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“You called me depressive, the other day.”
“Earlier today. Seven hours ago.”
L hummed, and Light glared through the darkness, wondering what this latest distraction from his sleep was. The detective always seemed to come up with his most pertinent ideas in the middle of the night.
“If that were true, how would you wish to react? Say you have equivalent power over me as I do you, and you knew for certainty that my mood signalled a psychologically diagnosable disorder?”
“Why?”
There were obvious reasons why. If this was another Kira-question, L was searching for what Light would really do if he had any kind of power in this situation. It would be against Kira’ profile, to play nice, and say that Light would pursue psychologists and doctors and possibly raise the issue with the task force, to try to up L’s mood without being invasive or rash.
Kira would presume that there was more behind this question, and extrapolate, in his paranoia, to a situation wherein L insinuated he would kill himself. That would be telling, that Light was thinking of the most dramatic scenarios. It would sound like a mass murderer, growing bored of a banal, bloodless existence.
There was also the possibility that L was asking because he wanted it answered. Light felt certain that he’d been right, and L was showing signs of depression, but it hadn’t bothered him, due to his accompanying, unsaid conclusion, that it was a state L found himself in often. However, with the arrival of Light’s intellect into his life, L might be considering requesting help directly from him, which would be an interesting display of trust, and a new realm to open their game into, if Light played therapist alongside captive.
“Because my mood is signalling a psychological disorder—one that has not been present for the majority of my life, or clearly applicable to a certain traumatic instance. I want to know your opinions on it.”
“And you want me, because I’m smart enough not to say things you know, or act like there’s anything you don’t?”
“And because you might be Kira. I wonder what Kira’s opinions would be on those who wish to murder themselves.”
So Light might have underestimated this hypothetical.
“Then again, that questioning would presume that I am an innocent party, the sort Kira would wish to defend. And, simultaneously, that I am capable of being one of the immoral beings that Kira seeks to kill.” L rolled over, feeding more slack into the chain between them as his voice adopted a more thoughtful tone. “Now I say it aloud, it is perfectly possible that I do occupy both of those states at once. So, the question returns, on how Kira would see me, a cold-hearted sociopath, indirect killer and current unlawful captor, killing me, an innocent, well-meaning detective with so much to offer the world.”
“You’re a psychopath. And I’m going to sleep.”
“Oh, so you think I was born like this? That’s very presumptive about my origins, Light-kun, are you seeking for me tor reveal something about my upbringing to prove you wrong? Would Kira benefit from knowledge of some great childhood trauma that has made me how I am now?
This time, Light rolled over, from where he’d been trying very hard to block out L’s inane speculations with a pillow on each side of his head, and glared at the detective lying on his back beside him. L’s black hair was spread around his head like a spiky halo, slightly unwashed and therefore reflecting traces of moonlight from the barest crack he left the blackout blinds open.
His eyes were wide, like he was feigning human genuinity. Light sighed, and turned his head back into the pillow.
“Kill yourself in the morning. If it proves that I’m Kira at least I can throttle you in hell.”
“Light-kun would wish to see me again, after our deaths?”
“No. I doubt we’ll be allowed to stay apart.”
That would have been the end of the conversation, if Light had any say about anything, these days. If L had really only been maintaining this whole elaborate situation for forensic gain—a pretence they’d both given up long ago, but Light enjoyed holding the detective to forgotten standards—he should have valued both of their sleep more than whatever strange, self-indulgent game the was.
As it was, he felt L’s warmth close in suddenly on his back, and Light gritted his teeth, closing his eyes to try to minimise his reaction to the abrupt influx of sensory information.
“So you wouldn’t want me dead.”
That was a long, elaborate leap. With many assumptions contained within, and on the surface, it was a point-blank question about whether Light, presumed Kira, wanted L out of his hair forever.
But for once, there was something lurking beneath Kira, beneath the traded blows of suspicion and paranoia. L was being obvious, which meant there was something more to find.
And beneath all that, for once, was something genuine.
Something twinged, deep within Light’s throat and heart, and he sighed, softly. No, of course he didn’t want the goblin dead, and now he had to prove it, because Kira, NPA, taskforce, case or not, he had power, with L, and L was one of the few people he felt any compunction to use it on.
“No.”
“Even if you-“
“I’m not Kira. I’m sure… Kira wants you dead and buried.” Light rubbed his face against the pillow, in some misguided attempt to wake himself up, and groaned mentally. That was setting himself up, for the very next time he wished death on the detective. A problem for later. “But I don’t.”
