(Untitled)

[firm_detective]

L is browsing the stacks in the eighth-floor library. Row after row of books on ornate, dark wood shelving -- How long have they been here? -- surrounds him, but he can still see the far-away main entrance to the library from where he stands. He wrinkles his nose at the faint musty scent of the crumbling volumes.

[Thread is private to firm_detective and refractings.]

Comments

[refractings]

[There are only so many angles Light can consider, only so many possibilities to worry over. He's stared at his notes and his diagrams for a few days now without progress.

Even Light has his limits, and what he desperately wants right now is not terrified, fevered analysis, but distraction. He has climbed the stairs to the eighth floor, thankfully seeing no one on his way, and when he glances down the hall, it also appears clear. He heads to the library door, not being particularly loud but not bothering to hide his presence either.

It doesn't occur to him to check the library itself. He closes the door behind him and sighs, running a hand over his face.]

[firm_detective]

*L stands, transfixed and troubled and surprised, staring at Light. After a moment's hesitation, he finds his voice, and speaks in a low tone.*

Please sit down.

*His pale skin stands out in the room's warm dimness; he points to a chair next to Light with his finger, a white arrow.*

[refractings]

[Light obeys gracelessly and without question, his mind still buzzing with tangled, half-completed thoughts. The cushioned impact with the chair makes him blink, though, and his eyes snap into focus. He stares at L, looking confused and a bit afraid and altogether very young.]

[firm_detective]

*He remains standing, between the chair opposite Light and the fire.*

What happened? What did it -- ?

*How did it feel? He elects not to use that wording.*

[refractings]

I... I don't know. [He's speaking slowly, tripping a bit over the syllables.] It... My head hurts. Was I screaming?

[He wants to hug his knees to his chest and huddle back into the embrace of the chair. He settles for wrapping his arms around himself and hunching his back. He's still staring, wide-eyed and unsure, although lucidity seems to be returning.]

[firm_detective]

*L seems frozen in time, one hand now resting on the top of the chair next to him. After a beat, he nods.*

Yes. You began to, and then --

*His other hand gestures towards the fire.*

I dropped it in.

-- I think it can be considered conclusive.

[refractings]

[Light releases a huff of humorless laughter.] Yes. It can, can't it.

[He does pull his knees up to his torso now, as he turns to stare into the fire. His head is pounding incessantly. He feels sick and distantly horrified, and while he doesn't want to be alone, he finds that he wants L's company even less.]

Thank you. For your assistance.

[firm_detective]

Yes.

*He doesn't show any sign that he will be going anywhere. His hand remains poised on the back of the chair. His gaze shifts over to the fire, then back.*

It is hot in here, isn't it?

*He doesn't know if it's the fire that makes the room stuffy, or if the atmosphere feels airless because of what has just happened.*

-- What can you remember about what happened, just now?

*Something suggests to him that he should leave, for his own safety, but he may never again have the opportunity to hear about this immediately after the fact -- so he stays.*

[refractings]

Is it? [Light is chilled, covered in faint goosebumps; he hugs his legs closer. The room wasn't this cold before, surely? He forces himself to pay attention to L's words, to remain in the present.]

It... I think-- it hurt. [His words are halting, stumbling over each other, unsure.] The... recovery, not the loss. My head feels... emptier? Less cluttered, although why... Everything was rushing in, and before it had stopped moving it was going again...

[The impressions are vague, and fading rapidly; Light struggles to hold on to them with a desperation that surprises him. The last time he lost his memories, his memory-less self had had no concept of what was happening. The pain was rationalized away as the beginning of his headache, and the sensation of his mind clearing had seemed clearing of cobwebs, an awakening to his situation -- What am I doing here?

He raises his eyes as far as L's neck, but can't quite look the detective in the face. His expression is strangely vulnerable.] I don't remember anything else.