Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ PITCH ❯ Ceiling ( Chapter 23 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: selena281 
This is really chapter 22.
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / Drama / Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.01.2011 | Pages: 9 | Words: 11.9K | Visits: 265 | Status: Work In Progress
This is really chapter 22.
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / Drama / Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.01.2011 | Pages: 9 | Words: 11.9K | Visits: 265 | Status: Work In Progress
PITCH
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Light x L
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Part 22
L is a reclusive detective who takes his job seriously. Too seriously, in fact. Once he takes note of how neglected and stagnant his life truly is, he decides to make some changes. Challenges arise through an unanticipated meeting. AU
A/N: I just started watching the show 'Merlin'. Produced in the UK, and I.Love.It! Give it a go, it should appeal to a wide audience. (Not a bad show for some yaoi fodder, either! Quite slashable. Haha)
Thank you for reading!
P.S. Look up 'Green Smoothies'. If you do them right, they are actually really good. And super healthy to boot. :)
Peace out.
Thank you for reading!
P.S. Look up 'Green Smoothies'. If you do them right, they are actually really good. And super healthy to boot. :)
Peace out.
Disclaimer: (See part 1 for full disclaimer.) No booze was harmed in the making of this fic.
Pitch: (def.)
A substance commonly utilized to bind materials in construction... Tar pitch appears solid, and can be shattered with a hard impact, but it is actually fluid. Pitch flows at room temperature, but extremely slowly. To attain maximum fluidity, to be used, it must be exposed to heat.
Minds are like pitch. To reveal their full potential, they must be exposed to environs that apply stress. They must be challenged.
Part 22: (Ceiling)
L watched Raito lapse into unconsciousness, and knew that it was not a state he would be adopting any time soon. There was the small sense of victory that something had finally been worked out, and yet...
...there was a certain restlessness lurking within him.
L frowned, brows drawing together as he listlessly took measure of the room again. There was a sense of wrongness that ebbed at the borders of his mind, elusive and yet making him certain that in staying here, it might worsen.
What had that peaceful, calm feeling of just moments ago been? Where had it come from and where had it gone so suddenly?
Little details about the room mocked him, that he had even felt such a thing as peace. The handcuffs that lie draped on the headboard, like a dozing serpent, harmless at the moment though dangerous when engaged... the knife... the alcohol... So many unwholesome little details that cast a darkness upon the scene with which to combat the serenity in the sleeping figure beside him. It was so wrong, the nearly angelic innocence in that face when the evidence of his handiwork lay about in plain view.
L could still see the flash of those entitled eyes, and feel the burn of resentment and fear in his throat as he was 'convinced' to do as Raito wanted.
He felt torn. There was reasonable Raito - with whom he had agreed to try cohabitation.... Then there was the Raito who had shackled, threatened and humiliated him without pause. Each side of the brunet called up a different set of emotions and he wasn't sure what to do about it. Raito was wrong for having done this. Any of it. And yet L found himself acquiescing to living with him? That was illogical, wasn't it? Irrational?
L slipped from the bed and hunted his clothing.
He would have liked a shower, but he couldn't afford the chance that the brunet might awaken by the time he had finished. He needed to leave. And the best way to accomplish that was to do it while the brunet was not in a position to stop him.
L contemplated the handcuffs. It would serve the brunet right if L were to cuff him and leave him here. To let him feel how that had felt... even for the brief time it would take for him to free himself. But L couldn't suffer to meet the brunet's eyes. They were too hypnotic - like a viper's - and his resolve and mental state were too easily swayed by their pull. He couldn't risk Raito waking for any reason. He could not be at the mercy of his gaze or words. He just needed to slip out undetected.
His ruined shirt flapped about him as he thrust his feet into the legs of his pants and pulled them up over his hips. His eyes roved the bed for the red glint of his cell phone as he patted his pockets.
It was there - almost tucked beneath Raito's lean form. He slid the phone from the tangle of sheets, knuckles brushing accidentally against flesh. His hand jerked back and he tensed, waiting for the brunet to stir. He did not. L's eyes drifted across sleek, tanned skin, unwittingly, following the inviting curve of his back and the temptation it offered. Touch me, it practically beckoned. And it was hard to resist running his hands over it, to feel smooth skin and the play of muscle beneath it as Raito awakened and stretched into the caress like a cat.
L fisted his hands to keep them from defecting, the cell phone clutched in one.
Why am I so sick for you? he wondered spitefully, still berating himself for his roaming eyes, and now also for the strength with which he had to fight the urge to touch. I'm beside myself with how you treat me and yet I still--!
He thrust the phone into his pocket and let himself out. He disregarded the common courtesy of leaving a note. One, he did not wish to delay himself further. Two, he was angry. He was angry at himself, and angry at Raito.
---
L stalked up to the main office and pulled the door open none-too-gently.
The bored-looking clerk was the same today as yesterday. His brows lifted slightly as he looked at L, and perhaps there was a touch of unease and curiosity as he noticed bare skin and the shirt without buttons. He also looked like he did not want to deal with something as troublesome as being implicated with having a hand in whatever had befallen the dark-haired man before him. The boy quickly avoided eye contact, his face re-assuming the bored I'm-not-involved expression.
"I need to use your phone."
"Sorry. It's for office use only," the boy replied.
L was already irritated that his phone did not seem to have reception outside of the room. Stupid, spotty cellular networks. Wouldn't it make more sense for the phone to not work IN the room?? Regardless... It was supremely irritating that this kid seemed to be clinging to the loyalty that Raito's money had inspired.
L rested his hands on the counter. "You do realize that what you did can be considered a crime, do you not? I would be well within my rights to press charges."
The kid blanched. "I don't want any sort of trouble."
L plucked a business card off of the desk. "Then I suggest you call me a taxi," he said darkly. "Right now." There was no telling how far he'd have to walk to encounter a signal. He might as well get the taxi arranged here, instead of just procuring the number as he'd originally thought to do.
"S-Sure," the boy stammered, fumbling at the computer to look up a number.
---
L felt marginally better after terrorizing the impudent little punk who thought that money held more weight than another person's well-being. Is this how kids were being raised these days? Or were some of them just rotten to begin with?
He shook his head as he walked away from the building, his shoes crunching on gravel. It was a little windy out. It caught at his ruined shirt, flipping it this way and that, making him feel rather exposed in a location such as this. At the beach, perhaps, this would have been closer to normal attire. (Not that he'd ever frequented such a place.) Here, it was more like being somewhat naked.
He couldn't say the last time he had felt the wind or sun on his bare skin. He couldn't decide if he liked it or loathed it. Part of that was surely due to the situation as well as his impatience in awaiting the taxi.
Maybe I should have taken Raito's shirt instead.
The wind gusted and fingered through his hair.
Yeah, right. That would have been the last thing he needed - to be surrounded by the brunet's scent even as he was fleeing him. What he did need was some distance. A chance to think clearly and to not have everything so muddied by physicality and the brunet's endless manipulations. He needed time to attend to work and to take stock of his priorities. He needed to step off of this roller coaster he'd been on these last many weeks.
Raito was probably going to be pissed.
While he waited, L ran through his head just what sort of message he was going to send as soon as he was in the vehicle and on his way. It wouldn't do to send it now and risk waking the brunet up. Not when all Raito would have to do is walk out the door and drag him back.
L made a sour face. He had not appreciated being dragged through the parking lot the first time, and it still chaffed that he'd lost in a contest of strength. It had been humiliating and startling to find himself unable to alter the course of events. In addition to nicking his pride, it made him feel a complete loss of control which was hard to bear. First Aiber, then Raito. He had been confident in his skills in self-defense, yet once again they'd been rendered useless. He'd had no recourse when their hands were already upon him. He needed some distance in order to be effective. He was no grappler.
He was rapidly finding this to be an untenable disadvantage.
His frown darkened. What, am I supposed to lift weights in my infinite spare time??
If anything would raise Watari's brows, it would be a sudden interest in working out. The man would likely have him institutionalized.
---
A soft chirrup noise stirred Raito to wakefulness. He groggily tried to remember where he'd last seen his phone, but he was coming up with nothing.
He rolled over onto his back, arms outstretched, and looked at the dingy ceiling for a long moment. He did not bother to look around. The place felt empty. What good would it do to confirm that the detective had already slipped through his fingers when he already knew that he had?
It irritated him, this feeling of loss.
They'd agreed to move forward, and yet it felt as if they were moving backward, rapidly.
Lawliet was doing his disappearing act again, and they were coming back to square one.
Raito felt that elusive emotion of regret and accountability mark his face, sliding upon it uninvited.
He sat up, rubbing his face with his hands to rid himself of it. Why should I feel guilty? He's the one that's being so stubborn and willful. We wouldn't have gotten anywhere at all if it weren't for me.
But he knew he'd pushed too far. He'd already seen it while he'd been in the act.
He'd offered up himself and his precious control because he'd seen things falling apart in front of him. Damage control. His wild impulses were getting worse, and Lawliet's behavior was spurring them on. He was so used to getting what he wanted... he wasn't quite sure how to react now when that wasn't the way things went.
But at least he was trying. He was making the effort to seek balance. What was Lawliet doing other than running away?
Raito looked around and spotted his phone on the floor next to the nightstand, accompanied by the shot glass, which lolled on its side, and the smell of alcohol.
The hefty pocket knife lay on the table, open and ready.
They painted a rather... colorful picture, did they not, these accoutrements?
He looked over at the headboard and the handcuffs with a blank expression. He could still conjure the image, real as life, of slim white wrists filling those cuffs and fighting against them until they were raw. He could see dark eyes burning with suppressed anger as Lawliet was forced to comply with whatever Raito wanted of him. And no matter which emotion the detective claimed, love or hate, there was a heated passion behind his words and in every nuance of his expression, veiled or not. He felt very strongly and his feelings were likely every bit as volatile as Raito's own.
How else would he have been swayed between anger and lust, then fear and back again? And how was Raito supposed to stop himself from forcing those reactions in the dark-haired detective when they were so very fascinating to behold? Rage giving way and folding beneath violating kisses... Fear overriding desire, and then desire overriding fear. Anger and injustice cutting down inhibitions and paving the way to yet more passion. It was probably rather sick and twisted. But he couldn't help it and was likely Lawliet couldn't either.
And he does fight it so very hard...
Raito's phone began to flash, which meant someone was calling, and he realized as he bent to pick it up that he was still intoxicated. He ran a hand through his hair as he answered it, trying to pull his thoughts from all of the colorful images of Lawliet that were emblazoned in his mind. Darkly flushed cheeks, that mouth that looked so erotic when it breathed in gasps, his long pale neck arching back as Raito touched him, the taste of salt on his skin...
"Why haven't you come in to work today?!" A shrill voice demanded, ripping through his musings. It was Hal, his PA.
Fuck.
"If you are not dead," she continued, "which you are most certainly not since you are answering the phone, than you had better damned well be maimed or missing the fingers needed to dial work for not having come in and missing one of THE most important meetings of the month!"
What day was it? Tuesday?
"Shit," he hissed. This was going to be a hassle.
"'Shit' is right, you asshole! Do you have any idea how hard it's been covering you since yesterday afternoon?! Where in the hell have you been?"
"I've been taking care of some things--"
"Well, I sincerely hope that they're more important than your career, because you are hanging by a thread."
Still, it couldn't be as bad as all of that. Hal was prone to being overly dramatic at times, in his opinion. Still, what an interesting thing she had proposed. Was it possible he really did place Lawliet above his career? He never done that before with anything or anyone...