“Because it would prove you to be Kira? That would be as good as your own death, so, really, its only logical-“
“Shut up? Shut up. You said that, hypothetically, if none of this was happening, that was what you wanted me to consider. So I’m considering it. I would be very, very upset if you were dead, L, because you’re the first person who’s made me want to be awake this far off my sleep schedule.”
That was reductionist. An oversimplification. It failed to account for so many things, but Light couldn’t be bothered to care. If it was just his soul and L’s, and the choice was between an eternity of enraging entertainment or abject dullness, it was obvious. If he abstracted every inch of context out to a dull blur, it was obvious, that L’s absence would be a loss to the world. To his world.
If he’d been a little more awake, Light might have managed some deeper honesty. That it was L’s absence, not his death, that he would like so much. If the detective had never existed, even, and he could have kept his normal, perfect life exactly as he wished, without meddling geniuses.
“…That makes no sense.”
“Trust me, I know. Ask me again in the morning and I’ll give you something your little monkey-brain can bash rocks against.”
For all his tongue felt sharp and acidic, Light couldn’t help but be a little relieved. This must be what L really needed. His whole world was rendered in dark, harsh lines, logic defining every inch of the world he constructed under his own feet. Maybe a little nonsense would be the thing to snap him out of whatever he’d worked himself into, pitching this idea then shoving away Light’s every attempt to give him an optimistic answer.
“Don’t.”
L pressed against his nape, and Light felt something thrum inside him, just long enough to flow out with the press of contact, and make him relax into the mattress.
Carefully, he pulled away, feeling L’s fingers try to cling to him, but all he was doing was rolling over, so he could pull the detective closer on his own terms. It was easier, to arrange L to fit against this at this angle, to feel him fit against Light’s body and Light to shelter him in return.
“It’s not a hypothetical, is it?”
L shook his head. Barely perceptible, and maybe, if it hadn’t been midnight, if he had his memories, if he was someone different entirely, Light would have used this to his advantage. The game never ended, after all. Even if they both pretended to walk away, there were still ways to sneak the winning move.
But L’s sob was small and fragile against his heartbeat, and Light didn’t know what was even possible, outside of the two of them. Whether any of this was real, or if they’d each driven the other insane long ago.
“You don’t die, ok? I’m not going down chained to your dead body.”
It was meant more than literally, and they both knew it. In their language, it was as good as a confession, even if L would never be able to dissect it well enough to prove it to anyone else. Light didn’t want to fall as Kira from the weight L’s death would land as on his shoulders.
And he didn’t want to die as Light, either, finding himself unable to go on without this.
He really was selfish.
Light just didn’t know how anyone couldn’t be, if they were faced with L huddled in their arms like this. He’d never been greedy. Never taken more than was offered, aspired to something he knew he couldn’t get. He’d hardly asked for anything at all, aside from what he deserved.
It was so much. For both of them. Both of them playing so many roles at once, always having to be ready for an attack from any angle from the other. The possibilities didn’t add up, they multiplied, until they were fighting on more battlefields than either of them had prepared for.
And in the eye of the storm, it was just Light, not Kira, not a Yagami, not the freshman representative, and Ryuzaki, not the detective, not Ryuga, not L, and whatever they had become in the face of each other’s attacks, seeking solace and rest inside themselves, the only place they could escape each other.
Light didn’t blame L, for wanting to kill himself. He blamed L for suggesting he ever would, because it was oddly sickening, to see the detective lie to himself, like watching the world disobey itself. Neither of them could die, until the end of this. They had to play to the end, and all this really was came out to a small admission of cowardice, of L wishing he’d written his half of the rules in such a way that could ever let them back down from a challenge.
“I- feel like you- you’re going to be the one to kill me, Light-kun.”
L’s voice was muffled, hoarse, and nothing about him could ever just give in. He held out, long beyond the bounds of where storybook heroes would give in, while their reputations and bodies were still intact, and he fought to his last breath.
Light held him tighter, and didn’t try to break an inch of that. It wouldn’t be L, if he wasn’t suicidally stubborn.
“Not you, Ryu.”
He’d kill L. One of these days. It was getting closer, their storm-shelter was being torn apart by the day.
“Better you than me.”
“Better you live than I do.”
“Not how it works.”
“…don’t make me make sense right now, Ryuzaki.” Light dropped his head, smelling strawberries in L’s hair as he nuzzled into it. “You wanted me to tell you it was okay to kill yourself. I’m not.”
“I don’t need you to.”
“That’s right. You won’t anyway.”