#mgcmind

"Mr. Lawliet, unbelievably, and with all the shame of a harlot in a brothel, bends down on one knee at Light’s feet. His lips break into a full grin and he takes Light’s right hand in both of his. “Will you do me the honor of allowing me to pursue your time, your grace, and your affection?”

It is the same question that has been asked by lowborn men of lowborn women throughout history. It is unthinkable, almost sacrilegious, for a man of Mr. Lawliet’s status to speak the words, especially toward someone as lowborn as Light Yagami. Several people in their immediate vicinity have taken note, and are staring at the scene with shocked expressions. It is almost guaranteed that they don’t know Mr. Lawliet personally, but his clothes and his polished accent give away the fact that he is upper-classed. And of course everyone here knows that Light certainly is not.

Mr. Lawliet continues, his grin growing impossibly larger. “Or perhaps Light would rather skip all the conversation and travel and simply take me at my money’s worth.”      

That was definitely not part of the traditional script. Sayu giggles, Mother laughs quietly behind her hand, and even Father huffs in amusement.

The realization comes upon L slowly, which is unusual for him, as most realizations slam into his mind hard and fast, like freight trains. When he looks back on it, it is difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when he changed from the L who did not know to the L who did. Between late-night conversations (read: arguments) and early morning breakfasts, one truth about Yagami Light felt like it just…manifested itself, coming out from under the shadows and becoming brighter and brighter, until the thought of it ever being kept secret seemed ludicrous and unbelievable. (It is unusual for him to place this much importance on one piece of information. It isn’t as though it is useful for the investigation. It isn’t as though it is a clue. But perhaps it isn’t strictly the case that interests L right now.)

***

“Yagami-kun, do you believe in true love?” L asks one morning, early in their forced cohabitation, over scones and coffee.

Between one sip of coffee and the next, Light smiles, laughs a bit, like he thinks the question is a joke.

“Does anyone?” he answers, which isn’t really an answer at all.

“Of course,” says L. “Many people do, I expect.”

“Are you one of them?” asks Light. He keeps up a hint of the previous smile. One elbow rests casually on the tabletop, his chin sitting atop one lightly curled fist.

He is trying to deflect, and L says so.

Light stiffens a bit. The smile is nowhere to be seen now. (It means nothing, though. Light makes no expression, probably draws no breath, without precise, calculated intent. So if he looks caught off guard, it doesn’t mean he really is caught off guard.)

“So what if I am? This has nothing to do with the case. Are you going to lock me up again if I refuse to answer personal questions?”

L crunches into a scone. It is crispy on the outside. It is soft, warm, and luscious inwardly.

“That would be counter-productive,” he says. “Besides…what if I am merely trying to get to know you better? Is that so wrong? We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Strange topic for friends,” Light remarks drily, looking away.

L shrugs. He goes back to his scone.

Silence reigns for about thirty seconds or so. Then:

“Oh for God’s sake, Ryuzaki,” Light blurts out. “We both know you’re asking because you’re trying to convince me, yet again, to become intimate with Misa to get information about the second Kira. If I don’t believe in true love, you’ll say that there is no reason not to use my influence over Misa’s emotions to get information, since it could save many lives and won’t betray any hypothetical relationship with my True Love in the future. And if I do believe in true love, you’ll say that any True Love of mine would understand the position I’m in, and approve of whatever means I used to save innocent – or not so innocent – people. Because anyone compatible with me would have to have the mentality that the ends justify the means.”

L nods. No point in denying it, after all.

Light sets down his coffee cup with a none-too-gentle sound.

“If you’re smart enough for all of that, you should be smart enough to know I’m not refusing to seduce Misa because of the existence or nonexistence of any True Love,” Light tells him. “I’m refusing because it’s morally wrong. I have principles, Ryuzaki, and I’m asking you, yet again, to respect them.”

L makes a conciliatory gesture toward Light, over the tabletop.

“Very well, Yagami-kun. My apologies,” he says.

More silence. They finish breakfast, and manage to walk down the stairs to the investigation desks and computers without tripping each other up on the long handcuff chain.

When they sit down next to each other, each at their own respective monitors, Light says, “If you really want to know: no, I don’t believe in true love. And I don’t not believe in it either. I need evidence to make decisions, and I don’t have enough, at this point, to make a determination either way.”

L turns to look at him. He is met with shiny brown hair and a striking profile.

