell his parents, it was difficult to make them understand.

L was dealing with similar issues at Wammy's with the kids.

Before the break of dawn, Light had made up his mind. He turned on his computer and contacted Watari.

"I will be glad to be back in three days."

***

The flight was not direct. A hotel room had been booked for him in the city where he had to take the other plane. Although the journey was longer, it was a less tiring one, so when he arrived in London the jet lag was not so blatant. Watari awaited for him outside the airport. He got into the car and found L on the backseat. All of a sudden, his heartbeat increased. The detective was paler than ever, and the shadows under his eyes were pitch-black.

No small talk accompanied them. At a crossroads, they turned left, got into a quiet village, and stopped at a beautiful cottage surrounded by fruit trees, grass, and flowers.

"I have hired it. I thought we could stay here for a while, just the two of us, if you agree," L said.

Light accepted. They said farewell to Watari and entered the cottage. It was spacious and comfortable, and there was fresh food in the kitchen.

"I have bought your favourite kind of food. I chose the cottage myself. I tried it not to be too luxurious," L said.

Light remembered his reaction towards L's presents and blushed a little.

"L, I have been thinking—"

The detective got close to him and stroked his hair and face ever so slightly. "We can talk tomorrow, Light. Please."

He held him tight and led him to the bedroom. He undressed him slowly. He nibbled his earlobes, his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He bathed him in kisses, caressed his body until Light was moaning in bliss. He made love to him gently, almost with fear of breaking him. Afterwards he cuddled him, whispering sweet nonsense, I missed you, I missed you so much, you are precious to me. Then his breath slowed down and Light was glad to see that L had been able to sleep, finally. He fell asleep, too, sated and with a heart full of peace.

They spent a few days in the cottage. They talked and talked, they made up and made love. By the end of it, Light had the feeling that the previous fortnight had merely been a long-forgotten nightmare.

***

Back at Wammy's, Watari told Light that the kids had been very worried at seeing L so withdrawn. Indeed they seemed to be a little tamer. The youngster did not expect applause, but there were no dark looks either. Linda gave him another picture, a beautiful Japanese landscape. Light decided to take it as a gift and not as a hint to go to Japan never to return again. Matt muttered something about him not being a person fond of conflict. Light took it as a peace offering, even when the redhead was on the verge of mentioning Mello somewhere along the line. Near just asked if it were possible for Light not to invigilate the room whenever he had to sit an exam. Light accepted, for that way Near would be again beating Mello's marks. As for the blond pest, he just tried to stay away from Light, which was enough. He learnt that the kid had found a way to focus his frustrations in a productive manner, using the hours of detention to write. So focused in fact that he had finished a novella and submitted it to a writing contest under Roger's name.

When Mello gave the detective a copy of the novella, Light told him he would also read it as a mean to bring them closer and for L's sake. The boy shrugged as if he did not give a damn. Anyhow, Light kept his word and read it with L.

"Well, it has not been so terrible this time around," Light said after having spent half the evening reading about young yakuza who betrayed great detectives. "It lacks any kind of subtlety, but it is well-paced and entertaining."

"Although he has done a good job, you don't have to be so understanding."

"Well, this time it is only the nationality."

"At least the yakuza makes it to the final act. The detective is killed mid-story," L muttered, chewing his thumb with uncertainty.

It was amusing to see L nervous. Light grinned. "But you are avenged by your brilliant apprentice, so justice prevails."

L rewarded him with a little smile, and Light felt the effort had been worthwhile. The kid's tricks were old—they did not unnerve him anymore.

"Besides, he has not grasped me at all. I would have kept the detective prisoner."

L's dark pools gleamed with mischief. "Really? And what would you have made him do?"

"You know you sound a little kinky, do you?"

Now every inch of L radiated heat and expectation. "Humour me, be creative. Just tell me."

So Light told him. He found he could be quite creative and that most of the things could be translated into reality. L's inventiveness also proved to be fruitful.

By the end of the week, after nights of pleasant experiments, Light was almost grateful with Mello for having written that story.

***

A certain Roger Ruvie won the first prize at a literary contest the second week of October. He went to the award ceremony with his nephew Rob and his four students of Creative Writing. Rumour had it that the blond student had been ecstatic, as if he had been the winner of the prize.

