Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ PITCH ❯ It's Everything ( Chapter 26 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: selena281 
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / Drama / Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 06.06.2011 | Pages: 7 | Words: 10.8K | Visits: 243 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / Drama / Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 06.06.2011 | Pages: 7 | Words: 10.8K | Visits: 243 | Status: Work In Progress
PITCH
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Light x L
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Part 25
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: Chapter title is from the song "Nothing and Everything" by Red.
For some reason, when I tried to reply to reviews, I kept getting errors saying that the user accounts did not exist. Which they do, so I don't know what the issue was. Argh.
Anyway, I wanted to assure you that L's pov was coming soon (this chapter!), and that I'd pre-written quite a bit. I think I have nearly all of ch27 written. Now I just need to go back over the chaps, ready them for beta, etc. I'm hoping to have timely updates for a bit.
---
I can't reply to everyone here (plus it would be annoying, right?), but I wanted to at least give a few shout outs. But thank you so much to everyone else as well. You gave me a ton of great feedback, laughs, and even (I suspect) warm fuzzies.
Smirking Menace - Thank you for making me laugh so much. "Light Yagami, Ladies and Gentlemen! The king of Dub-con, blame deflecting excuses and mind screws!" LOL it is so true! I thoroughly enjoyed your commentary and always love a laugh. In this case, you kept them coming. I was rolling on the floor to the point where my beta had to ask what was wrong with me. Of course, I had to share... (Oh man, your image of Raito being competitive at a new job was hilarious.)
YellowRose87 - Man. The first thing I wanted to do in response to your foreseen scenarios is go: Aha! None of the above!! and proceed to tell you my plans. Only... spoilers suck, so I can't. You hit all the bases though and I actually was having fun playing things out the way you proposed in my head. (The scene was already written though). You got very close on the one, but again, I can't explain in what ways. You'll likely see it though by the time it all comes out (part will be in a later chapter). Lol you asked about Aiber! I figured no one would be all that concerned with him. Hahaha. Don't worry, I wrote him in again. I was feeling he was sort of flapping in the breeze and needed some kind of appearance.
I liked your thoughts on the family stuff, especially that you pondered the Amanes. "It's always been a mystery, even in canon, how Raito could be so different from the rest of his family. And Misa could not be more different from the Chairman - it really makes you wonder what kind of bimbo airhead the Chairman slept with back in the day." LOL omg that really tossed me. You most certainly have a point. You also made me wonder why I felt absolutely no need to write Misa a mother. Or mention one at all. I think she must have died or something, when I think on it. Well, thems the bones of being a side character. Not important enough for much back-story.
"And Raito felt remorse for what he said about L's family! Wow. I can't help but wonder if you put that in to placate those of us who commented on it in reviews, hehe." I cannot claim that, as it was already written prior to the comments... but! if anyone felt placated, I certainly see that as a bonus. :D
And thank you to:
icedminttea (much love to you also for liking aBfSF!), Chasing ("Psssh, you can't get genius without abnormality :D "), Fury of the Flames, cherrymelodie, Thoughtless, cu-kid (sorry, I won't know if L is going to have any kick-ass action scenes until if/when they write themselves.), orangeducttape (my beta thought it felt like a cliffhanger, too! I'd love to do a double update. Keep your eyes peeled, it might still happen. (That's the grand thing about holiday weekends - extra writing time!)), Behan (I loved getting to read all of your insights and impressions. Yours was one of the reviews I read several times.), Princess of Oblivion (I thought it was so cute how you were worried over L. I hope the coming chapters pan out in a way that pleases you re: Misa, the job, etc. I'll see if I can write in a little Misa-gets-head-bashed-into-convenient-wall ;) Haha.), Girlfrommarz (I knooow, it was an almost cliffie... sort of... Thank you for your praise - I'll try to keep you as excited (and cliff hung??) as possible! "*runs in circles*" LOL.), nomen nominandum - (Thank you, I love getting real time reactions. And ty for wanting to share out the fic - unfortunately, I don't know anything about the share buttons.) kitakitsune - Of course I remember you! I know I haven't been on LJ really at all... but I liked talking to you quite a bit, and would like to continue doing so. Plus, discussing psychology is always fun, huh? :)
Also, thank you to everyone else who left feedback and/or love! I hope the ff reply to review thingy is not still a problem next time.
For some reason, when I tried to reply to reviews, I kept getting errors saying that the user accounts did not exist. Which they do, so I don't know what the issue was. Argh.
Anyway, I wanted to assure you that L's pov was coming soon (this chapter!), and that I'd pre-written quite a bit. I think I have nearly all of ch27 written. Now I just need to go back over the chaps, ready them for beta, etc. I'm hoping to have timely updates for a bit.
---
I can't reply to everyone here (plus it would be annoying, right?), but I wanted to at least give a few shout outs. But thank you so much to everyone else as well. You gave me a ton of great feedback, laughs, and even (I suspect) warm fuzzies.
Smirking Menace - Thank you for making me laugh so much. "Light Yagami, Ladies and Gentlemen! The king of Dub-con, blame deflecting excuses and mind screws!" LOL it is so true! I thoroughly enjoyed your commentary and always love a laugh. In this case, you kept them coming. I was rolling on the floor to the point where my beta had to ask what was wrong with me. Of course, I had to share... (Oh man, your image of Raito being competitive at a new job was hilarious.)
YellowRose87 - Man. The first thing I wanted to do in response to your foreseen scenarios is go: Aha! None of the above!! and proceed to tell you my plans. Only... spoilers suck, so I can't. You hit all the bases though and I actually was having fun playing things out the way you proposed in my head. (The scene was already written though). You got very close on the one, but again, I can't explain in what ways. You'll likely see it though by the time it all comes out (part will be in a later chapter). Lol you asked about Aiber! I figured no one would be all that concerned with him. Hahaha. Don't worry, I wrote him in again. I was feeling he was sort of flapping in the breeze and needed some kind of appearance.
I liked your thoughts on the family stuff, especially that you pondered the Amanes. "It's always been a mystery, even in canon, how Raito could be so different from the rest of his family. And Misa could not be more different from the Chairman - it really makes you wonder what kind of bimbo airhead the Chairman slept with back in the day." LOL omg that really tossed me. You most certainly have a point. You also made me wonder why I felt absolutely no need to write Misa a mother. Or mention one at all. I think she must have died or something, when I think on it. Well, thems the bones of being a side character. Not important enough for much back-story.
