Work Text:
(one)
Light woke slowly. Bit by bit, he became aware of his fingers splayed against the pillow next to his nose, the soft comforter tucked up to his chin, and the strip of sunlight falling across his face.
He let his eyes flutter open, squinting at the light as it met them. He lay on his side, and across from him was a window covered by two gray curtains. They were just short of being pulled all the way shut, allowing the sunlight to greet him good morning. With a sniff, Light rolled onto his other side, intending to get a bit more shut-eye before L woke him for breakfast. He’d been so tired when they came in last night. He hadn’t even bothered to really take in the new surroundings before slipping into bed and passing out.
Wait. New surroundings, huh?
Abandoning his plan for further sleep, Light pushed himself upright and out of bed. His bare feet slapped softly across the wooden floor as he made his way to the window. Perhaps he’d have a nice view. They were in Colorado, now – maybe he’d get to see the mountains. He’d always had a fondness for them, always been in awe of the snowy ranges during family skiing trips to Hokkaido in the winter. It was always so cold up there, the wind so harsh, the height so dizzying…and yet the mountains always stood so strong, so solid.
He’d confessed that to L one night that felt like ages ago now, tangled up together in limbs and chain, sleepy and content after a good fuck. A little voice in his head wondered if L had remembered that small piece of him, now.
Light reached the window. With his left hand, wrist decorated by a simple black band, he carefully pushed one curtain aside. The sun’s rays spread across the floorboards, and as the room grew brighter Light allowed himself more hope than he honestly should that his curiosity might be sated. The outside world came into view and –
Light pulled his hand back as if it had been burned, letting the curtain drop shut as something in his chest curdled and turned sour. The room fell back into almost-darkness. No mountains were in view of his window. Just a strip of backyard and a tall fence – the walls of his new enclosure.
He scolded himself for considering that his captor could have been so kind.
Mood effectively darkened, Light turned to go back to bed. He didn’t get very far, though, as before his first step even landed there was a sharp click! and then the door to his room opened.
“Good morning, Kira,” L strolled in with a lazy smile on his face, a tray in his hands.
“Don’t call me that,” Light mumbled back, resigning to sit with his legs crossed on the bed rather than crawling back under the covers. Over the last few weeks, this had become routine. L would come unlock his room, bring him breakfast, every morning. He’d call Light Kira and Light, pride wounded from his capture and defeat, would half-heartedly resist it. L would then leave the room unlocked and allow Light to roam about the house during the day but, at night, he’d be shut up again. Kira had fallen from a god to L’s housepet, and Light despised it.
But there was something about simply having a routine with L, simply the promise of getting to see him each and every morning, that made him crave it, too.
L set the tray down in the middle of the bed and climbed up next to Light. On his side of the tray sat two chocolate chip muffins and a cup of coffee so light in color it could have been mistaken for milk at a quick enough glance. And on Light’s side, there was a bowl of off-brand cereal, an apple, and his own coffee – black.
“I’m tired of cereal,” Light stated as he took a spoonful anyway. His nose wrinkled as he chewed. It was too sugary.
“Yes, well, seeing as we’ve just arrived, not much grocery shopping has been done yet,” L responded between bites of muffin. Light scoffed. No time to get a more interesting breakfast for Light, but somehow L had already found a way to get ahold of fresh goddamn muffins. Bastard.
Light didn’t bother humoring him with a response. The room fell silent except for the sounds of chewing and the clink of Light’s spoon against his cereal bowl.
“You know,” L started after finishing off his first muffin. “I thought you’d be happier.”
Light took a bite of his apple, pointedly staring straight forward.
“The only other option was a death sentence, Light-kun. Don’t tell me that was preferred.”
Light set his jaw. He wasn’t going to do this right now – he wasn’t.
L sighed next to him, before picking up his second muffin. Light sipped his coffee and kept his eyes fixed across the room.
They finished breakfast without another word.
“I’ve almost completed organizing the case files. I’ll get Light-kun’s part to him soon,” L said as he gathered up the tray. He left the room, then, footsteps slowly padding away down the hall with Light’s door left open behind him.
Light stewed in his thoughts for a few moments – bitterness brewing in his heart next to a deep, deep, hurt – before sighing and deciding to follow him. He might as well go explore his new cage. After all, it’s not like he had anything more productive to do, now that the game was over…
The house they were staying in now resembled a large cabin. It felt cozy and warm. Perhaps in another lifetime he and L would be living here as lovers. As equals. Perhaps they’d come here every winter together. It could be their remote little getaway, where they’d watch movies and sip hot chocolate on the oversized couch, then stumble upstairs to their shared bedroom where L would kiss Light deeply and passionately in their feather-soft bed.
But, alas. That wasn’t the lifetime they’d been granted.
Wandering through the rooms, Light found himself on one side of a large, log dining table, a glass vase full of little white flowers decorating the center. On the other side of the table was a floor-to-ceiling window stretching across most of the wall, with heavy red curtains framing it on either side. Through the window, the snow-covered ground sloped down before meeting the fence, granting Light a better view of what lay beyond. Past the fence the ground continued to slope softly downward, trees dotting the landscape, but beyond that…were the mountains. Tall, strong, and cold.
Light found he couldn’t look away.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” L asked softly from behind him. He was close enough that Light could feel his body heat. Light wasn’t sure when he’d arrived, but he found that he didn’t care. He was too wrapped up in the landscape painted across the horizon.
“Yes,” He responded, quietly. L’s arm wrapped around his waist, and Light was too distracted to stop the little voice in his head from acknowledging how good that felt.
“I thought you’d like the view.”
Exhaling deeply, Light closed his eyes and settled ever so slightly into L. Turning his face into the crook of L’s neck, he let the other man embrace him fully, both arms now around his waist as he peppered soft kisses onto Light’s cheek. For a moment Light let himself think that somehow, he’d slipped into that lifetime he so desperately tried to pretend he didn’t desire – the one where he and L loved each other, where they had just arrived at their winter home for this year’s stay, where they’d never hurt one another so viciously.
“I love you,” L whispered, lulling Light further into his fantasy. His lips parted, ready to tell L that he loved him too, when the other man spoke again: “Can’t you see that I did what I did for you?”
The picture shattered, the facade crumbling back down around Light as he tumbled back into reality.
Upon landing, he shoved L away.
