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*
Wind and rain bellowed outside, it was the sound of harsh droplets of rain flying like bullets out of the sky sputtering onto the window that managed to wake L up, albeit prematurely. It was never in his nature to sleep according to a normal human’s schedule, his body clock had been expertly altered to keep him awake for days at a time and sleep for entire days after that. So, already, things felt unnatural. It must’ve been early, the sun was not yet peeking through the almost-shut blinds in L and Light’s small, shared bedroom. Instead, the moon cast a soft, blue glow into the room, though barely visible in the sky; Headquarters was circled by a halo of dark cloud.
L pushed thick blanket off his lower body, sitting up and hugged his knees close to his chest. He held them there tightly, as if they’d drift away if not bound together. Blankly, he stared outside through the slit in the blinds, though his view of the city was impossibly blurred by raindrops. He was trying hard to focus on this, attempting with his whole body to disassociate, zone out so he didn’t have to think right now. Perhaps that was why he surrendered to sleep early in the first place. If he spent too long in his own brain, it would only be so long until he started to think about his mistake.
. . . his mistake.
His jaw tightened at the notion. Slowly, his head turned from the window to the man still lost in sleep beside him. It wasn’t uncommon that L would spend time awake watching the other dream, there was something fascinating about it: how could someone like you sleep at night? A different sort of curiosity filled L’s whirlpool eyes as he stared down at Light,
tonight. His hair brushed over his shut eyes, completely still save for the rhythmic raising and falling of his chest as he breathed. Maybe, in the lieu of his perfect victory, he was able to rest peacefully. L couldn’t fathom how this twisted man was able to get him to make the one mistake he was never supposed to make. It was selfish blindness that led him to this very point. Watari had warned him, his gut had warned him. Light was dangerous- that he knew- he betrayed himself so fatally by getting involved with the other.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
The Kira investigation was running cold, and the task force couldn’t keep wasting resources catching somebody who had stopped leaving a trail of hints- even the heart attack deaths were growing uncommon. L was restless, spending so long doing next to nothing was becoming exhausting, and frankly depressing. It was no wonder he was grateful when the Syndicates case had caught his attention: a particularly alluring case in which two American-based Mafia groups were using Japan as a middle-man to escort illegal goods across the country. This was exactly the sort of thing L craved to keep him busy. It didn’t take long at all for Watari to give Interpol the knowledge that the detective would be looking into this case for them, with no external help required- he had the Kira Task Force at his disposal.
This was important to him, though. L, during this time, would keep the case a secret from the rest of the Task Force, entrusting only one other with the knowledge of it; that would be Light Yagami. His intellectual equal. Almost. He was invited to work alongside him, believing that with their minds combined, they’d be able to solve it quicker than anybody in the Japanese or American police. Of course he agreed, the idea of doing detective work with L was more intimate than anything.
This case, he figured, was the start of it all.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
It was impossible to tell whether guilt or innocence lay behind those eyes of his. Eyes he had allowed himself to get lost within, eyes he stared into before leaning in to embrace the other. The idea of doing that now made the sickness in his stomach swirl. It wasn’t disgust, nor regret. His time close with Light meant a great deal to L, he wouldn’t want to take it back, he was sure that was reciprocated- even if a nagging feeling that this was all planned from the beginning incessantly tugged at his brain. Though that was how it felt.
Every affection offered to him now had a sinister edge to it. His mind continued to wander around this possibility whilst his eyes searched for any sign in Light’s sleeping face that he had done what L thought he did. The time they’d spent with bodies intertwined with one another, hastily locking lips in the hallway when they thought no one had seen them. Hiding the secret of what they’d done so well the rest of the task force thought their co-worker had gone slightly mad. The two slept together nightly- well, L wasn’t often asleep during the night, just there keeping the other company in his slumber whilst he worked. When L did sleep, they’d be tangled up in each other's limbs. Light often held him. Was he sick to think that comfort was real? Every act now exists in two states simultaneously, fond memory and cold truth. L couldn’t retrieve the former without facing the latter. Kira was toying with him and he knew it, toying with his heart. Very soon he would take it from him.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
The case itself wasn’t the problem, he’d worked with Light before and he was exceptional at this line of work considering his age. That was one of the things that reminded L so much of himself. The problem was that afterparty Misa and Matsuda insisted they have after revealing that they solved an incredibly intricate, overseas case. So much had happened between he and Light over the course of the Syndicates case, L felt as if he could finally trust Light to some degree. He’d been safe in his vicinity for so long, and the other had seen parts of Headquarters he’d never allow anybody but Watari to know about. They’d gone on dates, both with and without Misa, spoken about each other’s upbringing. It was a relationship L did not think he would ever have been able to build with anybody else. Light was different, so he told himself.
And yes, it was a girlish display of infatuation, but L did feel as if he had fallen in love with Light and his brilliant mind.
So, L had agreed to the afterparty. It was an excuse to spend some time with Light not hunched over a computer screen sifting through hours worth of data. Even if they both enjoyed that ritual, perhaps some downtime would be worthwhile- they’d been working non-stop on it. This was the first time L had been to a party he was actually invited to, not undercover or watching from afar. Matsuda had said it wasn’t a proper party if they hadn’t gotten a few drinks- a habit L assumed he picked up from work, he often talked about going to bars with his friends when he worked in the NPA. He wasn’t in a place to say no when Misa started pleading with him as well. Aizawa looked like he needed a drink. So he reluctantly agreed.
Only now L wishes he saw the look on Light’s face when he finally caved in. Was he glad? Had things gone to plan?