"Raito, are you listening to me?!"
"No," he answered dismissively. He had much more important things to consider. "And you ranting at me is not going to change anything for the better, so please stop before I am forced to hang up on you."
She spluttered incoherently.
"I'm sure you handled everything with your usual grace, which is the very reason I hired you. So tell me, who am I to make amends with and when?"
She rattled off a list of names, but the crucial parties were only two in number. The rest could be mollified by simple means.
"All right," he said, repeating the two names of import. "I can do dinner tonight and then a business lunch tomorrow. Arrange it."
"But where are you?" she insisted. "Why aren't you at the office?"
"Perhaps I got food poisoning."
"Yeah, right," she scoffed, dismissing the idea entirely. "The Chairman is looking for you as well. Aiber reported that your cute little detective friend wasn't at the meeting the other day, that I was filling in, and then Amane-san confirmed it with the roster. He is not in a friendly mood. I've been trying to avoid him all morning."
Raito felt a brief jolt twist through his gut. Aiber. Aiber who had been confined in Lawliet's closet. It wasn't that discovery that put him on edge - the man would have been removed by now - it was that any excuse of sickness had been ruled out by his own hand. Obviously he would have been feeling just fine if he had been spending the night with the detective and sending messages in the morning for Chairman Amane to pick up his foreign trash. Amane was going to be livid. Positively livid. Raito had taken too many liberties all at once. Entirely too many.
"Hal, do what you can until I get there. It may be a little while, but I promise it will be as soon as possible."
"You almost sound like you are apologizing."
Raito contemplated that. "I suppose I am, in a way."
"...Maybe the food poisoning story is not so outlandish after all. Are you ok? You're not in the hospital are you?"
Raito was beginning to notice an irritating trend that when he tried to be nice, people assumed he was ill. "Do not try my patience, woman."
"No, your highness," she said flippantly, "I wouldn't dream of it."
"I can demote you, you know."
"I'd welcome it! Being your personal assistant is stressful."
"Then I'll let that serve as your punishment," he said off-handedly. "I need to go, or I'll never get there."
"Just don't get in a car accident or anything with your speeding."
"Moi?"
"Hurry it up, Raito."
He hung up and contemplated showering in the room's tiny bathroom. Immediately after, he dismissed the idea as he still would not have appropriate attire to don afterwards. He needed to stop by his house either way, so he might as well shower there instead of in the questionably clean facilities here.
He threw on his shirt and shoes and tossed the bottle of alcohol, the shot glass, and the handcuffs into the plastic shopping bag. The knife, he folded up and dropped into his pocket.
Now that he was on his feet, he felt like hell. He'd definitely had too much to drink, and thoughts of Lawliet were eating away at him. Not to mention the soreness he felt as a result of his taking things too far. He'd never expected to feel that sort of bodily ache again, not after France. It grated at his nerves. Had it been worth it? Had it accomplished what he'd intended? To suffer the effects without knowing its effectiveness was difficult indeed.
He glanced around the room one more time, making sure he'd left nothing behind. There was no note or anything of the sort to explain Lawliet's silent departure. He hadn't expected one, and yet... it seems that somehow he had. He wondered if Lawliet would answer if he called. Had he decided to be angry again?
He wondered at the alert he'd heard on his phone earlier, likely an email or text, but it would have to wait. His first priority at the moment had to be his work. He'd been jeopardizing it past what was reasonable. He had to get back on track. He had to get his thoughts off of Lawliet, and out of this rut of possession and lust. He could barely think straight anymore. All he could do is fixate on how to get Lawliet within his reach, within his bed, and devise ways in which he could keep him in his life.
That such goals had superceded his career and his drive for power was disturbing.
--
"You are aware of why I called you into my office, aren't you, boy?"
Raito stood at attention just inside the claustrophobic room with its persistent gloom, burgundy colors and dark wood. The heavy wine-colored drapes made the office bear even more of a striking resemblance to the Chairman's study at home. It didn't look much like an office at all, really. Perhaps more like an opium den.
"I missed an important meeting," Raito said grimly, voicing the least of his transgressions.
"Ha!" Chairman Amane barked humorlessly. "That is the least of it." He regarded Raito with a gimlet eye. "That was very presumptuous of you this morning." He was referring to Raito trussing up Aiber and notifying them that he was ready for pickup. "It left my heart all aflutter. Not a good thing at my age."
"With all due respect, I wasn't sure what else to do, Sir."
The Chairman narrowed his eyes. "Is that so? It seems to me that you are feeling you have the ability to throw your weight around and your arrogance rather astounds me." The Chairman poured himself a stiff drink. "Your attack on my star employee has not gone unnoticed. That was a nasty shock you dealt him."
"What would you have me do? You let your dog off of his leash and I had to do damage control. You owe me for packaging him and his stupidity into a neat little bundle for you to collect. Or would you rather have had him cause a scene and let that get back to Misa?"
The Chairman's face rarely let slip that mask of joviality, but just now his eyes were burning like brimstones. "My boy, my boy. It is truly a shame at how little you know your place. Did you fancy yourself to be self-sufficient so early in the game or think yourself free of my support?"
Raito felt unease stir in him like viscous waters. "No, Sir."
"I've tolerated your impertinence thus far, but I am no saint. If you insist on testing your wings, I can and will break them."
Raito bowed his head, looking demure, but he was seething.
"Mikami will take your place on the project. He's been itching for the chance to prove himself, and I think that letting him ride on your hard work should be a sufficient start to your punishment, don't you?"
Raito nearly choked on the "Yes, Sir." Amane knew of the bad blood between them and often liked to stir it. But this? This was going too far!
"You are also making me re-evaluate your worth to me as a free entity."
Raito froze. Not good. Not good. The misgiving he felt now was like a wave gathering itself en force.
"Why waste all of the effort I put into you by doing it all over again with Aiber? Misa is smitten with you most of all, Aiber has some inexplicable fixation with the detective, and you are more useful to me when you are not distracted by your personal life." His voice was barren, dropping the laughs, and it was unpleasant at best. "It makes me think, my boy, that I would be better served by offering you severance pay and making sure you never get the chance to further your career in any circuit. Or... I could offer you the chance to make Misa happy and to take over for me when I am through."
Raito tried to keep his facade in place but it felt as if icy blades were shredding his guts. "Is Aiber failing to win the fair Misa's heart?"
He was feeling dizzy and a little sick. His entire world was hanging in the balance right now.
"Pheh!" The Chairman laughed. "With you as his competition? And that face of yours? It's practically a doomed venture. You look pale, boy. Here, have a drink." He poured a small, cut crystal glass full of a dark-colored liquid and held it out.
"I shouldn't. It's still business hours..."
The Chairman stared at him like a gargoyle until he relented and took the glass. In truth, he wanted to drink himself under the table. He poured it down his throat, hoping it would steady his nerves. This had to be the WORST fucking situation he'd ever found himself in. And what of Lawliet? If he was forced into being with Misa again, where would that leave Lawliet? It was obvious that Chairman Amane planned to toss the detective to Aiber. He'd be eaten alive.
"You're good at what you do, Raito. Perhaps too good."
"I take it that isn't a compliment."
"No, it's a piece of advice. Those that are the best will be sought after by those who want the best. Those that are the best do not slip under the radar, and will often forfeit their freedom. Your very aspirations are what created the difficult situation in which you now find yourself. Your create your own shackles, my boy."
'The best are sought by those that want the best...'
Just like Aiber hounds Lawliet, a superior detective. Just like I seek Lawliet, because I sense he is more worthwhile than anyone else. Just like Misa chases me, as in her head, I am a physical ideal. And despite my lack of enthusiasm for her, I played my part well, convincingly - and still do.
"I'll give you some time to mull it over," the Chairman said. "See if you still have the ability to get it up for her after all this time goofing off with a dead end. You're dismissed."
Raito bowed and showed himself out.
He walked down the hall with his usual purposeful stride, but he was seeing nothing. Sick. His head was brimming with this sick feeling and it was escaping down into his rioting stomach with every faked smile to passers-by. He was being social on automatic pilot. It was ingrained in his being. Was the Chairman correct in that he was too good at this? No one suspected he was disturbed and seething with these monstrous feelings. No one would look at him and know anything more than what he showed on the surface. No one knew how he loathed Misa.
He could spend his life in the cage of another role that he himself had crafted just because he wasn't sure what to do!
Hearing something faintly that sounded like his name, he stopped and turned.
Hal had been trotting after him, cursing her stupid high heels (her words, as she took the final steps to reach him). "Raito, couldn't you hear me?" she panted, slightly winded. "I've been trying to catch you since you passed my office down the hall. Is something wrong?"
He looked into her eyes and lied. "No, nothing is wrong. Why?"
She looked a little taken aback. "Well, you didn't seem to hear me, so I thought..."
"Everything's fine. I'm just in a hurry." Hal was one of the few people that had ever seen through him. Hal, his mother, and Lawliet.
God. Lawliet.
There was a feeling, like a blade twisting in his gut...
What the fuck am I going to do?
He turned around and resumed his steady beeline for the door. He knew he was expected to stay in the office for the remainder, but he was preciously close to losing to the maelstrom in his head. He needed to speak to Lawliet. This concerned him, after all.
Strange, but it was almost like, for the first time, he was feeling the need to share a problem with another person. It was utterly out of character for him. Who was better equipped to solve his own problems than himself? Why put stock in others when they lacked the finer details, and possibly also the mental horsepower to see everything in its entirety and from the proper angles? Why did he feel the desperate need to broach this to the detective and to ask his opinion on the matter? The very fact that the matter involved him was sure to color his response. But Raito couldn't shake the feeling. It was... persistent.
Raito made it to his car and slipped inside, hands shaking upon the wheel. His mind was racing, yet felt empty. Was he in shock? It was unusual that he could not decide upon a course of action instantaneously. It was equally odd for him to be unable to discern whether he was upset, angry, or something else entirely. He felt like his mind had suffered a blast and the ashes were still floating to the floor like dirty snow.
He found his phone in his hand then, and remembered the message he'd heard hit his phone earlier. He saw that he had a text. Lawliet.
It read:
'I've given this a lot of thought, and the conclusion I've come to is that I need some space. I'd like you to refrain from contacting me in any way until further notice. If you can do this, it may serve to repair some of the faith I've lost in you. If you cannot, I regret to say that I will not be able to see going through with our previous agreement as anything more than a mistake.
L'
The trickle of hope he'd felt, when thinking of speaking to Lawliet, died and lodged itself inextricably in his throat. If he'd felt shell-shocked before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.
(It's not like he broke up with you), a small part of him said.
((Not yet, anyway.))
He's lost his faith in me?
I agree that I took things too far, but... Raito tilted his seat back and closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. He didn't trust himself to drive just yet. If he was honest, he was feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed. On all accounts, his hands were bound. He was not the master of his own future. He was awaiting judgment and a sentence.
...but to be forbidden contact... that was the sort of extreme that might lead to a severing of ties, was it not?
"Fuck," he whispered in the confines of the car, pulling his hands over his eyes.
Days, weeks, who knew how long Lawliet wanted to carry out this sentence? But how long did he have until the Chairman blew his whistle?
Not only would he be unable to stay with the detective and make sure Aiber did not have the chance to pull anything, he couldn't even warn Lawliet of it now. Even if he wanted to swallow his own scheming and admit all that had happened - just to make sure Lawliet was prepared - he couldn't. He would jeopardize everything. And not only that! He had no way to make known to Lawliet that something big had just occurred that could change everything. Any contact would nullify the remainder of Lawliet's goodwill towards him.
