[heading back from the music room, guitar case slung over his shoulder, Light hums quietly to himself. he's tired enough that he kind of just wants to lie down and sink into the floor, but he's also good at ignoring physical exhaustion, so he continues down the halls at a brisk pace
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He listens for footsteps, glances to either side of him before opening his bedroom door: what he really wants, at this moment, is to shower and change his clothes. Nothing particularly evil is ticking through his head, unless the cold determination that what's behind the door will be exactly what he expects counts. Except, then he opens the door, and steps inside - and it's a room he doesn't recognise. And you.
A sigh.]
Hello, Light.
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This is going to be fun.
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"Oh, jesus, it's me"? Popularity is so hard to come by around here.
Do I want to know what this room does?
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[The answer springs to his mind, and his lips: black silk briefs. He bites his lip. He's heard of the truth room - in fact, you told him about it - is this it? He's compelled to respond truthfully - and to give honest answers - but the compulsion isn't irresistable...
What is he going to ask me? ... what should I ask him?]
I see.
Do you have any other questions like that to get out of the way?
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Do you sing in the shower? Did Sayu ever stuff you into princess outfits when you were a kid? Ever run through the sprinkler naked? Or make out with Ryuuk? What about Misa? Did you need a stepladder? Who was your first crush? Or are you, like, seriously asexual? Can you do a funny squeaky voice [demonstrates] like this? Ever tried to write with both hands at once?
God I hate this room, telling the truth doesn't mean anything if you're being forced, ugh.
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Yes, no and nobody - and - the things that go through your mind, Light. Honestly.
[That last answer isn't a lie: he really believes it. And - two can play at this game, and he'll do it better. A hint of malice enters his voice.]
So, tell me. What do you see in that L you're sleeping with?
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[a brief pause.] I guess I could say, he has always been nice to me, he's smart, he doesn't take things too seriously, but it's not about that, and you'd know, even though it's all technically true and part of the reason I like him. Because it's not enough, just for someone to be funny and kind and intelligent, we're not that different that I'd be so easily charmed.
[silent again for a beat or two.]
I remember the first time I heard him sing one of my songs. He - he got everything right. Every nuance I put in there, every little - I don't know. When I write something for him - he sees it. It's this sort of... both of us are private people and yet, I'm a writer, he's a singer, it shouldn't work to be private because both things deal a lot in emotions. So we trade. I don't have to expose so much by singing what I write in front of audiences, and he can keep himself safe by borrowing my... soul is really cheap and melodramatic-sounding, but it's the word of best fit ( ... )
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That's normal, Light. Everyone feels that way, that the other people around them aren't real. And - as you say - most people don't ever notice it. They distract themselves. Alone. Isolated.
[He's echoing his alternate, and doesn't realise it. But he does smile: just as you're distracting yourself with that L. Why you didn't evade the question, why you would answer it in such depth - he thinks he can guess.]
So. Did you want to say all of that, or did the room make you do it?
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Okay. Two for you. What did you see in Misa, and are you dead?
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Yes, I am.
What makes you think I was with Misa?
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[It's half an evasion, driven up from somewhere - because he knows he hates music. As if, deep down, some part of him thinks he should have been musical. He looks across at you: something he wants to, obliquely, ask about.]
Do you wish you'd grown up in Japan?
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Not really. It would be kind of a waste of energy.
I mean, yeah, in the first couple of years it was really hard and there were times when I just wanted it to be over, I just wanted to go home. You settle in eventually, though. I'm almost evenly divided now, time-wise - ten years to nine. And... like I said, it would be a waste of energy. I try to cut away that kind of stuff, you know? Sitting around and wishing. It doesn't do anything for you. It's not real. So I don't bother. I've got a good life in America. Maybe I would've had a good life in Japan.
[or maybe I would've ended up like you.]
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