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Avoiding the scene was impossible, it kept replaying in his head over and over. Looking away from Light didn’t stop that either, it only made his heart thump harder in his chest. L was hyperaware of each beat it took, savoring each one left in him. Later today, they’d cease, and there was nothing he could do but wait; his fate was written in pen and ink.
His eyes felt dry, he hadn’t blinked in awhile, doing so as he turned to look down at the bed again. Even if it was mostly silent in the room, he swore he could hear ringing. It wasn’t loud, but it was constantly in the back of his head. L checked the clock on his bedside cabinet. 4:51 AM. He wondered when it would be, when his death was scheduled. Knowing Light, he’d want this done hastily, but without incriminating himself. Who was to say he wasn’t going to die in one minute? Or one hour? Whilst Light was still asleep, it would seem like he had nothing to do with L’s death. Or perhaps it would happen later in the night, maybe he was considerate enough to give him a full final day. It could happen in front of the entire task force, they could all watch him succumb to Kira. Or it could be surrounded by nobody, alone in his final hour. Would Light offer him that dignity?
He left the warmth of the bed, giving the sleeping Light one last look over, before he strolled to the room’s door. He had things he needed to get in order before he left this world. L would not waste more time feeling sorry for himself.
*
Watari would be the first he spoke to, even if it was early he knew the man would be awake, always watching the cameras for the task force, making sure he was alright. Expecting his arrival, the door was unlocked, and L walked straight in. He stood in the doorway, motionless, noiseless. His face held an unreadable expression as he stared into the elder’s eyes.
“Ryuzaki, what is it?”
He remained silent, gaze ever so slightly dropping.
“ . . . what’s the matter?” He adopted a softer tone.
Watari could instantly tell something was wrong. He always could, any imbalance in L’s emotions was always prematurely spotted by him. It was likely he already knew what happened, he may well have been watching the cameras the very moment he made the mistake.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
“Lawliet,” L spoke.
“..What?”
“My name. My name is L Lawliet.”
In the heat of the moment, perhaps it was an appropriate thing to say. You spend so much time around this man you trust him with your life. Apparently, L was stupid with love, smart with just about everything else. He’d have made better decisions if there wasn’t something in his drink, whatever was mixed in with the tall milkshake he’d been nursing all night was impairing his ability to think straight. That was why. He didn’t even know who had done it, it could’ve been Matsuda, hell bent on him having a good time at a party he felt so out of place in- or Misa in some kind of revenge plot to embarrass him. Even Light, great as he is, could not have predicted L making such a mistake.
His cheeks were warm, and he and Light were close in a hidden corner of the room. L had taken him there, since it was much quieter, they could hear each other speak. He’d done all he could to ensure this moment of vulnerability was shared with Light and Light only. Vicinity did not matter, their closeness was on a different plane, and L’s name would close the gap of trust between them. L couldn’t quite believe he was choosing to do this, he’d done everything in his power to keep his name safe and locked away, specifically from Light Yagami, and what had he done? Handed it to him on a silver platter. He was just inviting Kira to take his life.
Light seemed completely sober by the wide look on his eyes, it was there for just a split second, but L had noticed. He always did. That glint of realisation in his eye shone brighter than it ever had before- he finally had won over the detective tailing him once and for all. An amiable smile spread across his lips, and L kissed them.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
There was always the question of why L even decided to let himself become involved with this charade in the first place. Watari had expressed his fears early on in their relationship, he’d seen them up close and personal in the cameras. He told L to be careful, and he assured the man that he knew what he was doing, that everything was for the good of the case. But there was nothing he could think of now that telling Light his name would ever benefit his career, nor was it strategic to fall in love with your main suspect. This was all set in stone the moment he started to choose intimacy over his own safety.
“I’m going to die today.” L spoke with a cadence of finality.
The slow widening of Watari’s eyes told him all he needed to know- he wasn’t aware of what he’d done at the party. He knew the carelessness in which L regarded his own life, and was highly aware of his relationship to Light being akin to a suicide mission.
Another long break of silence passed between the two, the dark room filled only by the whirring of several computer fans. That, and the ringing still going between L’s ears. He was not afraid of death, he’d face it head on, as he did most things. It was a part of life he had to experience, even if it was to be premature. To die was to sleep, and perchance to dream. Once L had shuffled off this mortal coil, he’d be able to rest. Still, he hadn’t completely come to terms with his mortality. After a few more moments of L standing still in the doorway, Watari spoke once again,
“L-”
He was quickly interrupted, “He knows my name.”
“How?”
“I told him.” L responded, without missing a beat.
L could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. There was no possible way Light could’ve found this out by himself, the only logical conclusion that he’d arrive at was that L told him without prompting. He was telling the truth, concern settled on his face. No father should ever have to outlive his son- blood or not. Watari always trusted L’s choices, always knew there was a reason behind what he did. If this act of suicide was what he wanted, the only thing he could do was stand by and support it. It wasn’t often that silence made him uncomfortable, but his legs felt weaker the longer he looked into his adoptive father’s eyes. The man nodded, his body visibly losing its tense hold. No comfort was shared between them, only morbid understanding that one of the two would not be making it to tomorrow.
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
“There is something you need to do, then.”
This was the second time L had been teased with the notion of dying at the hands of Light Yagami, the first time around he'd seen Watari, but said nothing. He spent most of that day out in the rain, but wasn't quite sure why he'd been spared. He didn't think he'd be so lucky this time, not when the constellations were all in place, spelling out the perfect opportunity for Light. After they'd seized Higuchi, they were still unable to determine the means that Kira killed with, rendering him unmotivated to do anything more with the investigation. Thinking about it now, that might've been the thing that bought him a little more time. What he was running on now was borrowed time. Anyway, this time he knew Watari would want to get his last affairs in order, especially regarding things he'd spent so long preparing, such as...
