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L was sitting at the small desk in their shared bedroom, his fingers quietly resting on his keyboard. He had been listening to the even rhythm of Light’s sleeping breaths behind him for over twenty minutes. It was comforting, having something besides his thoughts to listen to for once.
L had found himself repeatedly distracted lately. Not by the case, not by Kira, not even by the puzzle pieces constantly moving inside his head, but by something new. Something entirely foreign, but that somehow still felt like home. It was difficult to describe, but it felt like… space. Like more room to breathe in.
Like Light.
They had fallen into a routine together like other people might fall into bed, something so effortless they barely even noticed. It had already been two months, yet L did not remember setting any rules, navigating any arguments, or explaining anything at all. It seemed that they were simply born like this, knowing how to share pillows, how to look away in the shower, how to move around a kitchen without making a mess.
Light’s hands naturally found L’s shoulders whenever they retrieved mugs from the cupboards, and their arms liked to brush when it was time to pour coffee. Light never asked L to justify any of his unusual habits—he just passed him the sugar while reading the newspaper. Meanwhile, L had an abundance of patience for Light’s extensive rituals. L had enjoyed sitting in silence for the largest part of his life, but he’d recently realized how tired he had been, and the longer he spent observing Light’s particularities, the deeper L grew attached to his company.
When they were together, it was like everything could wait a little bit longer. One look at each other and the world fell into place like it had made space just for them.
As Light slept on, L watched the specks of dust suspended in the air. When they fell through the blue light of his computer, they glittered. L’s gaze unfocused. He closed his eyes, breathing in fully, catching the faint scent of Light’s aftershave.
It was time. He stepped off his chair and quietly made his way over to Light’s side.
Gently tugging on the sleeve of Light’s shirt, L whispered his name. “Light,” he said, “Wake up.”
Light stirred softly beneath the sheets. He turned his head towards the sound of L’s voice automatically, like a calling, but his eyes remained closed. “Mmm… L?” he mumbled groggily, “Is that you?”
His hand lifted briefly into the air, reaching blindly, but sleep was too heavy and it fell back onto the bed without having found its query.
His cheeks were lightly flushed from the heat of the duvet, his bangs sticking to his forehead. He looked a bit like he was glittering, too, and something stirred inside L’s chest. L gently brushed the back of his finger along Light’s cheek, a stolen touch perhaps against the rules, but Light leaned into it sleepily, imperceptibly, a small movement stolen too. His skin was warm, a pleasant sensation that found its way past L’s fingers, softening his heart a little bit further, and L smiled to himself before he remembered why he was waking Light up.
“Light,” he whispered again. “Please. The meteor shower is starting.”
Light stretched his arms over his head lazily, pointing his toes, and made the softest grunting sound. Then he propped himself up on the bed, took a long breath, and looked straight at L.
It wasn’t clear how Light did this, but the brown of his eyes could shift blue light to purple hues. When he emerged from sleep like this, with pink cheekbones and violet eyes, L really didn’t know how he was supposed to keep breathing.
“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Light said through a yawn. “It’s three in the morning, L. Three.” He checked his watch to make sure, and shoved it in L’s face as irrefutable proof that what he’d asked of him was unreasonable.
“I know.” L didn’t look at the watch. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
Light rubbed his eyes with both hands, releasing L from the hold he had on him. Freed, L left Light’s side and returned to his desk, letting Light get up to his feet which he did rather reluctantly. There was a small camera on the desk that L quietly shoved in his pocket.
“You’re not going to be able to photograph anything with that,” Light called behind him.
“We’ll see…” L mumbled, smiling at being caught. Then he turned around to ask more clearly, “Ready?”
Light nodded as he zipped a tracksuit jacket over his pajamas. He looked so much softer in sweatpants and old t-shirts. L wished he could keep him like this.
L led the way out of their bedroom, and they walked to the elevators on their floor in silence. Light stopped by the elevator buttons, about to press R for roof, but L walked on by, heading for the stairway instead.
Confused, Light asked, “You want to take the stairs? It’s fifteen floors.”
“I thought we could avoid security records of our excursion,” L said, shrugging.