I've shown myself to be too unstable and reactive... he thought. He's testing me to see if I am worthy of his trust. He's testing my restraint.
Raito could not really fault him for it, but damn it! The timing was horrible!
He would have to come to a decision on his own then. To choose Lawliet over his career and still run the risk of being rejected or having the relationship burn down around them... Or to choose his career - his quest for power - the only constant in his life and the only thing he'd wanted before meeting Lawliet at the bar that night.
If he wasn't with Lawliet, did it really matter who he was with? Wouldn't it feel just as empty? Would it not be better to choose the safer option? The one that he'd been working towards all this time, rather than throwing it all away on the off-chance that he hadn't screwed everything up with the only person he'd ever wanted to be with this badly?
---
L sat at his desk, typing away on his laptop, absently marking this as the second day he had not maintained any sort of contact with Raito. Oddly enough, he found that for all the lack of seeing or speaking with the brunet, his thoughts fell upon him not infrequently and he would almost say that he felt at a loss. But this move had seemed necessary, something to prove that this relationship was not a failed endeavor.
He had been much more productive in his work - happy to leave behind the cloying confusion and the riot of feelings that Raito inspired. It was all too easy and reassuringly familiar to fall into his cases and abandon all human contact. It was soothing. It was a world that made sense.
But underneath all of that was the tweaking of the unresolved. And for all his new-found presence of mind, what he failed to ascertain was whether or not it would be good for him to initiate contact again.
Three days had been his plan. At least. Just enough time to show his displeasure, his anger, and to prove to himself that the brunet was capable of respecting his wishes even above his own whims. Certainly, when he'd decided upon this action, he'd been angry and had felt utterly compromised... but those feelings had begun to wane. And with the absence of such emotional responses, which were standard fare when Raito was around, he saw the first opportunity he'd had since meeting Raito to seriously, rationally contemplate the function of the brunet in his life.
Of course, there was the issue he'd stumbled upon when he'd realized he loved the brunet... and he still did. But he was leery of the irrational things those feelings had led him to do and those irrational behaviors of Raito's which he'd attempted to take in stride. He'd been functioning in such a compromised capacity... unable to gain solid footing, and eventually he'd been conditioned to think that it was normal. But it wasn't.
He needed to weigh the merits of essentially being a shut in, versus the benefits and drawbacks of having Raito in his life - and all of the madness that came with that. It had been stressful, to say the least. Not only dealing with the brunet, but dealing with the other man's workplace and all of the people, and with the Aiber situation which had only coalesced after his acquaintance with the brunet.
And what of the strong feelings he had for Raito... how beneficial were they when they so often caused him pain? How frequently had he felt peace at the brunet's side? Was it not more common that he'd felt as if he were caught in a gale, holding on for survival?
Which would be more mad? To let the chaos overtake him? Or to let the still waters of his isolation be his grave?
---
It was the dawn of the fourth day, and Raito did not suffer himself to eat. He'd awoken before his alarm again, and had spent the time staring up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, trying not to think. He'd eventually risen and taken a shower, moving like a ghost.
Coffee was the only tedium he bothered with, deeming it necessary enough to his morning routine as was bathing and dressing. He was drinking the coffee now, black, standing at the counter instead of sitting on the couch as was his custom. That had been an exercise in relaxation... He didn't want that right now. He was agitated. Restless.
He hated waiting.
He despised it, and he hated that he had no say in when this sentence would be lifted. Surely his crimes had not been so great as to warrant this? What was Lawliet trying to prove?
Time was running out. He felt it in his very bones. Today, something would give.
He was nearly dreading work now. The Chairman had remained behind the scenes, taking a special joy in holding the axe over his neck and watching him squirm. It was only a matter of time. But he wasn't ready. He was no closer to a decision, and Lawliet had still refrained from contact, so he had no way to disclose the situation to him. He would have to act on his own.
---
Raito held out his arm to Misa and felt his face form an enigmatic smile he did not feel. This was his first task. To take Misa out as he had when they'd been together. To 'not disappoint' her.
He felt completely abandoned, the feeling of Lawliet fading from him like cooling water. He was left to a life he'd previously taken pains to escape, only to find himself right back in the same place again. Misa glowed at him, and he felt empty. Emptier than he ever had before. When would Lawliet come back to him and free him from this? When would he get to look into those dark eyes again and feel that fervor for life rush inside of him? Why did everything seem so pointless now?
'Let others into my bed'... That notion was pretty laughable now. Who would he care to invite? Who would ever be able to engage him as fully and as passionately as the detective?
Oh, he could invite them, but he wondered how well he would perform when he couldn't get his mind off of Lawliet.
"Raito?" Misa nudged him back to the present.
"Yes?"
They'd spent a mind-numbing evening together - dinner and a movie Raito had paid no attention to. He wanted to be done with the affair. He felt more tired than he had in years. Maybe because he hadn't been sleeping well.
She leaned across the backseat of the car and kissed him. He felt nothing. No interest, no irritation. Just a lack of feeling.
His arms reluctantly folded around her as he kissed her back, playing the role he might have to get used to. He missed Lawliet. Missed the feel of his mouth and his quick wit. Missed his attentive eyes that rarely missed a thing, missed the challenge of interacting with him and the adrenaline rush when he'd pulled a fast one or the insomniac had played into his hands. He missed the feel of running his fingers through soft, dark jags of hair.
What was this inferior mouth that was pressed to his? These too-full lips that tasted of strawberry lip gloss, the faint smell of pressed makeup powder, and hair that was pulled back tight into an expensive hairdo... it was all at odds with what he wanted.
But this wasn't about him, was it? It was about Lawliet and what Lawliet wanted.
And if Lawliet didn't want him anymore, than this was what he would be looking forward to.
She pulled back, slightly out of breath and said, "Raito, can I?"
She asked, but she didn't really pause for his answer, her hands already settling upon his slacks. He made a half-hearted attempt to force his body to react with even a fraction of the interest he did not feel.
He did not want to do this here (or anywhere, for that matter) but she'd always liked this sort of thing in cars. It was puzzling.
"Raito, please let me," she said, confusing him. He looked down and saw that his hand had closed upon hers, preventing her from proceeding.
"What about Aiber?" he asked, knowing full well she did not care for him nearly as much as she lusted after himself.
"You know you're the only one for me," she pouted. "And daddy said that you were mine tonight, that you were finally going to make things up to me the way you always promise to. Was that a lie, Raito?"
His hand fell away from hers. "Of course it wasn't." He forced a smile to his lips, and tried to think of something erotic before she continued.
It was only after she'd put her mouth on him that he succeeded, but only because he thought of the first time Lawliet had done this with him.
How different that was from this.
Misa had skill, but it was empty.
Lawliet himself had hesitated, lips trembling slightly as he'd taken Raito into his mouth. He'd been a little clumsy as he felt his way along, but was quick to adjust.
It had felt so... hot and perfect to be held in that intense, petulant mouth and to know his partner's wish to please him despite his lack of experience. It had made him feel warm to his core, and it was hard imagine anything more pleasurable than that.
Lawliet, with his endlessly dark eyes, wild hair and that streak of stubbornness and independence that fed into Raito's desire to conquer him... Raito loved the game of it, cornering the detective until he had no choice but to fold. He loved those flickers of resentment and uncertainly that sometimes surfaced in his gaze before being swept away by the touch of hands and lips, and giving in.
How could he want someone like Misa who sought nothing more than to control him? Her entire world was meant to entrap his, so he would be brought to his knees and made to wallow in dirt like a beast. Not only her, but her father as well... and even his own career, he thought at times.
Lawliet had never really sought to control him. Maybe he attempted to guide Raito's actions at certain points, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't nearly so constricting. If anything, he'd say that the detective sought to coexist with him. As equals.
He wasn't quite sure how the dynamic lived in Misa's head where she both idolized him and looked up to him and yet felt herself worthy to ensnare him. Was she so confident in her looks that she believed herself to be the only logical choice for him? Had she and her father seen their breakup as merely an act of rebellion which could be waited out?
Had he merely been rebelling?
For if there was no sort of future to be had with the detective, was the Amane family's goal not in line with his own? The Chairman would continue to provide enough support to give him power. Misa on his arm would give him status. He would be trapped, in a way, but at the same time, he would be achieving the very things he'd set out to accomplish in the first place. Perhaps it was folly to want to do it on his own? A noble idea, yes, but did it make sense in practice?
How far had he even gotten on his own? He'd thought he'd made substantial progress, and yet... a few words from the Chairman proved it could all come crashing down. It was just a pretty illusion.
A hard, cold knot was forming somewhere deep within his chest.
Was this all that life had to offer him? It felt cheap. How useless all his hard work felt right now. What was pride worth when the only way to get ahead was not by your own merit, but by someone else's favor?
He would love to pose this question to the detective, to present to him this situation, to study his face as he considered it. The whirring of his mind would be palpable, enticing. His dark head would tilt in thought and the angle might make the smudges beneath his eyes vanish for a moment, making him flawless. Raito had caught himself wondering at times if Lawliet was really the insomniac those bruises claimed him to be. He slept well enough at Raito's side and they had hardly been parted these last several weeks, yet the marks were as dark as ever.
He clenched his fist tightly, unaccustomed to the burning in his chest that was starting to accompany thoughts of the insomniac. Is there really no future with you?
---
It had been an entire week now, Raito acknowledged in the back of his mind as he walked up the steps to Le Foie Gras. A week since he had last heard from Lawliet, and his hope for the situation was slowly suffocating. His expensive shoes made a smart clack upon the concrete that sounded precise, business-like and authoritative.
He was dressed to the nines and about to engage in hours of drinking, eating, and negotiations. He'd been given another chance and the Chairman would be watching his performance intently. It seemed that the Amanes were pleased with him on the whole, mostly due to his newfound willingness to oblige Misa.
The funny thing was, in his time with her, he almost felt as if he were trying to punish himself. It wasn't like him to be masochistic, and yet he was slipping deeper into the charade and living mostly through the masks he was wearing to the point of being destructive. He was obliterating his true self with his actions, purposely crushing it. And it wasn't just with Misa. He was playing any part that was asked of him, putting his energy into that, perhaps, as an alternative to dwelling in his own mind, unpleasant place that that was of late.
Given his preference, once sitting down, he'd rather just drink. He wasn't very hungry.
He opened the door with a flourish, knowing that there is always someone watching the doorway and that it was never wise to lose a chance to make an impression, no matter who it was with. He had the appropriate expression, demeanor, and stride to practically ooze importance and self-possession. He was quite aware of heads turning as he made his way to the table his associates occupied.
The open chair was beside Misa who was dressed like a supermodel, or a rather daring princess. Her hair was piled atop her head, as usual when she was trying to look fancy. It was a successful endeavor. There were sparkles of diamonds studding the elegant pile of blonde curls, and her bare shoulders were a perfect frame for it and the solitaire she wore at her throat, hanging from a rounded band of white gold that looked nearly like a collar. He paused to ghost a kiss across her cheek as he pulled out his chair with all the manner of a dapper gentleman, and he sensed the ripple it caused in the assembled persons. There were scattered low murmurs. Approval. He took his seat and exuded self-confidence with a winsome smile, meeting the eyes of everyone in attendance in a broad sweep before kicking off the start of negotiations like a born leader.
