He hears shuffling throughout the room, like several different pairs of feet are running towards him all at once. He must be in a bed, he realizes, because he can’t seem to feel the ground when he wiggles his toes.

“Big brother, big brother…!" 

Clover. His wonderful baby sister is sobbing endlessly beside him. He feels someone grab his hand, and that must be Clover, too, because the hand is too small and warm to be his mother or father’s.

He hears his mother’s voice in the room, too, feels her breath on his face as she leans over to touch him. 

"Light, y-you’re… you’re awake! Oh, it’s a miracle…”

“Mother… Clover…?”

Now everyone one in the room is sobbing, even his father, who at first seemed to be motionless at the foot of the bed.

“Don’t try to sit up just yet, we’ll help you if you need anything,” a stern, unknown voice instructs from across the room. “How are you feeling, Light?”

Light doesn’t understand the question. “Well… I’ve felt better, I guess…?”

There’s a soft, unexpected chuckle from the same person. “Indeed you have,” he says, and there are distinct noises of someone flipping through papers. “I know your family would like to spend some much-needed time with you, but I need to ask you some questions first, is that all right?”

“Where… am I?”

There’s an awkward silence in the room now, interrupted—thankfully—finally when Clover takes a particularly dramatic sniffle.

The unknown man clears his throat. “You are… well, you’re currently admitted in the hospital, young man. Tell me, do you remember anything at all about… the accident?”

Accident. The word sounds so innocent, like a simple mistake had been made; though something tells Light that, considering he’s in a hospital, that is far from the case.

“I’ll… take that as a no. Quite frankly, you’re… lucky to be alive.” The man rustles through more papers. “You’ve been in a coma for a little over a week, Light. We’ve done everything necessary to keep you alive, and… hopefully, comfortable.” The man clears his throat, but doesn’t continue for a good while. “You’ve had two surgeries since the car accident, and I need to talk to you about them. If that’s alright.”

Light doesn’t realize Clover is still holding his hand until he feels her squeeze it, ever so slightly. Her tiny fingers have become clammy now… maybe he’s squeezing her too tightly.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed your eyes are bandaged. I’m going to take off the bandage to check your healing, if that’s all right with you?”

Lights nods slowly, somewhat thankful that he can’t see the sad, scared faces of his family as they sit here with him; he can imagine his mother’s tear-stained face, his father’s calm disappointment, and Clover’s ridiculous little pout—the one she does when she’s trying to hold back from hysterics. He doesn’t know what else to expect, but unfortunately, no one is speaking anymore or doing anything at all. Everything is spinning, yet time feels like it’s stopped completely.

Why did everything feel so… wrong?

“Um…?” Light starts quietly, unsure. “Aren’t you going to take the bandage off?”

More silence. The room echoes with the quiet coldness of eyes boring into Light from all directions.

“The bandage is off,” the man says. “Try and open your eyes, Light. If you’re able to, please open them.”

A bit surprised, Light bites his lip, and slowly, successfully, opens his eyes.

And that, Light seems to recall, is the exact moment he realizes that his eyes aren’t actually working. He knows they’re open, but when he looks to his right where he knows Clover is sitting, he can’t see her. He knows she’s there, so why can’t he see her? 

Was this some sort of trick? Had they drugged him, taken his eyes?

There’s a certain amount of brightness that catches Light’s attention somehow, and a strange shadow in front of him before he can ponder it further. 

“Be still for me, I’d like to take a look at them,” the doctor says, and Light obeys. He doesn’t know what else to do—doesn’t know where else to look. Is he looking at all? The doctor still has the light in front of him when he asks, “Are you able to see anything?”

The horrible silence again. Even though he can’t see them, he knows everyone is staring at him, waiting. 

“No sir,” Light finally rasps, a horrible pain stuck in his throat. Maybe it’s obvious that he’s trying to appear brave in spite of himself, because he hears his mother let out a sudden sob beside Clover. 

“I see…” The doctor thankfully puts away the bright light. “To be honest, I was afraid the operation wasn’t going to be successful right away… I’m sorry. I’m sure this is all very hard to take in—”

“Is there more you can do for him?” his mother asks, more desperate than Light has ever heard her sound. “You mentioned before that if this surgery wasn’t successful…?”

“Yes, we could certainly try again to correct some of his vision. It would be a much more invasive procedure, but now that he is awake, we can know for sure what he can respond to…”

“So there’s still… hope… is what you’re saying?” his mother asks.

The doctor hesitates. “There is always hope, Mrs. Field. We can try, but that still doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“You said I’ve had two surgeries,” Light interrupts them suddenly, and everyone goes quiet again. “What was… the other one?”

