Chapter Text
The plane lifted off smoothly, the engines humming as Light glanced back at the disappearing city below. Haneda Airport had been its usual bustle of life, yet the private terminal where he had said goodbye to his family felt insulated from the world’s noise. His mother’s arms had wrapped around him tightly, her tears soaking into his jacket.
"I'm sorry," Soichiro had told Sachiko the day after Light returned home, following the end of Kira’s reign. Soichiro had expected her to faint upon seeing their son alive. Instead, she gripped the sofa with both hands, her knuckles white as tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Light..." Her voice had broken as she hesitantly reached out, her fingers brushing against his face like she couldn’t believe he was real. Her eyes darted across his features, flickering between relief, sadness, despair, and finally—joy. "My son," she sobbed, pulling him into her arms.
"I'm home, Mom," he murmured, voice cracking slightly.
Sachiko hadn't blamed Soichiro. Instead, she had listened to his explanation quietly, holding his hand as more tears fell. "I trust you... that you did what was right," she had whispered softly.
Watching the way his mother clung to his father, Light had realized just how much he had taken for granted. He had never paid attention to the quiet strength of their relationship—how they navigated through crises with unspoken support.
Sayu, on the other hand, had struggled to let go of him. “We even went to your funeral,” she sobbed into his chest, shaking with emotion. “Light, you’re the best brother. I missed you so much.”
It had been overwhelming, after everything that had happened. And for once, Light didn’t have words.
“Your injury, Light,” his mother had asked, voice still trembling. “Is it serious?”
Light had brushed it off. “I'm fine,” he said. "I just need to take medication and restrict my movements."
"I hope that person was worth protecting," Sachiko had said, her voice soft but probing.
"Yeah... He is."
A coffee shop. Light frowned, the memory feeling strangely detached from reality. It had been a reckless decision, choosing to sit in a café after killing a man, but he had needed the distraction. His hands had been shaking the entire time. L had been silent since that day—no calls, no messages. Nothing.
‘You’re staying in Tokyo for a while, right?’ Light had texted him. No reply. ‘Can we talk?’ Still nothing. ‘Whatever. Take your time.’
He kept the phone Watari had given him during the Kira investigation close. It was his only link to L, a tether. He couldn’t bring himself to return it, not until he saw L again.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks stretched into months, and L’s silence remained a constant ache in the back of Light’s mind.
'Are you even still in Japan?' Light’s texts had grown sharper, his frustration building.
“He’s not replying,” Light had told his father, bitterness seeping into his voice. “Do you know what’s happened to him?”
Soichiro had sighed, pushing his glasses up with the familiar gesture. "No one knows. But," his father paused, trying to choose his words carefully, "he has a lot of responsibilities."
"Fine," Light had snapped. "So do I. I still need to finish university, anyway." He crossed his arms, a defensive gesture that betrayed his mounting frustration.
"You and Ryuzaki come from different places," Soichiro had said gently. "Different worlds."
Light had swallowed hard, refusing to meet his father’s gaze, the knot in his throat making it impossible to respond.
University life felt like an endless loop. Days blended together, monotonous and hollow. Light had continued calling and texting for months, though each unanswered message left a bitter taste in his mouth. Girls approached him, flirting and laughing, but he turned them away. Every time, a thought crept in—would starting a relationship with someone else bring L back, even out of jealousy? Probably not.
But the silence persisted, gnawing at him with each passing day.
“Oh, Ryuzaki called yesterday!” Matsuda had said casually, like it wasn’t a bombshell of information dropped out of nowhere.
“He called?” Light had been genuinely surprised.
“Yeah, just checking in. Asked how Yumi is doing. I told him I’d look in on her.”
Yumi. Aizawa's daughter. Light had felt his stomach twist, an uncomfortable reminder of Aizawa’s family and the wreckage left behind. "What else did you talk about?"
The bar had been quiet that night, the sound of light chatter in the background as Light lifted the glass of beer to his lips, though the alcohol did little to ease the tightness in his chest. Nothing he'd tried, did.
Matsuda had shrugged. “Well, he asked about Misa.”
“Misa?” Light’s voice had darkened, anger seeping into his tone.
Matsuda had blinked, clearly sensing the shift. “Ah—Ryuzaki and you don’t talk anymore?”
“No.”
“But weren’t you guys—” Matsuda had hesitated, not wanting to pry too deeply.
“If you're still talking with him, then why don’t you ask Ryuzaki?” Light had replied coldly, his patience wearing thin.
