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It all happens so fast: his plan to use the Death Note to test the rules, the lack of response from Watari, the deleted files, and then, in the middle of a sentence, he experiences the most debilitating and intense pain in his chest and topples from his chair. Light’s embrace is a comfortable and familiar sensation and his face - red, gleeful eyes, and a twitching, victorious grin - is the last thing he sees. Light Yagami. Kira. A brilliant teenager. A mass murderer. Who he hates more than anything. Who he loves more than anything.
L, the detective, the teenager, the prodigy, the nightmare, the genius, dies in the arms of Kira.
He loses the game.
When L wakes up, he thinks he’s in hell.
Not that he believes in an afterlife. He went to his first mass at age eight, in the chapel next to Wammy’s, and it didn’t scare him in the way it should, in the fear of being determined to be evil and condemned to an eternity of punishment. Church was terrifying because it was an extension of Wammy’s, children perpetually crying and too many sounds to concentrate and expectations and a family of enemies. He hears its bells in moments of crisis (and he’s always in crisis) because it contains all the helplessness of being L Lawliet, of being the lost one, the last one.
Then, he realizes hazily where he really is - his room. His bed. That explains his general dizziness. He sleeps so sporadically that when he does manage unconsciousness he wakes up feeling worse than he did when he was a week without sleep. Because when he sleeps, he has nightmares, and when he wakes up, he remembers that his life is just a conglomeration of the worst parts of the worst cases he’s solved, the worst things he’s done to be known as L, the detective.
Of course, he has been sleeping more frequently lately, or he had been for a bit, and he wonders why, until he lifts his wrist, surprised by its lightness, and the answers to all of his confusion hits at once with one name: Light Yagami. Kira, the handcuffs, the Death Note, the bells, and Light’s warm eyes - though he could have sworn they looked blood red - while his heart stopped and his eyes closed forever.
L jolts in remembrance, immediately checking his pulse, which is, as it turns out, not only beating, but racing rapidly as a result of his sudden panic. His breath is short and fast, but most importantly he’s breathing, when he could have sworn he died yesterday.
L wills himself to become impartial, unemotional, logical, like the world seems to think he is, rather than the sensitive and terrified boy from Wammy’s who he has never grown out of being. The fact of the matter is that if L died yesterday, he wouldn’t be alive today, and another fact of the matter is that this kind of illusion is far from unusual for him. L has daily hallucinations, paranoia, and agoraphobia and monthly delusions that no one bothers to entertain. He’s been called every name in the book; he’s known for his delusions of grandeur, narcissism, swings in mood and temper, and insanity, and a great deal of those are baseless assumptions, but being the most famous detective takes its toll on mental stability. He’s been worried about Kira killing him since his killings began. After all, L has committed nearly every crime in the book (for justice, of course, but what is justice but an excuse?). It’s just another delusion, now that Kira is closer than ever, now that his death is just a written word away.
It’s just a delusion, he tells himself, but he stops by Watari’s room and tells him what to do in the case of either of their deaths.
The day plays out just how he remembers in his nightmare. L says what he remembers saying to the Shinigami again, and she responds with exactly what he remembered her saying. He watches the news report the return of Kira’s killings, he watches Misa and Light embrace outside the building, he eats cake and feels sick with the overwhelming deja vu tinting each moment as if it really is his second time living it. All while the bell keeps ringing, ringing, ringing.
L stands in the rain again. L turns to see Light Yagami sheltered under the rooftop, his words lost under the falling rain, close and distant all at once, as he’s been since Higuchi died - unreachable, unknowable.
(Kira.)
L asks him if he’s told the truth ever, and Light lies in response, and it feels like every conversation they’ve ever had.
When he washes Light’s feet, he remembers the bells again. Light plays the part of Judas, and L’s Jesus, as egotistical as always. When he tells Light he’s atoning for his sins, Light must have made the comparison in his head, as symbolic and religious as he enjoys to be, and L half expects him to reverse their roles, convinced he himself is Jesus, but instead Light just wipes off L’s bangs. L realizes he’s not surprised by the action, because he realizes that he was surprised the first time. The first time? He’s deluded, but this is where his phone rings and - it does, and they go inside.
And Watari dies again, and he dies again, staring into Kira’s eyes just as he had the first time.
L wakes up.