"And Raito felt remorse for what he said about L's family! Wow. I can't help but wonder if you put that in to placate those of us who commented on it in reviews, hehe." I cannot claim that, as it was already written prior to the comments... but! if anyone felt placated, I certainly see that as a bonus. :D
And thank you to:
icedminttea (much love to you also for liking aBfSF!), Chasing ("Psssh, you can't get genius without abnormality :D "), Fury of the Flames, cherrymelodie, Thoughtless, cu-kid (sorry, I won't know if L is going to have any kick-ass action scenes until if/when they write themselves.), orangeducttape (my beta thought it felt like a cliffhanger, too! I'd love to do a double update. Keep your eyes peeled, it might still happen. (That's the grand thing about holiday weekends - extra writing time!)), Behan (I loved getting to read all of your insights and impressions. Yours was one of the reviews I read several times.), Princess of Oblivion (I thought it was so cute how you were worried over L. I hope the coming chapters pan out in a way that pleases you re: Misa, the job, etc. I'll see if I can write in a little Misa-gets-head-bashed-into-convenient-wall ;) Haha.), Girlfrommarz (I knooow, it was an almost cliffie... sort of... Thank you for your praise - I'll try to keep you as excited (and cliff hung??) as possible! "*runs in circles*" LOL.), nomen nominandum - (Thank you, I love getting real time reactions. And ty for wanting to share out the fic - unfortunately, I don't know anything about the share buttons.) kitakitsune - Of course I remember you! I know I haven't been on LJ really at all... but I liked talking to you quite a bit, and would like to continue doing so. Plus, discussing psychology is always fun, huh? :)
Also, thank you to everyone else who left feedback and/or love! I hope the ff reply to review thingy is not still a problem next time.
Disclaimer: (See part 1 for full disclaimer.)
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 25: (It's Everything)
L looked up from his place at the kitchen table, catching yet another glance exchanged by the table's other two occupants.
"What?" He felt off-kilter. A little moody, surly, and definitely lacking in patience. Accenting that, like the fondant upon a rich, indulgent bundt cake, was this clawing agitation that smelled like despair.
It was morning.
He was eating cereal, of all things. Or he would be, if these glances and whispers hadn't suspended his spoon in mid-transit. He couldn't recall a time when he'd ever felt more like some kind of crackpot scientist's experiment.
"What?" he asked again, trying this time to ensure his tone was appropriately non-combative.
Watari and Celia shared another glance before answering, spiking his aggravation.
"Honey," Celia said, addressing him as if he was her son, "we've been noticing that you seem a little... stressed lately." Her kind face looked uncertain, as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to say such things to him. Either that, or she's afraid I'm going to rip her face off like some kind of flesh-eating alien. At this point, he wasn't sure which was worse.
L looked up from his place at the kitchen table, catching yet another glance exchanged by the table's other two occupants.
"What?" He felt off-kilter. A little moody, surly, and definitely lacking in patience. Accenting that, like the fondant upon a rich, indulgent bundt cake, was this clawing agitation that smelled like despair.
It was morning.
He was eating cereal, of all things. Or he would be, if these glances and whispers hadn't suspended his spoon in mid-transit. He couldn't recall a time when he'd ever felt more like some kind of crackpot scientist's experiment.
"What?" he asked again, trying this time to ensure his tone was appropriately non-combative.
Watari and Celia shared another glance before answering, spiking his aggravation.
"Honey," Celia said, addressing him as if he was her son, "we've been noticing that you seem a little... stressed lately." Her kind face looked uncertain, as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to say such things to him. Either that, or she's afraid I'm going to rip her face off like some kind of flesh-eating alien. At this point, he wasn't sure which was worse.
During the last week, she and Watari had been increasingly presenting a unified front. He didn't mind them becoming closer or more couple-like, he really didn't. But the side effect seemed to be an influx of shared meals and 'family' activities. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, except that change at this point was not something he needed. Social expectations were doubly unhelpful. He just wanted to be left alone, not fussed over.
He couldn't help his eyes narrowing slightly, violating the poker face he'd been using lately to the point of wearing it out. He was tired. Tired of this, of the feelings clutching his chest, of being on display like this, of doing a poor job of convincing everyone that nothing was wrong... and sick and fucking tired of these shared meals which he had been suspecting for some time now were merely an excuse to force him to eat.
L set his spoon down, avoiding looking at either of them and stood up. "I have work to do," he said simply, excusing himself.
He nearly made it out of the kitchen uncontested. However-
"L." Watari's voice was stern, father-like. The older man had rarely ever taken that tone with him. It wasn't even his place to, though if anyone had the right to speak to him in that way, it would be the British man he'd lived with and worked with for over a decade. L just hoped he wasn't going to be chastised for being rude to Celia or some such thing. He wasn't sure his remaining patience could bear it.
"Yes?" L said finally, when it seemed like Watari wasn't going to continue until he answered. He spoke over his shoulder. He did not want to encourage a conversation and he'd had enough of looking at their faces and enough of their concern.
"Dinner is at 6:30. Make sure you are ready before then. We'll be going out."
L let out a slow breath, eyes closing in an attempt to meter his response. He did not speak through clenched teeth as he spoke his words of refusal (a thing for which he thought he should be commended). "I have several cases on which I--"
"Lawliet," the older man said in a steely voice, invoking his full name in a way that did not bode well. L couldn't really recall him ever doing that. "You will accompany us to dinner or you will enlighten us as to what is bothering you - right this moment."
L ground his teeth together. "Everything is fine," he said doggedly, "I'm simply too busy to attend something so time-consuming at this juncture."
"We'll see you at dinner then." Watari's tone was stubborn, unrelenting.
There was a nearly audible ping as the last fiber of L's reserve snapped. He whipped around.
"Why does everyone think there is something wrong with me?!" His gaze darted between them with force, meeting their eyes at last which were motionless in their frozen faces.
Aggression... it was an ill-fitting emotion, but it welled up in him just the same. "Well?? Am I not being social enough for you? Not talking enough?" Frustration and irritation crawled up his spine, and spite rolled off of his tongue. "Or do you expect that I should have adjusted already to this little family you're trying to build around me without asking?"
L wasn't thinking ahead about anything he was saying, he was just reacting, and all through it, he couldn't help feeling that some of the very things he was voicing as their potential complaints were the very reasons that he and Raito would never work together.
I'm not social... I don't speak much... And he hadn't adjusted to the brunet's twisted ways fast enough; he'd been feeling damaged and misused, but now... now he was broken and abandoned. He'd never guessed how big the hole in his chest was that the brunet had occupied until the space was vacant.
It was cavernous, and he was sick in the wake of its emptying.
Fire touched his eyes, and the sting of salt was soon after. He turned quickly, unprepared for the unconscious reaction. It frustrated him. "I'll be in my room. Working."
"L, maybe you should take some time off." Watari called after him, tone unplaceable.
Time off? But this is all I have!
---
In the end, L decided to go to dinner with his self-appointed parents, if only to not make things worse. He hadn't been proud of his reaction earlier, and certainly had not wanted to throw Celia's concern back in her face. There were few enough people in this world who would take the time to care about others; there was no sense in discouraging it. At another time, perhaps, he would be able to properly appreciate it. He'd just been too wound up inside to feel anything but harassed. That wasn't anyone's fault but his own.
No need to take it out on them.