“You manipulated me,” He spat, hands shaking at his sides. “You manipulated me, and then you dragged me away as your housepet so you could gloat at me. You didn’t do this for me.”
“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same,” L retorted. “But I saved you. I gave you another chance, yet I’m awful for asking that you be grateful?” He folded his arms across his chest but otherwise, was seemingly unbothered. Light hated him for it. Yes, Light hated him, hated him for not getting it, hated him for being the reason that Light needed saving in the first place, hated him for being the only person Light had ever fallen in love with, and was somehow still in love with.
Furious, Light snatched the vase off the table and hurled it at L, vicious satisfaction bubbling up inside him as he watched L scramble to shield his face. Before L could react further, he left, storming back to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. With no inside lock to separate him from L’s rage, he dragged a desk chair from across the room over and propped it under the doorknob.
There, He thought, the words dangerously venomous even confined to his mind. Let’s see him try to get back at me now.
As the viscousness he felt towards L melted miserably into that deep, dark, hurt from before, Light curled in on himself in bed and burned.
(two)
Light watched L’s slender fingers as he ended the video call, silence sweeping through the room.
Case officially closed.
This had been one of their smoother ones – less fighting overall, if one could believe it.
Sometimes, the end of a case meant it was time to move again, but sometimes not. Light could never really be sure until L confirmed their next move with him. The constant traveling had almost been too much at first, but now he found that he didn’t really care. There was hardly ever anything he was reluctant to leave behind. Never much to bring with him, either. And his preference of staying or leaving certainly never mattered. He was bound to L’s whim.
As much as he was loath to admit it, though, this time he did feel a twinge of anxiety at the thought of up and leaving this Colorado cabin so soon. Light wasn’t quite sure he was ready to say goodbye to their breathtaking view of the Rockies just yet – but he kept that thought to himself.
“Should we celebrate, tonight?” L asked him, hands fidgeting on top of his knees as he looked over at his younger companion. His eyes were as wide and unreadable as they usually were, those days. It was like the locks had been changed, and Light was stuck outside with the wrong key. As he tentatively tried the lock again, but his key still refused to turn, Light felt his brow furrow.
“Why?” He questioned. “What would your idea of celebrating even be, anyway? It’s not like we can go out.”
“That’s correct, but it’s still your birthday. We should do something about that. I bought champagne,” L climbed out of his chair as he spoke, already off towards the office door. “I’ll go open a bottle.”
Then the picture widened, and it was as if Light had been standing at the completely wrong house the entire time. He scrambled to pull L’s laptop over and click around until he pulled up a calendar. He wouldn’t forget his own birthday…would he? Sure, the weeks tended to blur together and he often found it hard to keep track of what day it was, especially when he wasn’t allowed his own computer and L still hadn’t gotten him a proper paper calendar, but surely…
Oh.
Blood rushed to Light’s cheeks as he realized L was right. Today was February 28th.
His nineteenth birthday.
For a brief moment, a memory flashed of this day a year previous, of his parents gifting him a new bookbag for university. A smooth, leather, satchel bag, that served him well for the brief time he attended To-Oh – but now sat abandoned in his old bedroom. Or maybe they’d packaged it away, along with the rest of his simple things. After all, would they want the ghost of Kira in their home, even if they’d once loved him as Light?
Tch, no use thinking of such things now. Light would get no quaint birthday celebration at the kitchen table this year. Instead, he had a jailor with a bottle of champagne.
As Light’s hands closed the laptop so did a door in his mind close in front of all those memories. Rolling his shoulders, he followed L out into the kitchen where he found the older man topping off a second glass of champagne with an iridescent bottle, the first glass already full and waiting.
“Have you ever tried champagne?” L asked as Light came to stand beside him. After placing the bottle down, four spindly fingers picked up the twin glasses by their stems. One was offered to Light, who carefully took it.
“I can’t say that I have.”
L leaned against the counter, posture relaxed, as he took a sip. Light tried to mirror him, leaning his own hip against the counter as well, but found that he couldn’t quite mimic L’s relaxed demeanor completely. L doing nice things was more often than not a ploy to coax Light into forgiving him, but Light couldn’t do that yet. Perhaps not ever, if L continued to refuse to address the issue. Light would play the part of the petty, bitter, villain to L’s hero until he died if he needed to, if that’s what it took to send the message…as much as it tore at Light inside to continue to do so.
The champagne, when he shook himself from his thoughts enough to try it, wasn’t bad. It was mellow, almost velvety, and fizzed on his tongue. He nodded slowly as he lowered the glass from his lips. “Good,” He fumbled. “It’s good.”
“I’m glad I was able to choose an adequate bottle,” L responded, taking another long sip. They made small talk over the finished case and, eventually, Light found himself pouring them both a second glass. As his limbs began to loosen and his head began to lighten, Light wondered if he could give L the benefit of the doubt, just this once. After all, he couldn’t really be faulted for hoping that L just wanted to give him a nice birthday, could he?
At some point, the last drop of champagne was emptied from the bottle and they popped open a second, then found themselves wandering over to the plush living room couch. Light had suggested it when his legs had grown tired of standing, and seated there now his fuzzy mind congratulated him on the idea because yes, this really was a comfortable place to sit. L seemed to be happy with the arrangement, too, lounging against the armrest with one leg half bent against the back of the sofa, and the other hanging off the side. His cheeks were tinged pink and he gestured wildly with his free hand while he spoke.
“...and I couldn’t believe that he had missed something so obvious , and it wasn’t really my best moment but when he walked by, I–I tripped him, and–” L interrupted his own story with a laugh, dragging his hand across his face, which flushed pinker. “–the other agents thought I was being too rude. But he quit making stupid mistakes after that.”
Light cackled, probably more than he would have were he a bit soberer, but it hardly occurred to him to be embarrassed. He expected to hear L’s smooth voice keep talking over him, to tell Light how the case ended up resolving after all, but he shortly realized there was nothing else to hear apart from his own hiccuping laughter. Still giggling a bit, Light looked up from where he had hunched over himself with the force of his amusement and realized L was staring at him.
“I miss your laugh,” L said with a lopsided smile. “That one. I like it.”
Heat rose to Light’s cheeks and he turned his face away again. Something he couldn’t quite place a finger on tugged at his heart. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” He responded, the words tumbling out of his mouth without permission to do so.
“I’m not,” L insisted. “I do miss it. I miss you.”