Light woke with a start as the private plane hit a patch of turbulence, disoriented for a moment before the familiar hum of the engines grounded him. He blinked, taking in his surroundings. He was alone in his seat, but across, L stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the setting sun. Earphones in, L appeared lost in thought, staring out at the clouds.
It was the first time Light had ever flown on a private flight, and the experience felt strangely surreal—detached from reality. The world below seemed distant, like it couldn’t touch him up here, in this suspended state.
On the oak table in front of him lay a book, one L had been reading: 'Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid'. Next to it sat L’s laptop. Light picked up the book absentmindedly, flipping through the pages, his mind elsewhere.
“Coffee?” Watari’s voice broke the silence after a while, startling Light.
He glanced up. “Um—yeah. Thanks.”
Watari’s expression softened as he poured the coffee. “Stubborn,” he muttered quietly.
“Huh?” Light frowned, unsure if he had heard correctly.
“L is,” Watari clarified, his tone conspiratorial. “I told him many times he needed to contact you, but he refused. Said it wasn’t my concern. I found seven hundred and twenty-nine drafts in his email. Roughly the number of days since the case ended.”
Light’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. "Seven hundred and twenty-nine?" he echoed, the revelation sinking in. L had thought about reaching out.
Watari nodded, setting the coffee cup down in front of him. “I saved them. Just in case.”
Light stared at the older man, torn between surprise and something that stirred uneasily in his chest. “Send them to me.”
“As you wish,” Watari smiled, stepping back, leaving Light to process.
Rising from his seat, Light crossed the plane and approached L, who was still by the window, lost in whatever song was playing in his earphones. Without a word, Light slipped one earphone out and placed it in his own ear. He blinked in surprise at the song— a band his sister used to listen to.
"Arashi?" Light asked, raising an eyebrow. "This song was popular a few years ago."
"Yes." L's lips were something Light allowed himself to stare at now. "Wedy recommended it. It's been stuck in my head ever since."
Light hummed the melody before softly singing along, letting the familiar notes linger in the quiet space between them.
L stared at him, the moment hanging in the air.
"Is there anything you're not good at?" L asked softly. Perhaps even jealously.
Light’s smile faded slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity in L’s eyes. "I'm sure you'll find something. I still haven't forgiven you, even though I'm smiling. I’m planning my revenge."
"And you wonder why I never believed you weren’t the perfect Kira," L said, his tone monotonous but sharp.
Light leaned back, crossing his arms. “I want to put a ban on that topic.”
"Alright," L agreed, as if he had been expecting it. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," Light switched to English abruptly, "If you live in England and were born there, why don't you have the accent? It’s been annoying me since we were brushing our teeth two and a half years ago."
L blinked. "Hm," he placed his thumb on his lower lip, thinking. "I got used to adapting my accent for the purpose of international communication. A more neutral one served a better purpose."
"You mean it’s not your real one?" Light narrowed his eyes slightly, intrigued.
"No."
Light turned his body slightly, resting his arms on the windowsill, eyes tracing the endless clouds outside. The sun was high, casting soft rays across the plane, making it feel like they were floating in a world far removed from everything below. "Then say something to me," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the hum of the engines.
There was a pause, as if L were weighing the request. His hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers. “I read your letter to me, the one you intended me to read if you died, the same night you wrote it. I realized you were probably about to do something irrational.”
L’s real voice—soft and deep with a refined British accent—was better than anything Light had imagined. The words sank into the quiet air between them, and for a moment, Light forgot where he was. He simply listened, letting L’s voice pull him away from reality.
Light blinked, his mind catching up to the gravity of what L had just said. "You counted the paper?"
"Of course." L’s eyes searched Light’s face, hesitant to reveal more. "And... in regards to the letter, I probably do too."
Light’s smirk returned, slowly curving his lips upward. He lifted his palm, feigning innocence. "Do what?"
"I'm not going to say it," L replied.
"Why?"
"I don't think I deserve to say it yet."
"Yet?" Light echoed, his amusement growing as he leaned in slightly. "I'm going to put as a condition in my employment contract that you do. Or I'm not going to sign."
L looked startled, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. "You expected a contract?"
"What if I want to take a vacation?" Light mused, "France isn't that far from England, after all. Maybe I'll ask Matsuda to go with me. I know he also still wants to go on one."
"Matsuda?" L repeated, his tone slightly sharper than before, though he masked it well. "Why—? Light, I contacted him because I was concerned about Aizawa’s family after the Kira case. Particularly the girl. He was checking up on them."
