Jul 06, 2010 19:56
Light dreams fitfully and often.
In his room, he seems fast asleep, one arm flung out, the other curled against his chest. It's the Yellow Box again, Near sitting legs crossed in front of him, monotone voice tearing all his disguises to shreds, and trying not to laugh because it doesn't matter, Near doesn't realize this but Light knows.
And as always, Mikami fails. As always, the perfect trap springs on empty air. Or no, not empty air, and he can suddenly feel the noose tighten, even as he pleads without pleading, his words impassioned. Understand, he wills them, at least one of them, and as always Matsuda's expression twists and this time the bullets are real, tearing through flesh with the vivid memory of pain.
Here, even in life, he twitches and his face spasms.
He is the most vulnerable he ever is, here, in sleep. Unguarded. Uncontrolled.