If it wasn’t for Clover’s hand clamped so tightly against his own, Light might’ve had half a mind to think everyone had gotten up and left; the room was completely devoid of life. Apparently no one wanted to answer that question… a truly painful silence, trapping Light somewhere inside.

“L-Light, dear—”

“No, honey, it’s fine,” Light’s father finally speaks up His voice is drawn, a more inward kind of sadness. “Now that he’s awake, we need to tell him everything. He needs to know what happened.”

His father always talks like that, like Light isn’t in the room and can’t actually hear him speaking; for a minute, it’s almost comforting. Light feels like nothing has changed and he’s just at home, studying, while his parents banter about him in the background.

Light hears the doctor shuffle a moment, perhaps setting something down at his bedside. “I won’t keep you much longer, Light. You need to rest, and we need to run a few tests now that you’re awake. But to answer your question… I don’t know how else to tell you except to just… say it outright.”

Swallowing his fear, Light grips Clover’s hand tighter. He’s not alone. His little sister is always here beside him. 

“We did everything we could to save you and keep you stable enough to recover. However, your left arm was completely fractured, the bones crushed and in pieces… there was no way we could have saved it. It was too risky… I’m so sorry.”

Light couldn’t believe it. No. Everyone was lying to him, his parents, this doctor—it couldn’t be true, could it? His arm…? He tries to feel for it out of instinct, but Clover refuses to let go of his hand—apparently, the only hand remaining.

It can’t be real. 

“You’re a very brave boy. No one should have had to go through what you went through last week, but you can make sure that we will do everything in our power to help you recover, hmm?” The doctor’s tone is back to normal now. “We’ll talk more later, when you’ve had time to let everything sink in, but for now… spend some time with your family. I’ll send in a nurse shortly.”

Light feels something gripping at his bedsheets when the doctor’s footsteps get quieter and trail off in the other direction; he finally realizes that it’s just Clover, struggling desperately to pull herself up on the bed and lie beside him. When she’s finally successful, she throws her arms around him without a second thought. 

His mother gasps. “C-Clover, p-please, you can't—your brother needs—”

“Stay,” Light whispers, the only word he can think of. It hurts to speak. He can’t speak any further. He doesn’t know what to say, even if he could. 

But Clover knows. She always understands. She’s the smartest four-year-old Light has ever met.

Her voice inside his head has never been clearer—he can’t explain it, but sometimes he hears her thoughts as if they were his own. Right now, he knows she’s watching over him, and it’s the only thing truly keeping him sane.

I love you, Light, I love you, Light, I love you, I love you…

Light holds his little sister as tight as he can with one frail arm, and lets a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him.

That’s, really, all he remembers from that horrible day.

II. FAITH

Months had passed, but some things seem to never change.

It’s no surprise that Light can hear the sound of his mother’s crying getting closer in the distance; it finally echoes loudly through the hallway before she even makes it to his bedroom door.

“Light, please, you… you have to do something about your sister. She’s completely impossible right now… it’s getting worse.”

Light wishes he could tell his mother to come back later, but that would be insensitive, and he’s already avoided her for the past two hours by pretending to do homework for his newest session of homeschooling; he can’t escape now.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he says, curtly. “If she doesn’t want to talk, I can’t force her to.”

“But she listens to you, Light,” his mother insists. “She’s worships you! You know how much she adores you, and she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place if it wasn’t for your—”

She stops herself, but not soon enough; Light already knows what she was going to say, and it makes his pencil drop to the floor with a deafening crack. He doesn’t bother to try and search for it. 

If it wasn’t for your accident.

It’s true that Clover had taken the news worse than anyone the past several months. Life in the Field household hadn’t been pleasant for anyone, but Clover especially had developed a terrible form of survivor’s guilt from her brother’s tragic accident. The family had been coping, little by little, with the fact that Light was never going to see again; Light, in particular, had already made peace and accepted it quietly. He’d already had three operations to try and repair his vision since the accident, and each time the procedure failed, his faith diminished further until there was nothing left at all except the empty void behind his eyelids. 

He didn’t need anymore doctors to tell him because it was painfully obvious now. There was nothing more anyone could do for him.

But his little sister had taken it to a whole different level; she was traumatized in a way that even Light himself couldn’t comprehend. Thankfully, she hadn’t even been in the car when the accident had occurred (at least there was something Light could be thankful for), but it didn’t change the fact she’d been tremendously affected by it all the same—perhaps because of her love for Light, and maybe even more so that she was too young to truly understand how it was possible that her brother had been injured so badly while she was perfectly fine.

Well, no, she wasn’t fine. Not anymore.