Light shrugged, passing the earphone back to L. "I’ll need Christmas off," he added, nonchalant. "Also, I want to change the laundry detergent. That old one Watari used was terrible. It smelled like bleach and faded almost all my clothes."
"Is that why you almost never wore the same ones twice?" L mumbled. But just as Light began to turn away, he reached out, his hand wrapping around Light’s wrist with unexpected firmness.
Light froze at the contact, his heart suddenly pounding louder in his chest.
“Then, seeing as I can’t break employment laws and ask you not to take a Christmas vacation with another person,” L said slowly, his voice dropping, “I would like to make another proposal. If you're my boyfriend, I can ask you not to.”
L's words hung in the air like a challenge. It wasn’t the confession Light expected, but it was exactly what he wanted.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Light’s face.
"I guess you're right," Light said quietly, turning fully to face L, their faces mere inches apart. "And that also means you can't just disappear for over two years at a time, either."
L met his gaze, unflinching. "A maximum of two days."
"One," Light countered, his tone decisive. "You need to tell me before you go anywhere for longer."
L’s lips twitched slightly, a rare expression of amusement ghosting across his face. "Fine. Then I expect the same."
In one fluid movement, Light stepped closer, backing L against the wall of the plane, and Light’s hand hovered near L’s face, fingers barely brushing the side of his jaw. His voice dropped lower, as his eyes locked with L’s. "This is really what you were asking when you broke into my apartment, wasn’t it?"
“I agree it was rather obvious,” L admitted softly, his voice a quiet surrender. “As were your hesitations.”
Even though Light hated that his heart raced as he did, he leaned in, letting his lips brush against L’s.
"There are many types of monsters in this world: Monsters who will not show themselves and who cause trouble; monsters who abduct children; monsters who devour dreams; monsters who suck blood; and monsters who always tell lies."
L's voice drifted across the room. He was crouched on the sofa, the dim light casting long shadows over his form, a microphone perched in front of him.
Light found his thoughts momentarily pulled back to the Kira case at L's words. The memory was never far, lingering in the edges of his mind. As he stood by the door, the steam from the cup of tea in his hand curled up into his face, mixing with the cool, damp air from the rain outside.
"You must be careful of such monsters," L continued. "And learn to treasure your life, because it can be taken away at any moment."
The rain beat steadily against the windows, the sound a soft backdrop to L’s voice. Winchester's weather was something Light had grown used to; a far cry from the oppressive summers and winters of Tokyo. He didn’t miss those extremes. Instead, he'd found himself collecting sweaters.
When L finally closed the laptop and tried to leave the room, Light pressed a folder to his chest. L blinked slowly, his mind clearly wandering elsewhere.
"Updates on the Crestmore case. They’ve taken three suspects into custody."
"Thank you," L muttered, barely acknowledging the information as he glanced at the file.
Light handed him the migraine medication next, along with the cup of tea. L took them gratefully, swallowing the pills with a sip of the tea, his hand brushing against Light’s. Then, without warning, L leaned in, his lips pressing softly but tiredly against Light’s. The weight of his exhaustion from taking on nine cases as well as giving a lecture weighed on him, and in the next instant, he allowed himself to fall into Light, his body giving in to the gravity between them.
"I love you, you know," L mumbled, his voice barely audible as his head rested on Light’s shoulder.
Light froze, almost unsure if he had heard correctly. He raised an eyebrow. "Is this... a side effect of the medication?"
L grinned, though it was small and fleeting. "No. Unlike someone, I don’t need to be heavily medicated to admit my feelings." Though, L knew, he hadn't been entirely aware that he had feelings left to be felt before they'd met.
Light glared at him, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Well," he muttered, "I guess I'll take it. I love you too. But one day, I'm still going to get my revenge."
"You’ve been saying that for three years."
"Yeah," Light murmured, burying his face in L’s hair. The weight of L’s words touched him more deeply than he cared to admit. "I just need to make it perfect."
"This is," L said softly into Light’s shirt, his voice muffled. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Light’s gaze in this moment either. Then he lifted a finger as if in afterthought. "Minus the migraine."
"Then go to bed. And sleep," Light told him. "Let me know where to pick up from."
The sincerity in Light’s words, which had been the first real hint of his care for L, was not lost on him. L let out a tired sigh and pressed his head closer. "Light Yagami... You say that as if you’re not the main reason for my lack of sleep."