---
Even if Raito had not been there to witness his success with the assembled VIPs for himself, he could have easily seen it in shine of the Chairman's eyes and the adoration that poured off of his daughter. Another indication might have been her hand on his thigh, but he chose to ignore the implications of that for the time being. They were just serving the 2nd course now. Raito, still having no appetite, decided to order one of the more expensive things on the menu and a top-shelf wine to accompany it. He had them bring the bottle to the table just after the first course. His smiles were flawless, but he felt agitated inside. He wanted something with which he could smooth that away.
He'd slowly sipped his first glass of the white wine, but by now, business was nearly over and the others were beginning to partake of their own drinks of choice. His indulgence would not be so obvious now. He poured a second glass and drank it as fast as he dared, wanting to drown out the dissonance resonating in his chest.
He needed to focus on how well things were going. He should be enjoying this - his success.
Within his pocket, his phone buzzed.
Misa was asking him something and he pulled it out, answering distractedly but with his professional tone. He hoped it wasn't Mikami. That guy had been a royal pain. The Chairman had decided to have them work together on several projects the last few days, and though his cooperation had bought him the upper hand in decisions on those projects, Mikami liked to challenge him at every turn. He'd also taken to calling Raito at inopportune moment such as this. Yes, on purpose.
He almost didn't hear the voice on the other end, though his movements froze instinctively as if all the better to focus on the caller and drown out all of the background noise and the inconsequential people nearby.
Had he heard correctly?
"Yes, this is Raito," he responded, poised. He was certain of it, somehow, that this was in fact Lawliet. He hardly dared breathe for fear it would spook the other man. He waited for a response.
There was silence on the other end, a silence in which Raito felt he wanted to lodge steel hooks into the caller and rake him in, something, anything to keep him on the line, to make him speak, to keep him present. Damn you, Lawliet.
That restlessness in him sharpened to a razor's point and he knew what it was waiting for. He knew what that gnawing was at the center of his being and he resented the other for it. The frustration, the need to possess...
"Raito?" Misa inquired softly, no doubt noticing the change in his demeanor which he was rapidly losing control of.
"You sound like you're busy," came the monochromatic reply.
That infuriating sort of response... The evasion and dismissal; it burned so familiarly and nostalgically. The sound of his voice...
Raito's fist clenched upon the phone, his heart racing in his chest with the need to bring Lawliet under his sway again, to be face-to-face, to interact with him in real time, to hear his voice in all manner of ways again. To hold that slim body and feel the very moment when resistance began to drain from it and those long, slender limbs. He wanted to hold him and tear him apart. It was such a strong feeling that it bordered on aggression. Violence.
"I'm not." He waved Misa off, wishing she would just stop speaking and let him focus on something that was actually important. He excused himself from the table, quickly turning his back on it, unable to tell just how far his performance had been slipping and unwilling to challenge luck further. "What is the reason for your call?" He began moving through the restaurant, heading for the door. He needed no witnesses to this conversation.
There was another long pause. "Perhaps it is more unimportant than I originally thought," the detective said quietly.
Un-important? Raito was astounded. Insulted. When just the sound of your voice can do this to me? Are you lifting your sentence or are you continuing it indefinitely? He kept his voice in check, however. He didn't want to fight, he wanted to make an appeal.
"Lawliet--"
"I'm sorry," the detective said quickly, "it was my mistake."
And just like that, he was listening to a dial tone.
He stared blankly, the din of the restaurant like a blanket around him. He'd never even made it to the door. The call hadn't lasted long enough.
That's it? One week and that is all you have to say to me?! He was shell-shocked and couldn't get his wits about him. A waiter weaved around him. He was standing in the aisle way between tables and people were starting to stare. The din of the restaurant was suddenly rushing back into his consciousness. Clattering silverware, the drone of so many voices which overlapped and overran each other...
He closed his phone and pocketed it, making his way outside.
"Damn it!" he cursed once the doors shut safely behind him. "Goddamn it!" He wanted to put his fist through the wall, but not only was it concrete, there were still people outside to witness such an act of instability. He could not take liberties with his reputation. What are you thinking?! he railed mentally. Goddamn it, Lawliet, why won't you just talk to me?
He had the urge, seriously had the urge to leave and make his way to the detective's house where he could at least force a confrontation. Anything but this horrible limbo.
"Raito?"
Raito stiffened as he heard Misa's inquiring voice poking around the door that had just started to open. Damage control. He shoved all of the riotous feelings down, down, smothering and gagging them until they had no voice, locking them away as deeply and tightly as he could, and smoothing the ground that lay over top of them.
In their place was that stillness. That emptiness. But the ground was buckling.
He turned to her and made as if he were surprised. "Misa," he said in tones that were not displeased. So begins the act once more. The role was more stifling now. All the more, now, after having his masks ripped off and then forced back on again over bleeding flesh.
"Is everything ok? You looked a little strange after getting that call."
He smiled, chagrined. "I'm sorry to have worried you. It's nothing."
"Really?" she said in a small, hopeful voice, her eyes turning up at him as she stepped closer. He nearly laughed. She wanted him to feel compelled to comfort her. He knew she didn't need it, and what was even funnier is that he wasn't sure that he wasn't in need of some comfort himself. But what she really wanted was...
"Really," he assured her in a soft, intimate tone.
She snaked her arms around his waist and pressed close, tilting her face up to his, waiting for him to bestow a kiss upon them.
He complied, their mouths joining in a facsimile of passion, and the emptiness howled.
The greater it became, the more effort he put into making it louder. He floundered between hurt and rage, caught in a mental battle that was ripping him to pieces. He needed stability. Desperately. I hate this. I hate this!
Misa responded to everything he did as she was unable to do otherwise. And it was too easy to pull her strings and render her senseless. It was pitiable, as if this was the one true power he still had. As if this were the only realm in which he could come out on top. And it grated against him every moment he persisted in it. But he lashed out at Lawliet through it. See? You discard me at your whim and expect that no one else should want me in your place? He made her want him and felt some satisfaction in getting back at Lawliet, though he knew the repercussions would only be unpleasant; he did not desire her, and it didn't really matter to him how much she desired him. He anticipated that, though... and even wanted the disgust that bit back at him for doing it. It was despicable and something in him wanted to start laughing and never stop.
What am I doing?
((What are you doing?))
He was using all these ill feelings like stabilizers when, in reality, they were taking him apart piece by piece - deep beneath the layers of the false self he was breathing inside of. He was starting to lose track of what was supposed to be the real him. It was disintegrating under the barrage of his lies. It was near drowning and dark waters were trying to close over its head. This isn't how it's supposed to be... Dissonance echoed through him dimly, like a harsh whispering at the edge of his thoughts. The acts were not meant to rule him, they were meant to rule others...
And yet, he was pushing that down as well. Couldn't think too much about all of that right now.
After a time, Misa pulled back, breathless, her cheeks glowing with the flush he'd inspired. Her hand traced down his side as she suggested they go somewhere more comfortable.
He felt as confused as he sounded when he said, "What about the dinner?"
"Daddy says the negotiations are pretty much finished. He said we could have the rest of the evening to ourselves if we wanted." Her hand was under his jacket, tracing his back as she leaned against him again. "He said you were amazing," she preened as if she could somehow own his accomplishment. "And you are," she breathed against his lips. "You're sooo amazing."
Raito felt the net he'd been growing more accustomed to this past week closing in on him.
"So why don't we get out of here and you can show me again just how really amazing you can be," she said suggestively, pressing against him in a way that didn't leave much to the imagination.
---
L snapped his phone closed and sat there, unmoving, on the edge of his bed.
What had he thought would happen in his absence? Had he really believed that Raito would be true to him? Had he thought that Misa would vanish off the face of the earth, conveniently?
What had I been hoping to accomplish here? Was I really just trying to punish him? And do I feel satisfied now?
No.
The truth is, it feels worse than before.
He'd warred with himself over this. Back and forth. Fore and aft. He couldn't see reason. Raito had been out of the picture for even longer than intended but the original gain in perspective had soon been lost again. He'd thought it might improve in time, but time only made him think about Raito more. More and more until he was hardly thinking on anything else. The other day, Watari had actually suggested he go out and get some fresh air. How unlikely of him to say such a thing! But L could not argue that his initial run of productivity had suddenly faltered and sputtered out.
He'd thought of texting Raito, but for some reason, he'd instead felt compelled to call.
Raito's voice was sleek and shining when he answered. Full of life and confidence, and the din surrounding it only seemed to accentuate the effect. It was thoroughly intimidating.
He'd only just swallowed that down, trying to move past it and the fact that Raito seemed to be positively flourishing without him, when he'd heard her.
Almost as clearly as he could hear Raito, he could hear Misa. Which meant that she was very close and had likely even leaned closer for her lowered voice to carry so. She sounded so entitled, also, as if asking him what sort of useless trivial thing could possibly be taking his attention away from her.
'You sound like you're busy,' he'd said, trying perhaps to end the call just then. But he knew he didn't want it to end like that. Despite everything, he still hoped that he meant something to the brunet, that he wasn't some passing fancy. That he hadn't stupidly ended everything by his own hand.
And then came the lie. 'I'm not.' Why would he act as if he were doing nothing more than lounging at home when it was obvious that he was in fact doing something that was keeping him quite busy?
It sounded so cold, what came next. 'What's the reason for your call?'
Wouldn't the reason have been obvious? Wasn't it painfully obvious? He'd lost the battle with himself, and he wanted to talk things out. He was willing to overlook what had happened, despite how messed up it was. He wanted to speak to Raito, see Raito, be saved from this restriction that he himself had put in place which was draining his will and energy. This punishment that was destroying his concentration more than Raito ever had.
Raito had become this... this overwhelming need. The only thing of utmost importance, and yet...
L brought his hand to his mouth and bit down onto the flesh of his palm, just under his thumb. This was absurd. Ludicrous. How had he ever thought that they could...?
Raito belonged in the spotlight. It was obvious and it made sense, and it was apparent in every detail of his life, his surroundings, his job...
And where in the hell was it that I was supposed to fit in? How illogical could I possibly be to have thought a relationship would work between us?
He belongs with someone flashy, like Misa. Not someone like me. What do I even have to offer?
((He said he doesn't want Misa.)) that voice in the back of his head reminded him.
"Well, what if something changed?!" he lashed out. "What then?"
The voice was uselessly silent.
"Figures," he spat. He hated feeling angry and self-deprecating. He wasn't used to it and it made him feel like he was going crazy.
He almost wanted to drink, to muss the feelings away, but he hadn't been able to stomach even the thought of alcohol since the motel. Even now he felt a pang in his chest at the way Raito had treated him that day. He had not appreciated it, and been so disturbed by the entire series of events, yet he couldn't get it out of his head that he missed Raito. And the double punch to the gut was trying to reconcile how someone who supposedly cared about you could possibly do something like that. They couldn't, could they?
He just... didn't know. The more he dwelled upon it, the more confusing it got.
He'd ended the phone call abruptly. He really had felt mistaken - in everything. And just hearing the brunet's voice made his chest ache.
'Lawliet--'
How often had he heard that name whispered in his ear or called out breathlessly in passion? How very many ways had he heard it spoken, yet it always sounded new and fresh and engaging on the brunet's lips. But just then it had been placating; it had sounded like something he did not want to hear was about to follow it.
"When did I become a coward?" he wondered aloud, falling back upon the bed and staring at the bland ceiling. His hand throbbed. He idly wished his teeth had been sharp enough to make it bleed. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, covering his eyes. "What's happened to me since I met you?"
L watched Raito lapse into unconsciousness, and knew that it was not a state he would be adopting any time soon. There was the small sense of victory that something had finally been worked out, and yet...
...there was a certain restlessness lurking within him.