She couldn’t accept that Light was blind and had apparently become fixated on the fact he would, in fact, never see again. It seemed to affect her far more than knowing he’d lost his left arm, too, maybe because his new prosthetic at least had given him back the illusion of something he’d lost. Clover suffered frequent, terrible nightmares, had stopped speaking altogether, and had even went so far as to hide in the darkness and, just last night, had blindfolded herself when their mother had come to drag her to the dinner table.

But above all, she’d even stopped talking to Light, and that was the most unusual of all, and quite possibly the biggest cause for concern. Perhaps that’s when their parents knew the worst had come.

Since then, Clover’s recent therapy at the hospital hadn’t helped her in the slightest, according to his mother, and if anything had made things even worse… for all of them.

“She told me today that if you couldn’t see, then she didn’t want to see either.” His mother’s voice is solemn now, unsure. “I-I-I don’t know what to do. Neither does your father.”

Light feels his lip tremble. “I-I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Clover’s well-being means more to him than anything, and yet… that’s all he can think of to say? That he’s sorry? “This is all my fault… she sees me complaining all the time, and I know I’ve had a lot of bad days lately—”

“No! That’s not—” His mother reaches forward to pull him into her arms so suddenly it’s almost startling. “Light, dear, nothing that his happened has ever been your fault! You’re the strongest person I know, and I promise you I didn’t mean it like that, I just… god, I’m so worried about you both. I feel like such a failure as your mother—and here I am trying to dump my problems onto you, even now…!”

The more upset she gets, the tighter she squeezes him. His mother is suffering too, he knows, in her own way. Even his father had been unsure of how to deal with Light’s blindness, let alone Clover’s isolation. Lately he’d been keeping his distance from them both. The accident had changed him, too. As the driver that day, he’d sustained injuries of his own… but nothing as major as what he’d watched his son suffer through.

“No, it’s… all right, Mother,” Light says, patting her back gently until she calms down. “I’ll… try. I’ll go talk to her.”

“Right now?” She beams. “Are you sure? Th-Thank you, do you need me to…?”

Light reaches for his cane before his mother can even try to help him stand, out of pure motherly instinct.

“I can go by myself,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so cold. “…I’m sorry. What I mean is… she’ll open up more if it’s just me.”

“All right, just…” She stops herself. “J-Just let me know. If you need me.”

Light knows she’s resisting the urge to help guide him to his bedroom door, even now. Light had already made it perfectly clear to everyone that he wanted to learn how to cope with his blindness on his own as much as possible. He knows he needs to learn to be self-sufficient if he has any intentions of getting through this. It’s been difficult for his mother to grasp, but Light knows she’s trying her hardest to honor that request.

Besides, Clover’s bedroom is only slightly down the hallway from his own and to the left. Light barely even needs his cane for such a short distance, but he takes it anyway, if anything, because of his mother’s paranoia he’d fall down and hurt himself further without it. She didn’t need anything else to worry about right now.

He can’t stand to hear her crying any longer. He has to do something, and he knows the entire foundation of his family depends on it.

Light knocks on Clover’s bedroom door slowly, hopefully not loud enough to startle her. “Clover. It’s me. Can I come in?”

There’s no answer, so Light knocks again, this time with his cane.

“I really want to talk to you, it’s… important. Okay? Please.”

Still no answer, but Light can definitely hear movement from inside. He knows that Clover can hear him, and is likely ready to open up to him any minute now.

He hears a small commotion from the other side of the door, and the smallest amount of a groan from Clover. Light isn’t sure what she’s doing in there, but clearly she’d just crashed into something.

“Ow,” she moans from the other side. “Big brother… I’m… I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry… I just…”

“Are you all right?” Light asks. “I’ve been really worried about you. I know you’ve been sad, and you’ve wanted to be alone, but… I really miss you.” He hears Clover start to cry. “Can I please come in and see you?”

“No.” Clover sniffs. “Because you… you can’t see me. Not anymore…”

Light finds himself smiling, despite the circumstances. His sister is far too clever for her own good. “Well, no, but… you know what I mean, silly. Please. Let me come in.”

Barely a second passes. Light hears the lock flip, and the doorknob turns ever-so-slightly at his fingertips. As soon as he hears the door creak open, Clover pulls him inside and shuts the door again quickly behind him.

“Are the lights off in here?” Light asks.

“Yeah…” Clover seems to have calmed down, if only a little. “I’m keeping it dark because… I don’t wanna see anymore…”

“Come here,” Light feels around until he finds one of her tiny hands, trembling at her side, and takes it into his own. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mm-hm,” is her only reply, muffled by tears.