Truth be told, he was not progressing on any of his cases much at all. His mind felt blank. Racing. It had never been like this before. He had to do something. Something...... and he was growing increasingly more certain of what that 'something' might be.
Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. He needed a little more time.
He prepared for dinner in the same manner he had for the excursions he used to take to the bars. He cleared his mind of anything but the act of adorning himself with clothing he'd gotten more used to than he'd ever thought possible. He finger-combed his hair, put on shoes, and quashed the mad thought that he might somehow encounter the brunet somewhere - and that everything would be ok. Feelings fluttered in his chest - hope, anxiety, dread. Foolish.
He made sure he had his wallet, phone and keys securely in his pockets, remembering the time he'd raced out of here half-cocked to meet Raito outside of the bar for the first time. How miserable that had been. How cold, wet, and utterly miserable, yet Raito's eyes had held warmth enough to combat it all. Those sharp, all-seeing, dark amber eyes, his sophisticated expressions and aristocratic bearing... Everything about him was the polar opposite to L except for his intellect; that would be the merge in their personal Venn diagrams. For it was certain that morals, social preferences, and other such things couldn't be much further out of alignment.
Oh, that hellish day, that trip to the restaurant in the rain... who could have ever imagined it would end the way it had? That Raito would lean into him in the backseat of a cab, tasting his lips and carelessly awakening a desire the like of which he'd never known... Even now, he was not immune to that memory. It swept through him viscerally - lips, hands, the sound of the brunet's voice in his ear--
L rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the heat of it and trying to dispel the tumbling thoughts.
His knees felt weak.
He had some time before they would be leaving, so he allowed himself a moment to just sit down on his bed and try to repair his mental state. His deadpan stare focused on the wall behind his desk. White. Unmarked. Uninspired. Utilitarian.
What if I just try again? The thought drifted into his mind unbidden. Call him... What would I have to lose?
His stare intensified as the gathering force of infinite pros, cons, and possibilities began filtering through the whirring cogs of his brain. The worst that could happen was a repeat of the last time he'd called. Which was unfulfilling at best. But the odds were against such a thing occurring twice, in exactly the same way, even if it did go poorly. But there was also the chance it could turn in a positive direction if they exchanged more than the preliminary words they had the last time.
After all, he even had me meet his parents. Surely he would not have done so if I was unimportant. Though Misa had met them as well, and Raito claimed to not care for her...
His thumb drifted up to his lips and he chewed on it distractedly. He also wanted me to move in with him, for some reason. That should not have come up unless he was serious about things, right? And that temper - was it so volatile because he cared? L supposed that was possible. But it was a fearsome temper indeed with how grievous things could turn with it at the helm.
If I called again, and he answered, maybe this time we could actually talk. Maybe something could come to be resolved.
Having heard Misa's voice through Raito's phone was still a source of contention, but L knew that he'd allowed his feelings to get the better of him - he had been the one to cut that call short, not Raito. He was the one who had hung up, fear rising up to shear the brunet's words and silence him.
Fear. Cowardice. Anxiety.
These were the things with which he struggled so helplessly, the things that kept him a recluse, the things that had caused him to wall himself up in his own mind. These were the things he'd set out to conquer, intent on breaking his cage.
So it comes full circle. I can fear the unknown and let that still my hand, or I can step forward and take a chance on what is to come.
L marked the location of his cell phone, sitting across the room on his desk, glinting dangerously.
'Lawliet--'
What had Raito been about to say that time? He'd sounded a cross between exasperated and placating. Was he going to end things there, or was it something else entirely?
(Find out.)
L stood slowly, staring at his phone as if it were a viper. He envisioned pressing the buttons, conjuring the brunet. What he saw was a blade dancing in restless, graceful hands... cruel eyes. He could hear that mocking, taunting voice.... and he felt again the burn of liquor in his mouth as the brunet fed it to him through a thoroughly compromising kiss and felt hands pull reaction after reaction from his body while his mind railed against it.
His chest felt tight.
What is the right thing to do?
Can you reasonably want someone like this, through such mixed feelings? How do you know if they are necessary or just a harmful addiction? Withdrawal burns with acrid intensity even when you are purging a virulent poison.
L's hand hovered over his phone. If Raito was a deadly addiction, would he be able to resist his pull? Could he let things end, even if he were to know that he'd be better off in the long run?
Or has Raito already moved on?
The dial tone from the phone in his hand seemed ominous. Loud. Daunting.
L stared at the screen of his cell and was nearly possessed with the misbegotten urge to look at the pictures Raito had taken that day at the motel. Would they sway him one way or the other, enable him to make a decision? But he could see the one almost clearly in his head - Raito's shuttered eyes as the brunet kissed him, intensity dusting his aristocratic face along with a telltale blush of color. L's eyes had been closed, an expression on his face that was as tortured as it was enraptured. His own skin had looked so pale against his black hair and flushing cheeks.
He decided not to look. It would only make things harder if this was the end and he'd seen even more of those obscenely compelling images... or if he caught sight of Raito's inescapable gaze in any of them. He wouldn't be able to look away.
The tightness in his chest intensified and he bit the inside of his lip hard, tasting blood.
Call.
Call.
Call.
It was a sick cadence in his head, beating as fast as his heart was beating now. It did nothing to enable him to actually do it. The phone shook in his trembling hand. Is reinitializing contact the right thing for me? Or is it completely the wrong thing, yet somehow the only thing I dearly wish for? Indecision shook him in its teeth like a rabid dog, but he already knew the answer. It was inevitable, wasn't it? He couldn't stay away. Couldn't leave things as they were. Even without being present, the brunet was consuming his mind and body like a plague. He couldn't live like this.
Eyes closed, he took a bracing breath.
Just dial without thinking about what you are going to say. It's the only way to do this. He watched his thumb press the first 3 digits. Then the 4th... 5th...... 6th........
A knock at the door made him jump nearly out of his skin, and he reflexively snapped the phone shut, his heart hammering in his chest. "Yes?" he said weakly.
"We're about to leave," Watari's muffled voice came through the door. "Are you ready?"
L's nerves were jangling in a great cacophony and he was utterly disoriented. Was it really that late already? He wiggled the mouse of his computer and saw the time was 6:25 p.m. "Yes, coming," he said distractedly.
He caught his abused lower lip in his teeth, more carefully this time. Now that he'd committed to doing it, he wanted to get the call over with. Maybe then he could lay this dissonance to rest or reach some sort of closure that would end the restless flapping which overwhelmed his thoughts of late. But dinner was a prior obligation, and he could always call later.
Besides, he thought, I don't want to cram the call into the span of 2 minutes. It sounded very much like an excuse even to his own ears, a reprieve from what might be an unpleasant task. But there is nothing for it.
The voice in the back of his head whispered, (There is always a choice.)
Reluctantly, he pocketed his phone and left the room.
---
Sitting at a modestly set table, L was relieved that the place Celia and Watari chose was not French. Not that he had anything against French food (because he didn't), but places like that seemed more likely to attract the sort of people L would like to avoid running into. Namely people in Raito's line of work.
