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L regarded him then, he thought, like something inhuman. Not correctly, in the sense that he was - not in seeing how he rose, elevated above common folk by the emergent godhood he grasped so firmly he may as well be crushing the windpipe of the word- but, rather, with a horrifying familiarity . Like he was refusing to break eye contact and whispering only half-mockingly in the line between their pupils and irises that we- we both, now, Light- really are not quite people . So maybe it was his hands, bound awkwardly behind him, or maybe the way the suffocating headphones forced his mind to replace silence with the illusion of static- but the unblinking, omniscient, hungry look L faced him with brought a worse unease than he’d ever felt with the bastard detective before. There was a storm churning inside him. Under the perfectly calm and placid face. All throughout every muscle and tendon and vein and tiny pore in bone marrow; in every part of him. L’s simple, blunt gaze set it all about in ravenous fire.
Light wanted to… grab ahold of him, by the neck. He wanted to pounce like the animalistic thing L imagined them both to be and tear his throat out between his teeth. He wanted to watch him struggle to keep that gaze on him while blood wept down his skin to pool a halo around his head, and he wanted to lean in very close, so that their noses were past touching and all they could breathe was the other’s exhaled breath, and in being so close to his lips and leaning still further forward he really wanted to ki-
Kill. That's all he was going to end it with.
The plan will stop any stray nonsense like that . Those... strange, unfamiliar intrusions. It was almost in motion now. There would be no more of that, with any luck, once he was unaware of their game whatsoever.
Light looked away first. This was supposed to look like L had the upper hand, after all; anything less would be giving the game away.
That would be reserved for his throat between his teeth.
The red light on the camera fixed to the corner of his cell blinked at him like L never did.
Did he miss it? He hated the way his gut almost willed him to concede to that. Light knew he was being watched now. Was he ever not? He couldn’t possibly imagine that L would ever turn his gaze away; not now, not so close to the cusp of winning. He could almost picture him, hunched over, eyes still staring, looking for what he was so sure he could find, unmoving and unmoved, watching, always watching, and knowing everything- apart from the best bits. Understanding enough to see Light. The idea of it made him light-headed. He was sure that was normal, between mortal enemies.
He looked back up at the lens as if he could read the detective’s strange, almost fascinating face through it, forcing his own eyes heavy with mock exhaustion. Really, he’d never felt more awake, despite the absence of caffeine or sleep, since being in this square little cell. A plan almost at fruition was stronger than any drug.
“It’s only been a week, Light. Are you doing alright?”
L didn’t use a voice changer over the speaker, his mocking tone practically visible, oozing from every syllable. But… a week. A whole week. Rem had to have chosen someone by now. He had chosen this confinement very specifically with her terms in mind, with her promise allowing him a perfect time frame in which he would be released. There are no deaths right now- or, maybe, L is hiding them in hopes I‘ll crack. Either way, it was of no importance to him. This simple confinement was no more painful than any other of the tests only he and L knew were meant for such a thing- he was fairly certain he would keep his composure even after he no longer remembered the notebook. Ensuring he wouldn’t be released early in case of the contrary was mostly just a failsafe, to be honest. He was utterly calm inside. Misa was safe, declawed and hidden away. His heart rate was steady. L was watching, watching, watching, and maybe even seeing him.
“Yeah, I know I must look pretty bad in here…” He practically whimpered, struggling to hold back a laugh at the incongruous sound of it compared to mind, “But, this useless pride… I’ll have to get rid of it.”
In tilting his head to the side in a mimicry of something like dejection he saw Ryuk untwist and begin phasing out of the wall. He stared back ahead.
You were right, L. I really am Kira. Too bad. It’s a shame I won’t get to see you for long again… but... what am I doing here? Light blinked. Heavily, and then again and again and again, dragging his eyelids shut in quick succession. He wanted to rub his eyes, but all pulling his hand up achieved was digging it sharply into the uncomfortably sharp edges of the handcuffs, on the same spot he already had a red ring of healed and re-agitated skin from where he strained it against the metal before. His heart raced like he’d only just reached the conclusion.
The abject emptiness of the cell clawed at him even heavier than it had done and he sat up straighter, breathing throatily and shallowly and hyperventilating, finding the awful composure that he’d struggled so painfully and difficultly to keep wrapped tight about him falling finally off and onto the floor where he couldn’t pick it back up again; Light blinked firmly yet again, a wave of nausea spreading over every limb. Damn it, Ryuuzaki- what- how-
He vaguely felt words slip out of his lips, internally cursing for not keeping his silence and saying random panicked words that probably incriminated himself even though he couldn’t possibly say anything like that. Sweat pooled in the palms of his hands. His past train of thought had gotten lost somewhere and he grasped internally for it, but it was well and truly lost now. Damn.
Looking firmly at the lens of the camera and wishing he could just see the detective’s expression as he responded, Light raced all the facts around his head- the notion that no criminals had been killed- there was no way… it wasn’t possible that he could ever be Kira. It just didn’t make any sense, and the way Ryuuzaki treated it like it did was incomprehensible.
He wanted Ryuuzaki to realise he was wrong. He wanted to get out from under the magnifying glass of that man and get as far away from him as possible, really. He wanted to know if there was even a timeframe he was being held for and he wanted to know if there was possibly a reason Ryuuzaki would release him at all, and he wanted to stop feeling so tired, even now barely keeping his eyes open-
Ryuuzaki regarded him then, he thought, like something so pitifully human he ought to already be dead. His hand hesitating to move closer, rattling the handcuff chain when he pulled away. His eyes constantly searching, trying to hold Light’s own but falling away when he returned it as best he could in turn. He almost thought he was looking for recognition. Ridiculous . Light knew him. Of course he did, and he asked every time what the matter was, and Ryuuzaki always responded that nothing was wrong at all . He always found himself under the desperate eyes of a stranger. Their minds worked as one, sure, but the way Ryuuzaki stared and stared and stared could only give Light the impression that he was something utterly inhuman seeking its lost companion.
He wouldn’t be that partner. He didn’t know why Ryuuzaki would ever look at him for that anyway.
It wasn’t like he‘d ever met that look.