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 workerâs 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 wouldnât 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 oneâs 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 didnât 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 couldnât say that his charm and standard good-looks didnât 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 wasnât unlike his usual. He had something planned this evening, something substantial. Everything needed to be perfect, and that also meant him, but things werenât 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 wasnât 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 didnât 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 couldnât help but smile. Even from inside the glass, they looked like opposites who didnât 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 couldnât 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 Lightâs 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 couldnât 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 Lâs 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. âDammit!â 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. âDammit..â âWhy are you sitting on a pile of clothes?â Lightâs 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. âL..â Tired black eyes looked around with extreme interest as L stalked his way into the bedroom, but he inevitably landed on Light. âAnd more importantly, why are you half naked?â 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.â Sighing out, Light felt defeated. Not only had this entire afternoon went wrong, L decided to emerge far too early than anticipated. He couldnât save this, this couldnât be the first impression that he makes before asking L to be together for the rest of their lives. âI havenât snapped. Donât worry about me and go back to work.â 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. âI came out because Iâve constantly heard groans since you returned from work. The last set was enough to merit a break.â Light internally perished; he thought he was quiet enough with his complaints, but clearly not. L wasnât letting him or the conversation go, despite how his lax stature suggested. âTell meâ Why did I find you in here like this? It isnât like you at all.â 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 couldnât 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. âI had plans for you and I. They were important, something- very pertinent to our current relationship.â Light spoke as vague as he could, but somehow he still saw the gear of Lâs 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. ââ I couldnât do it. I have spent all afternoon trying to make myself prepared, but nothing will do.â His voice wavered just slightly, âNothing I do can measure to what I want from this if I canât first.â 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 didnât surprise him that Lightâs 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. âLightâ â ââÂ
 what I wear means nothing to you,â Light interrupted, back still turned. âbut that doesnât mean you donât warrant the best. If I canât give that then whatâs the point?â âLight.â L tried again once Lightâs voice grew more animated. It was enough to get his head to turn, eyes filled with trouble meeting reluctantly with his own. He brought up his arm, calling attention to the mess around them. âThis is what I deserve.â The statement took him aback, so much that Light turned to meet him head on. â..What?â L met him in the middle, words ready at the instant. âAppearances have never meant anything to me, it is true. But what youâve done, the clear compassion you have to have the desire to be perfect for me, that is all the difference in the world.â His hand came up, gently touching against his chest to have some sort of connection, for him to know his words were sincere. âDonât be so foolish to think you arenât what I deserve in any form.â Slowly taking in his words, Light wasnât sure what to make of himself. The cloud seemed to dissipate from his eyes, and he saw how ridiculous of a situation he had made, all for the sake of an outfit L would barely bat an eyelash to. He would forget how unlike the world he was, and suddenly be reminded in the best of ways. He relaxed, giving him a simple nod in understanding. Around them was a mess of proportions Light would normally feel nauseous from, but it didnât matter; none of what he planned did. All that he cared about was looking only to him, and thatâs all he needed. âBut if youâre going to do this now, you may want to at least be fully clothed."Â