He didn't take note of the name of the restaurant or its location. It wasn't that it was important that he do so, only it was unlike him to be so oblivious to his surroundings. The only reason he knew it to be a Pan-Asian seafood restaurant was due to the items listed on the menu.
He wasn't particularly fond of seafood, nor was he particularly hungry, so he settled on ordering some garlic bread. It seemed an odd inclusion on this menu, but he didn't bother himself with dwelling upon it.
I wonder how long this will take... maybe an hour and a half? Then I can...
His fingers brushed over the phone in his pocket, and somehow his heart felt a bit lighter. Soon he would have his answer instead of this looming uncertainty. There was an end in sight.
Was it possible that he was actually feeling optimistic?
"L-kun?"
Celia was looking at him expectantly. He blinked and realized that a waiter was standing beside the table with a tiny notebook in his hands and a pen poised to take his order.
"I'll have the garlic bread."
The waiter nodded. "And what would you like for dinner?"
"The garlic bread?" he said again, desiring nothing further.
This garnered weird looks from both the waiter and his dining companions.
Celia leaned over the table and motioned him closer. "That isn't a very healthy choice, dear."
Her eyes said what she really meant - that bread was not an acceptable dinner - and pleaded with him to eat something substantial.
He sighed and picked up the menu to reassess what he might be able to stand forcing down his throat. "A minute, please," he requested distractedly.
The waiter nodded and swept off to take care of his other tables.
When he returned, L ordered miso soup. He didn't look at Celia. He could feel her worried frown. Instead, he looked around the restaurant and took in the decor, for something to do. It wasn't half bad. The walls were a ruddy brown accented by large pieces of framed art, and the chairs were all black, high-backed affairs. It looked a bit like a coffee-house in some ways. Minus the huge bar that ran nearly the length of the back wall.
L found his eyes sticking over a certain section of the seating, but it wasn't until almost a half hour later that he realized why. It was at this point that a woman at a nearby table turned to greet a new arrival to her table, and he realized it was Misa. For a moment, seeing her blinding smile, he froze. He'd seen who she reserved such smiles for. L's breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering, and from the corner of his vision, Raito came into view-- or he would have, only it was not Raito that had arrived. The man wearing a beige suit was taller and had a sturdier frame than Raito, as well as wavy blond hair.
Aiber reached out to shake the hand of the table's other occupant, a portly man who practically reeked of affluence. That must be Misa's father, the man Raito works for.
"L?" Watari broke into his thoughts.
L turned his attention back to his own table. He was making a mess of this. "Yes, sorry. You were saying?"
Watari viewed him with a skeptical look. "Something of interest you would like to share? I've never seen you so distracted."
"Sorry," he said again. "It's... work. Sort of." He shook his head to indicate it was not important and tried to involve himself in conversation with the two of them. There was another shared look of silent communication. Boy, they were getting good at that. Pretty soon they'd be able to relay everything non-verbally.
"L, I meant it when I suggested that you take a break from work. The way things have been lately... it might be for the best."
L frowned at him. "Only just recently you were telling me that I did not focus on work enough."
Watari frowned back at him, crossing his arms and pensively twitching his moustache. "I do realize that. And I thought that perhaps it was fruitless of you to spend so much time with Yagami Raito, that it was just hurting your focus..."
Hearing Raito's name jagged through L like an electric current, fraying his nerves like lightning fells trees. He unwittingly held his breath as it jittered through him.
Watari continued, "But it doesn't seem like you've been seeing much of him lately, or going out for that matter, yet your focus is worse than ever. I don't understand it." The older man was obviously looking for an explanation.
"Yes, that is odd, isn't it?" he said weakly. "Um, I have to use the restroom. I'll be right back." He knew the British man was no slouch. He'd figure this out, and soon, no thanks to L's inability to be a convincing actor and his expedited retreat.
He found his way to the bathrooms and stood at the sink, splashing cold water on his face for something to do. His hands had gone into a flurry of shaking again, just at having the topic of Raito come up unexpectedly. This was ridiculous. He'd been so sure that he had resolved this sort of anxious reaction. He'd been fine. He'd even felt optimism. So why was he backsliding like this?
He grabbed some paper towels, drying his face and hands. What had happened to his cool and unflappable exterior?
Had Raito ruined his poker face?
Returning to the table, he was surprised to see Aiber there speaking with Celia and Watari.
His hackles rose, expecting a fight, or something unpleasant, though the environment should be enough prevent such things.
He approached cautiously. The last time he'd been in Aiber's acquaintance, he'd gotten himself pinned bodily against the wall of a corporate break room with the man forcing an insistent mouth upon his.
Aiber noticed him ghost up to the table, looking up to see who it was and looking startled as his eyes hit L's face. The look transmuted quickly then, showing a sharpness almost too quickly to place before falling off the man's face. What was strange was that it was something like a more intense version of the signature fixated, lascivious look that Aiber liked to level at him, only it was focused beyond him as if the blond detective was seeing or remembering something else. But it had sharpened a moment later and looked... pained somehow. Or angry. It was hard to tell.
Very strange.
Stranger still was that Aiber quickly disengaged from their group and returned to his table without saying so much as a word to him.
L watched him leave as he took his seat. Very strange indeed. "Well, that's surprising," Watari noted. "I thought for sure he would have spoken to you at least for a moment - he rarely sees you in person, and when he doesn't he can make an awful pest of himself trying to reach you."
"Today has been full of surprises," L nodded sagely. He filed Aiber's odd behavior away for future analysis. For now, he had to focus on being social. "Do you have any more to throw onto the pile?" he joked.
"No," Watari said, "not quite yet." He paused, giving L a very serious look. "Though I believe you might have something yourself?"
L laughed nervously. He didn't mean to, it just sort of slipped out. What was Watari getting at? "There's really nothing."
Watari and Celia exchanged a glance. "Are you sure, dear? You can tell us, you know. It's ok." Her look was knowing, and attempted to look reassuring.
He did not feel reassured.
L regarded them with suspicion. What were they fishing for? "No, really--"
Celia pursed her lips, managing to look hurt and disapproving at the same time. "I wish you could just find it in your heart to trust us. We can be very open minded--"
L was chewing the inside of his lower lip raw. They knew something. Or thought they did. And they were not going to rest until it was dragged into the light, kicking and screaming. He realized he was shaking his head back and forth. A subconscious reaction.
Celia looked L straight in the eye and said, "It's about Raito, isn't it?"
"W-What is?" he said, cursing the stammer that affirmed her question. His pulse was pounding in his ears and his palms had instantly dampened.
"The reason you've been all out of sorts lately," she clarified.
Good god. I don't know what to do. He felt pole-axed and he couldn't tell if she was thinking they'd had a fight between friends or if she was implying there was more between them. "Um..." 'Um?' Is that really the best I can do?!