“But I’m right here. You can’t miss me if I’m right here,” Light snorted, whatever feeling was fumbling at his heartstrings falling away. Now L was just being silly – perhaps Light should stop him from drinking any more champagne. But L beat him to the chase, speaking again before Light had a chance to organize the words he needed to dismiss him. And the words L used just perplexed Light even more:
“That’s not what I meant.”
Forehead wrinkling, Light shifted back to the other man. He clumsily pulled his legs onto the couch in front of him, now leaning against the other armrest, and crossed them. Fuck. He must be drunk, too, if he needs L to explain things to him. Exhaling through his nose, Light passed a hand over his eyes.
“What… do you mean?”
Something inside him was a little afraid to hear the answer.
There was a beat of silence. Light heard L smack his lips together softly before he answered.
“I miss when you loved me more than you hated me.”
The hand fell from his eyes as Light’s heart dropped, and his head hung forward. If he were sober, he would leave. Hell, maybe the weight of what L was saying could sober him up enough to make him leave, even now. Shaking his head, Light shifted to get off the couch but quickly realized that what his brain and his body wanted were two very different things. Instead of pushing himself up to stand, Light found himself downing the rest of his drink and the little voice in his head fell wonderfully silent. He gracelessly set his now-empty glass on the coffee table and crawled across the couch towards L, pushing the man’s bent leg down with only one goal in his quiet, hazy, mind.
“Light,” L started, but that was all he got out, because as soon as Light managed to squirm his way into L’s lap he kissed him.
And god, did it feel good.
Light faintly registered L’s glass shattering on the floor before two slender arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him closer. L kissed him back wetly, and as their mouths slid together Light’s arms snaked across the other’s shoulders. Fuck, he missed this so much. He missed kissing L so much.
The kiss, almost desperate at first, softened. Light didn’t know how much time passed as he sat in L’s lap, letting L’s hands gently roam his body with his own fingers curled and tugging tenderly at L’s dark, unruly, hair. Light’s head was blissfully empty except for one repeating mantra, and all he could do was pant softly when they finally pulled away from each other and let their foreheads rest together.
I love you, Light’s mind supplied, over and over again. I do. I love you.
“Light,” L started, pushing auburn hair away from his face. “We can be happy like this. That’s why I did it. This was the only way.”
Light turned his face into L’s cheek, the other man’s hand coming up to cradle his skull. That feeling was back, nagging at his heartstrings more urgently than before. This was the only way? No, that couldn’t be true – there had been something else.
“There was another way,” Light mumbled, embarrassed at how his words slurred together in his drunken upset. “I had a plan. And you agreed .” He shoved his hand into L’s chest, palm flat against him. L didn’t say anything back just yet, simply grabbed that hand and laced their fingers together, clutching it close.
“It wasn’t going to work, Light,” Came the hushed response.
Light’s head fell onto L’s shoulder and he pressed his forehead against the harsh bone of L’s clavicle, his eyes squeezing shut. “You didn’t trust me. You don’t trust me. I–” He was interrupted by his own warbled cry and left the last bit unspoken as he heaved dry sobs into L’s skin: I trusted you.
“I know.”
But what L knew, he didn’t specify. Light didn’t bother to try and puzzle it out, though – he was tired. His head hurt. And L’s hand in his hair was soothing him just so.
They fell asleep on the couch like that. It was the first night Light had spent outside a lonely, locked, room since they’d left Japan.
(three)
Working with L, there were no breaks from casework. The morning after solving the second one they’d taken on in that cabin, Light found his way into L’s office and was handed a thin folder with information on their next venture.
Still not leaving, then, Light thought, and he felt a twinge of satisfaction at that. Falling into his desk chair, Light thumbed the folder open to take a look at what they were dealing with next.
Ah, wonderful – a string of murders in Shikoku, Japan.
He let the folder fall shut almost immediately. “I’m not working on this.”
L blinked at him with blank, owlish eyes. “It’s what you’ve been assigned.”
Light pushed himself back out of his chair. “Assign me something else.” He let his face relax into feigned nonchalance as he left the room. Shikoku, Japan. He never even lived in that province, but it was still too close. Too close to home, where his family lived without him under the illusion that he was dead. Sometimes Light would lay awake in bed at night and wonder how they would have reacted when they heard the guilty verdict, forever condemning their perfect son and role model Light one and the same as the terrible monster Kira. In denial? Horrified? Disgusted?
Disappointed?
That might just be the worst possibility of all.
Leaving the office Light didn’t quite know where he was going, but he soon found himself slumped at the dining room table, chair angled outwards to allow him to look out the window, to look at the mountain ranges beyond.
No, he wouldn’t investigate a case in Japan. He wouldn’t allow L to taunt him like that, to rub it in his face that he had once killed there too, and that his family knew and likely hated him for it. No, he needed to keep as far away from those thoughts as possible – missing them hurt so much worse when Light acknowledged that they didn’t miss him back.
He wondered what they’d think now if they knew he was still alive. Would they think it cruel, what L had done? Would they think it unfair that the judge lied to them about his fate? Would they have preferred he get the death penalty instead? Advocated for it?
The only other option was a death sentence, Light-kun, L had said the morning after they’d arrived here. Don’t tell me that was preferred.
Light snarled into his lap, hand clenching into a fist on the table. He hadn’t answered L then, but if prompted again he would now.
Perhaps it was .
And then as if trying to make everything worse, a lump forced its way up Light’s throat. Light swallowed it back down. No. It’s fine. I’m fine. Attempting to steady himself with a deep breath, he forced himself to look up and relax. His fingers absently fiddled with the bracelet on his opposite wrist, as his eyes traced the outline of the mountains against the sky. The clouds in the background of the picture they painted looked dark, like it would storm that night. For a moment Light pictured himself standing on top of one of those peaks as a blizzard descended around him, swallowing him whole. Frost clawed up his limbs until finally tearing apart his chest and stopping his heart. The next morning when the sun rose the mountain peak would still be there, strong and unchanged; except for the frozen corpse of a fallen god staining the clean, white, slope.
The vision scattered at the sound of Light’s own personal storm padding through the house behind him, bare feet giving his position away. L stopped right behind Light’s chair and stood for a moment, simply just breathing behind him. Light tried to fight the urge to be agitated. But then, wiry fingers slid up his back, L’s palms pressing hard against the where his neck met his shoulders on either side, before beginning to knead at the muscles there.