Light had been pondering the right course of action since they had known Mello had won. Finally, he had decided to congratulate him for his accomplishment, but declined to go to the ceremony in order not to add unnecessary tension. Everyone thought it to be a sound decision. He had seen them go, Mello bragging all the way out, and had taken advantage of the hours alone to put some plans into motion. He saw them come back, Mello still bragging, now with a trophy and a cheque. Before everyone resumed their usual business, Linda reached Light. "You have been really considerate. Thank you," she said. Her voice was gentle, and her smile was sincere.

Finally, they were on the right track.

***

Right tracks might sometimes hide bends.

A few days after the ceremony, Linda and Mello resolved to spend the money they have won, the girl with the pictures L had bought, the boy with the novella. They spent the day off shopping in London with Roger and returned in the early evening. Before their arrival, they had phoned to ask for L, Matt, and Near to be in their meeting room and not leave it before they told them. Light was there as well.

They had bought toys, clothes, and books for the orphans, which they gave to Watari for him to distribute them. They had bought gifts for Watari and Roger, too, and more personal presents for Near, Matt, and L. L received the share of the lion, including a new laptop and a huge cake from a famous bakery. Even Light received a couple of gifts. It was a celebration, and the youth could have really joined the others' joy if not for one thing.

The shoppers had just arrived, they were waiting for them in the meeting room. The door opened. Watari and Roger got into the room carrying two trolleys full of boxes. Linda entered after them, the embodiment of glee. She had had her hair cut and curled, and was wearing new clothes. She greeted everyone.

"I like your hair," Near said from his corner, twisting one of his curls.

"Yep, and that shirt is cool," Matt said over his games.

Linda giggled. "Do you think so? Well, now you are going to see the main attraction!" She clapped her hands and bowed down in a theatrical way.

Enter Mello. Better said, enter a version of Mello dressed in slick black leather that sticks to him like a second skin.

"Ta-da!" Linda exclaimed.

Watari glanced at Roger, who shook his head in defeat. Near watched Mello with a half-hearted frown, pondering if he liked the change or not. And then it was Matt. Well, Matt eyed Mello and dropped the game console. He took off his goggles, put them on, took them off again, gaped at the vision he had in front of him.

"And?" the blond in black leather demanded. There was a sneer on his face that could be the product of vanity or doubt.

"You look dangerous," Near remarked before returning to his toys.

"Wow! Dude, you look so sex... Stunning. You look stunning, uh," Matt stuttered. Probably. It was difficult to understand what he was mumbling with so much drooling.

Mello's sneer turned into a wide grin. Light realised the boy had grown taller, and he did not look scrawny anymore. He looked slender and pretty fit.

"Do you approve of the change, L?" he asked in a voice that made Light cringe.

"Absolutely. It is great you are developing a personal style," L hummed.

"Thaaank you," Mello purred. The wide grin developed into a look of smug satisfaction that did not leave his face for the rest of the evening.

"Time for unwrapping!" Linda announced then, and the party went on.

Light could have enjoyed it, but all he could see was Mello padding around like a cat, flirting around. Former actions and reactions reappeared in a new light. The red flags that had started blowing on the tennis court came back to clench his stomach.

What was the kid's age, exactly?!

***

Light had been chewing on the issue for two days until he finally said to L, "Mello is going to be sixteen before I am twenty. Maybe he is already sixteen."

"This is no news to me. Why does it matter?"

"He is a not a kid anymore." He does not look like a kid anymore.

"I am having trouble seeing the point of it."

Light gritted his teeth. It was embarrassing, but it was gnawing at him, sickening him. He had to let it out. "I think he has a crush on you. I think he has been nursing a crush for a time." There, he had poured out his worries.

L blinked in disbelief and suppressed a laugh. "If you come to such false conclusions too often, I will have to supervise your work more frequently."

"I am not joking, L."

L frowned. "Look, though I find flattering that you may think everyone else has the hots for me, this is absurd. He is a kid, I am an adult. It is outrageous."

Light's voice rose with anger. "He is just three years younger than me!"

"Is it the difference of age between us what really bothers you, Light? Do you think I am too old for you?"

Light groaned, frustrated. The conversation was going out of hand.

L moved towards him, put his hands on his face, and made him look at him. "I was born the thirty-first of October of 1979. Apart from Watari and me, you are the only living person that knows this. In a couple weeks I will be twenty-six. I am positive that six years, seven months, and a few days is not an insurmountable gap between us."

"I was not implying—"

The detective held Light's hands, fixed his eyes upon his. "Please, never imply something like that again. To me, Mello is a child, a child we are trying to help find his place in the world, just like the other children. But you, you are my partner, my equal. You are the man I love, the man I want to spend my life with."