“You need to choose a successor," Watari’s serious tone cut through L’s own thoughts. It was akin to putting a will and testament together, deciding who would inherit his renowned title. The noirette nodded, even though he felt as if he couldn’t do this.
L knew the question before it was even spoken. After years of visiting The Wammy’s house after he left, keeping in contact with the children and surveying a select few under a program, the final decision on who would be the next L was ultimately up to him. He’d joked, a few times, to Light about him being his successor, they were intellectually equal, and the other had shown competence in cases at L’s caliber. But that was never happening. It was a joke after all. L never took the successor program very seriously, to Watari’s dismay.
“There are two children, you’ve spoken to them before," He continued, despite L’s attention being preoccupied, "Near and Mello.”
He recalled them both, though only one he’d met in person- Mello. Under any other circumstance, he would be the one L would choose. While the young boy had a few emotional setbacks he needed to settle before being truly fit to succeed, he knew the passion he held was perfect. L saw a lot of himself within him, and would've probably liked to meet with him once more, if he had a little more time left. He'd heard equally good things about Near, and despite not meeting him, believed he too would be a perfect successor. Despite all of this, he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything. It was selfish, but choosing something like this felt like sealing away his demise, even if it was already written for him.
“I’ll think about it,” An empty promise.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Five hours had passed since he first woke, the time now nearing 10 AM. The rest of the task force were beginning to wake up themselves, and wander down to the break room’s floor. L had spent these hours working, as if it were any other day, passing the time looking through new case information as if he’d be there the next day to sift through any more. It wasn’t the most meaningful way to spend your final hours, but he figured he should get the most done as possible, to make things easier for the rest of his team when he finally departed.
Things felt, admittedly, normal. L wouldn’t want it to be any other way. His impending fate was on a need-to-know basis, allowing everybody else to go along with their day as if it was just any other day. Because for them, it was. It was somewhat comforting to see, this group of men were fine before him, and they’d do just fine without him. It was odd that he’d grown to care for the task force, seeing as he’d always been one to work alone in the past. He wouldn’t pick up any new cases, L wasn’t going to actively burden the others by promising to solve an insurmountable case and only being able to do a couple of hours investigation into it. So he simply overlooked the cases that the others were working on. Matsuda's Sakata kidnapping case, which was handed over to him from Light a few months ago, was about to conclude. Aizawa and Mogi had just started their descent into a case surrounding grand thefts and the Tokyo metro, and Souichiro handled a particularly complex homicide case. L and Light hadn’t picked up anything new since the Syndicates investigation concluded.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
The act was self-indulgent, L holding the both of them in the purgatory of a kiss after having said his full name out loud for the first time since he met Watari. He was marked for execution, this was his kiss of death. It was odd, despite both of them being able to claim such profound hatred for each other deep down, their acts of love held such significance to each other. L would not shudder at Light’s touch in the way he would anybody else’s. Light’s patience, ever thin with some, would extend for miles around L. Whether he liked it or not, every move of theirs was tactical. When they were both so intelligent, it was near impossible to mask one's feelings or intentions in front of each other- that's what made all of this so difficult. Words like trust had been thrown between them carelessly, and now that L had shared his biggest secret, it was something he needed to reflect on. Would he have done this in sound mind? They say sober thoughts are drunk words, but how much water does that proverb hold when you’re someone like him? If he could read Light’s own inner monologue, he assumed it would be full of self-aggrandising, about how everything had gone to plan, down to every last minute detail. From the beginning, L was losing so much more than Light in this gambit, Of course Light was smart enough to realise that if he got him to eventually want more and more, then he would win. But L toyed with his own life in the same way, selfishly setting aside what was important by playing along with this facade in the pursuit of his own feelings. It was fun, while it lasted, obviously.
Usually, L was the one holding onto these kisses, but he’d pulled away from Light prematurely. The brunette carried out his common habit of rubbing his sleeve over his face, masking any emotion he dared to show in front of the rest of the task force. Even if they were entirely distracted by the festivities, it seemed Light didn’t want to risk anything. They were outed for their infidelity weeks ago, by none other than Misa Amane. In her jealousy, she’d announced their short-lived throuple to the rest of the force, so it wasn’t like anybody was stranger to the notion of L and Light sharing affections in public. It must’ve still felt a little odd doing so in front of his father, and work acquaintances, though. L could sense this in his expression, taking him by the hand and out into the hall.
The warmth of the party didn’t extend to the cold air of the stairwell, it was quiet and had the faintest of sterile smells. The all-white walls and clinical bright lights shone down on them both, allowing for no sleight of emotions to be hidden. L’s hand searched the wall for the switch, turning it off, drowning them in darkness. Neither of them spoke, knowing the intentions of the other. The large window offered some brightness, the backdrop of Tokyo behind them, polluting the night sky with artificial shimmer and spilling its light inside.
Light’s warm breaths brushed against L’s cheeks, and he felt the other’s arm snake around his upper back. They often went through this dance of who would start, seeing it as some sort of admittance of submission when either of them had the impatience to dive in. So, for a minute or so, they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Perhaps trying to read the mind of the other, as these two so frequently tried to do. L inched closer, and felt another arm curl around him. Tentatively, he placed his own on Light, one hand holding onto the small of his back and the other splayed across his neck, thumb brushing his jaw. Light’s lips parted and he sucked in a small breath, a motion so miniscule, but ever so visible with how close they were. L couldn’t read his eyes, were they looking at him with pity before they fluttered shut?