L frowned, brows drawing together as he listlessly took measure of the room again. There was a sense of wrongness that ebbed at the borders of his mind, elusive and yet making him certain that in staying here, it might worsen.
What had that peaceful, calm feeling of just moments ago been? Where had it come from and where had it gone so suddenly?
Little details about the room mocked him, that he had even felt such a thing as peace. The handcuffs that lie draped on the headboard, like a dozing serpent, harmless at the moment though dangerous when engaged... the knife... the alcohol... So many unwholesome little details that cast a darkness upon the scene with which to combat the serenity in the sleeping figure beside him. It was so wrong, the nearly angelic innocence in that face when the evidence of his handiwork lay about in plain view.
L could still see the flash of those entitled eyes, and feel the burn of resentment and fear in his throat as he was 'convinced' to do as Raito wanted.
He felt torn. There was reasonable Raito - with whom he had agreed to try cohabitation.... Then there was the Raito who had shackled, threatened and humiliated him without pause. Each side of the brunet called up a different set of emotions and he wasn't sure what to do about it. Raito was wrong for having done this. Any of it. And yet L found himself acquiescing to living with him? That was illogical, wasn't it? Irrational?
L slipped from the bed and hunted his clothing.
He would have liked a shower, but he couldn't afford the chance that the brunet might awaken by the time he had finished. He needed to leave. And the best way to accomplish that was to do it while the brunet was not in a position to stop him.
L contemplated the handcuffs. It would serve the brunet right if L were to cuff him and leave him here. To let him feel how that had felt... even for the brief time it would take for him to free himself. But L couldn't suffer to meet the brunet's eyes. They were too hypnotic - like a viper's - and his resolve and mental state were too easily swayed by their pull. He couldn't risk Raito waking for any reason. He could not be at the mercy of his gaze or words. He just needed to slip out undetected.
His ruined shirt flapped about him as he thrust his feet into the legs of his pants and pulled them up over his hips. His eyes roved the bed for the red glint of his cell phone as he patted his pockets.
It was there - almost tucked beneath Raito's lean form. He slid the phone from the tangle of sheets, knuckles brushing accidentally against flesh. His hand jerked back and he tensed, waiting for the brunet to stir. He did not. L's eyes drifted across sleek, tanned skin, unwittingly, following the inviting curve of his back and the temptation it offered. Touch me, it practically beckoned. And it was hard to resist running his hands over it, to feel smooth skin and the play of muscle beneath it as Raito awakened and stretched into the caress like a cat.
L fisted his hands to keep them from defecting, the cell phone clutched in one.
Why am I so sick for you? he wondered spitefully, still berating himself for his roaming eyes, and now also for the strength with which he had to fight the urge to touch. I'm beside myself with how you treat me and yet I still--!
He thrust the phone into his pocket and let himself out. He disregarded the common courtesy of leaving a note. One, he did not wish to delay himself further. Two, he was angry. He was angry at himself, and angry at Raito.
---
L stalked up to the main office and pulled the door open none-too-gently.
The bored-looking clerk was the same today as yesterday. His brows lifted slightly as he looked at L, and perhaps there was a touch of unease and curiosity as he noticed bare skin and the shirt without buttons. He also looked like he did not want to deal with something as troublesome as being implicated with having a hand in whatever had befallen the dark-haired man before him. The boy quickly avoided eye contact, his face re-assuming the bored I'm-not-involved expression.
"I need to use your phone."
"Sorry. It's for office use only," the boy replied.
L was already irritated that his phone did not seem to have reception outside of the room. Stupid, spotty cellular networks. Wouldn't it make more sense for the phone to not work IN the room?? Regardless... It was supremely irritating that this kid seemed to be clinging to the loyalty that Raito's money had inspired.
L rested his hands on the counter. "You do realize that what you did can be considered a crime, do you not? I would be well within my rights to press charges."
The kid blanched. "I don't want any sort of trouble."
L plucked a business card off of the desk. "Then I suggest you call me a taxi," he said darkly. "Right now." There was no telling how far he'd have to walk to encounter a signal. He might as well get the taxi arranged here, instead of just procuring the number as he'd originally thought to do.
"S-Sure," the boy stammered, fumbling at the computer to look up a number.
---
L felt marginally better after terrorizing the impudent little punk who thought that money held more weight than another person's well-being. Is this how kids were being raised these days? Or were some of them just rotten to begin with?
He shook his head as he walked away from the building, his shoes crunching on gravel. It was a little windy out. It caught at his ruined shirt, flipping it this way and that, making him feel rather exposed in a location such as this. At the beach, perhaps, this would have been closer to normal attire. (Not that he'd ever frequented such a place.) Here, it was more like being somewhat naked.
He couldn't say the last time he had felt the wind or sun on his bare skin. He couldn't decide if he liked it or loathed it. Part of that was surely due to the situation as well as his impatience in awaiting the taxi.
Maybe I should have taken Raito's shirt instead.
The wind gusted and fingered through his hair.
Yeah, right. That would have been the last thing he needed - to be surrounded by the brunet's scent even as he was fleeing him. What he did need was some distance. A chance to think clearly and to not have everything so muddied by physicality and the brunet's endless manipulations. He needed time to attend to work and to take stock of his priorities. He needed to step off of this roller coaster he'd been on these last many weeks.
Raito was probably going to be pissed.
While he waited, L ran through his head just what sort of message he was going to send as soon as he was in the vehicle and on his way. It wouldn't do to send it now and risk waking the brunet up. Not when all Raito would have to do is walk out the door and drag him back.
L made a sour face. He had not appreciated being dragged through the parking lot the first time, and it still chaffed that he'd lost in a contest of strength. It had been humiliating and startling to find himself unable to alter the course of events. In addition to nicking his pride, it made him feel a complete loss of control which was hard to bear. First Aiber, then Raito. He had been confident in his skills in self-defense, yet once again they'd been rendered useless. He'd had no recourse when their hands were already upon him. He needed some distance in order to be effective. He was no grappler.
He was rapidly finding this to be an untenable disadvantage.
His frown darkened. What, am I supposed to lift weights in my infinite spare time??
If anything would raise Watari's brows, it would be a sudden interest in working out. The man would likely have him institutionalized.
---
A soft chirrup noise stirred Raito to wakefulness. He groggily tried to remember where he'd last seen his phone, but he was coming up with nothing.
He rolled over onto his back, arms outstretched, and looked at the dingy ceiling for a long moment. He did not bother to look around. The place felt empty. What good would it do to confirm that the detective had already slipped through his fingers when he already knew that he had?
It irritated him, this feeling of loss.
They'd agreed to move forward, and yet it felt as if they were moving backward, rapidly.
Lawliet was doing his disappearing act again, and they were coming back to square one.
Raito felt that elusive emotion of regret and accountability mark his face, sliding upon it uninvited.
He sat up, rubbing his face with his hands to rid himself of it. Why should I feel guilty? He's the one that's being so stubborn and willful. We wouldn't have gotten anywhere at all if it weren't for me.
But he knew he'd pushed too far. He'd already seen it while he'd been in the act.
He'd offered up himself and his precious control because he'd seen things falling apart in front of him. Damage control. His wild impulses were getting worse, and Lawliet's behavior was spurring them on. He was so used to getting what he wanted... he wasn't quite sure how to react now when that wasn't the way things went.
But at least he was trying. He was making the effort to seek balance. What was Lawliet doing other than running away?
Raito looked around and spotted his phone on the floor next to the nightstand, accompanied by the shot glass, which lolled on its side, and the smell of alcohol.
The hefty pocket knife lay on the table, open and ready.
They painted a rather... colorful picture, did they not, these accoutrements?
He looked over at the headboard and the handcuffs with a blank expression. He could still conjure the image, real as life, of slim white wrists filling those cuffs and fighting against them until they were raw. He could see dark eyes burning with suppressed anger as Lawliet was forced to comply with whatever Raito wanted of him. And no matter which emotion the detective claimed, love or hate, there was a heated passion behind his words and in every nuance of his expression, veiled or not. He felt very strongly and his feelings were likely every bit as volatile as Raito's own.
How else would he have been swayed between anger and lust, then fear and back again? And how was Raito supposed to stop himself from forcing those reactions in the dark-haired detective when they were so very fascinating to behold? Rage giving way and folding beneath violating kisses... Fear overriding desire, and then desire overriding fear. Anger and injustice cutting down inhibitions and paving the way to yet more passion. It was probably rather sick and twisted. But he couldn't help it and was likely Lawliet couldn't either.
And he does fight it so very hard...
Raito's phone began to flash, which meant someone was calling, and he realized as he bent to pick it up that he was still intoxicated. He ran a hand through his hair as he answered it, trying to pull his thoughts from all of the colorful images of Lawliet that were emblazoned in his mind. Darkly flushed cheeks, that mouth that looked so erotic when it breathed in gasps, his long pale neck arching back as Raito touched him, the taste of salt on his skin...
"Why haven't you come in to work today?!" A shrill voice demanded, ripping through his musings. It was Hal, his PA.
Fuck.
"If you are not dead," she continued, "which you are most certainly not since you are answering the phone, than you had better damned well be maimed or missing the fingers needed to dial work for not having come in and missing one of THE most important meetings of the month!"
What day was it? Tuesday?
"Shit," he hissed. This was going to be a hassle.
"'Shit' is right, you asshole! Do you have any idea how hard it's been covering you since yesterday afternoon?! Where in the hell have you been?"
"I've been taking care of some things--"
"Well, I sincerely hope that they're more important than your career, because you are hanging by a thread."
Still, it couldn't be as bad as all of that. Hal was prone to being overly dramatic at times, in his opinion. Still, what an interesting thing she had proposed. Was it possible he really did place Lawliet above his career? He never done that before with anything or anyone...
"Raito, are you listening to me?!"
"No," he answered dismissively. He had much more important things to consider. "And you ranting at me is not going to change anything for the better, so please stop before I am forced to hang up on you."
She spluttered incoherently.
"I'm sure you handled everything with your usual grace, which is the very reason I hired you. So tell me, who am I to make amends with and when?"
She rattled off a list of names, but the crucial parties were only two in number. The rest could be mollified by simple means.
"All right," he said, repeating the two names of import. "I can do dinner tonight and then a business lunch tomorrow. Arrange it."
"But where are you?" she insisted. "Why aren't you at the office?"
"Perhaps I got food poisoning."
"Yeah, right," she scoffed, dismissing the idea entirely. "The Chairman is looking for you as well. Aiber reported that your cute little detective friend wasn't at the meeting the other day, that I was filling in, and then Amane-san confirmed it with the roster. He is not in a friendly mood. I've been trying to avoid him all morning."
Raito felt a brief jolt twist through his gut. Aiber. Aiber who had been confined in Lawliet's closet. It wasn't that discovery that put him on edge - the man would have been removed by now - it was that any excuse of sickness had been ruled out by his own hand. Obviously he would have been feeling just fine if he had been spending the night with the detective and sending messages in the morning for Chairman Amane to pick up his foreign trash. Amane was going to be livid. Positively livid. Raito had taken too many liberties all at once. Entirely too many.
"Hal, do what you can until I get there. It may be a little while, but I promise it will be as soon as possible."
"You almost sound like you are apologizing."
Raito contemplated that. "I suppose I am, in a way."
"...Maybe the food poisoning story is not so outlandish after all. Are you ok? You're not in the hospital are you?"
Raito was beginning to notice an irritating trend that when he tried to be nice, people assumed he was ill. "Do not try my patience, woman."
"No, your highness," she said flippantly, "I wouldn't dream of it."