In normal circumstances, he would assume his current belief that he is living out some sort of time loop of his own death is merely a bout of insanity that he should sleep or eat or work off. Again, if these were normal circumstances, not preceded by the proof of Shinigami and a notebook that kills people.
So, it only takes him a few minutes and a call confirming Watari’s safety to come to terms with the fact that he is living out his last day on repeat for an indeterminate period of time.
L wishes there were books on this, but there’s hardly enough truth in myths’ understanding of Shinigami to reassure him or convince him to rewatch Groundhog Day, which by all accounts is a horrible movie that he only watched for a case that related to a killer mimicking events of the movie.
So, he doesn’t bother trying. In fact, he doesn’t bother leaving his room at all. He calls the task force and informs them that he is feeling dreadfully ill and that they will postpone procedures until the following day. Out of character as it is, no one bothers challenging him. Light Yagami simply questions if he’s okay, and L can hear the suspicion in his voice, the “What trick does L, the detective, have up his sleeve this time?” L responds honestly for once, and says he feels awful, and that’s enough to end the call, the madness reeking through his tone.
L spends the day underneath his covers, his heart pounding in his chest, wishing, begging, to survive until the morning. He almost cries out when the immeasurable pain in his chest returns, and he wonders what Light Yagami did outside his room that meant he still had to die, and he wonders if his life was worth this, and then he collapses, wishing anyone was around to hold him, wondering how long it would take someone to notice L, the detective, had died.
L wakes up, and tries again. This time, he orders Watari to stay in his room the whole day. Watari has first aid experience for almost any possible situation. He could easily force life back into L under the sure case of another heart attack.
But, when the inevitable heart attack returns, Watari tries and tries, and the last thing L hears is the first apology he’s ever received from the man.
L wakes up, angry. Hiding is apparently a non-strategy against Light Yagami, who is Kira, who wants to kill him. What could get Light Yagami, who is Kira, who wants to kill him, to not want to kill him? L knows Light Yagami better than anyone else knows Light Yagami, including his father, his sister, and his girlfriend. L knows Light Yagami better than anyone else because L knows himself, and Light Yagami, who is Kira, who wants to kill him, is L. And because Light Yagami is L, L knows that there is nothing that could stop Light Yagami from killing him, because if the roles were reversed, there is nothing that would stop L from killing Light Yagami. They’ve been playing a game for a year, a game of wits and sacrifices and strategies, and winning means everything to them. Light Yagami would die before he gave up a victory.
But so would L, and L has died multiple times now, and he won’t give up, either.
He will survive if it’s the death of him, and it is.
L wakes up, and lives the day over and over again, changing variables one at a time to see what could possibly change the outcome. He studies Light Yagami’s responses, waiting for any semblance of a vulnerability, of a clue to what could possibly convince him. Yet he remains as calm and collected as always, repeating the same actions, mannerisms, and dialogue as if scripted every single day. And of course he would, because it’s the same day, but it’s increasingly unnerving in the way that it isn’t, because everything Light Yagami says feels like an act.
He tries firing Light, dispelling him from the task force, and he swears that almost brings something new out of him, but he just says, as calculatedly incredulous as always, “What are you talking about, Ryuzaki? We just found Kira together, and you’re giving up?” Matsuda brings the unwanted reminder that L had claimed Light as his successor and nothing comes of it.
The next day he tries again to force Light out of the task force. It is no surprise that every single member of the task force favors Light over L, so he thinks that if he is as cruel as he can possibly be to Light in front of the others, they will send Light away from him to protect him. They can’t arrest L, L is their last hope for the Kira case, but they can put distance between the duo.
L insults Light the moment he enters headquarters, and it elicits only a furrowed brow from him. Where Light used to snap at any suggestion that L suspected him of being Kira, or, really, any fault of his character, Light since the discovery of the Death Note contains every annoyance and emotion under the mask of his face, only bringing it to the forefront when it could be of use to him. L calls Light dense, and worthless, and evil, all under his breath, tacked onto the end of sentences like punctuation, and Matsuda shrieks in offense before Light even shows a visual sign of annoyance, only saying “If you have something to say to me, Ryuzaki, I’d rather you go out and say it.”
His last ditch effort is kicking Light off of his chair. In their previous fights, L steeled himself to just Light’s level, because it was fun, and they were both angry, and needed a release, which they found in quick punches to the head, kicks in the gut. However, L knows that Light has never been in a fight, a real fight where his life is in danger, and L has, more times than he can count, so he knows how to fight so that it hurts. So, while Light is clearly in the midst of thought, L knocks him off his chair and kicks his face so hard that Light’s nose instantly breaks.