Light remained speechless, his heart thundering in his chest, his senses intoxicated with what he had just heard. His mind analysed the utterances at lightning speed, L was masterful at lying, but he had come to know well when he was lying, and he was not lying, he was not.

He kissed the detective, a long, deep kiss that took his breath away. "You are brilliant," he said. I love you, too, he meant. He was so happy he could cry.

Although Light did not say, he did show.

***

"L?"

"Umm?"

"When have you become so articulate about feelings?"

"When I thought I had lost you."

***

Happiness had the collateral effect of making Light feel more relaxed. Thus, a few days after L had erased his doubts away, he did not wink an eye when he saw the blond-in-leather strolling across the place he was working in to get to another room, closing the door like a drama queen. He will get bored of the dramatics some day, hopefully. He kept on working in good spirits.

Soon afterwards, he stood up to get a book from a library that was near the room where Mello had disappeared. He heard murmurs that belonged to two voices, and then the brat's distinctive voice increased in volume. "What is all that supposed to mean?" he asked someone else.

Why must he always be so loud? He shook his head and revised the notes in the book. Then there were other sounds coming from the room, something similar to... a wet kiss? Could it be?

Bump. Slam. SLAP!

Light somersaulted. He let the book. The door opened, and Mello stormed off out of the room.

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!? he yelled at whomever had been left behind.

Light stared at him. The boy's skin was flushed, his lips swollen, his eyes wide open in astonishment. In his hands he carried a huge bouquet of flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Then he saw Light, and he got livid.

"Don't tell anyone about this, I warn you," he threatened. But his voice was feeble, and he ran away in a hurry.

The youth walked towards the other room. Inside he found Matt picking himself up from the floor, a chair and a coffee table turned upside down. The boy was also flushed, his goggles were hanging down sideways from his right ear. He had a goofy smile plastered on his face; the shining red of a smack had not turned yet into black and blue. His eyes were gleaming. Twinkling. Seriously.

"As I told you, you only have to be perseverant. He has not thrown the flowers," Light said.

The redhead stood up, grinning like a fool. "Yes, that must mean something, don't you think? Oh man, he's really a wild thing! I'm up to the challenge!"

As he saw him running after the other, Light thought that despite his awful taste in love, Matt was probably the boldest boy in the world. He smirked. Anything that could distract Mello from fixating on L and him was a great thing.

He was even willing to play matchmaker if needed to.

Chapter Text

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS - A MONTH LATER

"Have you seen the kids? They did not attend the meeting, and this is the second time they failed to appear," L asked Watari.

"I remember Roger mentioning a group project. Shall we look for them?"

Light followed them down the hall until they arrived at the study the successors favoured. They found Roger outside, near the door. He put his finger to his lips to mark silence. He moved away from the place to reach the other men and whispered, "We'd better not disturb them. They are working together on their own accord. Oh my, I had lost hope of seeing this day." For once, he nearly looked proud of being their caretaker.

L worried his thumbnail. "This project must be remarkable for them to neglect our appointment. I am curious. Let's see it."

Quiet like shadows they tiptoed to a near place where they were able to watch and listen to those inside the room without being noticed, thanks to a security system—Light had learnt long ago that the only real privacy at Wammy's House was the one found in the bedrooms and bathrooms. Thus, they watched.

A traditional drawing board with a large sheet of paper and a modern drafting table had been placed inside. There were also two desks. On the desks, there were laptops, several memory sticks, stationery—and bars of chocolate. Linda sat down on an armchair. Next to her, Near had abandoned the floor for another armchair, where he was bent sidewards in a posture that allowed him to gently twist the girl's new curls. Matt was lying down on a couch, elbows and head over the couch inside arm, with a look of awe on his face as he gazed at the only one who was standing. Said one, Mello, was supervising the different stuff while taking notes on a notebook.

"Let's revise the distribution of the tasks for the video game project. Matt will be in charge of the programming. Linda will be responsible for the art design of characters and scenario. Near will design the puzzles and mazes. I will write the plot story, the dialogues, and the characters. As far as programming is apt to be the most time-consuming task, we must take into account that Matt may need help."

The redhead waved his hand in dismissal. "Hey, I'm more than capable to accomplish it. I'm great at it. I'm great at most things, you know." He winked at Mello.