"I can demote you, you know."
"I'd welcome it! Being your personal assistant is stressful."
"Then I'll let that serve as your punishment," he said off-handedly. "I need to go, or I'll never get there."
"Just don't get in a car accident or anything with your speeding."
"Moi?"
"Hurry it up, Raito."
He hung up and contemplated showering in the room's tiny bathroom. Immediately after, he dismissed the idea as he still would not have appropriate attire to don afterwards. He needed to stop by his house either way, so he might as well shower there instead of in the questionably clean facilities here.
He threw on his shirt and shoes and tossed the bottle of alcohol, the shot glass, and the handcuffs into the plastic shopping bag. The knife, he folded up and dropped into his pocket.
Now that he was on his feet, he felt like hell. He'd definitely had too much to drink, and thoughts of Lawliet were eating away at him. Not to mention the soreness he felt as a result of his taking things too far. He'd never expected to feel that sort of bodily ache again, not after France. It grated at his nerves. Had it been worth it? Had it accomplished what he'd intended? To suffer the effects without knowing its effectiveness was difficult indeed.
He glanced around the room one more time, making sure he'd left nothing behind. There was no note or anything of the sort to explain Lawliet's silent departure. He hadn't expected one, and yet... it seems that somehow he had. He wondered if Lawliet would answer if he called. Had he decided to be angry again?
He wondered at the alert he'd heard on his phone earlier, likely an email or text, but it would have to wait. His first priority at the moment had to be his work. He'd been jeopardizing it past what was reasonable. He had to get back on track. He had to get his thoughts off of Lawliet, and out of this rut of possession and lust. He could barely think straight anymore. All he could do is fixate on how to get Lawliet within his reach, within his bed, and devise ways in which he could keep him in his life.
That such goals had superceded his career and his drive for power was disturbing.
--
"You are aware of why I called you into my office, aren't you, boy?"
Raito stood at attention just inside the claustrophobic room with its persistent gloom, burgundy colors and dark wood. The heavy wine-colored drapes made the office bear even more of a striking resemblance to the Chairman's study at home. It didn't look much like an office at all, really. Perhaps more like an opium den.
"I missed an important meeting," Raito said grimly, voicing the least of his transgressions.
"Ha!" Chairman Amane barked humorlessly. "That is the least of it." He regarded Raito with a gimlet eye. "That was very presumptuous of you this morning." He was referring to Raito trussing up Aiber and notifying them that he was ready for pickup. "It left my heart all aflutter. Not a good thing at my age."
"With all due respect, I wasn't sure what else to do, Sir."
The Chairman narrowed his eyes. "Is that so? It seems to me that you are feeling you have the ability to throw your weight around and your arrogance rather astounds me." The Chairman poured himself a stiff drink. "Your attack on my star employee has not gone unnoticed. That was a nasty shock you dealt him."
"What would you have me do? You let your dog off of his leash and I had to do damage control. You owe me for packaging him and his stupidity into a neat little bundle for you to collect. Or would you rather have had him cause a scene and let that get back to Misa?"
The Chairman's face rarely let slip that mask of joviality, but just now his eyes were burning like brimstones. "My boy, my boy. It is truly a shame at how little you know your place. Did you fancy yourself to be self-sufficient so early in the game or think yourself free of my support?"
Raito felt unease stir in him like viscous waters. "No, Sir."
"I've tolerated your impertinence thus far, but I am no saint. If you insist on testing your wings, I can and will break them."
Raito bowed his head, looking demure, but he was seething.
"Mikami will take your place on the project. He's been itching for the chance to prove himself, and I think that letting him ride on your hard work should be a sufficient start to your punishment, don't you?"
Raito nearly choked on the "Yes, Sir." Amane knew of the bad blood between them and often liked to stir it. But this? This was going too far!
"You are also making me re-evaluate your worth to me as a free entity."
Raito froze. Not good. Not good. The misgiving he felt now was like a wave gathering itself en force.
"Why waste all of the effort I put into you by doing it all over again with Aiber? Misa is smitten with you most of all, Aiber has some inexplicable fixation with the detective, and you are more useful to me when you are not distracted by your personal life." His voice was barren, dropping the laughs, and it was unpleasant at best. "It makes me think, my boy, that I would be better served by offering you severance pay and making sure you never get the chance to further your career in any circuit. Or... I could offer you the chance to make Misa happy and to take over for me when I am through."
Raito tried to keep his facade in place but it felt as if icy blades were shredding his guts. "Is Aiber failing to win the fair Misa's heart?"
He was feeling dizzy and a little sick. His entire world was hanging in the balance right now.
"Pheh!" The Chairman laughed. "With you as his competition? And that face of yours? It's practically a doomed venture. You look pale, boy. Here, have a drink." He poured a small, cut crystal glass full of a dark-colored liquid and held it out.
"I shouldn't. It's still business hours..."
The Chairman stared at him like a gargoyle until he relented and took the glass. In truth, he wanted to drink himself under the table. He poured it down his throat, hoping it would steady his nerves. This had to be the WORST fucking situation he'd ever found himself in. And what of Lawliet? If he was forced into being with Misa again, where would that leave Lawliet? It was obvious that Chairman Amane planned to toss the detective to Aiber. He'd be eaten alive.
"You're good at what you do, Raito. Perhaps too good."
"I take it that isn't a compliment."
"No, it's a piece of advice. Those that are the best will be sought after by those who want the best. Those that are the best do not slip under the radar, and will often forfeit their freedom. Your very aspirations are what created the difficult situation in which you now find yourself. Your create your own shackles, my boy."
'The best are sought by those that want the best...'
Just like Aiber hounds Lawliet, a superior detective. Just like I seek Lawliet, because I sense he is more worthwhile than anyone else. Just like Misa chases me, as in her head, I am a physical ideal. And despite my lack of enthusiasm for her, I played my part well, convincingly - and still do.
"I'll give you some time to mull it over," the Chairman said. "See if you still have the ability to get it up for her after all this time goofing off with a dead end. You're dismissed."
Raito bowed and showed himself out.
He walked down the hall with his usual purposeful stride, but he was seeing nothing. Sick. His head was brimming with this sick feeling and it was escaping down into his rioting stomach with every faked smile to passers-by. He was being social on automatic pilot. It was ingrained in his being. Was the Chairman correct in that he was too good at this? No one suspected he was disturbed and seething with these monstrous feelings. No one would look at him and know anything more than what he showed on the surface. No one knew how he loathed Misa.
He could spend his life in the cage of another role that he himself had crafted just because he wasn't sure what to do!
Hearing something faintly that sounded like his name, he stopped and turned.
Hal had been trotting after him, cursing her stupid high heels (her words, as she took the final steps to reach him). "Raito, couldn't you hear me?" she panted, slightly winded. "I've been trying to catch you since you passed my office down the hall. Is something wrong?"
He looked into her eyes and lied. "No, nothing is wrong. Why?"
She looked a little taken aback. "Well, you didn't seem to hear me, so I thought..."
"Everything's fine. I'm just in a hurry." Hal was one of the few people that had ever seen through him. Hal, his mother, and Lawliet.
God. Lawliet.
There was a feeling, like a blade twisting in his gut...
What the fuck am I going to do?
He turned around and resumed his steady beeline for the door. He knew he was expected to stay in the office for the remainder, but he was preciously close to losing to the maelstrom in his head. He needed to speak to Lawliet. This concerned him, after all.
Strange, but it was almost like, for the first time, he was feeling the need to share a problem with another person. It was utterly out of character for him. Who was better equipped to solve his own problems than himself? Why put stock in others when they lacked the finer details, and possibly also the mental horsepower to see everything in its entirety and from the proper angles? Why did he feel the desperate need to broach this to the detective and to ask his opinion on the matter? The very fact that the matter involved him was sure to color his response. But Raito couldn't shake the feeling. It was... persistent.
Raito made it to his car and slipped inside, hands shaking upon the wheel. His mind was racing, yet felt empty. Was he in shock? It was unusual that he could not decide upon a course of action instantaneously. It was equally odd for him to be unable to discern whether he was upset, angry, or something else entirely. He felt like his mind had suffered a blast and the ashes were still floating to the floor like dirty snow.
He found his phone in his hand then, and remembered the message he'd heard hit his phone earlier. He saw that he had a text. Lawliet.
It read:
'I've given this a lot of thought, and the conclusion I've come to is that I need some space. I'd like you to refrain from contacting me in any way until further notice. If you can do this, it may serve to repair some of the faith I've lost in you. If you cannot, I regret to say that I will not be able to see going through with our previous agreement as anything more than a mistake.
L'
The trickle of hope he'd felt, when thinking of speaking to Lawliet, died and lodged itself inextricably in his throat. If he'd felt shell-shocked before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.
(It's not like he broke up with you), a small part of him said.
((Not yet, anyway.))
He's lost his faith in me?
I agree that I took things too far, but... Raito tilted his seat back and closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. He didn't trust himself to drive just yet. If he was honest, he was feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed. On all accounts, his hands were bound. He was not the master of his own future. He was awaiting judgment and a sentence.
...but to be forbidden contact... that was the sort of extreme that might lead to a severing of ties, was it not?
"Fuck," he whispered in the confines of the car, pulling his hands over his eyes.
Days, weeks, who knew how long Lawliet wanted to carry out this sentence? But how long did he have until the Chairman blew his whistle?
Not only would he be unable to stay with the detective and make sure Aiber did not have the chance to pull anything, he couldn't even warn Lawliet of it now. Even if he wanted to swallow his own scheming and admit all that had happened - just to make sure Lawliet was prepared - he couldn't. He would jeopardize everything. And not only that! He had no way to make known to Lawliet that something big had just occurred that could change everything. Any contact would nullify the remainder of Lawliet's goodwill towards him.
I've shown myself to be too unstable and reactive... he thought. He's testing me to see if I am worthy of his trust. He's testing my restraint.
Raito could not really fault him for it, but damn it! The timing was horrible!
He would have to come to a decision on his own then. To choose Lawliet over his career and still run the risk of being rejected or having the relationship burn down around them... Or to choose his career - his quest for power - the only constant in his life and the only thing he'd wanted before meeting Lawliet at the bar that night.
If he wasn't with Lawliet, did it really matter who he was with? Wouldn't it feel just as empty? Would it not be better to choose the safer option? The one that he'd been working towards all this time, rather than throwing it all away on the off-chance that he hadn't screwed everything up with the only person he'd ever wanted to be with this badly?
---
L sat at his desk, typing away on his laptop, absently marking this as the second day he had not maintained any sort of contact with Raito. Oddly enough, he found that for all the lack of seeing or speaking with the brunet, his thoughts fell upon him not infrequently and he would almost say that he felt at a loss. But this move had seemed necessary, something to prove that this relationship was not a failed endeavor.
He had been much more productive in his work - happy to leave behind the cloying confusion and the riot of feelings that Raito inspired. It was all too easy and reassuringly familiar to fall into his cases and abandon all human contact. It was soothing. It was a world that made sense.
But underneath all of that was the tweaking of the unresolved. And for all his new-found presence of mind, what he failed to ascertain was whether or not it would be good for him to initiate contact again.
Three days had been his plan. At least. Just enough time to show his displeasure, his anger, and to prove to himself that the brunet was capable of respecting his wishes even above his own whims. Certainly, when he'd decided upon this action, he'd been angry and had felt utterly compromised... but those feelings had begun to wane. And with the absence of such emotional responses, which were standard fare when Raito was around, he saw the first opportunity he'd had since meeting Raito to seriously, rationally contemplate the function of the brunet in his life.