Matsuda shrieks again, and Soichiro and Aizawa run forward to hold L back, which, of course, L had intended.
What he hadn’t intended, was the striking pain in his chest, which is immediately recognizable to him as the dying sensation of a heart attack. Light stares at him, taken aback and holding his broken and bloody nose in place, and L dies once again.
L wakes up, exhausted, and talks to Misa Amane. He doesn’t expect anything to work, because he hasn’t seen Misa Amane since he restrained her - again - because he knows she has the Eyes. It’s worth a try, though, because she is more malleable than Light, and she is thus a thousand times more likely to change her mind than Light is.
He meets Misa outside of the building, where Light usually meets her, and immediately, her gaze drifts above his head, and he knows he’s lost.
“I know Light is Kira,” he announces and Misa feigns offense. “I know you have the Shinigami eyes. I know you know my name, and I know you and Light plan on killing me today.”
Misa blinks at him, faux innocently. “None of that is true, Ryuuga.”
“You haven’t called me Ryuuga since before your interrogation,” L notes offhandedly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Misa says, as if accused, and L supposes that there was an accusation in his observation after all.
“Oh, nothing.” He ducks his hands into his pockets in a way that he knows unsettles Misa and then attempts to look less unsettling. “I know you would do anything for Light. And I know he has asked you to write my name.” Misa doesn’t say anything, arms crossed, glancing up at the surveillance cameras anxiously. “That won’t make him love you.”
“He does love me!” Misa shouts, instantly infuriated.
“He’ll leave you as soon as I’m dead,” L continues as if he hasn’t noticed. “Once he’s got my name, he’ll have no use for you.”
“He promised me -” Misa starts and pauses, as if she’s said too much. “Just because you were our third wheel when Light was handcuffed doesn’t mean you are entitled to insert yourself into our relationship, Ryuzaki. I’m not going to suspect Light of being whoever you insist he is, and, don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you, even if I could, and even if I wanted to.”
Perhaps L underestimated Misa’s determination. Or her loyalty to Light Yagami. Kira.
“He doesn’t actually want me dead,” L tries.
Misa giggles. “Of course he doesn’t, Ryuzaki! You’re friends, aren’t you?”
The moment he steps into headquarters, he collapses and dies. Misa Amane didn’t even bother to talk with her idol before committing the murder that would earn his love.
L wakes up, and steals the Death Note. In scratchy, awkward penmanship, he writes: L Lawliet dies painlessly. When he dies, he feels the most content and relaxed he has since . . . since ever he thinks. He hopes this is the last time, and it’s not.
L wakes up, and staring at the page with a horrible feeling in his chest, he adds a second name next to his own.
He dies before he can finish Light Yagami’s name, with the usual heart attack.
L wakes up, and stands in the rain, and asks Light if he’s ever told the truth, and massages his feet. Light dries off L’s bangs, and L looks into the eyes of his killer, and feels like he is doing something very, deeply immoral.
“If you don’t kiss me today, you’ll never get to,” L says quietly, and Light’s hand stills in its path, against his forehead, almost caringly. This is where the Light he was handcuffed to would object to the suggestion that Light would murder him, with an insistent “What will get you to believe that I’m not Kira, Ryuzaki?” This Light doesn’t bother, instead just complies, leaning in slowly and pressing their lips together. It’s nice and unpleasant at the same time. L had longed in the silence of the nights when they were handcuffed together to hold Light Yagami, Kira, to run his hands through his hair, and kiss him, and sometimes he swore that Light had wanted to also. But he isn’t kissing the Light Yagami he wants to be kissing. When Light pulls away (L thinks that Light is the one who pulled away, but it could have been him, the moment is dizzy and the ringing of the bells distracts him), his eyes are cold and distant.
“Well,” L says, and touches his lips curiously. “That’s that.”
His phone rings and they go inside, and when Light catches his dying body, his usually intimidating grin looks mournful.
L wakes up, and the grin returns the next time he catches him, despite a sweeter kiss preceding it, as if the Light who showed no glee was simply a glitch.
L wakes up, and the bell’s ringing is insufferable. He books a plane and watches the location marker move closer and closer to Wammy’s. He never makes it there.
