thinking about what was going through L’s mind as he lay in bed, the same night that light and him were in the helicopter.
after insisting at every turn that the brilliant teenage boy smiling before him had to be kira, was — no, is forever kira, he finally can look into light’s eyes and see what he always knew was there.
a murderer, a sociopath, a villain, a liar. yes, everything has gone to plan. light is kira; kira is light.
the boy he has spent the last few months monitoring, mapping, and mythologizing, is kira.
kira is the boy who has watched L type genius nonsense on his computer in the dark, shared a fourth of the key lime tart that watari served after misa and matsuda returned alive, listened to L babble 19th century french poetry when progress had slowed to an unbearable crawl.
yes, light is all that and a million other dirty things, packed tight and wound up in the shape of a classical greek statue, an eighteen year old boy, japan’s top student.
that thought should bring him joy. satisfaction. relief, even, that his deductions would never miss their mark. and it does. elation lights L up on the inside, or perhaps on the outside going in, like being doused in water and feeling it sink into his bones.
it’s wonderful, it’s horrible; he didn’t know warmth could feel so cold.
because at the quite literal end of the day, this is what he’s been chasing, isn’t it? his culprit, his criminal, his killer.
so why, when sharing a bed with him, inches from his skin and from exposing the truth, does L want to see light within those eyes again?
he reminds himself its ridiculous. they aren’t separate entities, like a parasite and its host. rather, one incorrigible unit, a package deal, something he signed up for at the start. a plant with rot already spreading through its roots that L simply had to deliver back into the soil.
he’s never really had a green thumb, anyways.
gnawing on his nail, L rolls over in their bed, observing the light-shaped god slumbering in total darkness. kira is so pale that his skin brightens the night. his breathing shakes the earth and breaks waves beneath L’s skin.
so the world’s greatest detective decides to shift a little closer. and recites heart attack symptoms in his head until he falls asleep.