It was almost…pleasant.
“Light-kun is feeling homesick,” L stated. It sounded like he was reading a piece of data off of a spreadsheet, so clearly the observed truth.
“I’m not,” Light responded, crossing his arms. He winced a little as L’s thumb dug into a particularly large knot in his neck, but as L rubbed it away Light began to relax into him without full realization of it.
“You miss your family,” L continued. Another statistic checked off the list. It was impressive, how unempathetic L could sound even when trying to talk to Light about his goddamned feelings .
“I don’t–” Light started, but L’s hands suddenly left his shoulders and pressed against Light’s mouth, effectively cutting him off.
“Don’t lie to me. It doesn’t accomplish anything.”
Light grabbed at L’s wrists and tugged them away. “And what does this accomplish?” He challenged. His hands then gripped at his knees, clawing at the corduroy fabric covering them. L’s hands, once released from Light’s grip, returned to rubbing his shoulders.
“Tell me your favorite dish of your mother’s,” L replied, so softly and simply. “What was your favorite thing to eat back home, Light?” His hands slid over Light’s biceps, squeezing his way down to Light’s elbows and then up again, where he returned to massaging the knots out of Light’s loosening frame.
“Why? So you can look up a recipe to butcher?” Light bit his lip as he finished, the knot in his throat fighting to make a return. No, stop–! He wouldn’t cry in front of L. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t .
L’s hands slid forward down Light’s chest, resting on his stomach, as he dropped his head to press his nose against Light’s cheek. “Trust me, please,” He breathed, nose rubbing against Light’s skin.
Light laughed bitterly. The man who left Light stranded on that mountain in the first place was asking Light to trust him, again? “You don’t deserve that from me.”
“I know.”
And Light had to squeeze his eyes shut then, tears threatening to leak through them. There he was, on that mountain peak, the blizzard threatening to finish what it started. To consume him. To kill him.
But now L was there too. L, standing outside a cabin – not unlike the one their physical bodies resided in now – with the door wide open, the lit fireplace casting golden warmth across the snow and tempting Light with safety from the storm. He held out a hand as the frost began its assault on Light’s chest.
Light took it, and found pressed between their palms a new key.
“She made the best gyudon ,” He murmured, trying to hide the sorrow seeping through his words, but failing. They just came out choked. He took a deep breath, gripping L’s hand tighter and imprinting the key into the skin of his palm as he took the first step toward him. Icicles rattled and broke off of his frozen legs. Light tried speaking again, with a whisper. “She made the best gyudon . I always liked when she made that,”
L nosed further into Light’s cheek, kissing the skin softly. Light took a step onto the porch and slid the key into the door’s lock, testing it though the door was still wide open.
It fit.
“Okay,” L breathed, then kissed him again before retreating.
As soon as he was sure L was gone, Light swiped a hand under his eyes, then got up to return to his bedroom. The cabin door was closing behind him, now, as the warmth of the room enveloped him. It’d only be a matter of time, now, before he’d know if that crackling fire signaled safety or execution.
Back in his room, he must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew was L gently shaking him awake by the shoulder and murmuring into his ear that dinner was ready. Light felt disoriented, groggy from his unplanned nap, but managed to push himself upright anyway and rubbed at an eye while L took his hand. He led them back to the dining room where, at the table, two bowls of steaming gyudon sat side by side and accompanied by a single, tall, candle. Beyond the table, through the window, it was snowing.
“You didn’t make this,” Light said, not quite an accusation but an observation made possible by the lack of dirty dishes in the kitchen. He looked over at L, whose hands were now hidden behind his back as his bare feet fidgeted on the floor.
“No, but I found a place that did and ordered takeout from there,” He obliged, eyes rolling to look over at the bowls. “I hope they’re up to standard.”
At the image of L looking so sheepish over dinner Light laughed, only allowed because he was still half-asleep, he told himself. Then he seated himself at the table and, picking up his chopsticks, looked back at L who hadn’t joined him yet. “Let’s find out?”
The corner of L’s lips slid up in a crooked smile as he took Light’s invitation, sitting next to him and tucking into the meal. They feasted together, warmth bubbling in Light’s stomach, as he savored his bowl. It tasted like home. It tasted safe.
“It was up to standard,” He admitted once finished, placing his palm onto the edge of his chair and leaning into it, towards L. “Thank you,” He added, almost in a whisper.
L set his chopsticks aside, his own bowl mostly empty except for a few stray slices of beef. His hands settled on top of his knees, set into their default position tucked against his chest. “You’re welcome,” He replied, turning to meet Light’s gaze. “Can I…”
Warm and full of good food, contentment settled deep in Light’s stomach. He leaned closer to the other man. “Can you what?”
L shifted to face Light further, legs sliding off his chair with elbows landing on his thighs. Leaning into them he came close to Light’s face, close enough that Light could almost feel his breath.
“Can I kiss you?” He breathed, but both of their eyes were already half-lidded and he met Light in the middle, pressing their lips together gently.
And for one moment, one tender moment lit up in candlelight after a meal that tasted like home, as a blizzard raged on around them but never touching them, Light let himself pretend everything was okay.
I love you , he thought, and he imagined that when he said it, L said it back to him and meant it.
(four)
Some days, Light’s hands would itch to write so badly it hurt. There had been something so soothing about the systematic way he used to kill. On particularly bad days he would lock himself up with the Death Note, writing names from the catalogs he’d built in neat little columns until the bad feelings went away.
But he didn’t have that method of escape anymore.
Now on the days where he’d get mad, whether it be at L, the world, or himself, he tried to simulate the feeling the best he could. He’d sit at his desk with the journal L had so graciously given him and write nonsense until the ink ran out of his pen. It didn’t always help; it was a sterilized version of the real thing. One day he’d written “L Lawliet” over and over and over and even thought about killing the older man with his bare hands when he knocked on Light’s door that evening, clearly not dead.
When he’d gone to open the door, L had presented him with two new pairs of nightclothes, saying something about how he knew Light disliked how his others fit. Annoyed at the twinge of affection Light felt at that, he had accepted the clothes and then promptly slammed the door in L’s face.
Today was another one of those bad days.
Light was sitting in L’s office, fingers twitching in his lap as he stared at the open evidence folders on the screen in front of him. He couldn’t focus. His mind was too busy.