Light scoffed. “As if you don’t have cameras covering every inch of this place…”
A mischievous sparkle glinted in L’s eyes. “I’ll race you?”
And then he disappeared, his footsteps echoing behind the door. Light launched after him, of course he did.
They ran up the stairs, trying to grab at each other and tripping more than once in the process. When Light crashed into the railing on the twentieth floor, L waited for him two steps higher, panting excitedly. They looked at each other, childish joy tainted with pride and the fire of competition, before they took off again at the same time, laughter bouncing between the walls. In this moment, they felt like teenagers are supposed to feel.
L reached the rooftop first. They bent over their knees, trying to catch their breath on the landing, sneaking shy glances at each other. Light collected himself first, complaining that L benefited from an unfair headstart, but his heart wasn’t in it—he couldn’t stop smiling. L walked past him, narrowly missing his shoulder, and pushed open the door.
The air was heavy with August heat, the sky a dim navy. It was much softer here, away from the fluorescent lighting inside the building. The city lights shimmered quietly on the ground, stretching far on the horizon, like the stars had fallen from the heavens to float in an urban sea. It looked infinite.
Light walked to the edge and leaned over the rails, letting his eyes roam over Tokyo, glimmering before him. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “But this isn’t worth waking up at three…”
His voice trailed off as he turned around, searching for L. L had stayed back a few steps and was staring up into the night. Light followed his gaze, frowning—there was nothing there. Tokyo had swallowed the heavens with its unforgiving light pollution.
“Light-kun does not appreciate nature?” L asked softly, now walking straight towards Light.
“That’s not nature. That’s—” Light choked on his words when L took his hands. Light stared at him, a hint of panic flashing across his eyes, and L laughed, a gentle thing that floated in the air, circling them.
L placed the camera in Light’s hands, lightly brushing his thumb as he let go in something that could have been an accident but was not. Then he stepped aside, leaning his back against the railing. He stayed close, but they no longer touched, and Light felt the temperature drop a few degrees while his thumb burned.
“Try looking through that,” L suggested, nodding at the camera.
Light glanced at him quickly before doing as he was told. The camera was small and unassuming; he wasn’t sure what to expect as he peeked through the viewfinder.
He barely managed to contain a gasp. The sky, previously monochrome, was now painted in shades of blue with purple streaks and pink shading. A galaxy of glowing stars scintillated across the vast expanse, blinking yellows and hiding greens. Light was getting lost among the twinkling colors, when a bright flash of brilliant white shot through his field of vision at blinding speed.
How was it possible? Light lowered the camera to check the sky again, to check what trickery L was playing on him, but the sky was still empty. A navy bordering on grey, to the naked eye, it was an uninteresting landscape with only the lonely moon visible, pinned right in the middle.
“How—L? What… This thing??” Light turned the camera over in his hands. It had to be some trick with professional lenses, but in a contraption this small? That seemed impossible.
“You could say I had a thing for astronomy, once,” L answered calmly, staring into the night again.
Light didn’t understand how L could remain unbothered. He opened his mouth, stuck in bewilderment, but the questions died on his tongue. L was standing right next to him, peering at the sky with reverence, acting like he hadn’t just shown Light how beautiful the world could be.
It was impossible to look away.
Light didn’t even try. For once, he allowed himself to stare. Fully. At L. At the impossibly white skin of his throat, and the sharp angles in his face. At the way his hair curved around his ears. At his eyelashes, lost in the shadows under his eyes. He didn’t really look like much, in his shapeless longsleeve and baggy jeans, but Light was sure that with minor alterations, L could stand tall among models and steal everyone’s attention. He had that ghostly look bordering on sickly that was devastatingly high fashion when dressed up in cashmere and eyeliner.
Light smiled at the idea. But he liked L just like this, hidden in his oversized uniform. It felt like a secret only for him.
Before he could give it a second thought, he pointed the camera at L, and peeked through the viewfinder. A blurry mess of greys. Disappointing.
“Like what you see?” L’s voice startled Light back to the present.
“Uh… yeah,” Light slowly lowered the camera, grimacing, but immense relief washed over him when he found L still absorbed in the sky. “I’ve never seen stars so clearly before,” Light added comfortably.
