L x Light

“And this is something you remember,” he asks, pulling the open shirt
apart and over Light’s shoulders.

Light thinks about this. He is still crying. No, he does not remember.
It is entirely horrifying to him that what has gone on until now is not
that he didn’t do it, but rather that he did not remember.

Behind his bare shoulders, his shirt falls softly to the floor.

L is winning.

L is winning, but there is unmistakable reluctance trembling through
those elegant fingers as they push Light back down to the floor, and through
his defeat, Light realizes momentarily that L is afraid.

He does not try to hide it, and his fingers halt halfway through their
journey to Light’s chest, his mouth frozen where it was once about to form
some long-forgotten remark.

There is no way that this can be true, L realizes he was going
to say, but it must be.

They are both afraid.

There are traces of tears lining the thin skin stretching outward from
Light’s eyes, and through his helplessness and fear there is also at last
a very dim sense of relief. There is almost no horror in the realization
that L was right about there being a deliberate plan.

Very gently, Light pulls himself up by his elbows, and he watches his
hands close around L’s wrists.

No, L is not winning.

I’m losing my mind, Light thinks, bewildered by the realization
that he has been thinking in terms of winning and losing and gradually
becoming all the more aware that there is, in fact, something very strange
at play.

He is stunned as it dawns on him that not only has he had some sort
of experience he can no longer quite remember, but it is evident he has
planned and accounted for a situation like this.

He is somehow protected.

Protected against what? What exactly has he done?

His knees come down on either side of L’s narrow waist and his hands
lower the white wrists to the floor on both sides of his frame. The boy’s
face is expressionless when Light kisses him, and when Light means again
to nudge gently at the white shirt, he finds himself tearing at it instead.
He actually does rip it in half, and L is visibly frightened, because somewhere
in his mind he knows that Light is somehow protected and that perhaps
Light doesn’t know but that someone knows and Light could kill
him, Light could really kill him.

Light grasps L’s chin with steady fingers and has at him without shame.
This time it really is vulnerability. This time it really is defenselessness.
The boy’s lips are soft and permissive and Light takes him with cruel deliberation,
pressing him clear against the floor and biting hard at his neck.

“It hurts,” comes forth the innocent cry, hushed and broken and laden
with strange undertones of melancholy humility.

I have wanted you, Light thinks bitterly, and there is blood
at his lips, and he actually thinks he feels muscles tighten against him
in what will inevitably end as nothing more than a mere attempt
at escape, and he smiles against the white skin at his lips because beneath
him is the great L in nothing less than glorious admission of defeat.

He could call them in at any moment, but he does not.

This is visible on camera, but there is no rescue mission.

Because somewhere, somehow, no matter how vague, there is the completely
realistic knowledge that someone knows, L understands this now, she
knows and she will tell Light.

The second Kira.

L was right all along.

This is simultaneously very satisfying and devastating to L, who lies
deep in speculation beneath Light, and even as his left leg, long and narrow,
is bent submissively over Light’s shoulder, he mumbles thoughtfully,

“I rather like you, Yagami-kun.”

And despite his initial surprise, Light understands. After all, Light
was L’s first friend.

“This might hurt,” he hears himself warn awkwardly, and he almost wonders
why he bothers.

And then he’s in, his fingers grasping hard at the bony leg folded gracefully
over him, lips stretched into a thin smile and hair hanging behind him
as he tilts his head back, oblivious to the fact that beneath him, L is
grinning in modest contentment, because he has won after all. L was right
on all counts.

L allows him satisfaction to the conclusive end, when, wet and exhausted,
the younger boy falls against him, at which point comes an abrupt pull
on the metal chain so conveniently forgotten. Taken entirely off guard,
Light gasps as L pulls him in.

Whether or not Light remembers how he did it, it doesn’t matter now.
If he kills L, he will kill L on camera. If he does not, then L will live
to convey the information and arrest both Kiras.

Although he is still afraid, L has already won.

But before he delivers revenge, he cannot help but smile at Light, and
when he kisses him, at last it is a gesture of simple affection.

 

 

To be continued…