L wakes up, and spends the day wandering around Tokyo. He hasn’t walked around unattended since he can remember, and as much as it’s refreshing, he feels like he is missing something. Walking past store windows, he wonders if there is some universe in which L, the detective, isn’t L, the detective, where he’s just Lawliet, and he enjoys going on walks in shopping districts, and contemplating whether he has enough change in his wallet for a coffee. It’s inconceivable, because all he’s ever known is being L, the detective, not L Lawliet, the human, but he entertains the thought as he clutches his chest and collapses.
No one attempts to save him. Heart attacks are a normalcy in Kira’s world.
L wakes up, and kisses Light like it will convince him of anything. Light reacts the same as always, with equal parts surprise and expectation, one hand cradling L’s cheek and the other on his shoulder. L stares into Kira’s eyes, and feels like he might cry.
“I’m in love with you,” he says. Light stares at him.
And then laughs.
It’s a scary laugh, loud and abrupt, and L wonders where Light Yagami ends and Kira begins.
“What?” L asks, deeply uncomfortable.
“Come on, Ryuzaki,” Light says, still smiling amusedly. “This is just another one of your investigative techniques, right? Did you expect me to believe you?”
Light is still laughing when L’s phone rings, and for the first time, Light doesn’t catch him when he falls.
L wakes up, and calls Wammy’s.
“L?” he hears. Near’s voice, as always, is calm and welcoming. It’s familiar and homely, from the dozens of mornings L would spend playing chess with Near.
“Yes,” he responds.
There’s a crash, and, when he speaks, Mello’s voice is equal parts static and emotion. Where the other orphans shoved their emotions down in self-preservation, Mello owns his anger, and his trauma, and his hatred, and his love. “Hey! How’s the Kira case going? We’ve been following every move! You got the Kira from Yotsuba, the final Kira must be a step away!”
It takes L an abnormally short amount of time to realize he feels incredibly guilty and that he shouldn’t have called. He remembers their excitement when he called telling them about the Kira case, when he promised them that he would catch Kira. He didn’t mean to break the promise when he made it, but L’s died over and over again, and he’s starting to accept that he’s lost the game for real.
“Not well,” he manages to say.
“Well, you can do it!” Mello insists, offense crowding his tone as if any suggestion that L isn’t as smart as he thinks he is is preposterous. “I know you can. Kira is nothing compared to you!”
Near hums through the speaker. “It’s the most interesting case you’ve ever taken on, for sure. As if there’s a huge group behind Kira, without an organization. Keep at it, and it’ll figure itself out.”
“Thank you,” L says, and he wonders how to tell them everything he needs to, to apologize for the upcoming trauma of losing their idol. But L has never been good at communicating his emotions, and the task seems daunting and impossible. “Goodbye.”
He hangs up before they can respond, and heads to the headquarters. He closes his eyes when he dies and thinks of Mello and Near, and hopes they don’t feel it.
L wakes up, and Light Yagami is standing at the foot of his bed. At first, he is overcome with relief, because this has never happened before, in all the repeated days, so he must have escaped the time loop. But then he realizes that is impossible, because if it was theoretically tomorrow, L would not have woken up, but if it was the final today, then there is no reason the day should start differently.
Light Yagami blinks at him, and there’s a rare stillness to his posture, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, like, for once, his actions aren’t perfectly rehearsed.
“I’m Kira,” Light says. His expression lacks the insincere cheeriness he usually shows, like the mask he wears at all times had been left somewhere outside L’s room. L is caught so off-guard he almost chokes.
“I don’t understand,” L says, and then repeats, “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve known since the beginning,” Light says with a nervous (nervous?) chuckle. “Of course you understand.”
“I know you’re Kira,” L clarifies, strangely made comfortable by Light’s failed attempt to condescend. “I understand that. I don’t understand why you told me that, or why you’re in my room, or why I’m not dead.”
Light swallows uncomfortably. L feels incredibly unsettled by the sight of anxiety on Kira. Over the full year, L has never seen Light Yagami anxious. Light says simply, “I’ve been repeating the day, too.”
L feels his heart drop into his chest. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been repeating today, right?” Light says. “Your death - you’re supposed to die today. I’ve seen it - I’ve seen all of your attempts to save yourself.”
“I don’t believe you,” L says, because that is always his instinct, to deny, to doubt, to pull away. None of this makes sense. It makes no sense at all.
