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“You can’t sleep either,” L says.
Light doesn’t ask how L knows this. Maybe the rhythm of his breath gave it away. “No.”
“Let’s go somewhere.”
The clock on the nightstand tells Light it’s almost two in the morning. “Where is there to go?”
“I have an idea.” L gets out of bed, moving far enough away that Light’s handcuff digs into his wrist. “I just need to move around.”
Light doesn’t see why not. He began suffering from insomnia after his confinement, and even though it’s only a few times a week, it’s brutal. How L does this all the time, he has no clue.
He rolls out of bed on L’s side. L snatches up one of their blankets before heading to the door.
He obviously knows where they’re going, so Light lets him take the lead. They step into the elevator where L presses the button for the roof. Light has wondered what it’s like up there, and he thinks he’d enjoy a bird’s eye view of Tokyo, but he understands why L brought the blanket now. It’s bound to be cold.
When they arrive, L takes them to the edge opposite the elevator, behind a large satellite dish that points toward the sky. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders and leans against the railing.
The view is breathtaking. City lights sprawl for miles, a glittering sea of white and neon. They overwhelm most of the celestial bodies above, but there are a few to be seen, winking down at Light like pinprick pupils. He’s never been to the top of a building this tall. It’s peaceful.
But the wind is frigid. He should’ve thought to grab a sweater.
As if reading his thoughts, L holds out a corner of the blanket. “Would you like to share?”
Light’s stomach flips wretchedly. L’s gesture doesn’t mean anything, of course. It’s common courtesy. And if Light’s body is reacting in such a way, that’s a sign he shouldn’t take L up on it. But…if L is intent on staying out here for long, Light would like to avoid freezing to death. He shuffles just close enough to grab the blanket and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he shuffles a little closer so it’s not pulled as tight across their backs. Their bodies don’t touch, but Light can feel L’s heat pouring off of him.
Silence falls and lingers for a while. It’s comfortable. Light watches cars pass on the street below and wonders who all of those people are, what lives they lead.
When did L’s shoulder start touching his?
“If it weren’t for the investigation,” L says, “what would you be doing right now?”
Light glances at L’s hands. They’re crossed at the wrists, dangling over the railing. “I’d be studying to join the police.”
“Let me rephrase: If it weren’t for the investigation, and if you could do anything, what would you be doing?”
Light blinks, confused. Is this a test? “I just told you.”
“If you could do anything you wanted, you’d still be a police officer?”
“What are you trying to get at?”
L does not respond. In fact, he’s quiet for long enough that Light begins to think he was right, and the question was a test after all. But then—“I think I’d want to be an astronaut.”
“What?”
“A space traveler.”
“Yes, I know what an astronaut is.” Was it a genuine question after all? L’s given what sounds like a genuine answer, if only because it’s so unexpected.
“I don’t know if I could stand wearing those suits, but it’s nice to think about,” L says. “Would you ever want to go to space?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
“It’s dangerous, of course, but I think the stakes are half the fun.”
“Is that how you see your detective work?” Light asks.
“When it comes to the Kira case, yes. But in the years leading up to it…” Again, L pauses for a long time. “I suppose it started to feel dull. Stifling.”
Light turns that over in his brain. “But you’re amazing at it.”
“I am. Amazing enough to never personally involve myself. Not until you came along.”
The Kira accusation does not go unnoticed, but Light doesn’t comment on it, too intrigued by the direction this conversation is taking.
“Amazing enough that the few people close to me only serve as a means to an end.” L gazes up at the sky. He doesn’t sound sad, exactly, or at least Light doesn’t think so, but there’s something present in his voice that usually isn’t. “The whole world knows who I am. Nobody knows who I am.”
A pang resounds beneath Light’s sternum.
“But I think space would be nice.” L smiles.
Light looks away from him and back to the city. He starts talking without really meaning to. “I think it’s unfair that we’re stuck on this planet for our whole lives, especially when we only get to see a fraction of it. I even think it’s unfair that we’re…”
“What?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t make any sense.”