Of course, there was the issue he'd stumbled upon when he'd realized he loved the brunet... and he still did. But he was leery of the irrational things those feelings had led him to do and those irrational behaviors of Raito's which he'd attempted to take in stride. He'd been functioning in such a compromised capacity... unable to gain solid footing, and eventually he'd been conditioned to think that it was normal. But it wasn't.
He needed to weigh the merits of essentially being a shut in, versus the benefits and drawbacks of having Raito in his life - and all of the madness that came with that. It had been stressful, to say the least. Not only dealing with the brunet, but dealing with the other man's workplace and all of the people, and with the Aiber situation which had only coalesced after his acquaintance with the brunet.
And what of the strong feelings he had for Raito... how beneficial were they when they so often caused him pain? How frequently had he felt peace at the brunet's side? Was it not more common that he'd felt as if he were caught in a gale, holding on for survival?
Which would be more mad? To let the chaos overtake him? Or to let the still waters of his isolation be his grave?
---
It was the dawn of the fourth day, and Raito did not suffer himself to eat. He'd awoken before his alarm again, and had spent the time staring up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, trying not to think. He'd eventually risen and taken a shower, moving like a ghost.
Coffee was the only tedium he bothered with, deeming it necessary enough to his morning routine as was bathing and dressing. He was drinking the coffee now, black, standing at the counter instead of sitting on the couch as was his custom. That had been an exercise in relaxation... He didn't want that right now. He was agitated. Restless.
He hated waiting.
He despised it, and he hated that he had no say in when this sentence would be lifted. Surely his crimes had not been so great as to warrant this? What was Lawliet trying to prove?
Time was running out. He felt it in his very bones. Today, something would give.
He was nearly dreading work now. The Chairman had remained behind the scenes, taking a special joy in holding the axe over his neck and watching him squirm. It was only a matter of time. But he wasn't ready. He was no closer to a decision, and Lawliet had still refrained from contact, so he had no way to disclose the situation to him. He would have to act on his own.
---
Raito held out his arm to Misa and felt his face form an enigmatic smile he did not feel. This was his first task. To take Misa out as he had when they'd been together. To 'not disappoint' her.
He felt completely abandoned, the feeling of Lawliet fading from him like cooling water. He was left to a life he'd previously taken pains to escape, only to find himself right back in the same place again. Misa glowed at him, and he felt empty. Emptier than he ever had before. When would Lawliet come back to him and free him from this? When would he get to look into those dark eyes again and feel that fervor for life rush inside of him? Why did everything seem so pointless now?
'Let others into my bed'... That notion was pretty laughable now. Who would he care to invite? Who would ever be able to engage him as fully and as passionately as the detective?
Oh, he could invite them, but he wondered how well he would perform when he couldn't get his mind off of Lawliet.
"Raito?" Misa nudged him back to the present.
"Yes?"
They'd spent a mind-numbing evening together - dinner and a movie Raito had paid no attention to. He wanted to be done with the affair. He felt more tired than he had in years. Maybe because he hadn't been sleeping well.
She leaned across the backseat of the car and kissed him. He felt nothing. No interest, no irritation. Just a lack of feeling.
His arms reluctantly folded around her as he kissed her back, playing the role he might have to get used to. He missed Lawliet. Missed the feel of his mouth and his quick wit. Missed his attentive eyes that rarely missed a thing, missed the challenge of interacting with him and the adrenaline rush when he'd pulled a fast one or the insomniac had played into his hands. He missed the feel of running his fingers through soft, dark jags of hair.
What was this inferior mouth that was pressed to his? These too-full lips that tasted of strawberry lip gloss, the faint smell of pressed makeup powder, and hair that was pulled back tight into an expensive hairdo... it was all at odds with what he wanted.
But this wasn't about him, was it? It was about Lawliet and what Lawliet wanted.
And if Lawliet didn't want him anymore, than this was what he would be looking forward to.
She pulled back, slightly out of breath and said, "Raito, can I?"
She asked, but she didn't really pause for his answer, her hands already settling upon his slacks. He made a half-hearted attempt to force his body to react with even a fraction of the interest he did not feel.
He did not want to do this here (or anywhere, for that matter) but she'd always liked this sort of thing in cars. It was puzzling.
"Raito, please let me," she said, confusing him. He looked down and saw that his hand had closed upon hers, preventing her from proceeding.
"What about Aiber?" he asked, knowing full well she did not care for him nearly as much as she lusted after himself.
"You know you're the only one for me," she pouted. "And daddy said that you were mine tonight, that you were finally going to make things up to me the way you always promise to. Was that a lie, Raito?"
His hand fell away from hers. "Of course it wasn't." He forced a smile to his lips, and tried to think of something erotic before she continued.
It was only after she'd put her mouth on him that he succeeded, but only because he thought of the first time Lawliet had done this with him.
How different that was from this.
Misa had skill, but it was empty.
Lawliet himself had hesitated, lips trembling slightly as he'd taken Raito into his mouth. He'd been a little clumsy as he felt his way along, but was quick to adjust.
It had felt so... hot and perfect to be held in that intense, petulant mouth and to know his partner's wish to please him despite his lack of experience. It had made him feel warm to his core, and it was hard imagine anything more pleasurable than that.
Lawliet, with his endlessly dark eyes, wild hair and that streak of stubbornness and independence that fed into Raito's desire to conquer him... Raito loved the game of it, cornering the detective until he had no choice but to fold. He loved those flickers of resentment and uncertainly that sometimes surfaced in his gaze before being swept away by the touch of hands and lips, and giving in.
How could he want someone like Misa who sought nothing more than to control him? Her entire world was meant to entrap his, so he would be brought to his knees and made to wallow in dirt like a beast. Not only her, but her father as well... and even his own career, he thought at times.
Lawliet had never really sought to control him. Maybe he attempted to guide Raito's actions at certain points, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't nearly so constricting. If anything, he'd say that the detective sought to coexist with him. As equals.
He wasn't quite sure how the dynamic lived in Misa's head where she both idolized him and looked up to him and yet felt herself worthy to ensnare him. Was she so confident in her looks that she believed herself to be the only logical choice for him? Had she and her father seen their breakup as merely an act of rebellion which could be waited out?
Had he merely been rebelling?
For if there was no sort of future to be had with the detective, was the Amane family's goal not in line with his own? The Chairman would continue to provide enough support to give him power. Misa on his arm would give him status. He would be trapped, in a way, but at the same time, he would be achieving the very things he'd set out to accomplish in the first place. Perhaps it was folly to want to do it on his own? A noble idea, yes, but did it make sense in practice?
How far had he even gotten on his own? He'd thought he'd made substantial progress, and yet... a few words from the Chairman proved it could all come crashing down. It was just a pretty illusion.
A hard, cold knot was forming somewhere deep within his chest.
Was this all that life had to offer him? It felt cheap. How useless all his hard work felt right now. What was pride worth when the only way to get ahead was not by your own merit, but by someone else's favor?
He would love to pose this question to the detective, to present to him this situation, to study his face as he considered it. The whirring of his mind would be palpable, enticing. His dark head would tilt in thought and the angle might make the smudges beneath his eyes vanish for a moment, making him flawless. Raito had caught himself wondering at times if Lawliet was really the insomniac those bruises claimed him to be. He slept well enough at Raito's side and they had hardly been parted these last several weeks, yet the marks were as dark as ever.
He clenched his fist tightly, unaccustomed to the burning in his chest that was starting to accompany thoughts of the insomniac. Is there really no future with you?
---
It had been an entire week now, Raito acknowledged in the back of his mind as he walked up the steps to Le Foie Gras. A week since he had last heard from Lawliet, and his hope for the situation was slowly suffocating. His expensive shoes made a smart clack upon the concrete that sounded precise, business-like and authoritative.
He was dressed to the nines and about to engage in hours of drinking, eating, and negotiations. He'd been given another chance and the Chairman would be watching his performance intently. It seemed that the Amanes were pleased with him on the whole, mostly due to his newfound willingness to oblige Misa.
The funny thing was, in his time with her, he almost felt as if he were trying to punish himself. It wasn't like him to be masochistic, and yet he was slipping deeper into the charade and living mostly through the masks he was wearing to the point of being destructive. He was obliterating his true self with his actions, purposely crushing it. And it wasn't just with Misa. He was playing any part that was asked of him, putting his energy into that, perhaps, as an alternative to dwelling in his own mind, unpleasant place that that was of late.
Given his preference, once sitting down, he'd rather just drink. He wasn't very hungry.
He opened the door with a flourish, knowing that there is always someone watching the doorway and that it was never wise to lose a chance to make an impression, no matter who it was with. He had the appropriate expression, demeanor, and stride to practically ooze importance and self-possession. He was quite aware of heads turning as he made his way to the table his associates occupied.
The open chair was beside Misa who was dressed like a supermodel, or a rather daring princess. Her hair was piled atop her head, as usual when she was trying to look fancy. It was a successful endeavor. There were sparkles of diamonds studding the elegant pile of blonde curls, and her bare shoulders were a perfect frame for it and the solitaire she wore at her throat, hanging from a rounded band of white gold that looked nearly like a collar. He paused to ghost a kiss across her cheek as he pulled out his chair with all the manner of a dapper gentleman, and he sensed the ripple it caused in the assembled persons. There were scattered low murmurs. Approval. He took his seat and exuded self-confidence with a winsome smile, meeting the eyes of everyone in attendance in a broad sweep before kicking off the start of negotiations like a born leader.
---
Even if Raito had not been there to witness his success with the assembled VIPs for himself, he could have easily seen it in shine of the Chairman's eyes and the adoration that poured off of his daughter. Another indication might have been her hand on his thigh, but he chose to ignore the implications of that for the time being. They were just serving the 2nd course now. Raito, still having no appetite, decided to order one of the more expensive things on the menu and a top-shelf wine to accompany it. He had them bring the bottle to the table just after the first course. His smiles were flawless, but he felt agitated inside. He wanted something with which he could smooth that away.
He'd slowly sipped his first glass of the white wine, but by now, business was nearly over and the others were beginning to partake of their own drinks of choice. His indulgence would not be so obvious now. He poured a second glass and drank it as fast as he dared, wanting to drown out the dissonance resonating in his chest.
He needed to focus on how well things were going. He should be enjoying this - his success.
Within his pocket, his phone buzzed.
Misa was asking him something and he pulled it out, answering distractedly but with his professional tone. He hoped it wasn't Mikami. That guy had been a royal pain. The Chairman had decided to have them work together on several projects the last few days, and though his cooperation had bought him the upper hand in decisions on those projects, Mikami liked to challenge him at every turn. He'd also taken to calling Raito at inopportune moment such as this. Yes, on purpose.
He almost didn't hear the voice on the other end, though his movements froze instinctively as if all the better to focus on the caller and drown out all of the background noise and the inconsequential people nearby.
Had he heard correctly?
"Yes, this is Raito," he responded, poised. He was certain of it, somehow, that this was in fact Lawliet. He hardly dared breathe for fear it would spook the other man. He waited for a response.
There was silence on the other end, a silence in which Raito felt he wanted to lodge steel hooks into the caller and rake him in, something, anything to keep him on the line, to make him speak, to keep him present. Damn you, Lawliet.
That restlessness in him sharpened to a razor's point and he knew what it was waiting for. He knew what that gnawing was at the center of his being and he resented the other for it. The frustration, the need to possess...
"Raito?" Misa inquired softly, no doubt noticing the change in his demeanor which he was rapidly losing control of.