This time, they’d pulled each other in, meeting each other in the middle and locking their lips together. L shifted forward first, pressing Light’s body into the wall. The other’s mouth was impossibly warm, a stark contrast to the cold that seeped through the windows behind them. He allowed himself to be enveloped with the heat of Light’s body, almost shivering at the sensation of it. The noirette’s thumb traced along his jaw, feeling the subtle shift of muscle as his lover’s head tilted into him. His hand pressed further into Light’s back, drawing him ever closer until there was barely any more room between them. He could feel the rise and fall of Light’s chest against his own, and swore he could count each heartbeat if he wanted to.
L felt the other’s finger curl further into the fabric of his shirt, making a fist around the material, as if to anchor them to each other. He could also feel the sensation of Light’s other hand sliding up to his hair, fingers threading through locks of thick black tangles. In any other circumstance, L would complain, swat his hand away and tell him to stop messing with his hair because the constant tugging hurt. He betrayed his habitual action, in fact he dare not pull away. Though this act of Light’s was strategic, his grip tightened ever so slightly, lightly pulling, just enough to get L’s head to tilt back a little and shift the angle in his favor. L had made a sound against Light’s lips, something embarrassingly close to a whine, and could feel him grin into the kiss. They pushed back against each other, as they always would, fighting to dominate the kiss as if it were another mind game they were playing with each other- as if there just had to be a victor in every interaction.
Light broke away first, just long enough to breathe, his forehead pressed against L’s and their lips close enough still to brush with every exhale. These moments of intimacy with Light sent something piercing and aching through his chest. Kira always did like to play with people’s hearts. With a sharp inhale, they were quick to indulge in each other again, continuing in this dance of life or death. L had managed to finally bring himself to close his eyes, fall directly into his trap and give in like he had time and time again. He’d slowly trailed away from Light’s lips, pressing kisses in the corner of his mouth, to his cheek, tracing down to his jaw before burying his face in the crook of his neck. The name he’d spoken still hung in the air above him like a guillotine blade, and he had to pretend like it wasn’t there. He’d embrace Light like it was his last night alive. After all, it probably was.
His teeth lightly scraped against Light’s throat, and Light’s eyes opened- stifling any sounds that dared exit him at L’s interference.
“-- I don’t think we should be gone for so long, L.”
His head raised, in the dim light from the window, he could still see the other’s face. Every dip and curve of it was visible, yet his intentions cloaked in the darkness. He could spit lies through his teeth, but the warmth L felt from him was real, and he let himself believe that extended deeper than the surface of his skin.
“.. Yes, you’re right.”
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Walking into the break room later that day was odd. If it wasn’t clearly Matsuda and Misa moving all the tables together in their shared joyful disposition, it still wouldn’t be that hard to conclude that this was their idea in the first place. The others in the room looked just as confused and irritated as each other, but Misa insisted that they all eat together today, for no apparent reason. Day by day they wanted to introduce more and more icebreakers into the task force group- be it odd movie nights, playing gossipy high school-esque games… you name it, Misa or Matsuda were probably the ones suggesting they do it. L accepted this was part of their reasoning for doing this, an icebreaker. They usually ate at different times, taking their breaks whenever required. L always ate on the job, snacking on cakes and fruits if and when he pleased.
“What is this..?” Souichiro grumbled.
“We’re all eating together today!” Misa cheered, “-and none of you can say ‘NO.’ Matsu and I spent ages setting this all up!”
‘Ages’ doing this instead of something more meaningful.. L had thought to himself, glancing at Light, who returned the unimpressed expression.
Begrudgingly, he sat, leaning against the puffy-backed seat, toes curled tightly at the edge and knees drawn close. Light was at his left, and Souichiro was on the seat next to him. Misa, looking particularly pleased at everybody’s participation, was next to Matsuda, followed then by Aizawa, and Mogi. It was a ridiculous ritual, everybody taking out their mediocre lunches, L being served his cake by Watari. He’d carefully watched the elder man’s hand as it delicately placed the plate before him, sunlight glinting off of the slightly wet surface of the strawberry laid atop fluffy cream. For a moment, he looked up, his eyes tracing up the arm and to the face of the man who’d raised him. They’d shared a meaningful look, before the noirette turned away, letting him leave without a word.
They’d engaged in meaningless chatter, all of which was rendered almost mute in L’s head, too busy thinking, still. He could’ve used this as an opportunity to talk to these people for a final time, but instead remained stubborn in his silence. He raised the fork, pinched between his index finger and thumb, sticking it into the top layer of cream without much force. He stabbed it further in, scooping up a forkful of cake and cream, moving the fork to his mouth and biting down. L allowed the fork to rest on his lip as he slowly chewed. Rather, he’d watch the others eat, analysing their small mannerisms. It was a distraction for about a moment or two. They were all able to talk with such ease, but something was anchored deep in L’s throat, not allowing him a word in edgeways. His chest tightened.
“Y’know what we should do? A toast!” Matsuda then faltered soon after raising his half-empty cup, obviously unsure what to say after he’d proposed the idea.
Misa had enthusiastically clapped her hands, supporting the idea wholeheartedly. The girl raised her garish looking drink, “To~… Something!”
It was an absurdly comical scene, watching everybody around them raise their assortment of cups with different drinks each in them; some definitely more enthusiastic than others… It took a moment for him to realise the silence was in the wake of L’s stillness, not raising his teacup in solidarity with everybody else. Misa was glaring daggers at him, pink lips pouted and Light had flashed him a sympathetic little look, which he ignored. Looking rather robotic, he pinched the handle and slowly lifted the cup from the table.
“Somebody say something…!” Matsuda whisper-yelled melodically, whilst they all awkwardly held their arms up in suspense.
