Fandom: Death Note
Prompt: Double duty for prompts this time. Written for 32. Black (~sleeping in the red) at 30_angsts; also written for the stagesoflove set: Five stages of grief: denial.
Warnings: Slash. Spoilers for the entire series. Warning! Set after the events of Book 7!! Major spoiler warnings!!
Summary: Light reflects on what he has done.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I'm not that smart.
A/N: Unbetaed. Also, this is a work of fiction that contains sexual interaction between two male characters. Note the part that says fiction before having hysterics, please.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Without love, breath is just a clock, ticking. ~ Equilibrium, 2002.
The room was quiet, too quiet. Light couldn't sleep. Restlessly, he rolled over onto his back. There was no accompanying clank of chains and his hand went to his wrist. For the first time in months, it was naked, though he could still easily feel the raised skin of the scar left behind.
L was dead.
Light had killed him.
Kira had killed him.
With his eyes closed, Light could almost see the other man looking back at him in the blackness. His mocking tone wound its way through the silence to torment Light even in the moment of his victory.
"Why do you not celebrate your victory, Light-kun?"
"The others would notice." Light whispered aloud, the sound shocking him into opening his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, reflecting faintly in the light of the street from below.
"Why did you not switch rooms, Light-kun? The others would have thought that you did so out of grief. Not guilt."
The whisper was so clear that Light looked around the room for its source, immediately feeling foolish. L was dead. There was no way that he was speaking to Light from beyond the grave. It was his own subconscious talking and that betrayal, more than anything, upset Light. He had been right. His plan had been flawless. Kira had won! Nothing else should matter.
Light would not feel guilty.
"Liar." The accusation was sharp and Light growled under his breath, reaching for the light switch. Warm light flooded the room at the soft click of the on switch and Light threw his covers back.
He would not discuss his feelings with a dead man. Softly, he padded into the bathroom and turned on the water. He splashed some on his face before filling a cup and swallowing a pain pill. In the mirror, his reflection stared back at him, revealing disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas.
"Do you have a headache, Light-kun?" The bodiless voice sounded concerned and Light's free hand fisted in irritation. He didn't want the pity of a man he had killed. Instead he looked into the mirror again. Alone. He was alone.
"You would have ruined everything. You would have kept the world a dark and terrifying place, and left its inhabitants helpless. I can help them."
"Is that what you tell yourself?" The concern was gone, replaced by a mixture of scorn and amusement. That you are helping people? You rule with fear and your castle will eventually fall for the foundation will not stand."
"You underestimate me." Light snapped, eyes flaring in irritation.
"No, I do not. I never did, Light-kun. Do you know the day that I realized I would likely die at your hands?"
Despite himself, Light felt a jab of curiosity. Spitefully, he shook his head. "No, and I never will. L is dead. You're not real and nothing you say is real."
"It was the day we played tennis, Light-kun. I wondered if you would throw the match, to try and displace suspicion that you might be Kira."
Light scoffed. "That's ridiculous. You would have known that I'd thrown the match. I was better than you."
"Yes." L's voice was disgruntled, slightly wistful. "You were. And I knew then that I would likely lose in the long run.
"Then why did you fight me?" Light asked, his voice cracking slightly, hinting at the anguish he didn't allow himself to feel. "Why didn't you leave and let me win?"
"Ahh, Light-kun." L's voice was decidedly sad now and Light closed his eyes, imagining that L stood close behind him, one hand awkwardly resting on the small of Light's back, as it had so many times before. "Death is certain. You know that. But the game… the game is what counts."
"You died for a game." Light repeated, bereft.
"No. I died because even as I knew that you might kill me, I also knew that I couldn't leave you."
"You have left me."
"Well, that's hardly my fault, is it?". L was laughing at him and Light stiffened.
"I'm glad I killed you."
"Liar." The accusation rolled out of the air tinged with amusement this time. If you were, you wouldn't be standing in the bathroom in the middle of the night talking to a dead man. Would you, Light-kun?"
"What's it like? Being dead?" Light asked suddenly, wishing desperately that he could see L's face to watch him answer.
A long silence greeted his question and he began to wonder if he was losing his mind and talking to himself. Finally, just before Light could move to return to bed, L sighed softly. "Dark. Lonely. Final."
Bile rose into the back of Light's throat and he carefully swallowed it down. "I'm not sorry. I may not be glad, but I'm not sorry."
"I wouldn't expect you to be." L's retort was caustic.
"I wish…" Light hesitated, then decided that since this conversation couldn't possibly be actually happening he wasn't risking anything. "I wish that we had met under different circumstances. We could have been friends."
"We were friends, Light-kun."
Abruptly, Light turned and flipped the light switch. He went back to bed, refusing to let his thoughts linger on L any longer. It was over. L was dead.
Instead, Light occupied his mind with his plans for the future. The Investigative Team was firmly under his control. No one opposed him any longer. Tomorrow the real work began, making a world in Kira's image.
Kira had won.
"Poor Light-kun." L's voice drifted over him as he started to fall asleep. "You don't yet realize that just because Kira won, doesn't mean that you did."
"What does that mean?" Light mumbled sleepily.
There was no answer.