[private] instead of stressed i lie here charmed.

[subversion]

It's a kitchen, deserted except for Light, who's ... more collapsed than sat at the table. His arm is resting on the surface, and his head is pillowed on it; the other hand is touching a half-eaten piece of toast - perfectly square, spread thinly with some kind of golden-yellow jam, and at least an inch thick

Comments

[stripesandheels]

[She comes in, and nearly goes out again immediately when she sees him. Except, he's sleeping. It's sweet- adorable, really, and ominous because Light would never be caught dead sleeping in public and therefore something must be wrong. She approaches, leans in, and swipes her finger through the jam on his toast to see what flavour it is, licking it off her finger.]

[subversion]

[The jam's lychee: undersweetened to a Western palate, tart and fragrant. There's no butter beneath it. He's close to waking, and as the movement passes through the toast into his hand, he shifts slowly, and moans: not yet, kaasan.

He doesn't look himself; his clothes are too simple, too comfortable-looking, and his hair's scruffy. Perhaps it's because he's been sleeping.

Ordinarily he'd wake like a shot if anyone came near. Now, he doesn't know she's there. His breathing's too slow.]

[stripesandheels]

[Matt reaches out, and cards her fingers through his hair, straightening out some of the scruffiness. She stops quickly, though, and goes to put coffee on for both of them.]

[subversion]

[It's the touch in his hair that finally wakes him - except he doesn't move, not at all, when ordinarily he flits around the place like a bird. All that happens is that his eyes crack open the tiniest bit, and even that is an effort. His voice is slow, slurring, stuck in itself.]

You.