Work Text:
I.
Ryuzaki is watching him intently. “It’s incredibly foolish, you know.” He remarks, thumb pressed against his bottom lip in such a way that the flesh around the tip goes white.
Matsuda looks up from his laptop, one hand stilled over the keyboard and the other holding a dozen printed emails, each one requesting Misa-Misa for one thing or another.
“I’m sorry Ryuzaki, I wasn’t listening.” He’s sheepish, eyes soft, but his grip on the pages tightens slightly. “What did you say was foolish?”
“I haven’t said yet.” Ryuzaki drawls, turning in his chair slightly, his neck craned in a way that cannot possibly feel comfortable.
“Oh. Well…” He searches for words and finds that they’ve all escaped him. Why can’t Ryuzaki ever just be straightforward?
“I was thinking, that falling in love to the point that it takes your breath away, is foolish.” Ryuzaki - no L, he’s L right now as his eyes drill into the side of Matsuda’s face and his teeth gleam sharply behind his slightly parted lips. He’s watching Matsuda like he’s a quaint puzzle made for children, all the blocks too large and painted brightly. The edges rounded, the patterns easy.
Matsuda always feels so small when L looks at him.
He always feels small.
He shifts in his seat, turns to look at Ryuzaki fully. “What brought this on?”
Ryuzaki makes a pained noise and rolls his dark eyes up to the ceiling.
“Miss Amane has been insistent on having a night alone with Light.”
The papers crumple in his hand. He covers his reaction well, exclaiming simultaneously with Light (who has been seated silently next to Ryuzaki, scrolling through an endless stream of crime statistics. Matsuda remembers he mentioned something about mapping them out but he can’t be sure. They never tell him anything.) who stands from his seat with a “what the hell Ryuzaki”.
“How can you just say that?” Light demands, pleads, “You can’t just say that.” He sounds angry and embarrassed and every bit the college student he is. It makes Matsuda’s teeth clench.
Ryuzaki continues on undaunted. “Miss. Amane is adamant that, not only can she not imagine the world without Light, but that she can’t imagine doing anything as simple as breathing without him.” He turns back around, his unkempt hair bouncing as he shakes his head just slightly. “Misa fully believes that our dear Light loves her.” He remarks with faux casualness, eyes sharp and turned now to Light. His words are meant to sting the boy, and by his wince they do. Oh. This doesn’t have anything to do with Matsuda. It’s just a game that Ryuzaki is playing with his unwilling companion.
Neither of them seems to notice Matsuda swallowing, and turning meaningfully back to his papers.
Ryuzaki sighs, and returns to his work, ignoring the two of them completely.
“Yes...Truly foolish.”
II.
It’s a bunch of little things.
It’s his assignment to take care of Misa, to re-establish her more firmly as an actress and a model following her long absence (see: Incarceration ). He’s actually very good at his job. Matsuda turned Matsui is personable, genuine, handsome in an average kind of way which disarms most people suspicions, and he’s not stupid.
Matsui, Misa-Misa’s manager, bargains, haggles, and persuades agencies and directors like he was born for it. More than once he hears through the grapevine of an opportunity about to be snatched away by some other young actress with more skill, experience, and poise than Misa. More than once he places a few calls, fabricates a white lie, and walks into that same audition appointment following diligently behind Misa. He pushes for interviews with large and small names alike, sets up the questions so Misa always comes on top.
But if he’s good at his job, Misa is a prodigy. She eases into her roles like a fish being transported from one tank to another. Her abrasiveness is charming in its own way, and she knows the business. He doesn’t even really need to do any of this, she could do it herself, but she lets him. He’s not sure why.
But still, it’s hard at first. Neither of them is impressed with each other at first. Before he knows her he finds her annoying, small and loud. She enters a room and takes up all the space. He resents her for that before he realizes that it’s only because he’s never been the centerpiece. He comes to realize that a lot of his initial problems with her come from himself.
Misa doesn’t trust him. Why should she? He was one of the men who arrested her, restrained her and placed her under those oppressive fluorescent lights, at the mercy of a man who lacked any working definition of morality. He shouted at her.
When he thinks on it now, he wants to take it all back.
It takes time. The tentative lie that their working relationship is established on wavers whenever a call from Ryuzaki comes in, requesting updates to Misa’s status.
It’s his assignment to take care of Misa-Misa, Misa Amane, the suspected second Kira. And it is his job to take action should he suspect even a slight deviation in the innocence displayed by her. Subdue her if possible. Neutralize if not.