“Let me see,” L said, holding out his hand.
Light passed the camera to him, only for L to point it directly at Light. “Your vision must be exceptionally outstanding, I can’t see you clearly at all.”
Light shoved his side, blushing fiercely. “Very funny.”
L smiled, softening the sharpness of his features. “Here, look over there,” he said, passing an arm over Light’s shoulders, angling the camera for him and pointing at the corner of the sky he’d been looking at so intently.
Light breathed in sharply at the sudden proximity, trying his best not to move in L’s embrace. He carefully lifted one hand, intending to take the camera, but L didn’t let go and so their hands rested on one another. Light would have given anything for a breeze to cool his face.
When he looked through again, L leaned his chin on Light’s shoulder. Light thought perhaps he had gone blind. Soft exhales brushed against his neck, and his heart pounded in his chest while he prayed to things he had never believed in that he might get through the rest of the night without making a terrible fool of himself.
When Light was excessively flustered like this, L thought it was the cutest thing in the world. It took everything for him not to trace down his neck softly, just a little, a gentle touch, just to make sure Light was real.
Meteors sprinted across the skies, leaving nothing but wonder in their wake.
Light watched, and his body leaned into L's without his noticing.
He finally relaxed, surrounded by the warmth of the night and the secret colors in the sky. His grasp on the camera loosened, and L’s hand slipped from under his so he could wrap both arms around Light’s waist instead.
“It’s the Perseids,” L murmured in his ear. “You can see them without equipment, too, but… it’s not the same.”
Light didn’t check. “Yeah…” he agreed blindly.
L smiled, his nose now impossibly close to the hollow of Light’s neck. He closed his eyes and breathed him in, his fragrance finally close enough to decipher: crisp lavender deepened with bitter orange and clary sage. L had caught drifts of it so often, it felt familiar, yet had remained elusive. Now that he experienced it unrestrained, it was overwhelming in the best way, and he let himself lose track of time.
Distant murmurs brought him back.
“L? Are you asleep?”
“No.”
Light turned around in his arms, but he stayed so close, and he smelled so good, L didn’t think about it. He leaned in softly and pressed the tiniest kiss right below his ear. He let one hand glide across his neck, caressing his skin lightly with the tip of his fingers. It was unnecessarily delicate, but L wouldn’t have it any other way; he’d slow things down further if he could. He wanted to feel every inch of Light’s skin before moving on to the next, go through every strand of Light’s hair one at a time, he wanted to touch him like a work of art.
Light didn’t say anything. He grabbed onto L’s elbow and pulled him in closer.
“You’ve captured my attention,” L whispered in his hair. “I can’t see anyone but you.”
Light leaned his head against L’s, their cheeks now brushing against each other’s. He was unusually quiet, his breathing stuck inside his chest.
They stayed like this for a while, holding on to each other, learning how good it could feel to be this close to someone else. Light ran his hand down L’s back, squeezing him further in his arms, grabbing softly at his skin, and in response L dragged his lips across Light’s cheek into a gentle surface kiss. They rested their lips against one another and breathed in each other’s skin, so lost in the moment they didn't think about moving. It was like they were on exactly the same page, like this was enough for both of them, like they knew there was no rush to hurry past the simple things before exploring what was next.
Then Light pressed his lips more firmly, stealing one furtive proper kiss, before leaning back.
“Did you hear what I said earlier?”
L fell forward slightly at the loss of contact. “Mmm…?” he barely had the strength to speak.
“Unbelievable. You were sleeping.”
“Why don’t you come back here…” L whispered in that enchanting voice of his that Light had loved since the first day.
L grabbed Light by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him in only slightly, waiting for Light to come back to him himself. Light smiled, looking down at his lips. He leaned in slowly and kissed him again, lightly, barely, speaking against his lips. “I said—”
But L tugged on Light’s bottom lip, just a little, just to experiment, and Light forgot how to speak.
“I know,” L whispered in his mouth. “Me too.”
Light thought perhaps the Perseids had pierced his back to fly around in his chest. He melted into L and lost track of who they were or what they were doing. All he knew with certainty was that he was in love with the man kissing him like he was more beautiful than the stars glittering above them.
He was.