DN ficlets fall like snow from my brain
Title: In a Different World
Pairing: L x Light
Rating: A nice, tasteful PG. Especially tame compared to my last couple offerings. XD
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: Not my manga; not my boys.
We lay, we lay together, just not too close, too close (how close is close enough?)
~"Make Damn Sure"~Taking Back Sunday~
The clock was ticking.
It was the only sound in the little room where the two young men lay. On the right side of the bed, the younger one was stretched out on his back beneath a smooth layer of blankets pulled up to the golden curves of his slender shoulders. Even in sleep his hair was perfectly arranged. On the left side of the bed, amidst twisted, rumpled covers, the older one was curled up like a scruffy question mark. Through wakeful eyes, he watched his companion in the dark. He scratched nervously at his wrist, forgetting for a moment that the cuff he had grown accustomed to was no longer there.
“Light-kun,” whispered L. “Are you asleep?”
No reply. Of course, Light was an excellent faker. But, being that it was four thirty-two in the morning, there was a good chance he might actually be sleeping. L scooted closer to Light’s motionless form, and wondered why, since there was no longer a length of steel chain to dictate it, the two were still sharing a bed.
Light was not asleep. It wasn’t because the trap he had laid had him wired with anticipation. It wasn’t for fear that something would go wrong, and he would be caught. No. Light was calm. Confident. Content. Perhaps the reason he couldn’t sleep, then, was that he simply didn’t want to. There was a kind of peace and pleasure in these silent hours between anxious late nights and hectic new days. He wanted to savor his last night with Ryuuzaki. Tomorrow night, this whole bed would be his, along with victory. But tonight, he would indulge that last small part of him that was capable of feeling…like this. That part of him, he knew, would die with Ryuuzaki.
Tomorrow.
“Light-kun,” said L again, and again no answer came. L hesitated. The boy looked so peaceful. But it was his last chance to act. Every bone in his body sensed it. Lines were converging; tunnels were constricting. Soon, one way or another, there would be no more of this.
Silent as a cat, he brought his lips chastely to Light’s cheek.
Light waited a moment before opening his eyes. It was not the move he had expected from L. What had he expected, exactly? He was unsure. But not that.
“Ryuuzaki,” he said, turning to look at his bedmate. “What was that about?”
“Oh,” said L nonchalantly. “I see you’re awake.”
“You kissed me just now,” Light persisted. “Why did you do that?”
L sighed, and rolled over so he was staring at the ceiling. “Because,” he said sadly, “it will all be over soon.”
“What are you talking about, Ryuuzaki? What will be over?”
L waved a languid hand vaguely in the air above the bed. “This.”
Light said nothing. He could argue with him, insist he wasn’t Kira, that they were closer than ever to closing the case. He could argue, but he knew even his best lies wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he did something that felt very strange, yet oddly comfortable. He rolled onto his side and let his arm drape across Ryuuzaki’s narrow waist.
“It’s not over yet,” Light said, and smiled.
Ryuuzaki seemed small and brittle under his arm. It was not unlike holding a small animal, the blood warm, the bones close to the surface, the connections ready to break. Light dragged his hand lightly over his spine, feeling the hard bumps of individual vertebrae under his fingers. L tensed and stared. He always stared, but not like this. Light couldn’t remember ever seeing this emotion in those opaque black eyes before.
“Yagami-kun,” said L, suddenly formal and insecure. "I'm sorry."
“No, Ryuuzaki…it’s okay.”
“It is?”
“Of course. I’m your friend.”
Neither of them was so easily fooled to believe they were actually friends. The question was, were they less than that, or more? At any rate, soon it would not matter.
L relaxed a little and wrapped both arms around Light’s shoulders. Light hesitated for a moment as he looked at the man entwined with him. With his knees drawn up against his chest and his dark eyes at once soulful and ceiling-blank, he looked so young, so sad. Though the detective was seven years his senior, he suddenly seemed no more than a child. The effect was arresting.
“What’s wrong, Ryuuzaki?” asked Light with a tenderness that was not entirely feigned. “What’s bothering you?”
For once, L was not looking at him. The pre-dawn glow from the window cast long blue shadows over his eyelids. He looked extremely tired.
“I have never wanted so badly to be wrong before.”
Light swallowed. He stroked the tangle of black hair fanning out on the opposite pillow.
“If I told you…that you weren’t wrong,” said Light, “would you feel better or worse?”
