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Misa watches him sleep. Watch as his toned chest rises and falls with his steady breath, his long eyelashes fluttering on the sharply sculpted cheeks. He is an angel– no, he is a god and she is his angel.
And oh what a beautiful thing it would be to be loved by him.
But she let her mind replay the events starting from earlier that night. She didn't know why she even bothered to try and think that maybe–just maybe–this time he would open the door of their apartment greeting her with a smile and open arms. He'd kiss her forehead and gasped as he walked to the dining room, grinning and thanking her for preparing all of this just for him. Maybe this time he would raise the glass of wine she prepared, laughing at her stories about her day as he eats his meal.
But her subconscious knew it would be easier
She prepared herself for a polite rejection, some bullshit about "I'm really tired misa, I'm sorry" or at least he would eat dinner, but with no words and immediately leave when he's done. But not this .
He entered the apartment with no words, no noise, she noticed because of Ryuk's greeting. His clothes were soaked, his hair looked like someone tugged it so harshly, his stare was so bleak it almost startled her, his face was neutral, like nothing happened. But Misa knew something happened.
"Hello Light! What happened? did you forget to bring the umbrella?" She jogged to the hallway, immediately touching his damp brown hair. And removing his drenched coat. "I made us dinner. I know you haven't–"
"Misa, please," he mumbled with a sigh and closed eyes, as if he was trying to pull himself together.
"You had a rough day, didn't you?" She frowned. She wished she knew what rumbles inside the hurricane of a mind he has, so she could understand, maybe she can help. "Wait here, I'll run you a bath. And then, you would feel better so we can have dinner. How's that?"
"Misa."
She sighed. That tone. The one he always uses when he needs some time alone. The one he uses all the time.
But she knows him better than everyone, she knows him like a fool she is doing nothing but to observe. She knows that he was trying to hold his voice from trembling, she knows the firmness was forced. But pushing him more will only make it worse.
"Okay, I let you go. Just...call me when you need me, okay?" She said with a smile, a bittersweet one. The coat was soaking through her shirt, making her skin shivered from the cold. But it was far less colder than her so-called boyfriend. She was used to his coldness but somehow it gets even colder. So she squeezed his still palm for a second before she let him go to the bathroom with no words but heaviness that radiated darkness all across the room. Well, not that this house ever had a brightness to it, a fucking death god and a loveless man lives here.
An hour passed, and he didn't touch the food. Hell, he didn't even put a single toe on the dining room's floor. By the time she reached him, he was already on the bed, closing his eyes. Not asleep yet, but she let him be. She told herself it didn't hurt, that she's used to it. But she knew it's not that easy, it never was. So she decided to do the laundry instead, then she would eat the food alone, maybe with Ryuk if he wanted to. At least she can do something that distracts her from the sting in her chest.
She walked into the bathroom, wondering why it took Light so long when it usually only takes him fifteen minutes or so.
Maybe this is a really really bad day , she thought.
So she took the dirty laundry basket to the washing machine. That was when she realised how dirty light's trousers were. She grabbed it, standing up in front of the washing machine and examined the dark grey fabric. Why's there a dirt stain on the knee? Why's he so dirty? He's known for his cleanness and always looking sleek as ever. So why are these pants so dirty?
Did he slip and fall to the ground around people watching and he got so embarrassed? Is that why he was so gloomy? Maybe so. The thought raced her head as she ate her food alone, well, unless you count Ryuk munching apples across her.
"Ryuk, he looked messy today, where did he go?" She asked, concerned as ever while the shinigami just shrugged.
"Eh, I don't know. He stopped the car in this place and told me to stay inside and not to follow him, weird."
"Hmmm, where could he possibly go? He never looked like that before. Are you familiar with the place Ryuk?"
"Uhh, kinda? I don't know, I've been into lots of places I can't just remember them all. But don't worry, I'm sure he's not cheating on you," he said, mouth full of his favorite fruit. "Mmm, this one is really good by the way. Thank you, Misa"
"Mhm, you're welcome Ryuk."
"Oh and one thing."
"Yeah, what is it?"
"He left his umbrella in the car, I tried to call him but he didn't even look at me," Ryuk said again, with slight annoyance in his voice.
"Oh...that's strange."
It is really strange. And she kept on thinking about it until now, now when Light is laying on his back in a deep slumber. She thinks it was strange, to see him like that, he was a mess and Light is never, even once in his life is a mess. The closest thing to a 'mess' Light could be was when he punched Ryuzaki years ago.
"Tell me, Light, what's wrong?" She whispers softly, more to herself than to light, because even if he's awake, he wouldn't ever answer the question. Her manicured fingertips stroke his arms lightly, feeling the soft white cotton of his sweater tickling her wrist. Soft scent of a candle burns calmly in the darkness of the room, trying to fill up the gaping space.
"You know that I love you right? I will always listen to every problem you have, I will try to solve it. Why won't you talk to me?" Her eyes started to water but she held herself not to break. Not right now. "You're never like this, and I know you more than anyone else. Where did you go earlier?"
As if he can hear what she said, Light turns in his sleep, his back facing her face. She sighs, as she continues to stroke her arm, slowly moving to his shoulder. He never noticed it, but everytime she does that when he's asleep, his breath grows steadier and his furrowed eyebrow calms. She smiles, at least his body can appreciate her love when his heart won't.
That's when Misa realizes how unfamiliar the sweater is.
She doesn't know he has something like this, and she knows all of his clothes. Perhaps he bought a new one? No, he would never buy a new sweater just to wear it to sleep.
She notices a tag peeking from the back of his neck, and the curiosity got the best of her. It's probably not a big deal, maybe his dad lend it to him earlier today or–
She knows the brand. A brand that common people don't know, but she's a successful model, and she knows it. It was a french brand that neither Light or herself can afford, even the simplest white sweater like this one.
Wait-
A thought crosses in her head, and she wishes it is wrong. Misa gets up from the bed slowly, trying to not wake her boyfriend up as she runs to the living room.
"Eh? What's wrong Misa?" Ryuk asks, his eyes fixated on a sitcom on the TV.
"Ryuk, what date is this?"
"Hmm, I don't know. Go check the calendar." The shinigami picks a table calendar from the coffee table and throws it at Misa who tries her best to catch it.
Today is-
Oh.
November 5th 2009
Her heart sinks to her stomach but she knows she shouldn't be surprised, she should've remembered it. She should've known from the darkness of his eyes when he walked into the apartment, she should've connected it when she noticed the dirt stain on the knee of his pants.
She should've known that her heart, her eyes, and her body could never fight the ghost who weighed on his ribcage, aching them every time his tongue tasted that name on the tip of it. The name that was supposed to be a trophy of victory now has ripped apart her Light.
She should've known, she said. she should've notice, she should've realized, she should've known-
But inside, she knew, she noticed, she realized it. He would forever be bound to that man, wearing his name like a crown while his heart longs to be held by the dead cold hands. She should've known that his body wasn't reacting to her touch but a familiarity of spidery fingers with chained wrist. No amount of strokes her finger gave to his shoulders, she could never lift the ghost they bear .
So she walks back to their shared room. A room filled with nothing but the ghosts of what could've happened instead of this mess of a bloodshed throne they traded them with. A candle which light has faded to smoke, washing away all the little warmth that left.
She'll sleep tonight, pretend like the sting isn't there, dream about beautiful things and wake up with her heart still laid bare for Light to put his weight in. She'll sleep tonight, maybe tomorrow will get better. Maybe tomorrow the ghost who sits on Light's shoulders will fly away. There's no point of hoping, but at least she'll get some rest tonight.
(She did not)