“Because from the moment I was born, there has not been a point where I actually told the truth, right?” Light quotes, and L immediately recognizes his own words within them, from the rainy rooftop, a half hour before he usually gets killed. “I’ve seen it, I swear. When my dad had to pull you off me after you broke my nose, when Misa killed you, when you stayed the day in your room and Rem killed you anyways. I’ve been counting the days, have you?”
“You did the same thing everyday,” L says, shocked and confused. “Has everyone else been reliving it, too? I was certain it was just me.”
“It’s just us, I’m positive,” Light says, and L isn’t sure whether that’s reassuring or concerning. “I don’t think a single other person on the force could have repeated everything the way I did.”
“Because you’re an actor, right?” L says, letting an accusation fall into his tone. “Everything you do is fake, practiced, isn’t it?”
Light frowns at him the same way he used to when L insisted he was Kira, so he must know L’s right.
“So, what changed?” L asks, and he wonders if he sounds angry, because he is angry, and he’s not entirely sure why. “Why aren’t you killing me again today? Telling me means you’ve lost, you know.”
“Telling you won’t change anything, you know that,” Light hisses. “You said you were in love with me, next day everything was the same.”
“Is that why you’re here?” L asks. “Did I hurt your feelings? Was I too cold to you when I was dying of a heart attack?”
Light groans, frustrated, and seeing Light angry, really, actually angry feels good, cathartic, because he hasn’t gotten to him in so long. “I could kill you, L Lawliet, you know that.”
Hearing his name, his own name, his secret name, the name he has kept hidden forever, come out of Kira’s mouth knocks the breath out of L. Somehow, it feels even worse than dying in his killer’s arms; it feels as if Light has plunged a dagger directly through L’s heart, and pulled it back out again, letting him bleed out slowly. Kira knowing his name, it’s the ultimate loss. Kira has won. L, the detective, is over. His death had been temporary, but this, Kira knowing his name, is permanent, and irreversible. He’s lost. He’s lost. He’s lost.
“I didn’t mean . . .” Light starts and then trails off, staring incredulously at L as if he’s a child who has just witnessed his dog get run over. “I didn’t come here to threaten you.”
“Why did you, then?” L asks, and he curls up against the headpost of his bed, suddenly feeling immeasurably exhausted.
“I’m tired of killing you,” Light says. “I don’t want to keep killing you.”
“I’m not sure that can be helped,” L says. “We don’t know when the day will stop repeating. You’re going to have to keep killing me so that I’m dead tomorrow.”
“You’re not hearing me,” Light insists. “I don’t want you dead.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Not anymore!” Light’s voice is rough, and L is inclined to read it as genuine, the way he sounded when they were handcuffed together. “I - I haven’t enjoyed seeing you die. At all. At first, it was everything, it meant I won. But it’s . . . I don’t enjoy . . . I . . .”
“Are you the one going to say that you’re in love with me, now?” L says, only half joking. “What changed?”
“I don’t know,” Light answers. “I never realized you were so - human.”
“I’m . . .?” Human? “I’m not . . . sure what you mean.”
“You’re just a kid,” Light says. “You’re not all-knowing or all-powerful or anything. You’re not a god. You’re just a teenager. Like me.”
“So you’ve figured out my secret,” L says, and he means it and he doesn’t at the same time. “I don’t see how this changes anything. If you’re Kira, and you are, then you need me dead. It’s as simple as that.”
Light frowns pointedly. “Are you going to make me say it out loud?” L blinks faux innocently at him. Although it’s not entirely fake in context: L truly has no concrete idea what Light is talking about.
Light huffs in frustration, and then, quietly, admits, “I’m tired of being Kira. I’m done.”
“I don’t believe you,” L repeats, not even entertaining Light’s statement. “Kira would never give up being Kira. You’re lying to me.”
“You’re not listening,” Light repeats. “I don’t want to be Kira anymore. I’m - I’m just a kid like you. This whole year, my whole life, really, I’ve thought - known - I’m better than everyone. A god, I’ve been trying to be a god, but I’m . . . I’m just a kid in the end. It’s all too much for me. I - I want justice, I want power, I want to change the world, but . . . I’ve stopped wanting . . . I’ve - I’ve never been happy, you know that? I thought the Note would kill me. I think I - wanted it to. I’ve never been happy . . . until I lost my memories of being Kira. I investigated with you and it - it felt like I had a real friend who understood me . . . I was so happy, work was so satisfying, and I . . . I loved spending everyday chained to you. I mean, I hated it, I hated you, but I loved hating you, and I loved fighting you, and I loved the tension, and I loved the connection, and I loved feeling normal, and I loved all of it, and I was happy.” Then, Light dims. “And then I remembered, and it was all gone, everything I enjoyed, everything I hated, and there was nothing. I’m bored, L. I’m so bored.”