She must mean friends. There's no reason for her to think we were more involved than that.
"We did have something of a fight recently," he relented, trying to play it off, "and I can't say that I'm quite used to quarrelling with friends..."
"Oh, but you're a good deal more than 'friends', aren't you, dear?"
L couldn't keep the shocked embarrassment off of his face. He could feel the heat of a flush giving him away. "Why would you say that?"
She settled back a bit, looking placated. "Well, I gave it some thought and all of the signs are there. Plus you've been moping about like you've had a lovers' spat..." She interrupted herself when she saw he was still mutely shaking his head. "It's ok, dear, you don't have to deny it. Watari and I have had a chat about this, and even if he does not get along with Raito, that doesn't mean the boy is a bad choice."
L sincerely wished the roof would cave in on him right then and there. He was almost afraid to look at Watari, and it seemed he could not make his head stop shaking back and forth in denial. Nor did he speak for several moments. Anything he said would probably be less than helpful.
"I have not been moping," he said at last.
She hmphed at him. "Call it what you like, dear, but you've lost your appetite and have been ghosting around like your heart's been ripped out."
If the roof wasn't going to oblige him, he would settle for the ground opening up and swallowing him.
...any time now.
---
L didn't know how he made it through the rest of dinner. As soon as they got back, he took the stairs to his room two at a time and hid behind his locked door. He flopped onto his bed face-first and lay there like a dead man.
The last thing he possibly felt capable of doing was calling Raito.
As such, he dug blindly into his pocket to retrieve the phone, lifting his head only enough to see the keypad as he dialed the brunet.
Nothing to lose, right? And I can't imagine suffering anything more embarrassing than I already have this evening.
A female voice came on the line. It was a recording. "The number you have dialed is not in service or is outside of the calling area. Please check the number and try again later. Thank you."
L sat up. That was strange. Had Raito had his phone disconnected? Or was he actually outside of the covered network?
He frowned. This was the only way he had to reach the brunet. It was... disconcerting.
I'll try again later, he decided, thinking it typical of recent events that once he'd determined that he should contact Raito, he wasn't actually able to. Tomorrow, perhaps. And if that does not prove fruitful, I can always contact him through his office.
He thought this, and yet he felt antsy. Why would Raito, who would practically need to live and die by his phone in his line of work, suddenly be unreachable? Not only for myself, but how would anyone reach him if something important had arisen? It seemed irresponsible, or... careless, unthinking. None of which seemed in line with the Raito he knew.
He shut his phone, which had been playing the recording at him on loop.
If something had happened to the brunet's phone, L knew that it would have been quickly replaced. The only possibilities were that he had terminated or suspended his contract... or he really had traveled outside of the range covered on his cell plan.
L unfolded himself from his bed and drifted over to his darkened window. Night had fallen heavily, stealing the view. Precious little was visible by the dull illumination of the street light. The wind was beginning to gust in fitful starts, promising a heavy rain soon.
He realized he was worried.
And maybe that wasn't his place. However, the feeling persisted and the need to get in touch with Raito was sharpening and was even washing out the case of nerves that had been plaguing him before.
Suddenly, ensuring that everything was ok with Raito was more important than the anxiety-ridden back and forth over whether their relationship had ended or not. It was more important than fixating on Misa's role in the brunet's life. It was more important than his own pride and well-being.
L chewed distractedly on the inside of his lip, canines playing with breaking through it again.
Eventually the rain began to come down in sporadic bursts of frantic pattering, tapping out a beat upon the roof, a little bit more insistent each time. It was promising to be an awful downpour.
Despite this, L was actively considering a walk. But not just any walk - one that would take him to the brunet's doorstep. He didn't know if Raito would be home, or if he would even open the door, but he didn't feel that he would be able to banish this restlessness until he had at least tried.
Not wanting to risk the safety of his phone in the wall of water he would likely be trudging through, he left his phone on his bed. He went to his closet and rummaged through it, grabbing a dark coat that promised to be somewhat waterproof.
He drifted down the stairs, through the dim house, watchful and careful not to draw attention to himself. He let himself out, locking the front door and stepped into a deluge that plastered his hair to his head in an instant, pouring icy water straight down his back. GaaAAaaaH! He just barely kept from voicing the primal howl that worked to free itself from the depths of his being in response, and jammed his hands into his pockets.
It was a dreadful journey. Cold. Wet. His shoes were utterly soaked through in minutes and the cars that passed by were deadly accurate in the way they managed to hit every puddle, flinging an arc of dirty water over the side of him unerringly.
He grit his teeth, unable to do anything else as the sidewalk was the only place to walk, aside from the middle of the street. Water wouldn't kill him. Probably. Maybe he'd be throwing out this jacket though when all was said and done...
Come to think of it, why had he and Watari come to Japan? Living in one place or another was not essential for his line of work.
If they wanted inclement weather, they could have stayed in England.
Perhaps a change of scenery would come due very soon. Without Raito, there was no reason to stay. If they relocated, he'd at least be absolved of running into people like Aiber and Misa. He and Watari could go back to anonymity, no one knowing where they lived. It was good like that, wasn't it? Now L felt like too many people here knew who he was and it was unsettling.
What about Celia, though? If she and Watari were serious about each other... well, wouldn't that change everything? Would he and Watari even be able to live as they had, picking up and moving whenever it suited them, changing countries, living freely? She could always come with them, he supposed, but what of her attachments and obligations? Was she tied here? Was he, through Watari, now bound to this place as well? If he and Raito were no more, would he be subjected to things like running into him unexpectedly, or seeing him with other people on his arm? That would be......
L jammed his hands deeper into his pockets, not liking that scenario one bit. I'd have to move. I couldn't take it. Headlights signaled a vehicle approaching. He was ready for it this time, turning away so that the spray was less effective.
Though he'd like to think that he and the brunet would remain in each other's acquaintance even if they were not a couple, he didn't know that Raito did friendship. He did not seem in the habit of keeping people close to him... in fact, he had a rather solitary nature for one who practically lived in the limelight.
Well, isn't that contradictory of me. I'd want friendship, at least, and yet I wouldn't be able to bear being around him and would wish to move to be away from it all?
L shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts; they often didn't make sense where the brunet was concerned, why should that start now? And there was no sense dwelling upon these things before he had more information at his disposal.
He turned onto the street upon which Raito lived. It was not a long street and he could soon see his destination. There was no car in the driveway. However, there was one at the curb, black and expensive from the look of it, under the street light. When he got closer, he saw someone coming out from the covered doorway of the house, though he couldn't say whether they'd actually been inside or not. He tucked back into a shadow, so as not to be so obvious, and watched the figure move toward the car. It was a female, wearing a long coat and high heels, a dark umbrella obscuring her face. L squinted at her. She'd have to fold that umbrella up to get into the car - maybe then he could see her face.
He waited, and sure enough, as she opened the front passenger door, the umbrella dipped down and it was a bright blonde head he saw ducking into the car.