“And I know you love me, too. But this isn’t helping… I need you to understand.” Light pulls her close against his chest, holding her tightly. “I need you now, more than ever…” He breaks out into a small sob of his own. “I want you to be my eyes, Clover. Please. I need you. So much…" 

Clover can barely speak through her tears. "Your… eyes…?”

“I want you to help me, and guide me… I can't—I can’t do this without you. You’re my eyes, Clover. Please…”

Clover falls to the floor crying, and Light follows suit, his knees too weak to hold either of them up. 

“I'm—I'm—so sorry—” Clover hiccups. “B-Big Brother—I—I—”

“Shh.” He pulls her closer, tracing her face until he feels the tear-soaked cloth wrapped snugly around her eyes. “Can I take this thing off you? Please?" 

Clover isn’t possibly able to answer at this point, so Light takes it upon himself to untie her makeshift blindfold and tosses it away. He wishes he could see her smiling face—the cheerful face he remembers, before the accident had taken it away from him. 

"I have something I want to try, but I need your help. I need you to guide me, with your thoughts. You can do that for me, right?” Light helps her stand to her feet. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Y-You mean…?”

“Yeah,” Light says, smiling. “I know you can do it. I’ve heard you talk to me before… you know, in my mind. Maybe sometimes even when you didn’t know you were doing it.”

Clover is silent for a minute, but something finally sparks inside her. “You can… you can hear me?” she asks, impressed. “In your mind…?”

“I’ll show you. Try to ask me a question—but don’t say it out loud—and see if I can answer it." 

"Um… well…” she’s fidgeting, and Light can feel the vibrations of it as she shuffles her feet against the carpet. “I can only do it… sometimes…”

“Try,” Light encourages her, warmly. He walks away a small distance, if only to give her space. He tries to concentrate. He clears his mind of everything except for Clover.

“Okay,” she says, “but I’m going to go turn the light on…”

He hears Clover trip over her toys at least twice on the way there, but she ultimately finds the light switch and takes a deep breath. She goes completely still and quiet, so quiet that Light can hardly focus on where she is.

And then he hears it.

What’s my favorite color?

“Pink,” Light answers aloud, without skipping a beat. He hears Clover gasp from across the room.

“H-How did you—!?” Clover is bouncing around, almost her normal self again. If Light had known this would have cheered her up so much, he would have let her onto his secret sooner.

“I think… we’re special, somehow,” Light says, and he feels Clover climb onto the bed to sit beside him. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not until we can figure it out some more.”

“A-Ask me a question, ask me—!” It’s hard to believe just a moment ago Clover was sobbing uncontrollably. “I wanna try, too…!”

“I… can’t right now.” Light frowns. “I-I don’t know why, but… I can’t seem to send my thoughts to you as easily as you can. I can hear you, but…”

“Well, we can practice!”

Light smiles serenely at her enthusiasm. “Yes. We’ll practice all the time, and we’ll get even better at it, won’t we? That’s why I need you to try and feel better, okay?”

“Okay.” Clover leans over to wrap her tiny arms around his waist, her face still wet from her earlier tears. “I’ll do it, I wanna help you!”

At the very least, he’d given Clover a purpose—something to help distract her from the pain.

“Let’s try it, then. Can you… help me get downstairs? Mother is waiting on us.”

“Downstairs?” Clover seems to be deep in thought. “Help you…?”

“Come on.” Light stands up and reaches out for her hand; he makes a show of throwing away his walking stick. “I don’t need this anymore. As long as we’re together, you can… guide me. With your special voice. Right?”

“Oh…!” Clover seems to understand now, and takes the hand he offers. “Let me… umm…” She’s concentrating again, Light can feel it. 

And just like that, for half a second, something flashes into his mind. It’s not a picture, but he can almost see the room as if he was Clover, just for a moment—indistinct, but enough to jolt him forward in the right direction. 

And then they try it.

Forward. Right. Hallway… stairs… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine steps… kitchen…

“Oh! Light… Clover!”

Their mother must drop everything she’s doing, because Light hears the clatter of plates against the counter when she sees them. She’s examining them closely, as if she’d seen a pair of ghosts. “You two…! Oh Clover, how are you feeling, baby girl? Come here!”

Clover lets go of Light’s hand and skips forward to her mother—Light can hear Clover’s footsteps disappear, and that must mean their mother has picked her up and scooped Clover protectively into her arms.

“Light, where is… your cane?” It’s his father’s voice this time, sitting at the table to his right. “How did you…?”

Smiling, Light reaches confidently for the nearest dining chair. He traces it, following Clover’s silent instruction, and manages to sit flawlessly in front of him. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Father. I don’t need it… I made it all the way down here without it.”