Look at you. You went from a god to a housepet. How pathetic. All because you let him fool you. You were weak. You should have killed him when you had the chance.
“Are you alright?”
Light opened his eyes, unaware that he’d even squeezed them shut in the first place. He looked over to see L watching him, which wasn’t abnormal in itself, but the other man seemed worried – and that was abnormal.
Light turned away again. “What a ridiculous thing to ask.”
He raised his fingers to the keyboard, trying to focus enough to do some goddamn work before L got a chance to decide he was useless and sent him to the gallows. But that already fragile line of focus was interrupted when he heard L’s chair roll closer.
“I want to make this better for you,” He said. He watched Light’s hands as they hovered, indecisive. “How can I do that?”
Light’s hands fell back into his lap. How could L do that ? Well, for starters it would’ve been wonderful if he could’ve gotten Light’s Death Note back, then gotten out of the way so Light could finish what he started, but alas; what’s impossible remains impossible.
Light took a breath. Perhaps he should settle for something more achievable.
When they moved from place to place, that was the only time Light got to leave the house. But even then they only moved at night, and Light missed the sun. He glanced at the time on his screen – early afternoon.
“I want to go outside,” He stated, watching his hands as they smoothed over his jeans.
Next to him, L nodded.
“Okay.”
Soon they were bundled up for the cold, L working down the door unlocking all of the ridiculous locks he had in place, and then the door was open. Light stepped out into the crisp, Colorado air, and took a deep breath. He took another step off the front porch, into the snow, and a bit of sunlight cutting through the trees hit his face. It was so warm. So welcoming.
The snow, otherwise cast in shadow, was speckled with patches of sun shining through between the trees. Light found the biggest patch he could, just a few feet away from him, and trudged towards it, determined. When he arrived he yanked off his scarf, tilting his face upward, and smiled.
“You’re like a cat!” L called from the porch, and after a few thumps on the wooden deck Light heard him trying to make his way over through the snow.
Light hummed to himself, eyes still shut. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re practically a vampire.”
L settled next to him, mumbling something about the cold. Light heard him zip his jacket up further and stuff his hands into his pockets.
“I’m not a vampire, my skin just burns easily. Too much trouble to spend time outside,” He grumbled, feet shifting.
Light snorted. “Didn’t Watari ever tell you about sunscreen?” He let his eyes open, taking in the landscape around him. It was so beautiful there.
“Yes, but I don’t like how it feels on my skin. Again, it’s too much trouble to spend time outside.”
Light chuckled and looked over at the other man, who seemed absolutely miserable. L’s lip curled as snowflakes caught in his hair and he tried, unsuccessfully to wipe them out with a gloved hand.
“You should have grabbed a hat if you didn’t want snow in your hair,” Light laughed, tugging his own beanie off.
“I don’t want to wear that,” L complained. As Light tried to pull the beanie around L’s head, L tried just as hard to knock it away. Light took a step closer to get better leverage, but as his boot landed and slid instead of sticking he realized too late that he’d stepped onto a patch of ice. He tumbled into L with a yelp as both of their feet slipped out from underneath them, the snow cushioning them as they landed side by side. L tried unsuccessfully to choke back a laugh while Light pushed himself up onto his elbows and glared at him. “That was quite elegant, Light,” His voice was as unimpressed as ever, but his lips were quirked up in a smirk.
“It never would have happened if you would have just cooperated,” Light huffed, looking around for the beanie he’d lost somewhere along the way. He paused to blow some hair away from his eyes as L shifted and pulled something out from underneath him. It was the hat - covered in snow and clearly damp. L put the thumb of his free hand up to his lip as he examined it.
“It seems to be useless now,” He said, throwing it away from them. Light rolled his eyes in response and flopped back into the snow. It was a little cold without his hat, and he was a bit bitter now that neither of them could use it, but he was also still in the sun patch – which made it okay. He let his eyes slip shut again, simply content to bask in the sun’s glow. He thought, distantly, about how he’ll have to go back inside eventually, back into the enclosure, but he managed not to dwell on it for long. Right now, he wasn’t L’s captive. He wasn’t a fallen god. He wasn’t a complete and utter failure.
He was just Light.
Eventually, the cold started to bother him and they retreated back indoors. L seemed glad for it – as soon as Light even hinted that he was ready to go back he was already holding the front door open. Now, as it swung shut behind them and they stripped themselves of their layers in the front hallway, Light caught a glimpse of L’s corded arms working underneath his white long-sleeve while he tugged off his boots. Light felt his ears turn red and looked away, mind wandering to other scenarios in which he’d seen those arms…scenarios that would certainly warm them up from the outside chill.
But that just wasn’t how they were anymore. Things were much too complicated now.
A stone sunk in Light at that, tugging his mood down, down, down. As he hung up his jacket, about to excuse himself to his bedroom, L tucked up behind him.
“You’re already sad again,” L stated, bluntly, as he hooked his chin over Light’s shoulder. Light allowed himself to lean back into the older man since he was warm, and well, Light was still a bit cold from the snow. L’s hands settled on Light’s hips, the touch of his fingers feather-light.
“I don’t know how to remain happy here,” Light admitted quietly. If L was going to be blunt, so was he. “I’ve lost everything.”
L sighed deeply. Light focused on the way his chest expanded, then contracted, against his back. Like clockwork. Expand, contract. Expand, contract.
“That’s not true. You haven’t lost me,” L said, and he said it as if he was pointing something out that was as plain as day. And at that, it was Light’s turn to sigh.
“I lost you when you took my Note,” His voice came out bitter, more so than he’d intended. “When you went behind my back like that. That wasn’t part of the deal. Why did you do that?” L’s warmth was turning suffocating. He shook free of the other man’s grip and turned to face him. L met his eyes but only briefly.
“We couldn’t both win, Light,” L said, breaking their eye contact to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling. His throat was exposed – pale and delicate. Light wondered how difficult it would have been to strangle him right then and there. “If I took your compromise, how was I to know that you wouldn’t just get bored of it all one day and kill me? It would have been stupid of me to leave that possibility open. I know you understand that.” L dropped his head back down and in his eyes was a challenge. A dare. Oppose me, those eyes said. Tell me you don’t understand.