Everything seemed to freeze around him. Even the rain seemed suspended.
Damnit! He'd determined he wouldn't feel like this. He'd wanted to make sure that Raito was alright, even if it meant witnessing something unpleasant, but seeing Misa.... his limbs felt like rubber and his stomach was sick. Rain kept pelting his head and face, but he couldn't feel more than the wetness of it.
Long after the black vehicle left, L prodded himself into motion and made his way to the door, sodden and eerie as if he'd just emerged from the ocean like some kind of Lovecraftian creature of the depths. He raised his hand to knock and half expected to see something trailing his arm like slime, seaweed or some other such thing, so weighed down did it feel. But there was nothing. And nothing but silence answered his knock.
He waited for several minutes and tried again.
There was only the sound of the wind-driven rain.
Either Raito was not at home, or he was not accepting any more visitors.
Raito's car was not here, but that did not mean that he himself wasn't. He was very carefree in that regard, not tied to his transportation like most. He'd often called for a driver or had walked places instead. His personal vehicle was not his only method of transport; he was not overly concerned with it.
L slouched back down the driveway and started the laborious journey home.
His mind was a wash. Nothing surfaced past the recycled din of everything he'd thought about prior. Muddled and useless.
He couldn't say whether any vehicles anointed him on the way back.
The house was just as dark and quiet when he arrived as when he left. The key turning the lock could not be heard over the rain, but the dripping of his clothes upon the floor sounded even louder to his ears than the deadbolt sliding home.
Drip. Drip.
Drip drip drip.
Drip.
The jacket he'd thought of throwing out, but it would seem an odd item to find in the garbage bin. But there was little use in dripping it up the stairs if he wasn't set on keeping it. Nevertheless, he could hardly cast it off at the door in a sodden pile.
Drip drip, his clothing insisted.
He brushed his bangs, which were dripping just as insistently, out of his eyes and headed up the stairs. Closing his door, he kicked off his shoes which stubbornly clung to his feet, and started stripping off the layers of wet clothes. The room felt nearly claustrophobic, so much stuffier than it had been outside, though it was only because outside had been so wet and frigid.
He supposed he should shower. He didn't feel like it. It seemed too much trouble to go through and he was tired and just wanted to stop moving, stop thinking, stop feeling. So much easier to just dry the cold from his body and fall into bed for a few blissfully unconscious hours. At least, he could hope it would be that long.
The closet door was still ajar. He opened it and grabbed out a clean, long sleeved shirt and rubbed his face with it, and then his chest, stomach, arms, legs and back. He tossed it on top of the pile of wet clothes that were now residing in a growing puddle on the floor, and grabbed out another shirt, this one to wear. A pair of jeans found their way into his hands due to habit, but he tossed them back, not wishing to sleep in them, and pulled out a pair of drab grey boxers to put on instead.
When was the last time he had actually wanted to sleep?
When had it ever seemed desirable to lose time that could be better spent elsewhere? When had sleep ever felt like an escape? A solace?
He hit the light, plunging the room back into darkness and made his way into bed.
Until the last several weeks, he couldn't say that he even liked sleep. Or needed it. Yet, beside Raito, sleep he had. And it was for longer than usual, and even seemed deeper and more sound.
And now, when sleep was something he wanted for the first time, L was suddenly afraid that he might have insomnia.
He rolled onto his side and pulled the comforter over his shoulder.
There was no scent of the brunet upon the pillows, the sheets had been changed long ago, but his memory of it was as strong as the sensory memory of Raito's lean body under his arm and the warmth of his neck and shoulder.
But his arms, in reality, were as empty as his bed. This sparked a feeling of great loss and he fought against it, deeming it ridiculous, and not conducive to restfulness. His eyes were screwed shut against it, and he forced himself to count sheep as an appropriate distraction.
His sheep looked nothing like sheep. And he couldn't really get a proper image of the fence they were supposed to jump over. In truth, all he could do was feel how very barren this bed was when he was alone in it, and his mind kept conjuring Raito within it. Raito's legs twining with his, Raito's hand tilting his face up into a melting kiss, Raito's body warm against his.
He gave up and crammed the bed's extra pillow beneath his arm, holding it to him as if it were the brunet and burying his face in it.
This is so sad, he thought, wishing oblivion would come swiftly, before the tightness in his chest manifested further than the prickling in his eyes.
He couldn't help his eyes narrowing slightly, violating the poker face he'd been using lately to the point of wearing it out. He was tired. Tired of this, of the feelings clutching his chest, of being on display like this, of doing a poor job of convincing everyone that nothing was wrong... and sick and fucking tired of these shared meals which he had been suspecting for some time now were merely an excuse to force him to eat.
L set his spoon down, avoiding looking at either of them and stood up. "I have work to do," he said simply, excusing himself.
He nearly made it out of the kitchen uncontested. However-
"L." Watari's voice was stern, father-like. The older man had rarely ever taken that tone with him. It wasn't even his place to, though if anyone had the right to speak to him in that way, it would be the British man he'd lived with and worked with for over a decade. L just hoped he wasn't going to be chastised for being rude to Celia or some such thing. He wasn't sure his remaining patience could bear it.
"Yes?" L said finally, when it seemed like Watari wasn't going to continue until he answered. He spoke over his shoulder. He did not want to encourage a conversation and he'd had enough of looking at their faces and enough of their concern.
"Dinner is at 6:30. Make sure you are ready before then. We'll be going out."
L let out a slow breath, eyes closing in an attempt to meter his response. He did not speak through clenched teeth as he spoke his words of refusal (a thing for which he thought he should be commended). "I have several cases on which I--"
"Lawliet," the older man said in a steely voice, invoking his full name in a way that did not bode well. L couldn't really recall him ever doing that. "You will accompany us to dinner or you will enlighten us as to what is bothering you - right this moment."
L ground his teeth together. "Everything is fine," he said doggedly, "I'm simply too busy to attend something so time-consuming at this juncture."
"We'll see you at dinner then." Watari's tone was stubborn, unrelenting.
There was a nearly audible ping as the last fiber of L's reserve snapped. He whipped around.
"Why does everyone think there is something wrong with me?!" His gaze darted between them with force, meeting their eyes at last which were motionless in their frozen faces.
Aggression... it was an ill-fitting emotion, but it welled up in him just the same. "Well?? Am I not being social enough for you? Not talking enough?" Frustration and irritation crawled up his spine, and spite rolled off of his tongue. "Or do you expect that I should have adjusted already to this little family you're trying to build around me without asking?"
L wasn't thinking ahead about anything he was saying, he was just reacting, and all through it, he couldn't help feeling that some of the very things he was voicing as their potential complaints were the very reasons that he and Raito would never work together.
I'm not social... I don't speak much... And he hadn't adjusted to the brunet's twisted ways fast enough; he'd been feeling damaged and misused, but now... now he was broken and abandoned. He'd never guessed how big the hole in his chest was that the brunet had occupied until the space was vacant.