Taro Matsui is a fiction, Touta Matsuda is an officer of the law and he will do what he needs to.
Every day it becomes just a bit harder to repeat to himself with sincerity.
Things come to a head. After a grueling session on the set of some ridiculous low budget action movie, one which has a director who takes himself and his plot far too seriously, who yells at and berates the set assistants, and who dares to call Misa-Misa a stupid little girl who doesn’t know anything -
(Matsui the talent agent and manager can’t do very much, twiddling his thumbs on the sidelines and smiling reassuringly. Matsuda the man, the officer, watches, and takes notes because the Japan Actors Union will have something to say about this)
- He brings her coffee. It’s poorly brewed, bitter and overly strong, taken from the snack table with copious sugar added (It’s her one real vice, she won’t touch the donuts or cake or pastries, but when she orders coffee she always reaches for the sweetener. He notices). She’s watery-eyed, having just finished enduring the mockery of a man past his prime and bitterly holding on. When she looks up at him he’s confused, because certainly when she smiled at him before her eyes never looked so bright.
“Thank you, Matsuda.” And her voice is like a choir, even as it wobbles slightly, she’s filled with life. To think, at one point he thought her voice was annoying, he simply hadn’t learned how to appreciate it yet.
As she reaches to take the coffee from him, she smiles in a mischevious way. “Sorry, I should say, Matsui, shouldn’t I?” And she brings the rim of the cup to her mouth, painted lips quirked in a way that makes Matsuda swallow around sudden dryness.
“Um...when we’re alone, I mean, uh, you can just...Matsuda is fine.”
God, he’s an idiot.
Misa giggles and takes a sip. She makes an exaggerated show of widening her eyes and spitting the coffee back into the cup. She winks at him. “If you were trying to poison me, Matsuda, there are probably easier ways to do it.”
“What! No, no, sorry. I should’ve gone down the street or something. Gosh I know this coffee is awful, sorry I didn’t mean to-” He stops, he’s not trying to ramble but Misa is looking at him with a fond amusement that she’s never looked at him with before. He flushes, red and hot under his collar. “Sorry.” He repeats again, lamely.
“I’m just kidding Matsuda. Don’t worry.” Her eyes close with another smile and in her ridiculous costume (an orange leather jumpsuit with black stripes down the sides. She’s supposed to be the ‘femme fatale’ in this little scene. A racing movie, maybe? He hasn’t been paying attention. And no he hasn’t been looking at the way it fits her thank you very much who are you anyway this is a staff only entrance ) she looks paradoxically beautific.
She pats his cheek as she walks past him, turning once she pumps her fist into the air, looking determined. “It’s time to get back to work! I’ll knock this guys socks off so next time he won’t have anything to complain about!”
When she turns away he tastes the beginning of something sweet and rotten on the back of his throat.
III.
When he escorts her back from wherever they’ve gone she will always turn from him, and not once look back.
He always delivers her back. Back to the headquarters. Back to Ryuzaki. Back to Light.
Light.
Matsuda watches Light tiptoe around another of Misa’s flirtations. He’s never really outright denied her, just been hesitant in accepting. Matsuda can’t tell if it’s out of pity or fear, or just because at this point Misa is the only girl Light’s in contact with. Maybe he’s not even attracted to her. It doesn’t matter though.
Misa is fully convinced of Light’s love, and Light has never corrected her.
The other day Matsuda woke with purple and pink hyacinth petals around his mouth, traces of vomit on them. He wonders if he should be thankful that Light is simultaneously so frigid yet unwilling to break her heart.
He can’t stand the thought of Misa in his situation.
It hasn’t escalated beyond that really, a few petals here and there. A manageable pain. A manageable love.
He should have known that it wouldn’t stay that way. Misa is unflinching in the face of the horrors of the investigation and Ryuzaki’s continued suspicions, loyal to a fault, and eager to prove herself. Matsuda wishes he were more like her.
Instead, he is sitting and watching while Light agrees to dinner, the amused raccoon face of Ryuzaki in the background. Misa beams at him, grasping his hand in hers, pulling him to her as she presses a kiss against his cheek.
Matsuda steps out of the room and coughs harshly into his hand. He crumples the petals in his fist.
IV.
He can’t believe that this is the plan L has come up with.
A party? The Yotsuba group all in one room, drinking, getting too friendly with all these young women. Getting too friendly with Misa, who looks for all intents and purposes the genial hostess. But Matsuda can see the sharpness of her eyes. She’s watching the other girls and the men, and Matsuda knows she’ll damn the plan in a second if any of them try anything. He hasn’t seen her take more than a sip or two of her cocktail.