Mello blushed. He pulled himself together quickly and put his left hand on his hip. "You are great at being cocky. Well, as I was the one to help you, I guess I will have more spare time."

"You? Hey, I will absolutely need help. I'm in need right now!"

"Boys, please," Linda complained.

"They can't help it," Near said.

"Let's get serious, boys. We all have to help each other."

"Don't be sappy, Linda, please."

"I am not sappy!"

"Hey, keep calm, both of you, keep cool," Matt said. He eyed the drafts of the story. "So we have the four main characters that go on a quest to find their missing mentor, who has been enchanted by the villain. Is it an RPG or a visual novel?"

"We will decide it in the next session. The point is to make players use their logical reasoning to sort out the enigmas."

"Should I design puzzles that I can solve or puzzles that someone else can solve?" Near asked.

"You have to consider the rest of us, poor mortals," Mello groaned.

"Gamers like different levels of difficulty," Matt said conciliatory.

"On another side, we have to look for someone who can compose the soundtrack," Linda said. "I have thought of Helena."

"Helena is okay."

"We will see."

And so, the conversation went on. The adults stopped watching and resumed their chores. Roger and Watari seemed quite content.

On the contrary, Light could feel the uneasiness that loomed over L.

***

Later that night, once they were in their bedroom, Light asked the detective about it.

"You are wrong," L answered. He did not leave his eyes from the computer files.

The youngster left aside his own laptop. He stood up and approached the black-haired man. "You liar." He picked up a strawberry from a bowl. "Tell me what happened." He caressed L's bottom lip with his thumb, fed him the strawberry. The detective gave him a tiny smile.

"They are growing up. That was the objective, making them self-reliant, but it is strange."

Light could not help laughing. "Don't tell me you are getting sentimental, do you?"

L picked up another strawberry, and his smile widened. "It is the future, isn't it? I should have seen it coming, the unavoidable detachment. Incidentally, you have been quite secretive this last month, too."

"I keep no secrets from you," Light lied.

The detective munched the fruit and pointed out at the screen with his forefinger. "Anyway, we can focus on other matters now. As you suggested, I have been making a little research. I have found her." The picture of a young woman in formal clothes appeared. "Halle Bullook, aka Lidner. CIA agent, excellent qualifications, first-rate skills as a bodyguard, expert at managing difficult teenagers. It may be worthwhile if we travel to the United States and stay there for a while to monitor her."

"It is a good idea."

"Nonetheless, it will have to wait until mid January. I have received requirements from the NPA to help them in a challenging case. It seems interesting."

Light eyed the pictures of Deputy Director Yagami and agent Misora, whom he had been contacting recently. Adding the time in Japan to the time in the USA, they would be alone and out of Wammy's House for at least three months. He hid a grin. Everything ran according to plan.

"We will have to fly to Japan in five days. I estimate we will need around a month to solve this case."

"In a week. I have hired the cottage where we made up to celebrate our first anniversary," Light remarked. They have come to an agreement of taking into account when L had told Light to work and be with him and subtracted the days they had been apart to concretise the day of their anniversary.

L studied the files. "The case is not an emergency. We can have that weekend." He saved the files and turned off the computer.

"Wait. You do have another message from Japan," Light said as he walked along to hold his laptop. "Look."

With a tinge of curiosity in his usual blank expression, L stared at it. The video message started. There, Soichiro Yagami greeted him formally. Soon he changed his stiff stance, and the shot widened to show a nice middle-aged woman and a beaming teenage girl. "I would like to introduce you the rest of my family. This is my wife, Sachiko, and my daughter, Sayu." The woman bowed and greeted him. The girl mirrored her, although she had a hard time to conceit her enthusiasm. "We have recently known of the relationship you have with our Light. We are aware of your need for privacy. Nevertheless, we would like to let you know that we would be pleased to be your hosts at our home." "I'd love to meet my brother-in-law," Sayu exclaimed. She was scolded briefly, and then Sachiko spoke, then Soichiro once again.

As Light listened to his family, his well-hidden nervousness changed into pride. The hours he had spent on the phone or on the computer confessing to them what he should have revealed before had been worthwhile. True to her word, his sister had helped him.

The video finished. After a few moments, L began typing in silence. Anxiety started to nag at Light.

"Now I understand your need to spend time alone during the last few weeks," L said. He stopped typing and showed the email to Light.

It would be an honour for me to meet the rest of your family, Yagami-san. Kindly let me know of the most suitable time for a phone call tomorrow. He sent the email and stood up.