Then Light adds, with forced nonchalance, “And yes, we are friends.”

He turns to meet L’s gaze. His lips turn up - just the barest bit – into a small smile.

L finds himself wanting to smile back, inexplicably. He doesn’t, because Rue Ryuzaki certainly would not. But he does allow himself a nod and sincere-sounding, “thank you, Yagami-kun.”

***

Misa doesn’t miss an opportunity to flirt with Light. If she is around, she is dancing around him, trying to catch his eye, or else whispering in his ear, or smiling and batting her long eyelashes in his directions.

Light, for his part, never misses an opportunity to rebuff her advances. If she tries to sit in his lap, he stands and moves away. If she hangs off of his arm, he takes it back, pretending to type up research notes.

It seems incomprehensible to Misa that anyone could spend any length of time with Light Yagami and not want to engage with him romantically. When L attached his wrist to Light’s with a length of metal chain, her mind immediately jumped to L’s sexual preferences and how he clearly wanted Light near for his own gratification. When L corrected her, Misa reacted to him as a jealous lover would to a rival.

Misa is endearing, in her way, and L takes her accusations in stride. He takes her unwanted desserts, and bonks her on the head with paper megaphones, and occasionally joins her in teasing Light.

But even as he does these things, he remains acutely aware of his prime suspect. And he notes that throughout Misa’s endless flirtations, and her endless insinuations about L’s alleged homosexuality, Light remains conspicuously silent.

***

“I’m not lying to you, Ryuzaki!” Light screams. His voice - habitually an octave higher than most males his age, in order that he may appear kind, agreeable, and generally soft - goes an octave down. L realizes that this is how Light would sound normally, if he would allow himself to be even halfway authentic.

L prefers this voice. L will always prefer Light in his most truthful form. He will always be annoyed when Light obfuscates, or conceals, or downright lies.

“You are. You have been for months. You are Kira. There’s no question. Simply admit it.”

“I won’t!” yells Light, going so far as to stomp his foot. The moon shines itself like a spotlight on him.

“You hide yourself from everyone, all the time,” L says. “It is exhausting, isn’t it? Playing a part every second of every day? Wouldn’t it be nice to be honest with one person, at least? Wouldn’t it be nice to be honest with me?”

“I am honest with you! You’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you!”

“I have been called many things, Yagami-kun, but blind is not one of them,” says L mildly.

“That’s because I’m the only one you’ve ever met who’s smart enough to see it! You, with your pseudonyms and your computers and the goddamn persona you wear like a second skin! You want to lecture me about authenticity?” Light says, viciously. “Despite all your poking and prodding and invasions of privacy and these fucking things” - he brandishes the wrist with the handcuff on it - “despite all that, I’ve never lied to you!”

“Yagami-kun,” L scoffs. “You haven’t even been able to tell me the real reason you won’t investigate Misa.”

“I won’t manipulate her because I have principles! How many times to do I have tell you?!”

“Principles…” muses L. “Well, there may be some truth to that. But there is another reason. A deeper reason, something you won’t admit to me. I don’t know if you’ve even admitted it to yourself.”

And just like that, they’re no longer talking about the case.

Light’s eyes narrow, and his lips set themselves into an unbending line. The air surrounding them seems to chill all at once, and solidify like glass. Like ice. L wonders, for the first time in his life, if he has perhaps pushed someone too far.

“How dare you. How dare you!” Light hisses. “To think that I…that I honestly thought…”

He laughs, and it is a twisted, broken, furious sound.

“You can’t leave well enough alone, can you? It’s not enough for you to solve crimes? You have to push people and push and push and push until they break open. You want whatever anyone is hiding, whether it’s relevant to a crime or not! You can’t let anyone hold anything private, can you? You are so goddamned cold.”

Light delivers this diatribe with the harshest intonation L has ever heard another human being utter. Then he turns around, presenting L with his back, and stands, if possible, even taller and prouder than before.

“Congratulations, L. You’ve solved another mystery. Even if I were completely and utterly morally bankrupt, I wouldn’t be able to manipulate Misa the way you want me to. I couldn’t manipulate any woman that way. Not without a hell of a lot of mental gymnastics, anyway, and maybe the threat of torture as an incentive.” 

L says nothing. He never thought that Light would say so much, and he truly doesn’t know where to go from here.