And the worst part about it all was, Light did understand. Their gamble would have never allowed for two winners and Light wanted to be victorious just as bad as L did. But then he’d developed a weakness. Those feelings . And he’d been stupid enough to think L shared those feelings towards him in return. And when he’d offered a truce, he thought L had wanted it too.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Light sneered. “I would have hated myself for it, but at least I could’ve gotten what I wanted. I let you live and you took away everything.” He went to shove L out of his way, ready to go sulk in his room like he did every day, but L gripped his wrist hard and didn’t let go. The words that came out of his mouth were venomous.
“Well then. Do you know what I should have done? I should have let them sentence you. The court wanted to put you on death row. But I didn’t let them. I fought for you, Light. I fought for you because I love you.”
“ Quit saying that! ” Light yanked his arm free and shoved at L as hard as he could, sending him stumbling backwards across the hall. Light stormed after him, his hands in trembling fists and desperate to fight. “You don’t! You don’t love me! You only started playing that game because you figured out that I did, that I–!”
No, Light stopped himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. No. Calm down. This is unproductive. But in the brief moment he was distracted, L took the opportunity to barrel into him, and in the seconds he was flying something snapped in Light and he saw red. He was slammed into the wall hard and his head knocked sharply against it. Formless black shapes taunted his vision as he tried desperately to blink them away. Half unseeing, Light dug his nails into L’s shoulders and shoved his knee up between L’s legs. The other man collapsed with a groan, the sudden drop of his body freeing Light from his place against the wall but almost pulling him down, too. Light barely caught himself on the opposite wall, the hallway being relatively thin, though his victory was short-lived as one of L’s long-fingered hands snatched at his ankle and yanked .
They both scrambled to get back up, shoving at one another, bruises blossoming like spring roses across their limbs as they fought. At some point Light managed to land a kick to the middle of L’s face, a satisfying crack meeting his ears as L yelped in pain. Light scrambled backward on his ass, trying desperately to find his footing while L was down, but he wasn’t fast enough. Too soon, L lunged at him once again with hands bloody from grasping at his surely broken nose. A hand snagged Light’s shoulder, and he bit the arm attached to it hard enough to feel skin break beneath his teeth. The arm yanked bank, but L’s other hand was clutching at Light’s shirt, yet by some stroke of luck Light managed just enough distance to stumble onto his feet and break into a sloppy run towards the door, still unlocked from their rendezvous into the snow.
I can be free of this if I can just make it to the door –!
But his luck had turned rotten a long time ago.
Just as he was reaching out for the doorknob, two heavy arms locked around his waist and tugged him away, their weight as heavy and terrifying as a death sentence. A scream ripped from Light’s throat and he thrashed in L’s arms as their steps faltered together, balance lost, towards the living room. Light reached behind him and fisted his hands into L’s hair, desperately yanking and tugging in every direction to try and disorient the man pressed behind him. They fumbled closer to the couch, and the glass coffee table placed innocently in front of it.
“Let me go!” Light shrieked. “Let me–”
And he’s not sure how it happened, but suddenly L dropped away from him and Light was falling, falling into something that was certainly not meant to support him. Shattering glass screeched in his ears as he crashed onto his side. His head slammed against the hard wood floor and, without a moment to process what the hell just happened, his vision flickered out.
He must have come to only a few moments later, because the first thing he saw as L shook him awake was that the other man was kneeling in broken glass.
“Light, Light! Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We got so carried away. Fuck,” L rambled, clearly panicked, as he pulled Light up and into his arms. Light groaned as L tucked him against his chest, one of his hands cradling the back of Light’s skull. His head pounded and his face was on fire with what felt like a thousand tiny papercuts sliced across his cheek. L kept him tight to his chest and rocked them back and forth, ever so slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Light. Fuck.”
He continued to mumble quietly into Light’s hair, apologies and promises to make it better and the like.
God, they were so bad for each other.
Light clutched at L’s shirt and buried himself impossibly closer into the other man’s chest.
(five)
There was a knock on Light’s bedroom door. Light winced, the sound a bit too loud, but set his book – that truthfully, he wasn’t even reading – aside anyway. “Come in.”
The door creaked open slowly, and through it came L with his tray of food for the third time that day. He’d insisted on taking care of Light while he recovered from his concussion. It wasn’t like there was anyone else who could help him out anyway, since Watari no longer hung around (for what reason Light wasn’t sure but could probably guess) but Light appreciated it anyways. And honestly, it was the least L could do for him, after all the bullshit he’d put Light through over the past few months.
“I think this one turned out better than yesterday’s,” L said as he set the tray next to Light. Light hummed and picked up the bowl of soup, balancing it in his lap. It certainly looked better than the one L had tried to make last night, so that was an improvement. He tried it as L settled on the bed next to him, drawing his knees up to his chest as per usual. It wasn’t horrible.
“It’s too salty. You seasoned it too early,” Light critiqued. “But yes, better than last night’s.”
L snorted beside him. “I didn’t know you were a food critic.”
“You need the criticism. You’re a bad cook.”
“Maybe you could teach me some things one of these days,” Came the response, and Light would almost say the other man sounded wistful.
He let that thought sit for a moment before responding. “Maybe.”
Light continued to eat in silence, stealing glances at L every once in a while. The room was kept dark to spare Light’s head the ache, the only light turned on being the lamp atop his bedside table. It washed the room in a warm glow, making the bruises splattered across L’s nose look deep red.
On anyone else, they would have been ugly.
The next time Light glanced over, L caught him, so Light cleared his throat awkwardly and busied himself with his meal. This is how they’d all gone, the past few days. Nobody seemed to have much to say.
“How are your knees?” Light tried. The silence was agonizing.
L tapped his fingers, currently resting on the knees in question. “They’re fine,” He responded. “And your cuts?”
“Fine,” Light parroted, running bandaged fingers across a larger wound dressing on his face. “Though my hands tend to sting in the shower. When I try to wash my hair.” He let his hand fall back onto the bed. His soup was almost gone.
“I could help you,” L offered quietly, and when Light looked over this time L wasn’t looking back. “But I don’t think you’d want that.”
No, Light thought. I want that very much.
The words didn’t pass his lips.
It wasn’t long before he finished what was left of his soup and placed it back on the tray. L dutifully picked it up, making to leave the room again – leave Light alone again – when suddenly he stopped.
“Light,” He said, turning back around. Their eyes met, and in the darkness it was difficult to read them, but Light would say L’s looked a little sad. “I would like to sit with you for a little while longer.”