He crossed the space between them and circled his hands around Light's waist. "I am glad you have finally told them. I am proud of you. It is a great anniversary present." Then he opened a drawer in the near desk, took a little box, and gave it to the youth. "Open it."

Light did so. The ring sparkled.

"There is a fifty percent chance it is merely a ring. There is a fifty percent chance it is an engagement ring," L said. "With that data, have you reached a conclusion?"

Light put the ring on his finger. It was perfect.

"I will tell you when we are celebrating our second anniversary."

There was a kiss, of course. There were a hundred kisses.

There was even a moment when love overpowered Light's senses, and he finally uttered his first I love you.

EPILOGUE

In prison, Beyond Birthday had reached a certain kind of peace.

The first year after the fiasco in Los Angeles had felt like a season in hell. He had spent months in a prison hospital, suffering the treatment for the burns he had inflicted upon himself while raging inside for having botched up his plan to outsmart L. He had had to swallow down the shame of his failure and the certainty that he had not died, was not going to die, because they were curing him against his will. Somehow someone had saved him from the death row, and he was going to get on living in prison for the rest of his miserable life. He had done everything he could to avoid that premise—not only Naomi had given evidence for him being guilty, and the great L had confirmed it, but he had confessed, too. Yet, everything went wrong. Brilliant bloody attorneys paid by some mysterious hand (Wammy's money, undoubtedly) displayed every trick they knew to avoid the death sentence: mental health conditions, supposed repentance (The accused tried to commit suicide out of the horror at being aware of what he had done), his own confession. To top it all, it had been known that one of his victims, the young girl, had been in her last days of a deadly leukaemia, and from then on some sort of urban legend started. Beyond had lost the count of the forensic psychiatrists who had come and go, some of them more similar to exorcists than to scientists. None could stand more than two or three sessions with him, the bloody chickens. He could teach them a lesson or two about the demons inside and the hellfire outside, above everyone's head, the bloody idiots.

The first year had been hell, but it had faded away. His anger also faded away bit by bit. Naomi visited him from time to time. Though it seemed as if she were studying the consequences of a monstrous experiment, he thanked her visits. Oddly, he never held a grudge against Naomi—she had surpassed his expectations, so the blame was to be put on him, not on her. In fact, he had come to like her back then. So, when she announced that the autopsy of the other victims had revealed that there were health conditions (a cardiopathy, an aneurism) which would have ended their lives more or less by the time they had been killed, she asked him directly if he had known of it, and how he could have known it. And he was honest, he confirmed her suspicions, but he did not let her know the whole truth, because he had learnt many years ago that he was unique. People simply do not see the names and life span of other people dancing over their heads, shimmering red.

Used to it since childhood, it had not been traumatic, and it had had its advantages. Knowing names was useful. Knowing he was special was awesome. Conceal it, act upon it, add a spectacular IQ, and you change the shitty state orphanage for Wammy's House. Afterwards, you meet L a few times, supposedly in disguise, but know for sure that he is L because you can see his name waving like crazy, and you realised that no one else in the world would ever be able to know what you know. You are worthy of L, and he will acknowledge it sooner or later.

Even the numbers had been harmless until the day he had found A dead after months of pressure from every side—his own weakness, Wammy, L, and Beyond himself. Since he had met L, Beyond had resolved to show him he was not a B, not a double B, the backup of the backup, but the one who deserved to be first in line, the A, the one who will be by his side. A bloody psychiatrist would argue that was the reason behind choosing L.A. (L plus B, not a B anymore, an A) as the arena for his revenge. He found A dead, and the first thing he noticed was the count, finally, the key, the code that stuck the numbers together for them to make sense, to mark the exact life span any human had. He understood the code and burst into a screeching, hysterical laughter, A's corpse still there. He laughed when Wammy arrived, he laughed afterwards. He kept on laughing while counting numbers out loud, seeing them for what they were. He had never been able to see his own countdown. He realised that was a blessing.

He lost track of time. Days or weeks later, no one at Wammy's, no one who really mattered regarded him as a B anymore, but as an I. I was for Insane. Well, L still regarded him as a B. Literally, The backup is broken.

Indeed he broke down and flew away from Wammy's. Suddenly, every misery he had ever suffered, every mistake he had made seemed to be L's fault. He fed his obsession with L by changing his aspect to resemble him. He fed his hatred of L with numbers. He spent months researching the deadly discovery. He studied the arithmetic, calculated the time, and never failed. He had a power or a curse, he was not sure. Red, he could not stop seeing red, and strawberry jam could not substitute for it anymore. He craved red, human red, but not suffering. At least, not suffering.