Everybody had a sort of blank look on their face. The one who had suggested this really should have been the one to vocalise the toast, all their attention was focalised on him for that very reason. But he looked just as confused as everybody else. Was there really nothing to toast to? This was ridiculous. L was about to put his aching arm down when-
“To Kira’s capture, and execution,” Souichiro’s steady and sure voice sunk confidence into an otherwise embarrassing moment, “Before there are any more casualties.”
His strong determination caused those words to hang thick in the air, and L felt his face tighten. His hand held his tea up steadily, glancing at Light from across the table whilst everybody else sung their praises to such a simple, good toast before drinking. He pressed ceramic to his lip, barely having a visible reaction as the liquid burned against his upper lip.
The irony was not lost on L, they were toasting to justice being served and their culprit was right under their noses. Toasting to catching the man that was going to kill him in a matter of hours. The man musing that toast was one who would never believe his son could ever fathom being the most elusive and prolific serial killer to ever live. From the beginning he’d vouched for Light’s innocence, despite all of L’s iron-clad beliefs and- albeit flimsy- evidence. He really was none the wiser at how sinister his son truly could be. Souichiro had taught Light what justice looked like. He modeled perfect integrity for him, showed him what an unwavering belief in the truth looked like. Light took those lessons and twisted them into his black and white justice. The one Kira carried out. L would never call that justice at all, though. Souichiro’s love and trust in his son had manifested into a shield. One L could not break down. He recognised that Yagami-san would search for Kira until his dying breath, in the same way he would, but never once be able to look at his son and see what L saw.
“This is so nice!” Misa declared with a hum, completely oblivious to the storm whirring in L’s mind, “We should do this everyday!”
“Absoutely not.” Aizawa was quick to interject, earning a few laughs from the others around the table. The conversation flowed around L like water around a stone.
He wondered if, even down to minute details like the way he poured his tea, was being orchestrated by Kira. Like he was put a puppet on a string before the day until his eventual fall. L still didn’t know exactly how said control worked yet, they barely had any concrete information on how Kira worked, it was mainly just theories. There was no way of knowing what truly was or was not L’s will. Unsure if he even had autonomy at this moment, his next bite of cake was taken with tentative uncertainty.
He’d finished his dish, and wanted to quite quickly make his departure. L didn’t want to be too idle on this day, he had more work to do to ensure everything would run smoothly when he left. So, he secured his hands on the armrest, raising his legs into the air before swinging off of the seat and onto the floor. Still without a word, he balled his hands into fists and sunk them into his pockets, strolling to the door. He hadn’t noticed, but Light had gotten up after him, and with a much more brisk pace than L’s lethargic one. The other had spryly planted a kiss on his cheek, invisible to the distracted task force, as he whisked by.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
He’d lingered around the hallway for a while after Light’s brisk kiss. It burned on his cheek, like a brand. He needed to get back to work, but the more time he spent alive, the more this whole ordeal started to invade his mind. Even as they were crowded around the workstation, discussing new and compelling evidence for each of their cases, it was hard to bring himself to pay full attention. He’d spent at least an hour disassociating today, staring into walls and thinking. Only drawn out of his own trance by somebody else, usually Aizawa, harshly calling his name.
If Light were to do anything, now would be the perfect time to do so. Of course, if his death wasn’t predetermined to a specific time. It fit his profile of Kira perfectly, that overt victory being displayed to the entire task force in a morbidly sick show. L would clutch his chest, squeeze it tightly, confirming to the room that a heart attack was taking him. He’d writhe around, or maybe he’d just lay still and succumb. Either way, he’d drop what he was holding and fall flat on the cold, tile floor. Warm skin would soon match the temperature, and his pale cheeks would turn greyer. He wouldn’t die of an accident, it was Kira’s style to flaunt what he had done. And it was ever so Kira to make everybody watch.
“Ryuzaki!” A harsh voice cut through his introspection. Ah.. there it was, Aizawa.
He’d blinked a couple times, only now realising he was in fact staring straight into a blank spot on the wall whilst they were trying to talk to him about something important. It was hard to really place any value on their words, though, with something so much bigger circling overhead. He’d mumbled a short apology, glancing up and tucking his knees ever closer to his chest, looking as if he was listening to their conversation. After that interruption, they continued, L’s thumb brushed against his lower lip, teasing the nail against his teeth.
He couldn’t help but be whisked away again by that previous train of thought. L’s gaze dropped to the peak of his knee, where a pale hand laid, tapping incessantly. He must consider that Kira and Light were one and the same. Whether the brunette liked it or not, his own biases would eventually leak into the strict rules of Kira’s tyranny. It made L wonder again if he would be given the dignity of dying alone. While it was a sad end, and still one Light could revel in, maybe he would’ve been offered the grace of dying like that. Surrounded by the quiet and accompanied by none besides himself. He’d fall the same way, onto the cold tile. Be found hours later, maybe by Light, maybe by Watari, maybe by someone else on the force…
“Ryuzaki!” Aizawa, Matsuda and Mogi yelled out. It sounded rehearsed, “Are you even paying attention?”
There wasn’t a need for them to be yelling in unison…
Pulled away yet again, he finally decided to settle, and properly engage with what the others were discussing. There was no use trying to rationalise this in his head, he’d go when he was scheduled to go. Finally, he paid full attention, continuing to work with the others for a few more hours. The day was ticking by achingly slow.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
The entire day was spent in this heightened state of anticipation. He’d been braced for impact for so long that everything felt a little off. Even though each breath he took could potentially be his last, there was something so dull and mundane about it all. He almost expected more of a fight from Light. Any sort of jeer or egotistical remark to confirm, in fact, that he was going to do this to him, and there was nothing he could do about it. It could be part of the game, but he knew Light well enough to assume he wouldn’t allow L to go down without knowing he had something to do with it. But the utter banality of this day was surreal. This really would be just any other day.
