Chapter Text
A dusky amethyst sunset held the clouds while you drove your classic Camaro with the windows rolled down, so the wind blew your hair about. And L Lawliet, your long-time friend, occupied the passenger seat watching the road in silence. You had both graduated just hours before, yet the achievement meant nothing. You two didn’t even attend the ceremony.
You had outpaced the confines of academia together a long time ago. You were ghosts—intelligence assets trained to move through the world without leaving a footprint, your real lives existing only where the light failed to reach.
L’s major was in mathematics. For the first time, the world’s most elusive detective had a face, a name, and a seat in a lecture hall. Emerging from a lifetime of anonymity was a calculated gamble, spurred by a case that defied every logic he knew. Kira was efficient, precise, and terrifyingly righteous. There was no way he could win from behind a computer screen.
You, on the other hand, stood in the perfect blindspot, working for a different private entity like a ghost in the machine. You balanced your studies in classic literature and worked alongside the faculty as an archivist, but really, it was merely a cover for your work as an agent with a specialization in forensics. You hid behind the labs, the archives, and the gallery vaults. It was your sanctuary.
You never spoke of the agency, and L never mentioned his pursuit of Kira. You two made your own deductions of what the other did, but that was it—your friendship functioned on a silent treaty of non-interference. L liked that you didn’t ask questions, and neither did he. You were two people living double lives. The truth was a liability. Even as strange as it appeared, the dynamic worked well between you two. Your presence was an anomaly that L readily permitted as someone who had no interest in having a conventional social life. It seemed that you were the singular exception. Sometimes, without looking up from his work, L would break off the corner of a croissant and nudge it toward your palm; a functional sort of intimacy.
The silence you two always shared was never empty. In fact, it was pressurized and productive, every so often interrupted by the two of you clipping at each other, playful or provocative—the friction was endearing.
The road stretched endlessly ahead of you in the present. Telephone wires cut across the sky in long black lines while the Camaro devoured mile after mile beneath you. Wind rushed through the open windows next to you carrying the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the passing fields.
Neither of you had spoken in almost forty minutes.
L sat curled slightly into the passenger seat, one bare foot tucked beneath the other, thumb resting near his mouth as streetlights flickered across his face in intervals. Behind you, bags of sugary pastries shifted softly every time you changed lanes. Over the years, he had mastered the nuances of your expression, particularly your silences.
He could tell the difference between your irritated silence to when you were quiet and deep in thought. Something felt off. You were blinking a lot more than usual.
You kept one hand loose on the wheel, oblivious to L’s suspicion.
“You’re leaving,” he said finally.
For a few seconds, only the sound of the engine answered him. You raised your eyebrows and rested your weight on the carseat. “What gave it away?”
L studied your profile carefully, not replying.
You turned to face him for a few seconds. “Would you investigate me if I disappeared?”
“I would investigate you immediately.”
His words almost knocked you over with the way he said it, having so much conviction. “What?” You let out a disbelieving laugh.
L looked back at you with a straight face. “There’s no other course of action. You are my friend,”
A small laugh escaped you then, quiet, tired. The city lights had long vanished behind you now, ahead was only darkness and the endless ribbon of road illuminated by your headlights.
“I would drop everything to find you again,”
As you stared straight ahead, you felt his eyes searching your face in the dim dashboard light. It made your chest tighten, your heart skipping a sudden, erratic beat. The darkness of the night’s sky couldn’t obscure the ache building in your heart at all. For a long moment, you just let the silence rest in the space between you. Then, you gained enough courage to face him fully, your gaze softening as it met his. “That’s if you do find me.”
“You underestimate me. If that’s a challenge…” L looked down, pulling his knees inches closer to his chest. “I don’t need a head start.”
You tucked some loose hair strands behind your ear. Neither of you could honestly get a good read on what the other was feeling. There was a different kind of air that made L’s heart beat erratically. “People are like planetary bodies,” you said softly. “They’re meant to pull each other out of orbit, lose their way for a while, and then spend the rest of eternity finding their way back to the center of gravity.”
Something in his expression shifted almost invisibly. It was tiny and fleeting. You noticed it, still. “What do you mean?”
You slowed down the car, the tires softly stopping to a halt against the gravel outside a small, quaint bakery. Suddenly, the quiet between you two was the loudest thing. Letting go of the steering wheel, you shifted your weight in the driver’s seat, turning your body completely to face him. L remained slouched, his knees pulled up to his chest, but his head stayed turned to the side, his dark, shadowed eyes locked onto yours.
You leaned your head back against the headrest, letting all the tension drain from your shoulders as you looked at him in the dim and intimate glow of the dashboard light. After a few seconds of silence, your lips formed a smile that was bittersweet and honest, entirely stripped of any remaining defenses. “L, it means I’ll see you when I see you.”
Neither of you saw each other again after that.
Years later, L would still remember the exact cadence of your voice, every last word you had said to him like a record playing over and over, and most especially the way you looked at him—and he would remember with unbearable clarity that less than a week later, you vanished without a trace.