“Nothing to say, Mr. Detective? I bet it’s still not enough for you. Not clear enough, or open enough, or honest enough, huh? I haven’t cut open my stomach and spilled my guts on the floor in front of you, so you aren’t satisfied. Fine. I suppose I’d hate for you to think me a coward, as well as a liar. So how’s this?”

Light turns around again, meeting L’s eyes with none of his typical kind-heartedness. None of his typical humanity.

“I’m gay.”

Still, L cannot speak. He can only stare. The moonlight pours down around Light’s shiny hair, creating the faintest of halos.

“Still nothing to say, huh? Why so quiet?” Light jeers. He can be truly vengeful when he wants to be. “Maybe instead of uncovering everyone else’s secrets, you ought to pay some attention to your own, detective.”

And with that, Light pulls the two of them to the computers, opens a browser window, and throws himself into research.

Light Yagami was a conceited man by default. From a young age, he had a certain eye for how he wanted to present himself to the world. On the first day of grade 3, his mother set out his uniform like she always did. It was pristine of course, but Light demanded she iron it twice before he found it wearable. For the festival held in his tenth year, the Criminology Club hosted a themed host club. Light had more of say in the costuming than those assigned to it, just so that his own would meet his specifications. For his University graduation, the tire he wore alone cost a normal worker’s two-week salary, and he bought it without a second hesitation. Every formal event came and Light would rise to the occasion, but this was never an end to his meticulous taste. On any average day, Light wouldn’t go into public without every hair in place, and not a single expensive thread out of line.  Some could find his high attention to his appearance strange, too self-focused, but he was unabashed. It only made sense to him this way. Looking one’s best meant opportunities, and opportunities meant one could get everything they desired. Light would always swear his outfit on one particular day lead him to a promotion to superintendent of the Japanese police. Something about a properly dressed man called for attention and respect in almost every aspect of their culture, and Light was more than happy to partake.    It was a sign of weakness in humanity to be so dependent on looks, and Light knew that, but he had no issue taking advantage of any gift he acquired. He didn’t have to rely on his looks to get him by, like some unfortunate soles. Natural-born intelligence paved the way to many of his highest honors, but Light couldn’t say that his charm and standard good-looks didn’t give him an extra push in the right direction. Though, it was never completely about the advantages for him. As much as he liked to keep society in his favor, it was just as much for his own pleasure as anything else. It gave him a personal feeling of pride to make himself look so put together everyday. It gave him strength and reassurance on par from what his mental ability gave, only making him invincible to the average day. But with all that in mind, with all of that invincibility and strength, tonight had been the first night that clothing had been his enemy. Inside of a luxury bedroom, shirts, pants, socks, and ties were piled in mountains on the bed. It began almost as soon as Light came home from room, and steadily grew to the monster it was after hours of indeciveness. In his defense, the night wasn’t unlike his usual. He had something planned this evening, something substantial. Everything needed to be perfect, and that also meant him, but things weren’t going as planned. Light paced in front of a mirror, two shirts in very similar shades of eggshell in each hand. He stopped dead center in front of it suddenly, half-haphazardly putting them both against his bare chest with an unimpressed scowl. It took not even ten seconds before they were both discarded, leaving Light to hastily walk back to his thinning closet, reluctant but prepared to try yet again.  Normally this would be so easy; he would wake up in the morning with an instant idea to what the day required. It always came together like he wanted, but no matter what he tried it all felt wrong. Comprehending the situation was out of bounds at this point. Through even the most important nights of his life when tension ran high, Light kept his emotions in check and everything would fall into place. Tonight, though, was different. He wasn’t receiving an award, or being the face of the Japanese Police on a major TV Network. Both were normal occurrences and both were very important, but nothing could compare to this night.  Emerging from the closet with yet another set of shirts, Light walked his way to mirror with grim thoughts of his success. His footsteps were heavier, causing the loose items on his dresser to rattle. A picture frame in particular was not pleased by the intrusion, its leg caving in and the frame now laying flat to the ceiling. Light paused, looking back at the photo with some interest.  Momentarily, he forgot about the clothing causing him so much distress, the articles setting idle in his hands as he moved closer to put it back in its rightful position. Inside the glass was a standard photo. Light himself was in it, but to his side was another man. He was tall and slender, with a long, blank face and an unruly head of pitch black hair. His name was L. He didn’t look pleased to be in the photo, but one could tell it was an honor he stood still enough for it to be taken. Light couldn’t help but smile. Even from inside the glass, they looked like opposites who didn’t belong close enough to be in a picture. When he first met him, Light felt the same way. They originally worked together out of a forced assignment.  