It was cavernous, and he was sick in the wake of its emptying.
Fire touched his eyes, and the sting of salt was soon after. He turned quickly, unprepared for the unconscious reaction. It frustrated him. "I'll be in my room. Working."
"L, maybe you should take some time off." Watari called after him, tone unplaceable.
Time off? But this is all I have!
---
In the end, L decided to go to dinner with his self-appointed parents, if only to not make things worse. He hadn't been proud of his reaction earlier, and certainly had not wanted to throw Celia's concern back in her face. There were few enough people in this world who would take the time to care about others; there was no sense in discouraging it. At another time, perhaps, he would be able to properly appreciate it. He'd just been too wound up inside to feel anything but harassed. That wasn't anyone's fault but his own.
No need to take it out on them.
Truth be told, he was not progressing on any of his cases much at all. His mind felt blank. Racing. It had never been like this before. He had to do something. Something...... and he was growing increasingly more certain of what that 'something' might be.
Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. He needed a little more time.
He prepared for dinner in the same manner he had for the excursions he used to take to the bars. He cleared his mind of anything but the act of adorning himself with clothing he'd gotten more used to than he'd ever thought possible. He finger-combed his hair, put on shoes, and quashed the mad thought that he might somehow encounter the brunet somewhere - and that everything would be ok. Feelings fluttered in his chest - hope, anxiety, dread. Foolish.
He made sure he had his wallet, phone and keys securely in his pockets, remembering the time he'd raced out of here half-cocked to meet Raito outside of the bar for the first time. How miserable that had been. How cold, wet, and utterly miserable, yet Raito's eyes had held warmth enough to combat it all. Those sharp, all-seeing, dark amber eyes, his sophisticated expressions and aristocratic bearing... Everything about him was the polar opposite to L except for his intellect; that would be the merge in their personal Venn diagrams. For it was certain that morals, social preferences, and other such things couldn't be much further out of alignment.
Oh, that hellish day, that trip to the restaurant in the rain... who could have ever imagined it would end the way it had? That Raito would lean into him in the backseat of a cab, tasting his lips and carelessly awakening a desire the like of which he'd never known... Even now, he was not immune to that memory. It swept through him viscerally - lips, hands, the sound of the brunet's voice in his ear--
L rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the heat of it and trying to dispel the tumbling thoughts.
His knees felt weak.
He had some time before they would be leaving, so he allowed himself a moment to just sit down on his bed and try to repair his mental state. His deadpan stare focused on the wall behind his desk. White. Unmarked. Uninspired. Utilitarian.
What if I just try again? The thought drifted into his mind unbidden. Call him... What would I have to lose?
His stare intensified as the gathering force of infinite pros, cons, and possibilities began filtering through the whirring cogs of his brain. The worst that could happen was a repeat of the last time he'd called. Which was unfulfilling at best. But the odds were against such a thing occurring twice, in exactly the same way, even if it did go poorly. But there was also the chance it could turn in a positive direction if they exchanged more than the preliminary words they had the last time.
After all, he even had me meet his parents. Surely he would not have done so if I was unimportant. Though Misa had met them as well, and Raito claimed to not care for her...
His thumb drifted up to his lips and he chewed on it distractedly. He also wanted me to move in with him, for some reason. That should not have come up unless he was serious about things, right? And that temper - was it so volatile because he cared? L supposed that was possible. But it was a fearsome temper indeed with how grievous things could turn with it at the helm.
If I called again, and he answered, maybe this time we could actually talk. Maybe something could come to be resolved.
Having heard Misa's voice through Raito's phone was still a source of contention, but L knew that he'd allowed his feelings to get the better of him - he had been the one to cut that call short, not Raito. He was the one who had hung up, fear rising up to shear the brunet's words and silence him.
Fear. Cowardice. Anxiety.
These were the things with which he struggled so helplessly, the things that kept him a recluse, the things that had caused him to wall himself up in his own mind. These were the things he'd set out to conquer, intent on breaking his cage.
So it comes full circle. I can fear the unknown and let that still my hand, or I can step forward and take a chance on what is to come.
L marked the location of his cell phone, sitting across the room on his desk, glinting dangerously.
'Lawliet--'
What had Raito been about to say that time? He'd sounded a cross between exasperated and placating. Was he going to end things there, or was it something else entirely?
(Find out.)
L stood slowly, staring at his phone as if it were a viper. He envisioned pressing the buttons, conjuring the brunet. What he saw was a blade dancing in restless, graceful hands... cruel eyes. He could hear that mocking, taunting voice.... and he felt again the burn of liquor in his mouth as the brunet fed it to him through a thoroughly compromising kiss and felt hands pull reaction after reaction from his body while his mind railed against it.
His chest felt tight.
What is the right thing to do?
Can you reasonably want someone like this, through such mixed feelings? How do you know if they are necessary or just a harmful addiction? Withdrawal burns with acrid intensity even when you are purging a virulent poison.
L's hand hovered over his phone. If Raito was a deadly addiction, would he be able to resist his pull? Could he let things end, even if he were to know that he'd be better off in the long run?
Or has Raito already moved on?
The dial tone from the phone in his hand seemed ominous. Loud. Daunting.
L stared at the screen of his cell and was nearly possessed with the misbegotten urge to look at the pictures Raito had taken that day at the motel. Would they sway him one way or the other, enable him to make a decision? But he could see the one almost clearly in his head - Raito's shuttered eyes as the brunet kissed him, intensity dusting his aristocratic face along with a telltale blush of color. L's eyes had been closed, an expression on his face that was as tortured as it was enraptured. His own skin had looked so pale against his black hair and flushing cheeks.
He decided not to look. It would only make things harder if this was the end and he'd seen even more of those obscenely compelling images... or if he caught sight of Raito's inescapable gaze in any of them. He wouldn't be able to look away.
The tightness in his chest intensified and he bit the inside of his lip hard, tasting blood.
Call.
Call.
Call.
It was a sick cadence in his head, beating as fast as his heart was beating now. It did nothing to enable him to actually do it. The phone shook in his trembling hand. Is reinitializing contact the right thing for me? Or is it completely the wrong thing, yet somehow the only thing I dearly wish for? Indecision shook him in its teeth like a rabid dog, but he already knew the answer. It was inevitable, wasn't it? He couldn't stay away. Couldn't leave things as they were. Even without being present, the brunet was consuming his mind and body like a plague. He couldn't live like this.
Eyes closed, he took a bracing breath.
Just dial without thinking about what you are going to say. It's the only way to do this. He watched his thumb press the first 3 digits. Then the 4th... 5th...... 6th........
A knock at the door made him jump nearly out of his skin, and he reflexively snapped the phone shut, his heart hammering in his chest. "Yes?" he said weakly.
"We're about to leave," Watari's muffled voice came through the door. "Are you ready?"