This time, for once, it was easy to read between the lines: L was asking permission. He held L’s gaze for a little while longer, pondering, but deep down he already knew his answer.
“Okay,” He nodded, pushing the blankets up so L could climb beneath them, too. He did when he sat back down, silver tray abandoned on the side table, and pressed his legs to Light’s under the sheets. Almost on instinct, Light leaned into him, draping an arm across L’s lap as one of L’s came to rest across his shoulders. With his other hand, he tugged Light closer, gently adjusting them so that they were huddled together in the center of the bed.
Sometimes, it was so easy to believe that their relationship was simple. Right now was one of those moments, but not for long.
“Do you remember that day, when you’d found out what I’d done?” L whispered, forehead gently resting on the crown of Light’s head.
Light sighed. “I don’t think I could ever forget it.”
“You were so angry. Even more so than I had expected.”
“Well, I think I had good reason to be,” Light’s muscles tensed ever so slightly.
“You did.”
Those two words were the cutting of a string, and with that string Light relaxed again. Beside him, L sighed and shifted, turning his head to the side on top of Light’s and running a hand up and down Light’s arm, fingers ghosting over the skin.
“But we both know that if I had let you keep the Note, we wouldn’t have lasted. I couldn’t have kept you for long. You would have grown hungry again,” L continued. “You would have gotten bored.”
Light closed his eyes, turning his nose into the skin of L’s neck. Light knew, deep down…that what L was saying wasn’t true. And fuck , was it hard to admit – but he would have been happy. He would have been happy with both. And L…never believed that.
But he chose not to stray down that path. Not right now, at least. “And you didn’t think that I’d be bored like this?” He asked instead.
“I thought you would be bored.” L conceded, “But at least, like this, you couldn’t kill me. You couldn’t run. Or at least, I didn’t think you’d try.”
Light bit his lip, a lump rising in his throat. Fuck it. Maybe now was the time, after all. “I don’t understand what you want from me,” He whispered, voice shaky. Wasn’t he L’s prize? His captured killer? His human trophy? That’s why he took Light’s power, right? Even after everything? “I was willing to give up so much for you. But that wasn’t enough.”
A compromise – power, in the form of sharing L’s title, in return for giving up control of the Note. That’s what Light had offered. His lifeline, his weapon of choice, surrendered to the enemy under the condition that he could still use it to punish those guilty of the crimes they solved together. Equal power. They would agree on the method of death and Light couldn’t deviate. He would write supervised. But he would still get to cleanse the world, watered-down though the new strategy would be.
And L had agreed . Light handed over the Note, and he’d never been so happy to do so, because even though L would hold it ownership would still be his. He’d get to keep both of the things which he loved most: Kira and L. And that night when, pinned to L’s king-size bed Light told L he loved him, he’d meant it with all of his twisted little heart.
“I just want you with me,” L murmured, the answer to a question Light had almost forgotten he’d asked. “I don’t want you to leave.”
When Light had awoken the next morning, from a deep and dreamless sleep after L fucked him to exhaustion, he hadn’t even noticed the Death Note was gone. He’d felt strange, like there was a locked drawer in his mind that he couldn’t tug open, but he was sure it’d loosen up after some coffee. But then L had given him the strangest thing, a thin leather bracelet tied together with an adjustable knot, and told him to keep it. As soon as Light touched it the drawer unlocked, flying open and bursting with memories shoved inside. And Light screamed at L, demanding to know what he’d done and, he told Light he’d burned it, he’d burned Light’s Death Note along with the others, but not before slicing off a bit of leather from the cover too thin to write on, but substantial enough that Light could remember.
Light was wearing the bracelet now. He was wearing it always.
“It’s true that I wanted to win. That’s why…I turned you in. I wanted to win and I wanted you too, and I thought… ‘Well. I’m the world’s greatest detective, so I’ll be able to get what I want. Or else the world will lose me. And they won’t have that, so…” L trailed off with a shuddering breath, and as the utter resentment laced through L’s words echoed in Light’s brain, he noticed, just barely, that there was a wetness other than his own dropping onto his cheek. Looking up, deathly afraid to break the fragile picture of this moment – Light watched a tear fall from one of L’s open eyes, their gaze wide and lost in a world of their own.
Light held onto him tighter.
“I was able to convince them that this: no notebook, assisting me on cases…that this would be a more suitable punishment than death because every day you continued to live you’d be reminded that you lost ,” L continued, after a while. His voice was barely a whisper. “That’s what I told the courts, at least. I suppose I didn’t think that you’d actually feel that way. I just thought, well. I just thought you might be happy to be with me. I admit, it was a bit ridiculous of me to assume that the other details didn’t matter. But I thought they might not. Since you… loved me. And. You know. I love you too.”
I love you too, the words screamed at Light. Love, not loved – and that distinction rattled Light to the bone. He didn’t answer right away, afraid of the confession he wanted to make, afraid of admitting that maybe things could be okay . Instead, he buried himself closer to L and burned with this new knowledge, this knowledge that maybe L did love him. And that’s why he’d fucked things up so terribly.
And then there was another thought. A thought that should have been so horrible, so terrifying, but instead shined so brightly and so incredibly welcoming in front of him until it was all that Light could see, all that Light could think.
What if he just…forgot?
He let the thought linger.
“I’m tired,” He finally said, after a while. “Will you help me wash my hair?”
“Yes,” L breathed, and then kissed him before slipping away to draw a bath.
(six)
Winter was over.
Light stood on the front porch and basked in the sound of songbirds chirping in the early morning sun. A gentle ease draped over his bones, the feeling becoming more familiar by the day now that he was allowed to go out into the yard whenever he wanted, a gift granted to him after his concussion healed. He had to be supervised, of course, and naturally he took advantage of that whenever he could, dragging L outside as often as possible just to hear his little whines of complaint. Recently, though, he’d found himself doing it more out of affection than just to be mean. L’s complaints had become…almost endearing.
“Can we go in now?” Speak of the devil. L yawned beside him, pulling his robe tighter around his torso. “I want coffee. It’s early.”
“It’s what you get for keeping my door unlocked overnight,” Light scoffed, but playfully, reminiscent of how he’d climbed into L’s bed at the crack of dawn and tugged at the sleeping man’s hands that morning.
“The snowcaps are starting to melt,” He’d said. “I want to see. Let me out.”