Thus, he had L tracking him for more than a year, and at the end he chose three people who were going to die right away, drugged him for them not to feel the slightest pain, and dove into his blood thirst. Death must have been the only suitable end for him, not only for his plan to be perfect, but also to see the world get rid of the monster he was. It was him or the world, and the world prevailed.

In hindsight, imprisonment had been the best solution. He was not allowed to hurt others, and he remained alive. His intelligence had not been wasted, for he had been studying. Somewhere along the line, he had begun to be seen as a sort of guru. Firstly, he had not been allowed to see other people, but top-notch behaviour eventually granted him human exchange, so he could tell others to care for their health (because they were doomed to live for many years, so it was better to be as healthy as they could) or dared to chase their dreams (because the future was short, and carpe diem was the clue).

All in all, he had found a certain kind of peace.

L and Wammy came around sometimes. At first, he had refused to see them, for he was sure they had come to mock at his failure. Then, curiosity took the best of him and permitted the visits. He learnt not to loathe them. They had somehow changed, were somehow trying to really speak with him, in some kind of atonement. Once, L told him he had made his the fake name Beyond had used at L.A., Ryuzaki Rue, and he was proud of that fact. Another time, L told him he was going to catch the mysterious criminal, Kira, and that Naomi would be helping him. Beyond spent many days wondering how it would feel to be there with them, helping them.

Yes, he had learnt to enjoy those visits. A part of him simply wanted to see L and Wammy, for better or worse. Another part of him revelled in the fact that he was the only person in the world that had uncovered L's secrets.

After all, it was not only that he knew his true name. The most important thing was that he knew exactly when L was going to die. He knew he would never reach his thirties. The knowledge made him feel powerful.

Yes, life was not that bad. Besides, he had been dreaming frequently of late with an ominous wasteland full of monsters with eyes like his, and he had come to believe that was the place he was fated to go after death. In the end, he was truly grateful to still be alive.

He had made another discovery, too. It was Naomi the catalyst for it. In one of her visits, he realised her numbers had changed. The life span had been shortened. "Are you in a dangerous mission?" he asked her. "No, I'm not. In fact, I've quitted," she answered. She did not elaborate, but Beyond noticed the engagement ring, and had an epiphany. He researched it through the few people he could see, but foremost by means of pictures in magazines and newspapers.

That way, he discovered that, from time to time, another person could shorten a person's life span.

Two months ago, Naomi had visited him again. Her numbers had come back to normal. He was glad of it. He did not need to ask her if he had got rid of whomever she had been engaged to.

Today, he had a new face-to-face with L. One year had passed by since his last visit, although he had received a couple of letters from him in the meantime and knew for long that Kira had been successfully been put down.

The first surprise was the fact that Wammy was not there, but it did not matter. What mattered was the other difference. They talked for a while. Beyond tried to follow the conversation. However, he could not take his eyes off the red numbers over L's head.

"Has Watari passed away? Do you have a new assistant?" Beyond asked.

L chewed his thumb, looked at him intently, measured him, and he answered, "He is well and alive, if a little older for so much long-distance travelling." He stopped and pondered his following words. "Anyway, we can say we have a new person at Wammy's. You could think of them as an assistant."

He did not explain more, and Beyond did not need to know, because everything he needed to know, he knew already. The dialogue went on, but Beyond never stood much away from the pervading certainty, the idea of the unknown new one, the reason for the change in L's life span.

When the time was due, a warden came up to escort L. Beyond saw him go. He eyed someone in the middle of the corridor waiting for L, a youth Beyond had never seen before. L stopped and the other touched his arm. Beyond pitched forward to watch the red glowing. L's numbers gleamed brighter by his side. The other's red revealed Japanese characters. Beyond recalled his lessons. He was able to make sense of them, Yagami Tsuki, Tsuki probably pronounced Raito. Light. Light Yagami.

The others left, and Beyond remained unnerved. As with everything that happened to L, he could not decide whether he was glad or angry about the change. Nonetheless, he knew exactly what he felt for the other, for Light Yagami. He disliked him. He hated him.

He hated him because he had achieved what not even Beyond, with all his power, had ever got. For L's count had increased.

And so, because of his mere existence, that bloody Light Yagami had expanded L's life span.