"You sound like you're busy," came the monochromatic reply.
That infuriating sort of response... The evasion and dismissal; it burned so familiarly and nostalgically. The sound of his voice...
Raito's fist clenched upon the phone, his heart racing in his chest with the need to bring Lawliet under his sway again, to be face-to-face, to interact with him in real time, to hear his voice in all manner of ways again. To hold that slim body and feel the very moment when resistance began to drain from it and those long, slender limbs. He wanted to hold him and tear him apart. It was such a strong feeling that it bordered on aggression. Violence.
"I'm not." He waved Misa off, wishing she would just stop speaking and let him focus on something that was actually important. He excused himself from the table, quickly turning his back on it, unable to tell just how far his performance had been slipping and unwilling to challenge luck further. "What is the reason for your call?" He began moving through the restaurant, heading for the door. He needed no witnesses to this conversation.
There was another long pause. "Perhaps it is more unimportant than I originally thought," the detective said quietly.
Un-important? Raito was astounded. Insulted. When just the sound of your voice can do this to me? Are you lifting your sentence or are you continuing it indefinitely? He kept his voice in check, however. He didn't want to fight, he wanted to make an appeal.
"Lawliet--"
"I'm sorry," the detective said quickly, "it was my mistake."
And just like that, he was listening to a dial tone.
He stared blankly, the din of the restaurant like a blanket around him. He'd never even made it to the door. The call hadn't lasted long enough.
That's it? One week and that is all you have to say to me?! He was shell-shocked and couldn't get his wits about him. A waiter weaved around him. He was standing in the aisle way between tables and people were starting to stare. The din of the restaurant was suddenly rushing back into his consciousness. Clattering silverware, the drone of so many voices which overlapped and overran each other...
He closed his phone and pocketed it, making his way outside.
"Damn it!" he cursed once the doors shut safely behind him. "Goddamn it!" He wanted to put his fist through the wall, but not only was it concrete, there were still people outside to witness such an act of instability. He could not take liberties with his reputation. What are you thinking?! he railed mentally. Goddamn it, Lawliet, why won't you just talk to me?
He had the urge, seriously had the urge to leave and make his way to the detective's house where he could at least force a confrontation. Anything but this horrible limbo.
"Raito?"
Raito stiffened as he heard Misa's inquiring voice poking around the door that had just started to open. Damage control. He shoved all of the riotous feelings down, down, smothering and gagging them until they had no voice, locking them away as deeply and tightly as he could, and smoothing the ground that lay over top of them.
In their place was that stillness. That emptiness. But the ground was buckling.
He turned to her and made as if he were surprised. "Misa," he said in tones that were not displeased. So begins the act once more. The role was more stifling now. All the more, now, after having his masks ripped off and then forced back on again over bleeding flesh.
"Is everything ok? You looked a little strange after getting that call."
He smiled, chagrined. "I'm sorry to have worried you. It's nothing."
"Really?" she said in a small, hopeful voice, her eyes turning up at him as she stepped closer. He nearly laughed. She wanted him to feel compelled to comfort her. He knew she didn't need it, and what was even funnier is that he wasn't sure that he wasn't in need of some comfort himself. But what she really wanted was...
"Really," he assured her in a soft, intimate tone.
She snaked her arms around his waist and pressed close, tilting her face up to his, waiting for him to bestow a kiss upon them.
He complied, their mouths joining in a facsimile of passion, and the emptiness howled.
The greater it became, the more effort he put into making it louder. He floundered between hurt and rage, caught in a mental battle that was ripping him to pieces. He needed stability. Desperately. I hate this. I hate this!
Misa responded to everything he did as she was unable to do otherwise. And it was too easy to pull her strings and render her senseless. It was pitiable, as if this was the one true power he still had. As if this were the only realm in which he could come out on top. And it grated against him every moment he persisted in it. But he lashed out at Lawliet through it. See? You discard me at your whim and expect that no one else should want me in your place? He made her want him and felt some satisfaction in getting back at Lawliet, though he knew the repercussions would only be unpleasant; he did not desire her, and it didn't really matter to him how much she desired him. He anticipated that, though... and even wanted the disgust that bit back at him for doing it. It was despicable and something in him wanted to start laughing and never stop.
What am I doing?
((What are you doing?))
He was using all these ill feelings like stabilizers when, in reality, they were taking him apart piece by piece - deep beneath the layers of the false self he was breathing inside of. He was starting to lose track of what was supposed to be the real him. It was disintegrating under the barrage of his lies. It was near drowning and dark waters were trying to close over its head. This isn't how it's supposed to be... Dissonance echoed through him dimly, like a harsh whispering at the edge of his thoughts. The acts were not meant to rule him, they were meant to rule others...
And yet, he was pushing that down as well. Couldn't think too much about all of that right now.
After a time, Misa pulled back, breathless, her cheeks glowing with the flush he'd inspired. Her hand traced down his side as she suggested they go somewhere more comfortable.
He felt as confused as he sounded when he said, "What about the dinner?"
"Daddy says the negotiations are pretty much finished. He said we could have the rest of the evening to ourselves if we wanted." Her hand was under his jacket, tracing his back as she leaned against him again. "He said you were amazing," she preened as if she could somehow own his accomplishment. "And you are," she breathed against his lips. "You're sooo amazing."
Raito felt the net he'd been growing more accustomed to this past week closing in on him.
"So why don't we get out of here and you can show me again just how really amazing you can be," she said suggestively, pressing against him in a way that didn't leave much to the imagination.
---
L snapped his phone closed and sat there, unmoving, on the edge of his bed.
What had he thought would happen in his absence? Had he really believed that Raito would be true to him? Had he thought that Misa would vanish off the face of the earth, conveniently?
What had I been hoping to accomplish here? Was I really just trying to punish him? And do I feel satisfied now?
No.
The truth is, it feels worse than before.
He'd warred with himself over this. Back and forth. Fore and aft. He couldn't see reason. Raito had been out of the picture for even longer than intended but the original gain in perspective had soon been lost again. He'd thought it might improve in time, but time only made him think about Raito more. More and more until he was hardly thinking on anything else. The other day, Watari had actually suggested he go out and get some fresh air. How unlikely of him to say such a thing! But L could not argue that his initial run of productivity had suddenly faltered and sputtered out.
He'd thought of texting Raito, but for some reason, he'd instead felt compelled to call.
Raito's voice was sleek and shining when he answered. Full of life and confidence, and the din surrounding it only seemed to accentuate the effect. It was thoroughly intimidating.
He'd only just swallowed that down, trying to move past it and the fact that Raito seemed to be positively flourishing without him, when he'd heard her.
Almost as clearly as he could hear Raito, he could hear Misa. Which meant that she was very close and had likely even leaned closer for her lowered voice to carry so. She sounded so entitled, also, as if asking him what sort of useless trivial thing could possibly be taking his attention away from her.
'You sound like you're busy,' he'd said, trying perhaps to end the call just then. But he knew he didn't want it to end like that. Despite everything, he still hoped that he meant something to the brunet, that he wasn't some passing fancy. That he hadn't stupidly ended everything by his own hand.
And then came the lie. 'I'm not.' Why would he act as if he were doing nothing more than lounging at home when it was obvious that he was in fact doing something that was keeping him quite busy?
It sounded so cold, what came next. 'What's the reason for your call?'
Wouldn't the reason have been obvious? Wasn't it painfully obvious? He'd lost the battle with himself, and he wanted to talk things out. He was willing to overlook what had happened, despite how messed up it was. He wanted to speak to Raito, see Raito, be saved from this restriction that he himself had put in place which was draining his will and energy. This punishment that was destroying his concentration more than Raito ever had.
Raito had become this... this overwhelming need. The only thing of utmost importance, and yet...
L brought his hand to his mouth and bit down onto the flesh of his palm, just under his thumb. This was absurd. Ludicrous. How had he ever thought that they could...?
Raito belonged in the spotlight. It was obvious and it made sense, and it was apparent in every detail of his life, his surroundings, his job...
And where in the hell was it that I was supposed to fit in? How illogical could I possibly be to have thought a relationship would work between us?
He belongs with someone flashy, like Misa. Not someone like me. What do I even have to offer?
((He said he doesn't want Misa.)) that voice in the back of his head reminded him.
"Well, what if something changed?!" he lashed out. "What then?"
The voice was uselessly silent.
"Figures," he spat. He hated feeling angry and self-deprecating. He wasn't used to it and it made him feel like he was going crazy.
He almost wanted to drink, to muss the feelings away, but he hadn't been able to stomach even the thought of alcohol since the motel. Even now he felt a pang in his chest at the way Raito had treated him that day. He had not appreciated it, and been so disturbed by the entire series of events, yet he couldn't get it out of his head that he missed Raito. And the double punch to the gut was trying to reconcile how someone who supposedly cared about you could possibly do something like that. They couldn't, could they?
He just... didn't know. The more he dwelled upon it, the more confusing it got.
He'd ended the phone call abruptly. He really had felt mistaken - in everything. And just hearing the brunet's voice made his chest ache.
'Lawliet--'
How often had he heard that name whispered in his ear or called out breathlessly in passion? How very many ways had he heard it spoken, yet it always sounded new and fresh and engaging on the brunet's lips. But just then it had been placating; it had sounded like something he did not want to hear was about to follow it.
"When did I become a coward?" he wondered aloud, falling back upon the bed and staring at the bland ceiling. His hand throbbed. He idly wished his teeth had been sharp enough to make it bleed. "Ugh!" he exclaimed, covering his eyes. "What's happened to me since I met you?"
____________________________________________________________
TBC
A/N 2: THANK YOU, those who left me such wonderful reviews. I'm sorry I have been at a loss for time with which to respond, but I would hug you on sight. (Uh-- if, you know... you're cool with that and all... *slowly edges away*).
Things have been kind of messed up for a while now and it's made it hard to write and also to write responses as I'd like to. ((Yeah, it's been one big ball o' JACKED UP.)) Know though, that I treasure each little impression or comment or speculation you throw my way. Truly. It keeps me going. And some special love goes out to my repeat reviewers. You know who you are!
---
The song that goes with this chapter is by Saves the Day. The title is "Monkey" but I'm sure you can see why I couldn't very well make that the chapter title! Lol! If you have never heard this song off of the In Reverie album, do it. For now though, here are the lyrics:
MONKEY
Hello me,
are you in there?
making sure you're not dead
smelled some rotting flesh
I heard you left him alone
suns up with open roads
get down
freak out
the time is right now
Drop your things
and burn your clothes
why we're here
no one knows
watch the bombs explode
He sold you a dream
and carved you up like meat
lay down
the law
locked your heart behind bars
While you were sleeping he would whisper in your ear
The monkey will bite
better eat your poultry
till' theres no use
don't try to
ask a doctor
what's going on inside your head
just fall out and get in line
like all good soldiers do
You I woke to his games
runnin circles in your brain
cant believe your eyes
What's up what is down
he spun you around
what's near what is far
god knows what you are
can you remember when
this began
The monkey will bite
better eat your poultry
till there's no use
don't try to
ask you doctor
what's going on inside your head
it's pretend
it's no meaning
just stare at the ceiling and play dead for your whole life
You can listen to the song on youtube. (Type in: saves the day monkey. the result by debaser420 is pretty good. Just the song, and the vid is the lyrics. But you could ignore the vid altogether if you want - that's how I usually listen to music on there. ^^) It is definitely one where the cadences and way it is sung will deliver a lot more than the lyrics alone ever could. Plus, that whole album is awesome.