Smart.
(And Misa is smart. She really is. Because Matsuda has seen the way her head tilts whenever Light and Ryuzaki start talking about the investigation, the way she seems to file the information away. He's seen her change herself, just slightly, whenever someone new walks into the room. She bares her teeth at Ryuzaki, shows deference to Chief Yagami, and offers her throat for Light. She's better at turning a conversation to her advantage than he ever could be.)
He’s still nervous though. He knows this is his mess, and he needs to clean it up. But there are so many variables, and he’s just one man. L is just one man. Kira is certainly in this room and they certainly know his face. They know Misa’s name and face.
When he makes it to the toilet and withstands the disappointed silence of Ryuzaki on the other side of the phone call, he thinks about the plan. He’s going to pretend to be drunk. Fine. He’s going to try some acrobatics. Alright, a bit weird but… He’s going to fall off the balcony. Sure, why not.
Apparently, his exasperated hesitance translates to Ryuzaki because the last thing Ryuzaki tells him is:
“If this doesn’t work, Misa will most certainly be a target of Kira.” And then the bastard hangs up on him.
So, Matsuda considers this. He considers Misa, bright wide eyes, earnest smiles, the ease with which she loves so surely and completely. He considers the woman he loves and he considers how he could help her.
As he is about to leave he’s stopped by a sharp pain. He grasps his chest as he feels something well up inside him. No air is entering his lungs, no matter how he hacks and coughs and pounds nothing comes in or out. He lurches towards the sink, gripping the sides while he shoves his face under the stream of water, gulping down in an attempt to dislodge something. It works, a bit. He’s able to draw in a wet disgusting breath or two. He moves to the toilet where he uses what feels like every ounce of his strength to push out the petals he knows are stuck in his esophagus.
Finally, a wet clump of hyacinth plops into the water.
There isn’t very much blood in the water but Matsuda can taste it in his teeth. He flushes the toilet. He stands up, composes himself. Remembers that he’s supposed to be pretending to be drunk so he quickly un-composes himself and kicks his way back into the room.
A few people are looking at him like he has a second head. One of the Yotsuba group, Suguru, maybe?, reaches for him. He waves away all of their concern with a blown up excuse of being so drunk he forgot how to swallow. He jokes about vomiting, knowing it makes everyone uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter. He’ll never see these people again.
Misa watches from her place on the couch. Her eyes are wide.
Matsuda meanders past her, plays his part, and throws himself from the balcony.
V.
Something has changed. Ryuzaki has lost all his air, he is deflated. Light is out of his handcuffs and meets with Misa outside the building often. Each time he watches through the cameras as they embrace and kiss. She always closes her eyes and leans her whole self into it. Light never does.
She doesn’t come inside and Matsuda wishes that she would. He hasn’t seen her in what feels like forever. The flowers have not subsided (he never thought they would). He hopes she’s alright. He doesn’t expect her love, knows better than to hope for it. But he thought maybe they would still be friendly.
Ryuzaki gives words to this feeling, telling Light that he’s free to enjoy Misa’s company. Light smiles in a way that doesn’t at all fit on the face Matsuda knows and says that he’s fine with waiting. Matsuda doesn’t understand this. He feels anxious with the idea of leaving Misa outside, anxious with the idea of being apart from her.
He knows that Light does not love Misa Amane. But couldn’t he at least pretend? For her sake? Does he want her to realize that she is in an unrequited relationship and for her to get sick and -
No. Light wouldn’t do that. It’s just Matsuda’s own fears creeping up on him. Besides, Misa is happy, and that’s what matters.
One day, they pass each other. He, returning from a coffee run and her leaving from a rendezvous with Light.
He can’t help the grin he gets as he waves to her.
It falters though, when for just an instant she looks at him like he’s an inconvenience.
She’s never looked at him like that before
They chat for a few minutes, and he realizes that there is something new in her smile. In her eyes. A dark twinkle which gleams red when the light hits them the right way. And something with sharp fangs crouched behind her teeth, peering out the gaps of her lips.
He wishes her a happy day, and as he watches her walk away she does not turn back.
He hands the coffees out to everyone, for once not complaining about how menial a task it is. He moves to his station and works diligently, thinking only of what is in front of him. When the day is over and he prepares for bed, he rushes to the bathroom.
When he pulls his head out of the bowl of the toilet there is more blood than petals.