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The Other Half of Me

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Light had killed Lind L. Taylor, but he wasn’t L. L had played him like a fiddle, and worse he was now gloating about it on live television, hiding behind a letter and a screen.

If Light hadn’t been so distracted he would have perhaps noticed the surprised admiration that was not hidden by the voice filter after L saw him kill. Would have been able to extrapolate that into a deeper understanding of the detective’s character.

But Light was too distracted; he wasn’t meant to make mistakes like this.

He was the soon to be God of the New World. Gods didn’t lose.

But if he was to be a God, L would not be his Lucifer.

The message from L crackled into static, startling him.

A B took the place of the L, the background becoming a deep blood red.

There was no voice filter, only the crazed laughter and a challenge; a summons. A temptation.

“Together, we shall kill L,” the voice spoke. “Kira, you shall have your victory.”

The screen flickered back through white noise and fuzz to L’s broadcast, the gloating synthetic voice silent.

“You can’t do it, can you?” the synthetic voice finally spoke again. “Until we meet again… Kira.”


When Light had first heard Ryuga’s voice at the Ta-Oh entrance ceremony, he had been unable to react. He was on stage in front of hundreds of students.

He knew that voice.

That voice was the same as the voice he had heard many weeks ago, through the television, associated with a crazed laugh.

This… this had to be B.

Had he not been in front of a crowd, he would have laughed.

L. I’ve won.

In the crowd, seated side by side – or at least, Light was seated, the other student crouched awkwardly beside him – Ryuga wanted to tell him a secret.

Light let him, and was suddenly very confused.

L.

Ryuk’s laughter all but confirmed it as the truth; not B then, but L.

Their voices were the same… was B a trick, concocted by L during that first broadcast, a way to draw out Kira? It was possible, it would be a logical thing to do, but still…


This second Kira was a nightmare.

He wasn’t B. Light was sure of that. B had been intelligent enough to not only hack the television studios, but to overwhelm L’s own broadcast.

This second Kira was a fool. They made mistakes, they did silly and impulsive things, and they were becoming a liability.

L wanted him to craft a message back to this second Kira. Light didn’t really have a choice, but he could at least have fun with it. He wrote, thinking about what he would really want to say but forced to censor, to ensure that L would allow it to be broadcast.

In it, he crafted a message, not only for the second Kira but for B. A summons, a call to arms.

With B, he could get rid of L. The path would be clear for him to create his New World.

Before that part of the message could air, the screen crackled and sputtered with white noise, the B taking the place of the K, the background tainted with red.

“Kira.”

Light felt the shiver of excitement that ran through him, but made himself be still. L watched him with wide unblinking eyes.

“I have his name.”

Light bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a gasp.

“Together, we shall create a new world.”

Light’s knuckles were white where he grasped his knees.

“I will expect to hear from you soon.”

How? Light was left wondering as the broadcast returned to the speech L had made him write, the voice synthesiser all the more artificial on the back of B’s raw, vicious voice.

So like L’s, but not the same.

Darker.

Every word dripping with blood.


 

The second Kira was Misa Amane.

A vapid young model with a Death Note and a dangerous Shinigami.

Light could use her. Could enslave her to his will.

Could do anything to her, but it would be much harder with Rem constantly hovering, protecting her. Threatening to kill him if any harm came to Misa.

She put herself in harm’s way. She demanded to be close to him, to be his girlfriend.

She was clingy, throwing herself all over him, giving him her email, her phone number, a second phone number, and telling him he should call the second one as soon as she left.

He didn’t want Misa. He didn’t want this foolish second Kira, that dishonoured the very name. He wasn’t going to speak to her any more than was necessary. He didn’t call her.

His world had narrowed; there were very few things he wanted any more, though his goals were not small.

He wanted B. He wanted to see L, bleeding and gasping at his feet. He wanted to be the God of the New World.

He had no way to contact B. He was working on becoming the God. If he could use Misa to kill L, it would make her presence worthwhile.

Light plotted carefully.


 

Light wondered whether B had managed to meet up with Kira.

L was still alive, so that was a positive sign.

It had been weeks since B had made his last broadcast. Since he had been let out of his cell and handcuffed to L every day, Light obsessed over B more than anything else. More, even, than Kira.

Light had equal parts love and hatred for the detective; on the one hand, he was tired of being accused of being Kira and hated what the investigation was doing to his father, who looked to have aged ten years in only the last six months. Equally, he was fascinated by L; he admired his investigative skills, his intelligence and the way he had managed to play Kira’s games, to take on the challenge of catching Kira and not being disheartened at all if things did not go his way, just changing the game so that he would win in the end.

It seemed strange, that B would be silent and L would still be alive. If Kira were out there, Light was sure he would have tried to contact B, tried to take down his only challenge; L.

Light obsessed about B, because if he caught B, L would be safe.

He obsessed about B, because he was worried. He had gaps in his memory, and they had the shape of Kira.

If Light were to catch B, to be the one to save L, the detective would have to accept that he was not Kira.


 

There was an edge to L. Something cold and hard that simmered below the surface, kept at bay by sugar and work.