L sat by his laptop and did not work.
The afternoon had arrived with no fanfare, and stretched for a long, long while. Besides the meal that Misa and Matsuda had forced them all to partake in, there was nothing else out of the ordinary. He had tried, initially, to spend his time pulling up old files, emails again. L stared into the blue light of his screen until his retinas burned. The only thought that could circle his mind was that it should have happened by now. The universe, or Kira, or Light was refusing to cooperate with his expectations of this day, and it was beginning to irritate.
“L? What are you doing?”
He glanced up from the screen, blinking away the sting. His eyes met with Light, standing to the side of him with a bundle of papers. It was a little concerning how he hadn’t even noticed the other’s entrance.
“Work,” He’d spoken out bluntly, even if it was clearly obvious he wasn’t.
Whatever doubt Light had didn’t show on his face. He stepped forward.
“Mm… I have something for you. It’s about the Sakata case.”
“Ah. Right,” L retreated from the desk, enough to swivel the chair toward Light and hold his arm out. Light placed a thin file in his hands, there couldn’t be more than one or two papers in it. He’d quietly thanked the other, flicking through the papers. Skimming the words, they were all too familiar. Gazing upwards just slightly to his laptop screen would show he already had these files. There was no need for Light to be bringing these at all, they were on the database, and he knew that. Tentatively, he placed them onto the desk beside the keyboard. It was an odd move, to say the least, and L assumed this was his attempt at striking normal conversation, perhaps as a distraction or diversion. Alternatively, he could be looking to see if L was at all perturbed by his mortality. He’d approach this carefully, but Light’s choice of conversation had mystified him.
“They were deceiving their clients into believing they owed more than they really did,” Light paused, and then continued in a lighter tone, “like how Misa and Matsuda deceived us the other day…”
He’d quickly noted the subject switching to the beginnings of the party, where both Misa and Matsuda had lured them into spending time in the break room after the outcome of the Syndicates case was revealed. This was really Light’s gambit, an amiable conversation? There had to be more to it.
“If only we could build a case against them,” L mused, playing along.
“They lured two unsuspecting individuals out to the break room, and forced them to participate in children' s games…”
“An indictable offence…” His eyes reached Light’s again, attempting to read his intentions with this meaningless conversation.
“Then,” Light turned his head, breaking their eye contact soon after it started, “They subjected their victims to torture. One hour of disconnected ramblings, before they finally stated their demands. ‘Let us use the big room on floor seven!’”
“And foolishly,” He continued the account, with a slight dramatic flair, all while mentally documenting every micro-movement the other made, “The two unsuspecting individuals agreed.”
“-Hoping to earn their freedom by granting their captors’ wishes,” Light was smirking now, “Unfortunately for them, they had no idea they were still being held hostage, even as they exited the room.”
“C’est la vie, they were trapped. The music and drinks were just additions to our suffering,” Purposefully, L had changed the pronoun, despite the other not looking at him anymore, he still tried to search for any slight reaction, to find out why he was doing this.
Light hummed, and didn’t respond quickly like he had been but a few seconds ago. The smirk became a soft smile, he leaned against the desk and looked at his lover again. “They can be so ridiculous. I’m glad it’s just us again.”
L’s eyes narrowed a fraction at his hesitance, head following along with Light’s movement. He wouldn’t allow the other to leave his gaze for even a moment, “Yes,” He’d nodded, after a second or so.
The string of that conversation was cut short, but they both knew where the end of it was- at the party. If they ended up talking about that, they’d talk about how they’d kissed. Eventually, that would land on covering the topic of L’s name. L could assume that was Light’s subtle way of telling him he still remembered. But this was all such vague, baseless speculation. Like the Kira case had always demanded, he needed concrete proof; with Light Yagami, that was just another impossible task.
He was staring again, Light had noticed. His mind was made of quicksand, and L was victim to it multiple times today. He must’ve seemed so unusually out-of-focus. The two sat stagnant in their silence until Light began to approach. The noirette lazily followed, watching the other’s face as he looked down on his lover. L was about to lower his eyes when fingers grasped onto his chin, keeping his gaze fixed on Light. He expected words to follow this move, with Light trying to exert a sort of dominance onto him with this positioning. But nothing came. That gross silence stretched longer and longer, until the brunette finally leant down, meeting their lips in one kiss, perhaps a final one. Then straightened his posture, and left.
L sat there, unmoving, mouth still somewhat ajar from their brisk connection.
The way Light could carry himself with such a natural gait was despicable. He could interact without even hinting toward his execution. Smiles were laced with poison that L had willingly lapped up the other night. He’d decided to mull over his free will again. He could already be dead. Of course, not literally. Kira could make people walk, talk, write, and live for a certain window of time before they inevitably crumbled. In this very moment he could already be dead, his body just an hourglass with the sand slowly trickling down. He couldn’t work because Kira hadn’t allowed it. Another theory to add to the growing pile. He pressed his finger to his wrist and felt his pulse.
Once the door clicked shut behind him, he swiveled his chair back to his screen. While he couldn’t do any more meaningful work on the Kira case, he could at least look over the details he did have, the details he would be unable to pass on. He’d reviewed this material hundreds of times before, he could probably recite it from memory if you gave him enough time to do so. The absolute horror of this case was his lack of tactile evidence from anybody except Misa Amane. She was the only person he had dead to rights, and still, he could not do anything. He had a gnawing certainty that Light was behind this, through patterns only visible to L.