L bites his nails. “It’s a convincing speech.”
“Look me in the eyes, L, I’m telling the truth!” Light shouts, staring L in the eyes.
“Do you expect me to just take your word for it?” Then, L adds, for the bite, “Kira.”
“I understand you don’t believe me, I’ve earned as much,” Light states, and L notices awkwardly that he’s actually shaking. “I’ve already told you that I’m Kira - was Kira, I already gave up. I’ll renounce my ownership of the Note if I must. Follow me, I’ll tell Rem not to kill you. You have to trust me, just this once, L.”
L has given a lot of things to Light Yagami over the year: his face, his time, his words, his lips, now his name, but never, ever his trust. A single person in the entire world has L’s full trust, and that’s Watari, and no one else has ever gotten close. To trust Light Yagami, to trust Kira, goes against all of his principles, every rule of self-preservation he learned at Wammy’s. He doesn’t want to keep dying.
Does he have any other option but to trust Light Yagami, Kira?
“I’m not promising anything,” he mutters, and stands slowly.
Light stares at him, visibly confused. “Does that mean . . . ?”
L gestures to the door.
Light’s eyes widen and he leads L out of his room.
L watches him follow Light Yagami, Kira, through headquarters, as if outside of his own body. Like he had promised, Light tells Rem he no longer wishes to kill L, then he calls Misa, putting her on speaker, and says the same thing.
“I already halved my time again,” Misa says, heartbreak obvious in her tone.
“I changed my mind,” Light insists. His voice is legions colder when he talks to Misa. L thinks he owes Misa a heartfelt apology, but Light doesn’t supply one. “Stop the killings, too.”
“What do you want me to do, then?” Misa asks, desperately.
“Nothing,” Light says. “Goodbye.”
It’s cruel, but it’s somewhat reassuring, because it is so clearly Light Yagami, Kira, with his mask of being a good person abandoned.
When they meet with the task force, L lets Light do the talking, watching for a lie in his words. Light invites them to test the rules L has been suspecting to be false, without the usual objection, and for the first time, the plan is carried out without a heart attack. It’s scary, because L has never gotten to this part of the day before. He doesn’t like depending on Light for his survival. He doesn’t like depending on anybody.
When the day reaches night, Light follows L up to his room, crawling under the covers with him like they used to when they were handcuffed to each other.
“I’ll stay here through the night,” Light says, daring to intertwine a hand through L’s ever-so-deliberately. “If I’m still here in the morning, we’ve escaped the loop. If not, we’ll do this again tomorrow. I won’t let you die anymore.”
“Okay,” L says.
As he drifts off to sleep, L expects Light to kill him. This is all too good to be true, too drastic a change for Light Yagami, Kira, the mass murderer, the serial killer. Light has gotten bored, that much he believes entirely. Perhaps he has merely decided that heart attacks aren’t enough to entertain him anymore. Perhaps, the moment L fades into unconsciousness, Light will wrap his hands around L’s neck and squeeze until he suffocates. L has been strangled before, he could probably knock Light off, but the sentiment remains the same. Perhaps, if Light tried to kill him, L would let him. And if L was dead the next day, perhaps that would be fine. Light’s DNA would be found on L’s corpse, he would be found guilty for first-degree murder, and Kira would be sent to his execution. That would be the victory, right? He would win the game, even if he was dead through it.
L curls up, and after a moment of deliberation, shifts closer to Light Yagami, Kira. Keep your enemies close, he tells himself. He isn’t thinking clearly, he hasn’t been for quite some time. That’s okay, for once. The Sword of Damocles is hanging over his head, and Light Yagami is going to cut the thread.
L falls asleep and isn’t terrified by the thought of dying tonight, for once.
L wakes up, and Light is asleep at his side.
Light is asleep at his side.
L checks the date. It’s tomorrow.
He’s alive. He survived.
He feels overwhelmed with relief, before fear creeps up again. Who’s to say today won’t repeat, that today he’ll die, and he’ll be caught in the loop again? Light Yagami, Kira, may have just shifted the loop a day later. Maybe the time loop is something from a Death Note Light Yagami, Kira, is hiding and using to control him and he’s a fool for believing in him.
L tells Light Yagami, Kira, as much when he wakes up and Light slaps him across the face.
“I’m giving up Kira for you!” Light shouts. “Can’t you get that through your thick skull?”
L is not inclined to believe him. Light Yagami, Kira, has peeled away the layers of his character, found L Lawliet, the boy, behind L, the detective. And there’s nothing to L Lawliet. L Lawliet is cruel, and selfish, and stubborn, and scared, and disgusting, and lonely. Nobody would - nobody should give up anything for L Lawliet because L Lawliet hardly exists behind the lie that is L, the detective.
Still, L survives the day, and wakes up, and Light is beside him.
Lawliet wakes up, another year later, and Light is still beside him.
The nightmare that was Kira, the mass murderer, the serial killer, the justice, has not killed in a year. L, the detective, no longer works alone. L, the detective, is Lawliet and Light Yagami, and later, Misa Amane, and Sayu Yagami, who turns out to be just as bright as her brother. Light Yagami stops pretending to like girls, and Misa Amane is less heartbroken than anyone expects her to be.
“I thought I loved him,” Misa says to L one day.
“You didn’t?”
She folds her hands pensively. “I was in love with Kira before I knew anything about him. I almost didn’t want to meet him, because if I met him, we would have to date. I was so relieved, you know, when he never wanted to kiss or anything. I think I wanted him because he was unattainable. I just wanted to want something. I wanted to feel normal.”
Lawliet almost comments that there is perhaps nothing less normal than dating Kira and killing people in his honor, but he doesn’t think it would particularly help, so he says nothing at all.
When Misa is away on tour, Lawliet plays Misa’s music on shuffle. He’s come to find it particularly comforting. It drowns out the buzzing and the humming. The bell’s been quieting as time passes.
Light Yagami never gives up ownership of the Death Note.
“I don’t want you to forget who you once were,” Lawliet tells him once he had decided.
Light snorts. “You just want us to stay on the same level. If you have to remember all the things you’ve done, so do I, right?”
Lawliet doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to.
He sits on the rooftop. Light is laying his head on Lawliet’s lap, a small copy of Goethe’s Faust in one hand, his other hand weaved through Lawliet’s fingers. With his other hand, Lawliet is holding a phone to his ear, making the call he has been scared to do since his death(s).
“L!” shouts Mello. Near is murmuring complaints behind him. “We’ve been waiting for you to call! You caught Kira!!”
“In a matter of terms, that I did.” Kira stopped killing, but he’s far from behind bars. Lawliet caught Kira in his arms, Kira’s on his lap like a cat.
“What’s your next case?” Near asks. “I’m working on the dullest case in months. It’s going to take me two days, max.”
“Stop bragging!” Mello hisses, and Lawliet hears Near mutter about how he’s simply telling the truth. “Anyways, why did you call?”
“I’m not L anymore,” he says simply. “I just thought you should know, being my successors and all.”
There is a long gap of static-filled silence.
“What do you mean?” Mello asks, voice cold and confused. “We’ve . . . L is still solving cases. I don’t understand.”
“I’m behind that, yes. In part. I don’t work alone anymore.”
“Why?” Near asks, and Lawliet is startled by the anger in his voice. “You’ve always worked alone, you’re L, and we were taught to be like you. You can’t give it up. You’re wasting everything.”
“You should not be like me,” Lawliet says simply, and Light flips a page. “Being L is a miserable and lonely life, and I will never stop regretting what became of Wammy’s. Perhaps either of you are healthier than me. Perhaps your life won’t turn into what mine did. You may become whatever you want. I just thought you should know.”
The silence of static returns.
“Goodbye,” Lawliet says, and hangs up.
Sometimes he wonders whether he should have died a year ago. L, the detective, should have been martyred, killed by his prime suspect. L, the detective, never should have become L Lawliet, the human, who doesn’t live alone, who has friends and a boyfriend who he often fights with but often loves. Then, again, L, the detective, did die a year ago, didn’t he, when he began trusting someone else. L Lawliet, the detective, the teenager, the prodigy, the nightmare, the genius, lives in the arms of Kira.
There’s no game for him to lose or win. There’s only life and what he lets himself make of it. And when the bells ring, he lets them.