L leans in, shoulder and bicep completely flush against Light’s. “Try me.”
This is too much. L is so close that Light’s insides have become a whirlpool of viscera, and for some unfathomable reason, he feels inclined to be honest. With the man who thinks he’s Kira.
Fuck it. Fuck it. Light knows he isn’t Kira, and after so many weeks spent chained at the wrist, what else does he have to lose?
“I think it’s unfair we’re stuck being human. If I could do anything I wanted, like you asked, I would separate my consciousness from my body.”
L replies without hesitation. “I know exactly what you mean.”
It takes Light a moment to realize he’s being serious. “You do?”
“I don’t think many other people would. But yes, I do.”
Light stares at a distant planet he doesn’t know the name of. He only knows that planets don’t twinkle like stars do. His guts whirl round and round and his chest roars with a feeling he can’t easily define. It’s not happiness or sadness or anger or excitement or any of the simple emotions he usually allows himself.
“I think it’s alright to feel that way,” L says. “For what it’s worth.”
“But it’s not normal. You said so yourself.”
L shrugs against Light’s shoulder. “So? We’re both a little strange. It’s not a bad thing.”
Light has never been called strange, at least not to his face. Frankly, if it came from anyone else, he’d take offense. But hearing L say it is different.
“What if we went to space together and never came back?” Light asks, so soft that the wind might drown him out. “What if it was just the two of us?”
“I would like that.”
The sensation in Light’s body reaches a fever pitch. His careful control vanishes into the night. He feels he has no choice but to kiss L, so he does.
He regrets it the moment it begins, even though L’s lips are soft and his body is warm and he doesn’t show any signs of disgust. Light jerks back like he’s been burned, clamps a hand over his mouth, and stares at the sidewalk all those floors below.
Why the fuck did he do that? Why would he pull that kind of stunt when he’s chained to L? He can’t even get away to hide in bed and ride out his mortification. Why would he ruin this moment? What if he jumped over the railing and killed them both and saved them all the trouble that will come from his mistake?
He can feel L’s eyes on him. “Light.”
Light does not look back. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t—”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.” L places a hand above the crook of Light’s elbow. “Light. I’m not upset with you.”
Light realizes he feels like crying and wants to fling himself off the building more than ever. Even if L isn’t upset, this is still humiliating, because there’s no way in hell—
“Actually, I would have liked for you to continue.”
Shock slams into Light with enough force to numb his shame. He drags his hand from his mouth and turns to meet L’s eyes. “What?”
“You could’ve kept going.”
What is he supposed to say to that?
L’s smile returns to his face. “Would you like to try again?”
This has to be a trick. L must be setting him up for greater humiliation. Light gawks and blinks quickly to keep his tears at bay, but L keeps smiling, and he’s leaning in before Light’s overloaded brain can catch up.
The kiss silences his every thought. L’s hand cups his cheek, warm and broad. Light wraps gentle fingers around his wrist, not to push him away, but to keep him in place.
Their mouths move in tandem for what could be seconds or hours. Light has no way of knowing. Once he settles into the press of their lips, it melts his mind and all awareness of the world around him.
L pulls away, but he doesn’t move his hand, thumb brushing back and forth across Light’s cheekbone. “I’m not upset with you, Light-kun. I like you very much.”
What?
But you think I’m Kira.
Still. Light wants to believe L so, so badly. It scares him how badly he wants it.
“Would you like to go back inside?” L asks.
Absently, Light nods. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep now, but he can’t think of any other response.
They return downstairs. Light hardly remembers the walk to their room by the time they arrive. He climbs into bed and lies flat on his back. L curls up beside him and extends an arm, palm coming to rest on the inside of Light’s wrist.
“Goodnight,” L says. “Sleep well.”
Light can’t help but soften beneath L’s touch. He imagines being held in his arms. He nearly lets himself wish for it. “Goodnight, Ryuzaki.”