But he was right. He knew he was right.
Something tight and cold had gripped him in that moment. His eyes widened and his throat caught the breath about to leave. His hand curled into a fist, tightly bracing his body alongside it. It was like his chest had stuttered, his heart forgetting to beat before lurching back into its normal rhythm, though a little heavier. L’s other hand raised, pressed flat against the left side of his chest. Could this be it? His breaths, sharp and quick, also resumed, eyes darting around the room, looking for some sort of reassurance that, yes, this was it. He waited, and the moment passed. They were just palpitations. L’s jaw tightened, it was almost amusing, his body tricking him like this, that he’d fallen for it. He could’ve laughed, like it was a morbidly sick joke. He’d probably look some flavour of insane, sat alone in this room with case information on the screen, laughing to himself and gripping his chest. He sucked in a sure breath, savoring it in his lungs for a moment, before exhaling. He was still here.
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
L was unable to settle since he and Light last talked. His words were sweet and meaningless. Not Light at all. The uncertainty of it all was gnawing away at his patience. He’d always yearned for knowledge, and not knowing even the certitude of what Light did drove him mad. His nail was bitten down to the bed of his finger, and he couldn’t quite stop his tapping on the glass table. It was quite pathetic how restless he was, but he just needed to know something. He’d take any out-of-the-ordinary reaction from Light as confirmation.
He soon abandoned his work station, unable to idle any longer. L had drifted down a couple floors, standing alone in the hallway where he and Light had shared their first hasty kiss. He wasn’t doing this to purposefully go down memory lane, it was just where his legs had taken him. Perhaps his unconscious was communicating with him. This wasn’t exactly productive- he’d gone from idling in one place, to idling in another, just this time he didn’t have a computer screen to make it seem like he was busy with something. It must’ve looked strange if anybody passed through the hallway.
Talking to Light again would make him look too desperate for answers. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of submitting more attention to him, not overtly, anyway. Nothing he said tended to make sense, anyway, not when his mind was this frazzled. The fluorescent, clinical white light above him hummed, the buzz followed him, and didn’t seem to do much to mute the ringing in the back of his head, still. His nail found his mouth again, and before he could bite down, he pulled it away, staring at his own hand as if it wasn’t attached to him. He couldn’t place why he’d come here, what was he even hoping to find?
He envied the objects in this room that didn’t have the capacity to remember. The wall wouldn’t recall the contours of Light’s back the way his hands did, the plantpot wouldn’t recall the budding tension between them before they’d bitten the bullet and kissed.
This was a pointless waste of his final hours. L turned away, and even though the hallway looked the same on both sides, it alleviated some of the tension he felt. Resuming his calm disposition, he walked toward the elevator.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
The task force building had twenty five floors- twenty three above ground and two below. Their shared bedroom was a small and humble room on the nineteenth floor. Light had complained before that it was far too small to accommodate them both, especially since L insisted on doing work inside the room at night- mostly so he could further surveillance the other. Ever stubborn, the two managed to make it work, even if staying up until the birds chirped in the morning annoyed Light in the same way that his forty five minute skin and hair care routine irritated L. The noirette’s thumb grazed his lower lip, biting down gently on his thumb as he glanced around the room, his eye catching on Light’s side of the freshly-made bed. It was empty, of course, and L wondered if this was because he didn’t want to watch. Light had become so humanised in his perceptions as of late, while Kira was a cold and cruel being, there was no doubt in his mind that Light Yagami brought some softness into his persona. Planned or not, he could tell there was something different in the brunette’s eye whenever they were alone, and it wasn’t always malice, like it once was. L could quite easily imagine that this fleshy and human softness had overtaken him today, that Light would not burden his eyes by being the audience to his lover's death.
The sole of his foot dragged against soft carpet as he slowly made his way to the window. For a moment, as he got close, he could see his own reflection looking back at him. He looked the same as he remembered. Unruly dark locks spread across his pale face, sunken, wide eyes staring, unmistakable dark patches underneath them. He saw the way his clothes simply hung off of his frail frame, disguising his body in rags. He would die looking like this, it would be the final memory of his appearance. L glanced down to the city, the sky was darkening once again, and it would be down below if not for the bright lights of advertisements and cars cutting through it. It had been raining since he woke up, the sound of wind swirling around the building was intrusive, and loud, not to mention the constant pattering of rain. Despite that, the remnants of the sun still shone as it set. L allowed for the warm, evening glow to soak over him, golden light dripping down his face as it sunk into the depths. He followed its movements, slowly lowering his body onto the ground to savor that warmth, keep it there for just a minute more. What followed was the darkness. A colder blanket being drawn over his eyes, and the rest of his body until it too enveloped the city. He hugged his knees close to his chest, watching the world go by slowly.
There was a lot more he would’ve liked to do. While he spent the day talking to Watari, the rest of the task force, and doing necessary work… L wished he did something else with his time. Time was something he wished he could afford more of. There were some desserts he’d like to try, experiences he’d like to have. Things he did not have time for.
Looking down at the people below on the streets- or rather the tops of their umbrellas- he thought how he might like to go for a walk. Letting the droplets of rain dapple onto his cheeks and wet his hair. He’d always sort of liked the rain. But he didn’t dare risk anything, dying inside Headquarters was the best case scenario. Being whisked away in an ambulance after collapsing in the street, having god-knows what revealed about him. This was controllable: if he died inside here, Watari could find out immediately and organise things the way he’d wanted. Quietly. No one outside would ever know Interpol's shadowy mastermind, the super sleuth L, had died. Because ‘L’ would continue. That was the only sort of comfort allowed to him.