And see them he did – patches of brown were speckled across the distant mountains, proof of their structure surviving another harsh winter.
The plant life, from here, looked dead now – but Light knew they’d turn green again soon.
L yawned again, jaw cracking with the force of it. “Light,” He deadpanned. “Coffee. Please.”
“Alright, alright,” Light obliged, finally turning away from the view and heading back inside. Past the threshold of the house, he exchanged his boots for his slippers and his coat for a robe similar to L’s. L shuffled past him into the kitchen, mugs and mixing spoons clinking together as he worked, while Light wandered into the living room and curled up on the couch.
A few minutes later, in trudged L with their drinks and he placed their mugs, one blue and one red, on the new coffee table. This one was thick, wooden – similar to the style of the oversized dining table that Light liked to sit at so much. L then settled into his own spot and fished up the TV remote, setting a morning news station as background noise to their coffee-drinking. This had become somewhat of a new morning routine since L quit locking Light’s door at night: meeting on the couch to drink coffee together, a mutual endeavor, as opposed to the “feeding-the-prisoner” type situation they’d had before.
Light liked this much better.
“I just want to clarify,” He started as he nursed his drink. “Once I give this up, we can live…normally?” He shook his left wrist as he spoke, the leather bracelet sliding out of place to reveal an older, faded, scar.
“Yes. The judge can hardly fault me for refusing to punish a man who’s innocent,” L nodded into his mug. And Light wasn’t quite sure that’s how the justice system worked, but with L, nearly anything was possible. “But more importantly…that’s the last surviving piece of the Death Notes. Once it’s gone…there’s no going back.”
“I know,” Light said. “It will be…strange, without my memories, but I’ve written everything down.” An image flashed behind Light’s eyes of his journal, open on the desk in his bedroom, pages filled with information. The story of Kira and L, recorded on paper, so that Light could read and remember. Perhaps he’d publish it one day, under the pseudonym of some serious historian. L, upon skimming through it, had commented on his style of writing, mentioning that it might be intriguing enough to do so. He’d even offered to co-author it as “the one with the correct memories.”
Light had punched him in the arm.
“It will be strange, but you’ll be a free man again.” L added as he finished off his coffee, placing his mug back onto the table. “And…I’ll be here to help you. I’ll still remember.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Light agreed, placing his own empty mug beside L’s and lying down across the sofa, cushioning his head in L’s lap. L’s hand came up to stroke through his hair almost immediately, and Light snorted at the domesticity of it all. “Look at me,” He gestured to himself. “Look at how far I’ve fallen. From a god to nothing, all because I had to go and fall in love with you, of all people.”
He reached a hand up to cradle L’s face, fingers tracing over L’s features reverently. Somehow, it was all okay. Somehow, they’d found a way to make it work.
L followed Light’s fingers with his lips, kissing the tips of them. It tickled a bit, and Light smiled. Basking in the smile L gave back, it was like basking in all the sunlight in the world. So warm, so comforting.
“All you’ve got to do now is give it up,” L murmured. “Whenever you’re ready.” He bent forward to kiss Light’s lips, and Light accepted him without hesitation. His fingers, swift and nimble, tugged the leather bracelet off his wrist as their lips parted and offered it to L. The last part of his life as Kira, as God, offered to the enemy. Freely.
L took it from Light’s open palm and, gently shifting Light’s head off of his lap, slid down the couch to lay beside him. Light watched the black leather disappear from his sight as L tucked it into a pocket of his robe. He then clicked the button shut, sealing the bracelet inside. Once he was done Light softly placed his hand overtop the same pocket; the shape of the bracelet pressed through.
“You’ll destroy it?” He whispered, the question laced with a hint of anxiety. “I’m going to…I’m going to say the words now. But you’ll destroy it later, right?” He bit his lip, worrying about all the ways L might forget about the little thing in his pocket, or worse, all the reasons he might choose to keep it. All the reasons he might decide it best to lie to Light again, to turn on him, to betray him –
“Do you want me to do it now?”
It was such a simple question.
But it was enough. Enough to push the anxiety away, to let Light know, when he looked back at L’s face, that breaking this agreement was completely off the table.
“Yes,” Light nodded. “I think I’d like that.”
And so L pulled them up, off the couch, and led Light to the fireplace across the room. Electric, of course, because why would L want to have to start the fire himself? Flipping the mechanic on, he tucked an arm around Light’s waist and pulled him in close. The flames burned warm, safe. Their eyes met as L clicked open the pocket on his robe, digging around in it before pulling out the remains of the notebook.
“Are you ready?” He asked, simply and quietly.
Light nodded.
And that was it. L flicked his hand towards the fire, and they both watched as the bracelet caught flame. After a moment Light felt a touch on his lip – L’s thumb, gently tapping at it while Light chewed on it without realizing.
“Focus here instead,” L murmured, as he guided Light’s lips to his and kissed him once more. It was a soft kiss, gentle, but long – and when Light pulled away for air, tucked away behind his pleasure was a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something.
He turned his face ever so slightly away from L and frowned. “Were we…talking about something important?” He asked, a light blush dusting over his cheeks.
L simply laughed. “Is kissing me that good?” He teased, using his hands to guide Light’s face back to his. “No. Nothing important. But I do have something to show you. It’s in your room.”
And later, once they’d thumbed through the pages of Light’s journal together, filling in the gaps of Light’s memory with the story he’d chosen to forget, L asked him a question.
“Are you angry?”
And Light thought for a moment, then twisted from where he sat beside L on the bed to straddle him. He let his forearms rest on the other man’s shoulders as he spoke, and let their foreheads touch.
“I’m not angry,” He said, taking care to notice how L’s heart beat against his. “I think, and something tells me this might be the first time I’ve felt this way in a while, but…I think that I’m happy.” He smiled a close-mouthed smile and shut his eyes. “I’m free.”
L kissed him then for a third time that morning, hard and desperate and deep. He clutched at Light’s shirt as Light kissed him back, just as desperately, just as deeply.
“Good,” L gasped, never retreating from Light’s lips for longer than he had to. “Good. I love you. We could publish that bit of your journal, you know.”
Light laughed and swatted L upside the head, a half-hearted punishment for separating their mouths for such a stupid thought (but paired beside such a lovely one) before diving back in.
“Shut up. I’ll think about it,” He said, needing to feel L’s lips on him as much as he needed to breathe. “I love you too. I love you too.”
(end)