“What?” His mother sounds equally as worried as she is impressed. “You didn’t use it at all?”

“No, I had Clover with me. She’s really good at leading me, aren’t you, Clover?”

Clover jumps down from her mother’s arms. “Yep! From now on, I promise to help Light see. That’s okay, right, Mom?”

Their parents must have been speechless, because it goes silent in the room before anyone dares to speak again.

Clover giggles. “Mommy, are you crying?”

“U-Um, no, that’s… that’s wonderful, sweetheart,” their mother sniffs softly, relief somewhere in her voice before it breaks. “I’m just so happy to see you smiling again. And you too, Light. Oh, you both have such… beautiful smiles…”

But Light already knows that. He’s already promised himself that he’ll never forget his sister’s smile, no matter how many years pass. If there’s one thing he holds onto, it’ll be that one solitary thing. 

And Clover will help him with the rest.

III. LOVE

“Alright, big bro. Prepare yourself.” Clover stands deviously, confidence ever-present in her piping voice. “I’ve single-handedly picked out the most amazing outfit for your special date tonight—!”

Light acknowledges her with a tiny smile, but doesn’t react any further until he absolutely has to.

This most certainly isn’t going to end well, and there’s really no point in pretending otherwise. Though Clover’s interest in his affairs is decidedly amusing at times, it’s also a bit embarrassing. She’s always been the one excited for his “dates”… truly, even more so than Light himself.

Not only that, but whatever Clover has “single-handedly” picked out for him is unfortunately something that Light knows he’ll never see the price-tags of; Light’s heart sinks at the thought of her spending what little money she has accrued from her allowance on him. She’s done this ever since they were small children, and Light can’t understand why it means so much to her to “spoil him,” as she so eloquently names it.

They’ve been through this so many times before, and Light fears he’s only going to sound like a broken record before he even begins. 

“Clover… you… you didn’t have to go through the trouble of buying me a new outfit, you know. You’ve already bought me so many nice things I could have worn tonight instead.” He gets the succinct feeling that she isn’t even listening, because he can hear her prancing through the room, humming, gleefully sorting through her shopping bags. “Surely one of my old suits will suffice…”

“No, no, tonight is special! Don’t you understand how important it is to dress to impress?!”

“So you say.” Light shakes his head, unable to keep back the smile forming at the corners of his lips; despite all his griping, ultimately, his sister’s happiness is too contagious for words. And she knows it. “For all I know, you’ve been dressing me from head to toe in fluorescent pink each time I consult you with the task of my wardrobe." 

Clover scoffs in amusement. "Trust me, the thought has crossed my mind a couple times…” She skips forward, and Light feels her tugging at his hands. “But this is a date! You haven’t been on a real date in forever!”

Each time Clover says “date,” Light’s chest tightens a little more.

“Oh, thank you for the reminder, I haven’t spent even a moment of my time today worrying about that, I assure you.” He exhales. “Unless what you bought me is going to turn me into a literal prince until the clock strikes midnight, I highly doubt it’s going to change the fact that I’m a nervous wreck right now, Clover.”

“Well, that’s exactly what this outfit is gonna do!” If Light didn’t know Clover so well, he might have mistaken her blind optimism for blatant sarcasm. 

“If you must know…” Light allows his brows to furrow, plainly, in dissatisfaction. “I plan on butchering this ‘date’ from start to finish, regardless of what I’m wearing.”

“Don’t be like that,” Clover begs, almost pitifully; why Light’s relationship status (or preferred lack thereof) means so much to her, he’ll never know. “Ugh, seriously though, I found the best stuff… pretty please try it on? It’s getting late… you have to get dressed ASAP!” She puts particular emphasis on those four single letters, as if they’d save him. “Come on, I hung the clothes on the door for you! But I want you to feel them out first, okay?”

Light acquiesces soon enough. “Fine, I suppose I’m at your mercy…” He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Well, if I’m going to butcher anything, I might as well do it in style.”

“That’s the spirit!”

As Clover leads him straight to the clothes in question, Light can’t help but reminisce; in truth, Clover has been playing dress-up with him ever since she was a little girl, even before he’d lost his sight and Clover was barely old enough to even pick out her own clothes, let alone his. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the passion would grow even further the more she aged, like any young teenage girl would, and she’d focus her sights so heavily on fashion. The past year in particular had sparked a particular, new kind of interest in make-up, or at least what he understood from the more recent conversations he’d overheard between Clover and their mother.

“You’re only fifteen, dear! I wish you wouldn’t wear so much make-up… and you have so many clothes!”

“But I look good, mo~om!”