Someone who cared so much about their presentation couldn’t bare to see such a disorganized mess. L would come into work wearing the same pair of ratty blue jeans with a white shirt like nothing was wrong. He was excellent at his job, admirable and smarter than anyone Light had ever met, but he was everything Light rejected. Because of this, things did not begin well in the slightest, but fate had a way of making things turn on their heads.  Quite some time went by before it happened, but despite their differences they grew found of each other. Before they could understand a relationship sprouted unlike anything that Light expected. Years went by, and thing only grew stronger between them. They became something more established, even so far as moving L to Light’s apartment, and things were comfortable. It became so natural, so wanted and pleasant. Never in a million years did Light think L would be the one who had his thoughts on the way home from work, but he always was. He couldn’t go back from L, he did want to, so Light knew it was time.  He had the night planned to every specific detail. L worked predominately from their home in his study, and Light was ready to take advantage of this. He was going to prepare a home-cooked meal to draw him out, and recall their time together as fluidly as possible. Then after a presumably long conversation, Light would take L’s hand and propose they make their union official. It was not extravagant by any means, but it fit perfect with his lover, which meant it was enough for him. But now things were thrown off, and Light had no idea how to handle it. He needed to be what L deserved to see more than ever, but nothing was worth it. Light glanced down at the clothes in his hand, suddenly feeling an onslaught of anxiety creep up on him. “Dammit!” He mumbled, tossing it carelessly on the bed. He sat on the edge of it, hands curled in his hair as his elbows perched against his knees in a slump. “Dammit..“ “Why are you sitting on a pile of clothes?” Light’s head snapped up, pupils shrinking as he glanced directly toward a slouching male in the doorframe. He felt his stomach suddenly drop onto his feet. “L..” Tired black eyes looked around with extreme interest as L stalked his way into the bedroom, but he inevitably landed on Light. “And more importantly, why are you half naked?” L came closer as Light examined himself only wearing trousers, a corner of his lip curving upward. "Is something wrong with your clothes suddenly? Or have you snapped under some pressure.” Sighing out, Light felt defeated. Not only had this entire afternoon went wrong, L decided to emerge far too early than anticipated. He couldn’t save this, this couldn’t be the first impression that he makes before asking L to be together for the rest of their lives. “I haven’t snapped. Don’t worry about me and go back to work.” He simply responded, his attitude suddenly taking a more somber note. He stood up, starting to quickly fold whatever he could grab to begin the process of repairing the room. He would try again on another day, one where he actually had a chance.  Light was determined to act as if nothing was wrong, just to save some of his dignity, but the other had different plans. While in mid-fold, L caught his shoulder, taking his attention from any fabric. “I came out because I’ve constantly heard groans since you returned from work. The last set was enough to merit a break.” Light internally perished; he thought he was quiet enough with his complaints, but clearly not. L wasn’t letting him or the conversation go, despite how his lax stature suggested. “Tell me— Why did I find you in here like this? It isn’t like you at all.” They stared at each other for a moment, trying to test to see which would eventually cave from the intensity. Eventually it would be Light who turned his head away. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t lie to L. He knew him better than to fall for something his frazzled mind could cook up. Carefully pulling away from his hold, Light stood back, shame riddling his expression. “I had plans for you and I. They were important, something- very pertinent to our current relationship.” Light spoke as vague as he could, but somehow he still saw the gear of L’s brain working towards the correct answer, his face growing softer. He felt worse, but even at his lowest Light appreciated the beautiful mind L had to his very core. His fingers were itching to distract themselves, but Light stayed strong, taking in a deep breath. “— I couldn’t do it. I have spent all afternoon trying to make myself prepared, but nothing will do.” His voice wavered just slightly, “Nothing I do can measure to what I want from this if I can’t first.” Suddenly furious with himself, Light hit his hand into a stack, a few pieces tumbling to the floor as he walked away, not able to face L directly.  L was stunned; seeing Light this caught up was practically unheard of. Normally he was so confident in everything he did, to see him suddenly in shambles was an eye opener. Just the aspect of what he was planning had the male nearly lost for words, but it still didn’t surprise him that Light’s clothing of all things would be the thing to deceive him. He knew how important it was to be perfect to Light, and it was touching to see just how important this was to him. “Light— ” “— 

I know