It emerged in the evenings and at night, when Light was trying to sleep, or going through his daily routine. It surfaced when L was angry, or hungry, or too tired.

It left Light with bruises, most of them hidden by his clothing. A wrong movement, a tug on the chain, and L’s foot would catch his chest. A misplaced word, and L would snarl back, insulting; but then eyes would widen, and L would catch himself.

Sometimes he would apologise.

Mainly for his words; rarely for his actions.

Light applied a fine layer of concealer to bruises on his neck, on his face. He hid them from the task force. Signs, that L still accused him of being Kira, that L would lash out when he thought no one was looking.

The bruises, showing L’s hatred of Kira.

The concealer, Light’s love for L.

Despite it all, Light didn’t want to be apart from the detective. He took whatever blows were struck, because they allowed him to be closer to L.

Because there was a Kira-shaped hole in him, and he knew he deserved this punishment, even if he denied it aloud.


 

The notebook had restored his memories; had filled the hole in Light’s soul and driven away the doubt.

He was Kira. He knew what he had to do.

His foolish emotions for L didn’t matter anymore.

He would be God of the New World.

He had his backup plan; he had Misa, and Rem – exactly where he wanted them.

But first, he had another plan.

And he had worked on this for so long, finding a way to contact B, that when his memories were restored he made the connection instantly.

He still had the list of contact details Misa had given him months ago; the email, the two phone numbers.

One was hers.

The second, the one she had told him to call right away…

“B.”

“Kira,” the voice on the other end of the phone, so much like L’s and yet, so much more.

“Give me his name and it shall be done.”

“Not yet,” B purred. “I would like to meet you.”

“After. Once L is dead,” Light agreed. Yes, he wanted to meet B. His heart pounded, the voice alone making him hard.

“No. Tonight.”

“We will have plenty of time,” Light promised. “As soon as L falls, I shall create the new world. Give me his name, and you shall be my most valued servant; you shall sit at my right hand.”

“We can create the New World together, Light Yagami,” B agreed, the name spoken in a positively sinful tone. “But I would meet you, first. Tonight. You need not worry; I will deal with the task force, with L. I shall come to you.”

“That won’t work,” Light frowned. “I’m at Kira investigation headquarters. You will never make it past the security…”

“Do not underestimate me,” B snarled. “Tonight. Ten o’clock. I will see you on the roof.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”


 

 

Ten o’clock.

The task force headquarters was silent. Light wasn’t sure where L had gone. The detective had gone for a shower at nine, and hadn’t been seen since. He wasn’t in their shared room or the computer room.

Light would rather have known exactly where L was before he went to meet B, but he wasn’t going to miss this for the world.

There was something rather sick about how he was already hard with anticipation; L would die tonight, and Light would have this B. This darker version of L.

He wondered whether he would look as much like the detective as he sounded.

Whether instead of sugar to make his fingers sticky, B’s would be coated with blood.

He wanted it, badly.

The rooftop was not inviting that night. The rain was falling, heavy and soaking.

L was there.

At least, Light thought it was L.

Slouched, his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, white loose fitting top clinging to him due to the rain. He was looking out over the Tokyo skyline. It was only as he came closer that Light realised he looked sad.

Did he know he would die, that night?

Light’s phone buzzed. A text. L’s eyes glanced towards him; acknowledging. He nodded to Light’s pocket; an instruction, check your message.

Light opened the flip phone and read.

B: I am watching.

Light’s head snapped around the rooftop, trying to see through the rain. His phone buzzed again.

He knows he will die tonight.

Light nodded, wondering if B could see him even now. He couldn’t see B.

Shall we have some fun first?

Light frowned at the phone. It buzzed.

He likes you.

Light glanced up at L; his back was turned. Since Light last looked he had moved much closer to the rooftop’s edge.

Fuck him, and I will give you his name. L dies tonight.

Light’s breath caught, his eyes falling shut.

He couldn’t wait to meet B in person, if this was what he could do to him with just text messaging.

 


 

“L?” Light pocketed his phone, moving steadily across the roof. L was right at the edge now, looking for all purposes like he was about to take that last step and fall.

“Light-kun,” L breathed, not looking away from the drop. “Do you hear them?”

“Hear what?” Light wondered, listening. He could barely hear the city below, the cars and the people, over the fall of the heavy rain.

“The bells,” L’s brow creased, concentrated. Listening.

“I don’t hear them,” Light told the detective honestly, reaching out to loop his arms around L’s waist; a foreign gesture, but L allowed it anyway. Gently, he drew L into his chest, back from the edge.

“They’re loud today,” L murmured, turning to face him, burying into his neck so that his breath tickled over Light’s pulse point. “They’ve never been this loud before.”

“I don’t hear them,” Light stated again, not sure if he was reassuring.

L melted into his grasp, leaning his weight against Light’s chest. Light held the weight with one arm, bringing the other up to stroke through his hair. The detective sighed, curling in.

Light had never seen L like this. Vulnerable. Weak. In his grasp – the emotions were a conflict, a contradiction. A part of him wanted to just hold L safe and never let him go, forget B and the Death Note and all that he had planned. All that he was, as Kira.