How he wishes he could see his sister’s apparent flair for the aesthetics all for himself! He tries not to think about how he’s truly been robbed of watching her grow up into the young woman she is now, clearly no longer the tiny child he remembers seeing all those years ago. Perhaps it’s his bias as her big brother, but he still can’t imagine Clover being anything but the most adorable little creature on the planet.

And though Light trusts her completely, he can only imagine that she truly does have a talent for picking out suitable clothes for him, at least, because their mother always seems pleased to see him dressed up when Clover arranges an outfit for him. He can’t imagine his own mother letting him leave the house in something completely unbefitting of him— on the flip side of things, she stops Clover nearly every time she leaves the house for “dress code violations” of her own.

When he finally reaches the new outfit hung delicately on the door, he starts with the top. His fingertips collide with something soft, but not quite thin enough to be a shirt; perhaps it’s an overcoat, or a blazer. 

“What color is this?” he asks with piqued interest. “And you’d better not say pink.”

“It’s black! I wasn’t sure what color your date would be wearing, but… you can’t go wrong with black, right?”

“I suppose. And this underneath… is this a vest of some sort?”

“Mm-hmm,” Clover coos beside him, enjoying herself. “Also black.”

“Two rows of buttons,” Light continues his commentary, “and I can only assume the cuff-links on this jacket are the same.”

“You’re so good at this!” Clover beams. “And of course the pants match the overcoat. I’m saving the best part for last, so you should hurry and change! The symphony starts in less than an hour, you know!”

“I know, I know, I haven’t forgotten. I suppose I’m just… nervous.”

“Don’t be, you’re going to look amazing! Trust me!”

By the time Clover manages to shove the clothes at him and push him into the bathroom to change, Light’s uncertainty had already started to grab hold of him. No, he couldn’t think like that… not after Clover went out of her way to pick these things out for him tonight. He’s going to look amazing. No matter what, he trusts his sister’s instinct over all else. She wouldn’t let him make a fool of himself in an outfit he had absolutely no chance of feeling comfortable in.

If Clover insists on it being perfection, then it must be true.

After putting on his dress shirt, he’d already grown tired of it because of all the buttons; why these fancy suits have so many damned buttons, he’ll never know—but once he gets the vest on, too, everything does, indeed, start to feel… perfect. And once he finishes with the overcoat, Light is positive he’s ready to face his sister for inspection. 

“You had better not laugh if I look ridiculous,” he warns her through the door. “And I hope I’m not going to be terribly overdressed…”

“Oh, just come out, already! I wanna see, I wanna see!”

Letting out a quick sigh, Light opens the door and steps forward in one swift movement. He isn’t sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse that he’s blind and can’t see her reaction in this moment—the suspense is already driving him mad beyond words.

But thankfully he can hear it:  the way she lets out a nearly-silent gasp, the clap of her hands as they collide together in triumph, her feet bouncing against the carpet. 

“Light, you’re so freaking handsome! Omigod! If you dressed like this every day, you’d be breaking hearts left and right!” Clover giggles contentedly as she picks at him, smoothing out any wrinkles, making sure he hadn’t missed any buttons. “Seriously, you’d be getting dates every single day!”

“That would be exhausting,” he teases her, flinching when he feels her fidgeting with his collar. “What on earth are you doing to me? I remember Mother fussing over me like this as a child, when we went to funerals and weddings, and—”

“I’m just adding the finishing touch! Bend down some, you’re so tall!” Clover bats his hand away when he tries to feel what she’s doing. “And you can’t touch it until I’m finished. I want it to be a surprise.”

“I assure you this is all a surprise to me, dear sister,” he quips, frowning. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you buying all these things for me.”

“Well, just be happy. Besides, if it makes you feel better… Mom helped chip in, too. She’s excited you’re getting out of the house for once and that it isn’t me forcing you to.”

“Is she now?” Light says, but it’s not so much a question as it’s a mumble of annoyance. He loves his mother dearly, but she’s almost more meddlesome than Clover when it comes to his social life…

“Okay, there!” Clover says, jumping back to give him some space. She’s clearly ready for him to investigate it for himself.

Light hesitantly reaches up to feel at his collar; instead of blank space, there are two triangular flaps that meet in the middle now, connected.

“Is this a… bowtie?” He laughs. “My, you really are having fun with this, aren’t you?”

Clover giggles at that, but Light can hear the way her voice suddenly fades into something more serious.

“It, um… it matches your eyes.”

Light goes still, and perhaps on instinct, looks down and blinks open his eyes as if he could see it for himself. The sentiment is more than enough, however, because he can feel Clover press up from behind and wrap him into a tight hug. He can feel the warmth of her face against the hollow of his back. He allows himself to relax completely in her embrace.