To L in this moment, Light looked at once angelic and demonic. Thoughts of Paradise Lost flickered through his mind. But Light was no rebel angel. Just a boy.
He sighed. “I shall miss you, Light-kun.”
Their legs entwined as L moved closer to him. Their noses almost touched. Their eyes, like coal and flame, met and mingled. L could almost feel the fire in Light’s eyes consume him, and he sensed that, in a way, he was already dying. There was a strange, aching comfort in it.
“Yagami Light, have you ever loved anyone?”
“Why, of course I have," Light replied, taken aback. Like everything L said, the question was loaded. "Mother, and father, and Sayu - ”
“I see.” It was obvious that Light was evading the question, but L let it go. The boy had answered it for him anyway.
“I used to think I was incapable of love,” L said. “That I lacked the ability.”
“And now?”
“I’m no longer so certain,” he said. “No, you might say that I am no longer certain at all.” It was not the kind of thing he knew how to talk about. Like seeing color for the first time in a black and white world, these were concepts for which he had no words. “I would say that the probability of my falling in love has gone…from zero to one percent.”
“One percent?” Light almost laughed.
“That’s a big jump,” said L seriously. “Everything is a big jump up from zero.”
As if to shut him up, Light kissed him. It was a bolder kiss than L’s had been, assured and open-mouthed. L tensed and shivered, clinging to Light, drinking in his taste. The kiss was moist and full and brimming with warmth. It was an image of a world that might have been.
“Two percent,” muttered L, as Light’s lips left his.
“Two percent probability that you could love someone? Or that I’m Kira?”
“Wrong, and wrong,” said L, reclaiming his corner of the covers. “Two percent that you’re not.”
The clock marked out a few seconds of silence between them.
“For some reason,” said Light, leaning back on his pillow with a resigned sigh, “it feels like we’ve been doing this forever.”
“Forever,” L repeated flatly, and Light couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with him, or questioning him, or just pondering the sound of the word.
In a different world, they could have been together. Stayed together. Lived.
But Light had already remade the world once. It was too late to do it again.
He could hear another sound syncopated faintly against the clock's incessant rhythm. It took him a moment to recognize it as L's heartbeat.
“You should get some sleep, Ryuuzaki,” said Light. "It's very late."
At last, L permitted his eyes to close and fell asleep. Light stayed awake, just listening.
~
Pairing: L x Light
Rating: A nice, tasteful PG. Especially tame compared to my last couple offerings. XD
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: Not my manga; not my boys.
We lay, we lay together, just not too close, too close (how close is close enough?)
~"Make Damn Sure"~Taking Back Sunday~
The clock was ticking.
It was the only sound in the little room where the two young men lay. On the right side of the bed, the younger one was stretched out on his back beneath a smooth layer of blankets pulled up to the golden curves of his slender shoulders. Even in sleep his hair was perfectly arranged. On the left side of the bed, amidst twisted, rumpled covers, the older one was curled up like a scruffy question mark. Through wakeful eyes, he watched his companion in the dark. He scratched nervously at his wrist, forgetting for a moment that the cuff he had grown accustomed to was no longer there.
“Light-kun,” whispered L. “Are you asleep?”
No reply. Of course, Light was an excellent faker. But, being that it was four thirty-two in the morning, there was a good chance he might actually be sleeping. L scooted closer to Light’s motionless form, and wondered why, since there was no longer a length of steel chain to dictate it, the two were still sharing a bed.
Light was not asleep. It wasn’t because the trap he had laid had him wired with anticipation. It wasn’t for fear that something would go wrong, and he would be caught. No. Light was calm. Confident. Content. Perhaps the reason he couldn’t sleep, then, was that he simply didn’t want to. There was a kind of peace and pleasure in these silent hours between anxious late nights and hectic new days. He wanted to savor his last night with Ryuuzaki. Tomorrow night, this whole bed would be his, along with victory. But tonight, he would indulge that last small part of him that was capable of feeling…like this. That part of him, he knew, would die with Ryuuzaki.
Tomorrow.
“Light-kun,” said L again, and again no answer came. L hesitated. The boy looked so peaceful. But it was his last chance to act. Every bone in his body sensed it. Lines were converging; tunnels were constricting. Soon, one way or another, there would be no more of this.
Silent as a cat, he brought his lips chastely to Light’s cheek.
Light waited a moment before opening his eyes. It was not the move he had expected from L. What had he expected, exactly? He was unsure. But not that.
“Ryuuzaki,” he said, turning to look at his bedmate. “What was that about?”
“Oh,” said L nonchalantly. “I see you’re awake.”
“You kissed me just now,” Light persisted. “Why did you do that?”
L sighed, and rolled over so he was staring at the ceiling. “Because,” he said sadly, “it will all be over soon.”
“What are you talking about, Ryuuzaki? What will be over?”
L waved a languid hand vaguely in the air above the bed. “This.”
Light said nothing. He could argue with him, insist he wasn’t Kira, that they were closer than ever to closing the case. He could argue, but he knew even his best lies wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he did something that felt very strange, yet oddly comfortable. He rolled onto his side and let his arm drape across Ryuuzaki’s narrow waist.
“It’s not over yet,” Light said, and smiled.
Ryuuzaki seemed small and brittle under his arm. It was not unlike holding a small animal, the blood warm, the bones close to the surface, the connections ready to break. Light dragged his hand lightly over his spine, feeling the hard bumps of individual vertebrae under his fingers. L tensed and stared. He always stared, but not like this. Light couldn’t remember ever seeing this emotion in those opaque black eyes before.
“Yagami-kun,” said L, suddenly formal and insecure. "I'm sorry."
“No, Ryuuzaki…it’s okay.”
“It is?”
“Of course. I’m your friend.”
Neither of them was so easily fooled to believe they were actually friends. The question was, were they less than that, or more? At any rate, soon it would not matter.
L relaxed a little and wrapped both arms around Light’s shoulders. Light hesitated for a moment as he looked at the man entwined with him. With his knees drawn up against his chest and his dark eyes at once soulful and ceiling-blank, he looked so young, so sad. Though the detective was seven years his senior, he suddenly seemed no more than a child. The effect was arresting.
“What’s wrong, Ryuuzaki?” asked Light with a tenderness that was not entirely feigned. “What’s bothering you?”
For once, L was not looking at him. The pre-dawn glow from the window cast long blue shadows over his eyelids. He looked extremely tired.
“I have never wanted so badly to be wrong before.”
Light swallowed. He stroked the tangle of black hair fanning out on the opposite pillow.
“If I told you…that you weren’t wrong,” said Light, “would you feel better or worse?”
To L in this moment, Light looked at once angelic and demonic. Thoughts of Paradise Lost flickered through his mind. But Light was no rebel angel. Just a boy.
He sighed. “I shall miss you, Light-kun.”
Their legs entwined as L moved closer to him. Their noses almost touched. Their eyes, like coal and flame, met and mingled. L could almost feel the fire in Light’s eyes consume him, and he sensed that, in a way, he was already dying. There was a strange, aching comfort in it.
“Yagami Light, have you ever loved anyone?”
“Why, of course I have," Light replied, taken aback. Like everything L said, the question was loaded. "Mother, and father, and Sayu - ”
“I see.” It was obvious that Light was evading the question, but L let it go. The boy had answered it for him anyway.
“I used to think I was incapable of love,” L said. “That I lacked the ability.”
“And now?”
“I’m no longer so certain,” he said. “No, you might say that I am no longer certain at all.” It was not the kind of thing he knew how to talk about. Like seeing color for the first time in a black and white world, these were concepts for which he had no words. “I would say that the probability of my falling in love has gone…from zero to one percent.”
“One percent?” Light almost laughed.
“That’s a big jump,” said L seriously. “Everything is a big jump up from zero.”
As if to shut him up, Light kissed him. It was a bolder kiss than L’s had been, assured and open-mouthed. L tensed and shivered, clinging to Light, drinking in his taste. The kiss was moist and full and brimming with warmth. It was an image of a world that might have been.
“Two percent,” muttered L, as Light’s lips left his.
“Two percent probability that you could love someone? Or that I’m Kira?”
“Wrong, and wrong,” said L, reclaiming his corner of the covers. “Two percent that you’re not.”
The clock marked out a few seconds of silence between them.
“For some reason,” said Light, leaning back on his pillow with a resigned sigh, “it feels like we’ve been doing this forever.”
“Forever,” L repeated flatly, and Light couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with him, or questioning him, or just pondering the sound of the word.
In a different world, they could have been together. Stayed together. Lived.
But Light had already remade the world once. It was too late to do it again.
He could hear another sound syncopated faintly against the clock's incessant rhythm. It took him a moment to recognize it as L's heartbeat.
“You should get some sleep, Ryuuzaki,” said Light. "It's very late."
At last, L permitted his eyes to close and fell asleep. Light stayed awake, just listening.
~