It was manipulation, pure and simple. L knew he was going to die, that Light was going to kill him, and this was his last resort. He didn’t really care for Light. They were enemies.

Light didn’t really care for him.

He guided L to draw away, freeing his lips for a gentle kiss and as he pressed deeper, supporting him to the floor. The cold, wet rooftop was not comfortable, but Light was not there for L’s comfort, and it would not be the only thing he would suffer that night.

Straying hands caught L’s baggy jeans button, unfastening it and slipping a hand inside; far too soon. L was not hard, but that wasn’t what Light sought. His fingers strayed down, a single fingertip slipping inside L’s tight entrance.

The detective gasped into his mouth, the kiss not enough to distract him from the tight, sharp pain. Light moved his head down, teeth catching L’s shoulder, leaving a mark.

“Light-kun,” L’s tone was a warning and a plea for mercy. His eyes were wet, but not with the rain.

“Shh,” Light soothed, his free hand stroking L’s hair reassuringly. “Trust me.”

You shouldn’t trust me, L. I am Kira, and I will destroy you.

But first, I will possess you.

“I don’t want…”

“Shh,” Light kissed him, silencing the detective’s clever lips.

His finger inside L was dry, no lubrication available to sooth its passage as he slid it slowly in and out, stretching the tight hole. With his free hand Light strayed, lifting L’s shirt so that he could stroke a thumb soothingly over a nipple, then suddenly and sharply pinch.

“Ow!” L protested, shoving Light’s chest. “Light-kun…”

“Hush,” Light was firmer now, catching L’s hands and pinning them. Despite needing to press quite hard against the tight, dry, resisting hole, Light pressed a second finger inside, stretching the detective wider.

“Stop…” L pleaded, his voice quiet and afraid. “Light-kun, please, stop. I don’t want…”

“Enough,” Light scissored his fingers, L jolting away from the sharp stretch. A tear fell from the detective’s eye and he yelped, suddenly scrabbling to pull away. Light let him go, but not far, catching his ankles and pinning them so that those vicious bare feet could not catch his jaw, could not fight him.

He released his own cock from his trousers; hard and aching, the head dripping with precum. He smoothed the slight lubrication over his member, stroking firmly as he watched L try to get his feet free, try to crawl away.

He moved, over L, pinning with hands and his weight and slowly sliding his cock into the detective’s ass.

“Relax,” he commanded as L tried to clamp down, tried to stop him. L was staring up at him, eyes wide and mouth open in pain and desperation, words failing him.

It took several attempts to seat himself fully inside, L fighting him at every moment. It was only when blood lubricated his movements, the detective torn and suffering, that he could finally thrust deeply.

“Light, please, you have to stop,” L pleaded. The tears ran freely from his eyes, but he didn’t sob or shake. He didn’t even fight any more, laid limply and letting Light do what he wanted. “This isn’t you. This is Kira… please, Light, come back to me. Don’t do this.”

Light laughed, redoubling his efforts, thrusting hard right against his prostate; with every thrust L let out a little desperate gasp, his own cock hard now.

“Light,” L whimpered, eyes closing tightly. Steeling himself for one final play. “I love you.”

Light backhanded him sharply. The side of his head struck the concrete floor, hard.

L was still, silent, his head turned. Light growled; L wasn’t getting out of this that easily. If he was unconscious, Light would wait…

L wasn’t unconscious, though, it seemed.

His head turned, eyes closed and face expressionless. No tears fell as he faced up into the rain.

His eyes opened, and the fear and sorrow were simply gone as if they had never existed.

Blood coated the detective’s teeth as they bared in a grin.

Darkness sparked, cold and hard in his eyes, and L laughed.

A crazed, terrible laugh.

Light froze, staring down at the detective as the change came over him, his features hardening, his lips curling into a smirk. And he knew.

L was B.

A second personality; two within one.

B’s teeth were sharp, cutting into the tender flesh of his shoulder, making him bleed. Light arched away, but B didn’t let him go, tasting the blood before it could be washed away by the rain.

“Harder,” B commanded, hips rising to meet Light’s thrusts.

Gasping, Light pounded into him, trying to hold B back from his vulnerable throat, bloodied teeth threatening to bite, to tear and rend. He studied the change in the detective as he came closer and closer to his orgasm, B meeting him with every thrust.

“Am I everything you expected?” B demanded to know. Light gasped, gripping tightly enough to bruise.

“Better,” he confirmed.

“Good,” B flipped them, riding his cock ferociously. He trailed long, unkempt nails down Light’s chest, hard enough to cut the skin. Light remained still, letting B take his pleasure and please him in return.

As B came, Light saw something unexpected; for a moment, he was not just B.

For a moment, he recognised L in those eyes. And suddenly Light couldn’t hold back anymore; he was coming, hard, as B continued to ride them through.

“I have Shinigami eyes,” B told him as they came down from their high. “You need me.”

“I do,” Light breathed. And not just for the eyes.

“Let us create this New World,” B purred. “Together.”