Of course. His sister always has his back. Often quite literally. Why should he be worried?

And then Clover’s small, telepathic voice interrupts his thoughts completely.

I love you so much. Please have fun tonight. Please? You… you deserve it. It would mean the whole world to me. O-Okay?

Light fears that if he so much as breathes, the moment will be forever ruined, so he holds his breath and focuses on the little things. Hope. Clover’s heartbeat, resonating with his own. Faith. The sound her eyelashes make when they flick open-and-shut. Love. The unbreakable bond they share as siblings who, sometimes, have little else in common than mere genes and a lifetime of memories together. And luck—the tiniest, most insignificant ways she finds to motivate Light into seeing the beauty of a world he can no longer see for himself.

And Light realizes he appreciates these things more and more every day, if only because of Clover’s incessant prodding. 

“Thank you, Clover,” he says quietly, when Clover finally lets go and leads him to his desk chair. “…For everything. You realize I don’t know what I’d ever do without you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Well, for starters, I certainly wouldn’t look this good, now would I?”

Clover snickers behind her hand—Light can hear it muffled—until they both break out into a small cacophony of laughter. He lives for these moments.

“You’re so full of it, you know,” Clover teases. “Now sit down, I have to do something quick about your hair. Thankfully, yours is just as unmanageable as mine, so all your fluffy tangles are just gonna look natural, which is good because I think it’ll look nice when we run a comb through it, because I really can’t imagine slicking it back or something, and obviously your hair is too short to tie back into a ponytail, and—”

She rattles on, and Light has a hard time keeping up with her beauty tips when she gets like this… but this is the Clover he prefers. The carefree, unfiltered soul that has seen tragedy after tragedy and still yet has the courage to smile. Clover is always teaching him about love—what family means. 

Every time he hears her laughter, Light promises himself that he’ll protect her until his dying breath. He’ll make sure she stays safe forever, if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Clover’s rant is rudely interrupted by the doorbell, and Light goes stiff; he’s positive that Clover can feel him tense at the sudden noise, and the terrifying realization of what was to come next. He waits a beat before reacting to it.

“Did you order a pizza?” Light asks hopefully. “Invite some friends over, perhaps?”

“Nope,” Clover says, no doubt a devious grin on her innocent little face. She has to practically lift Light to his feet to motivate him further. “Well, go get 'em, killer.”

“Ugh…” Light straightens himself out before burying his face in his hands. “Well, I must admit, there is something about this suit that makes me feel surprisingly confident. Let’s hope it lasts.”

“Well, it will, unless later tonight you plan on taking the suit off…”

“All right, all right, that’s enough of that talk,” Light cuts her off, quite aware of the light layer of pink now dusting his cheeks; there’s no way he can answer the door blushing. To make matters worse, Clover’s suggestive giggling doesn’t stop until Light makes it halfway down the hallway and to the front door.

Of course he can hear her tip-toeing ever-so-closely to spy on him as he opens the door and halfway steps outside; knowing Clover, she probably wants to hear the exact reaction to the suit she’d put so much work into, so Light allows her to eavesdrop, just this once.

“Good evening.”

“Light, oh, you look… w-wow, you look... amazing.” Clover can surely hear Light’s date stutter, and there’s nothing in his voice to suggest that his reaction is anything if not genuine. "How in the world did you know I’d be wearing a bowtie, too? This is too perfect.“

Intuition! a familiar voice echoes in Light’s mind, so well-timed that Light almost wishes he’d thought of the answer himself. And tell him it matches your eyes! It’s sooo romantic!

"Intuition, I suppose,” Light answers, on script, and Clover swears she sees Light glance back inside the house for a moment before slowly closing the door behind him with a knowing smile. “M-My sister tells me it, ah… matches my eyes.”

Clover grins in triumph, if only because Light’s date is momentarily speechless. Her brother is so ridiculously charming that she’s surprised the poor guy hasn’t fainted yet.

Bullseye.

IV. LUCK

“I hope Mom and Dad make it to the airport okay… I really wanted to see them off.” Clover is kicking her feet against the bottom of the couch, a combination of both nerves and habit. “I can’t believe they’re going on vacation without us!”

“It’s not a vacation, Clover,” Light corrects her, taking a seat beside her, book in hand. “Father was called away for business, and Mother is simply going to assist him for moral support. You know how he gets on such short notice like this. Mother makes a good secretary for him, at the very least.”