He rested his head against the soft comforter, letting go of his knees, allowing his body to go limp, almost. L’s eyes fluttered shut. When he really focused, the ringing he had been hearing all day became understandable. He was hearing bells again. They chimed and echoed angrily in his mind, the clappers lashing from side to side. His arms raised, and pitifully tried to cover his ears, brows furrowing, eyes closing even tighter. It was futile, all it did was muffle the sounds around him, not the ones raging inside his head. Now, all he could hear was the bells.
L contemplated sleeping; if he had the time, he could force himself into a deep sleep in this position. It was likely that, knowing his routines, he’d be able to stay asleep until his heart eventually gave out. Chances were he’d be able to pass in his sleep, without the consciousness to comprehend what was happening to him. Would that be less painful?
-No, he wouldn’t do that. He didn’t want to gently lull himself into submission to this inevitable heart attack. He would weather this storm, bend but not quite break. So he sat with himself, waiting.. waiting.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
At some point within all that waiting, the rain had softened, and Light had slinked into the room. Nine PM, as he always was scheduled to. L liked to keep a strict routine for them both, it allowed him to focus a lot better, the other didn’t have much choice in whether or not he agreed to it. And, like any normal day, would spend awhile in the bathroom spreading various creams, oils and treatments onto his face. L could hear the distant sound of water running before he washed it all off, the subtle clicking of the cabinets when he put each bottle away. He’d heard Light do these rituals daily, just more normalcy on top of this unusual day. It was all just noise. When he left, ready to sleep, he had asked L what he was doing on the floor, and he hadn’t responded. If Light was going to pretend like this all day, his words were no longer worth amusing him. It was sick to keep teasing your prey like this, making them wait. L’s dead eyes remained fixed on the window, glancing up at the moon and the cold glow it cast into the bedroom. It glistened on Light’s slightly damp face, emphasising the perfect contours as he raised a brow. While he couldn’t see his expression, he could feel it burn on his back. After a moment of this, he heard footsteps, the sound of the mattress creak as weight was shifted onto it and the shuffling of the duvet.
The smallest feeling of disappointment washed over L in that moment. There had been no taunting, no mind games or admittances of guilt throughout the day. Just amiable conversation. The time crawled by slower the longer he waited for some sort of challenge from Light. L was justice, the one greatest threat to Light’s existence as Kira. He should’ve been the reason he could not rest, could not act as a false idol; and he was here, vulnerable and at his mercy. It was something he just couldn’t understand. It was an endlessly tiring train of thought. In the same way he believed to be running out, Light was too, the day was ending fast. His heart hammered in his chest the more he continued to mull over it. He couldn’t see any need Light had for him to stay. L would wait and wait, but the night gave him no more answers.
That wait lasted twenty four excruciating hours.
Still very much alive for each one that ticked by.
The first pale hints of sun started to creep up into the sky when L finally moved from his spot. His body felt heavier than usual, even if he was acclimated to being awake all night his joints ached from the disuse. Nevertheless, he carefully unfolded himself and rose to his feet. Even now, he felt like a ghost in his own body, it was surreal to still be alive and breathing the next day after so much anticipation. The thought should’ve brought him some relief, he could continue on as L. Instead, it brought more confusion. The hollow feeling knocked against his chest.
Surely there had been no possible universe where Light Yagami- no, where Kira held the power of L’s name and hadn’t done anything with it. A thought teased his brain, one he wanted to ignore. It was stubborn, and it whispered that Light may not be Kira as he thought. If Light was Kira, then L should be dead, that was the simple equation. L was not dead, therefore how could Light ever be Kira? It was logical, and even more unbearable. Because if Light really was not Kira, then he had spent months building this case against him, building elaborate psychological traps to catch him in the act. Every waking moment was dedicated to taking him down. That didn’t make sense either, there was still evidence against him. He certainly wasn’t all he appeared; there was more under the surface of a brilliant student, exceptional detective and devoted son than what met the eye. He knew Light was more interesting than that, it was what allured him in the first place. He wouldn’t have been brought to his knees in vulnerability, so much so that he would give up his name to an innocent Light Yagami. That just couldn’t be true.
L’s head whipped around, the fastest movement he’d made in hours, once again staring into the brunette’s face, searching for some sort of sign. He needed to consider the alternative, that Light is Kira, as he currently believed, and that he simply decided… not to kill him. That was an even weirder thought. No matter how many times he flipped the question of ‘why he would do that’ in his mind he found no answer to it. The Kira he knew was childish and obsessed with his own victory, L was in the way of that absolute goal. It was only logical to get rid of the only obstacle in his way to succeed. Unless this decision of Light’s had been completely illogical, based entirely on feelings. But that betrayed every profile he’d made on the man. Light was not stupid, he didn’t lead with his heart first. There was nothing Light could gain other than companionship with him left alive, unless that was really what he was thinking.
Light stirred slightly in bed, though did not wake. He shuffled onto his side, settling soon after. L’s stare burned into him. Should he have felt gratitude for this? No. That would imply he was grateful for being left alive, for the mercy he was given. He wouldn’t bend to that incomprehensible idea. Rather, he was angry. He’d been given uncertainty for twenty four long hours, and had finally made his peace with the fact he was dying. Now he just had to continue with everything as if that had never happened. He would never know what was whirring around in Light’s head through all of this. Could he tell? Could he tell L was waiting for his demise- and if so- was it entertaining? He envied the peace that he slept with.
He turned back to the window, the familiar feeling of detachment claiming him. Behind, Light would softly breathe, still captured in sleep. Weakly, L watched as the sun continued to rise, squinting as the rays shone over his eyes.
For once, he didn’t know what to think.
*