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Someone's broken up the night sky and spilt a packet of stars across it; stars singly and stars travelling in luminous packs, stars gleaming white, and stars curling almost purplish as they lean and spin towards the invisible horizon, which stretches, Light knows, though he cannot see it, straight and flat, and seemingly forever, in all known directions. It's a strange thing, because he's never seen more stars, and yet the world has never been coloured a purer black, and all the lights of humans are but dull beneath it.
Somewhere, just out of reach, a mosquito is humming to itself. Light Yagami brushes at it, more from reflex than any thought that he might actually scare it away from his personal space. From the open door of the hotel room behind them (although Light isn't entirely sure that it's worthy of the term hotel, really, seeing that it's a tiny place in the middle of nowhere and they're the only guests) an old television hums like the mosquito's big brother. Now and then Light glances backwards towards it, and catches a glimpse of bright colours and gleaming lights; the fireworks of a coastal city counting down to midnight a few thousand kilometres further east.
"Are you certain you don't want to watch them, Light-kun?' mumbles the man who's curled against him; L doesn't raise his head, but speaks onto the skin of Light's throat, all warmth and whispers.
Light grins into the darkness and the starlight, his shoulders relaxing back against the chair in which they're both sitting, even though there isn't really space for two.
"I'm sure," he says. "I've seen fireworks before. This is... so much... more."
He falls silent, entirely unsure how to express the immensity of what, exactly, this is: a world big enough to make any man diminish beneath its forever-sky, the dry scent of dust rubbing at his skin, the way that the darkness above goes beyond, beyond where he automatically expects to find the shape of buildings and the sheen of lights. And then, and then, amongst it all, beneath it all, the feel of the man beside him, body pressed against his.
It's hot, and their skin sticks slightly where it meets, and Light's fingers cannot keep still where they smooth their way through L's hair.
"The world is large," sighs Light. And it's strange, but he's not complaining, and it's foreign, but he doesn't mind, and his mind is floating somewhere above where it ought to be, and he doesn't know if it's the overpowering immensity of the clear dark skies above them, or the warmth, or the anticipation for that which the New Year promises. Mostly he thinks it's the way that L moves slightly, rises up, crooks his warm hands upon Light's face, and leans in to kiss him. Kisses him, and their lips meet beneath that never-ending sky, and a future begins in a place that scorns time herself.
(Happy New Year, Light-kun.)
Nothing but stars, and L, and brilliant darkness; nothing but forever.