“I know, I know,” she says, sing-song. “Still…”

“Well, at least we get to spend time together, just the two of us. It’ll be just like old times, when we were kids, no?” Light’s smile suddenly darkens into something more severe. “Though I still can’t imagine why our parents left me in charge back then…”

“Ahaha!” Clover slaps her hand quickly over her mouth before she can laugh further. “O-Oh come on, don’t tell me you still hold a grudge for all that…!”

“A grudge?” Light tries his best to sound terse. “Clover, you colored all over the walls—and me—with your art supplies, all under my watch! I was completely mortified when they came home to find our house a complete nightmare!” He narrows his eyes. “Not that I would have ever known, of course.”

Clover holds her stomach in pain as she continues her laughing fit. “N-No…. aha… ha… s-stop—!”

“I suppose in that moment they completely forgot I was blind and couldn’t possibly  have known what you were up to, because I truly thought Mother was going to punish me even worse than you that night!”

“I-I’m… ahaha… so sorry! I don’t… ahahaha…! Know why it’s so funny… hahahaha… even now!”

“Clearly you find some amusement in besmirching my honor, because if it wasn’t for the fact that you finally fessed up, I would have forever been painted the culprit that night… literally.”

“I didn’t mean to spill the paint all over you when you were asleep!” Clover defends, hysterical. “You were just there! And then once I spilled the paint, I figured I might as well make you into a pretty picture… pffttt… pbbt… ahahaha—" 

"Clearly, looking after children isn’t my strong suit… I’d be an absolutely terrible father!” Light can’t hold back his own laughter any longer. “Well, in any case, I beg you to kindly never play that kind of prank on me ever again, thank you very much.” He crosses his arms. “I don’t think our parents would ever forgive me, if something like that were to happen again." 

He expects some sort of witty remark from his sister, or even more cackling, but for some reason, Clover falls silent.

"Clover?” he asks, confused. He reaches forward to feel for her spot on the couch, where he knows she was just sitting only moments ago, but his hands grasp empty air; the seat is still warm, however, from where he knew Clover’s form to be. “Clover, wh-when did you leave? I didn’t even—”

He hadn’t even heard her footsteps. How… strange. 

Light prided himself in observing his surroundings in vivid detail, most importantly by hearing things, then feeling them—usually vibrations always accompany footsteps, too, in a house. But he hadn’t felt a thing.

Of course, Clover knew this about him, and at some point in her childhood, had even found ways to outsmart him—hide from him, even. She knew his weaknesses, his strengths…

Was this some sort of game? A prank, perhaps, considering their last conversation had been about just that…?  

“Clover, if this is some sort of joke, I don’t find it the least bit funny—”

And that’s when Light’s final remaining sense kicks in, and he hates himself for not noticing it sooner. That smell... 

He feels himself get light and airy, his knees trembling beneath him as he tries to stand. He covers his mouth as best he can, in hopes that whatever is affecting his neurological state, he’ll be able to escape from it before his brain succumbs to it completely.

Light isn’t sure how long he can hold his breath like this, but if he could only find the front door…!

If he were able to see at this moment, he’s positive his vision would be blurred and impossible to use anyway. His fingers feel numb when he reaches out to procure a path around him; still, he knows what room he’s in, and the doorway isn’t far.

No, wait, he has to find Clover first—!

His mind grows increasingly hazy. Was she still in this room, too?! Had someone taken her? Had she inhaled this gas, just like him, and fallen? Light tries to turn and feel for the floor, but before he can investigate further, he drops involuntarily to his knees in the other direction. 

He no longer has the control needed to stand… no… if only he… could…!

Finally, that’s when he feels it. A subtle vibration on the floor. He knows for a fact he’s not alone right now. There’s someone else in the room…! To make it worse, the footsteps aren’t Clover’s; he knows hers too well to mistake them, even at a time like this.

This was just like the time… all those years ago… no, it—it couldn’t be…

Light is able to lift his head, only a little, from the ground. There’s definitely someone standing over him. Not alone… someone…

“Wh-” He gasps for the air he knows he shouldn’t be breathing in. “Wh-wh…are you…?!”

Light supports himself enough to manage a feeble crawl forward, colliding with something that doesn’t even bother to evade his grab. Light makes contact with something long and thin—a robe, maybe—that doesn’t cover the person’s feet. They’re as still as stone when Light attempts to crawl even higher, clawing at the person’s lower leg, almost to the knee, and then finally—

They don’t even have to touch him. He falls all on his own, unceremoniously, back to the floor with a loud thud. Before Light loses consciousness completely, he feels himself being carried away, somewhere painfully unknown. He tries to smell for Clover’s scent, listen for her voice, but…

The last thing he hears is the muffled, distinctive breathing of someone masked and untouchable: