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The Broken Heart Serial Killings is a case the superdetective L picked up after the fifth kill in 2 months. He’s been on it for 108 consecutive days, and an additional 9 people have died since. L knows exactly who the killer is, he did since the beginning, but as usual with Light, he just can’t prove it.
Though, as of late, the case has taken a rather.. interesting turn. The missing hearts of the victims have been turning up, never too soon before or after the body has been found. Never any DNA left besides the heart’s previous owner’s, the bloody organ wrapped in brown paper, and tied up with light brown twine. It’s a rather macabre sight, whenever the bloody package turns up. This has been happening for the past two months, the past 6 kills. L feels as though he’s being taunted, and can admit to not being the biggest fan of the little gifts. It’s like a cat bringing its owner dead mice, because it thinks it's a nice, helpful thing to do.
The last package he received was different, in that the heart had been cut open, a paper folded in fourths placed inside, then carefully sewn back up. The note currently sits in a plastic bag on L’s desk, stained pink with blood. It reads a date, location, and in the lower right corner sits a simple heart shape, two curved lines meeting at either end to form a rather oversimplification of L’s new least favorite organ. It’s written in the same simple, font-like writing as the one that hundreds of names were written in, all those years ago. The date given is a week, exactly, from when it arrived at L’s doorstep. He’s got some decisions to make.
***♡***
A week later, L raps his knuckles two times on the door of a single bedroom apartment situated in Tokyo. All the murders had taken place in the same city, so that simply pointed further to the young man who was once known as Kira. L didn’t take on the Kira case when it reopened after Light’s escape. He had grown tired of their cat and mouse. He didn’t expect Light to continue his killings, though, in such an unusual manner. He supposed he wouldn’t mind seeing an old friend again.
“Ryuzaki. Come in.” Light smiles, and opens the door further for L. Light uses the old alias like a pet name. L does not step in.
The bells toll in the back of his mind, shaking through his skull.
“Yes,” L responds softly and walks into the house, immediately discarding his shoes by the door. Light shuts it behind him, and L does not hear a lock click. Light knows his fate is sealed. All he wants is closed doors for a little while, it seems, even if they’re not locked.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Light asks him, walking behind the subject of his affections. L walks with caution, gaze flicking over every corner of the eerily ordinary apartment.
“No, thank you.” L hums, thumb on his lower lip. He’d rather not risk a poisoning. Light leads him to what seems to be a perfectly normal living room. The detective places himself on one end of the couch, and the killer the other. L sets his hands on his knees, and doesn’t remove his gaze from his suspect. Light is acting like they are just old friends catching up. L supposes they are, in some twisted way.
“I didn’t think you would come,” Light admits, lips quirked into a little smile.
“If it weren’t you, I wouldn’t’ve.” L responds, owlish eyes focused on Light. He always looks so normal. That’s what drove L the most mad, he thinks. Most of L’s other suspects look at least a little more demented. Light is nothing like them.
L wants to slice his brain up like a piece of cake. He thinks it’d make a pleasing sound. Light would be thrilled to do the same to L’s chest.
“I see,” The brunette hums, playing with a piece of loose string on his sleeve. L shifts closer. Closer. He can feel Light’s breath on his face.
“What’s your goal, Light Yagami?” L asks him, and Light’s warm palms brush over pale cheeks.
“To see you again,” Light whispers, fingers curling around the back of L’s neck and tangling in his overgrown hair. L is practically on top of him, they’re so close together. Light’s breathing is struggling to stay at a normal pace. He would’ve felt like crying, if he were the crying type.
Light finds himself leaning up, capturing L’s lips with his own. They’re less chapped than he remembers. L doesn’t pull away. Light tastes of coffee and iron, L’s mind supplies. The coffee is the same as it always has been. The iron, not so much.
Light digs teeth into L’s lower lip, hard enough to make L flinch back. Blood bubbles out of the wound, and Light licks it from his lips. L wipes the blood from his lips with his thumb, and wipes the red on the light brown couch. He sits back, licking his wound like a dog.
Big brown eyes stay focused on him, and he can see Light’s leg bouncing. He looks ecstatic. L narrows his own eyes at him, frowning.
“I’m going to arrest you,” L says, as if it’s not obvious. Light nods, and doesn’t seem all that upset about it.
“I know.” Light hums, sitting up. He wants to kiss L again, so badly. He decides to just go for it. There’s not much worse that could happen.
Light leans in again, pushing L down onto the couch. His knee digs into the couch beneath them, and L lets his knees fall slightly apart to accommodate him. L doesn’t resist, allowing Light to get his fill before he’s in handcuffs again, something he’s already intimately familiar with.
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” L mumbles against Light’s lips, half lidded black eyes meeting brown. Light frowns a little, but seems to have anticipated this.
“Okay,” Light responds, “can I keep kissing you?” L doesn’t respond, instead pressing their lips together again.
It’s nice, he thinks, as Light’s hand crawls under his shirt. Maybe he can pretend they’re normal for a while. Pretend he doesn’t taste blood on Light’s tongue, pretend he won’t watch the brunette get shoved into a police car in less than an hour.
“They’re going to come in,” L whispers, gaze flicking down to Light’s chest as he pulls his sweater off. He keeps his shirt on. “If you take too lon–” L is shut up with Light's mouth.
***♡***
L is pretty sure he blacks out. He remembers kissing Light, being taken to the boy’s barren bedroom. Remembers the stench of rotting flesh coming from the closet, and commenting on how it’s likely the least sexy thing Light could’ve had in there. Remembers Light producing a knife, dragging it along L’s inner arm. He remembers Light lapping up the blood that seeps from the wound, looking up at him with shiny brown eyes, and L brushing his fingers through Light’s hair. Remembers Light holding the knife above L’s heart, the cold blade touching the hot skin of his bare chest. He remembers heat, and Light, Light, Light.
Now, L is sitting in Watari’s car. Light is sitting beside him, hands cuffed and blade confiscated by the old man. L’s agents did not, in fact, come in. L was told Watari dismissed them soon after the door was closed. Watari apparently waited in the car until L came out with Light himself. L doesn’t know to be ashamed or grateful Watari knows him better than he does himself.
Light looks to be in a state of bliss mixed with frustration that he couldn’t get away from L again. They both know this cycle will repeat until one of them is dead.