L's nerves were jangling in a great cacophony and he was utterly disoriented. Was it really that late already? He wiggled the mouse of his computer and saw the time was 6:25 p.m. "Yes, coming," he said distractedly.
He caught his abused lower lip in his teeth, more carefully this time. Now that he'd committed to doing it, he wanted to get the call over with. Maybe then he could lay this dissonance to rest or reach some sort of closure that would end the restless flapping which overwhelmed his thoughts of late. But dinner was a prior obligation, and he could always call later.
Besides, he thought, I don't want to cram the call into the span of 2 minutes. It sounded very much like an excuse even to his own ears, a reprieve from what might be an unpleasant task. But there is nothing for it.
The voice in the back of his head whispered, (There is always a choice.)
Reluctantly, he pocketed his phone and left the room.
---
Sitting at a modestly set table, L was relieved that the place Celia and Watari chose was not French. Not that he had anything against French food (because he didn't), but places like that seemed more likely to attract the sort of people L would like to avoid running into. Namely people in Raito's line of work.
He didn't take note of the name of the restaurant or its location. It wasn't that it was important that he do so, only it was unlike him to be so oblivious to his surroundings. The only reason he knew it to be a Pan-Asian seafood restaurant was due to the items listed on the menu.
He wasn't particularly fond of seafood, nor was he particularly hungry, so he settled on ordering some garlic bread. It seemed an odd inclusion on this menu, but he didn't bother himself with dwelling upon it.
I wonder how long this will take... maybe an hour and a half? Then I can...
His fingers brushed over the phone in his pocket, and somehow his heart felt a bit lighter. Soon he would have his answer instead of this looming uncertainty. There was an end in sight.
Was it possible that he was actually feeling optimistic?
"L-kun?"
Celia was looking at him expectantly. He blinked and realized that a waiter was standing beside the table with a tiny notebook in his hands and a pen poised to take his order.
"I'll have the garlic bread."
The waiter nodded. "And what would you like for dinner?"
"The garlic bread?" he said again, desiring nothing further.
This garnered weird looks from both the waiter and his dining companions.
Celia leaned over the table and motioned him closer. "That isn't a very healthy choice, dear."
Her eyes said what she really meant - that bread was not an acceptable dinner - and pleaded with him to eat something substantial.
He sighed and picked up the menu to reassess what he might be able to stand forcing down his throat. "A minute, please," he requested distractedly.
The waiter nodded and swept off to take care of his other tables.
When he returned, L ordered miso soup. He didn't look at Celia. He could feel her worried frown. Instead, he looked around the restaurant and took in the decor, for something to do. It wasn't half bad. The walls were a ruddy brown accented by large pieces of framed art, and the chairs were all black, high-backed affairs. It looked a bit like a coffee-house in some ways. Minus the huge bar that ran nearly the length of the back wall.
L found his eyes sticking over a certain section of the seating, but it wasn't until almost a half hour later that he realized why. It was at this point that a woman at a nearby table turned to greet a new arrival to her table, and he realized it was Misa. For a moment, seeing her blinding smile, he froze. He'd seen who she reserved such smiles for. L's breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering, and from the corner of his vision, Raito came into view-- or he would have, only it was not Raito that had arrived. The man wearing a beige suit was taller and had a sturdier frame than Raito, as well as wavy blond hair.
Aiber reached out to shake the hand of the table's other occupant, a portly man who practically reeked of affluence. That must be Misa's father, the man Raito works for.
"L?" Watari broke into his thoughts.
L turned his attention back to his own table. He was making a mess of this. "Yes, sorry. You were saying?"
Watari viewed him with a skeptical look. "Something of interest you would like to share? I've never seen you so distracted."
"Sorry," he said again. "It's... work. Sort of." He shook his head to indicate it was not important and tried to involve himself in conversation with the two of them. There was another shared look of silent communication. Boy, they were getting good at that. Pretty soon they'd be able to relay everything non-verbally.
"L, I meant it when I suggested that you take a break from work. The way things have been lately... it might be for the best."
L frowned at him. "Only just recently you were telling me that I did not focus on work enough."
Watari frowned back at him, crossing his arms and pensively twitching his moustache. "I do realize that. And I thought that perhaps it was fruitless of you to spend so much time with Yagami Raito, that it was just hurting your focus..."
Hearing Raito's name jagged through L like an electric current, fraying his nerves like lightning fells trees. He unwittingly held his breath as it jittered through him.
Watari continued, "But it doesn't seem like you've been seeing much of him lately, or going out for that matter, yet your focus is worse than ever. I don't understand it." The older man was obviously looking for an explanation.
"Yes, that is odd, isn't it?" he said weakly. "Um, I have to use the restroom. I'll be right back." He knew the British man was no slouch. He'd figure this out, and soon, no thanks to L's inability to be a convincing actor and his expedited retreat.
He found his way to the bathrooms and stood at the sink, splashing cold water on his face for something to do. His hands had gone into a flurry of shaking again, just at having the topic of Raito come up unexpectedly. This was ridiculous. He'd been so sure that he had resolved this sort of anxious reaction. He'd been fine. He'd even felt optimism. So why was he backsliding like this?
He grabbed some paper towels, drying his face and hands. What had happened to his cool and unflappable exterior?
Had Raito ruined his poker face?
Returning to the table, he was surprised to see Aiber there speaking with Celia and Watari.
His hackles rose, expecting a fight, or something unpleasant, though the environment should be enough prevent such things.
He approached cautiously. The last time he'd been in Aiber's acquaintance, he'd gotten himself pinned bodily against the wall of a corporate break room with the man forcing an insistent mouth upon his.
Aiber noticed him ghost up to the table, looking up to see who it was and looking startled as his eyes hit L's face. The look transmuted quickly then, showing a sharpness almost too quickly to place before falling off the man's face. What was strange was that it was something like a more intense version of the signature fixated, lascivious look that Aiber liked to level at him, only it was focused beyond him as if the blond detective was seeing or remembering something else. But it had sharpened a moment later and looked... pained somehow. Or angry. It was hard to tell.
Very strange.
Stranger still was that Aiber quickly disengaged from their group and returned to his table without saying so much as a word to him.
L watched him leave as he took his seat. Very strange indeed. "Well, that's surprising," Watari noted. "I thought for sure he would have spoken to you at least for a moment - he rarely sees you in person, and when he doesn't he can make an awful pest of himself trying to reach you."
"Today has been full of surprises," L nodded sagely. He filed Aiber's odd behavior away for future analysis. For now, he had to focus on being social. "Do you have any more to throw onto the pile?" he joked.
"No," Watari said, "not quite yet." He paused, giving L a very serious look. "Though I believe you might have something yourself?"
L laughed nervously. He didn't mean to, it just sort of slipped out. What was Watari getting at? "There's really nothing."
Watari and Celia exchanged a glance. "Are you sure, dear? You can tell us, you know. It's ok." Her look was knowing, and attempted to look reassuring.
He did not feel reassured.
L regarded them with suspicion. What were they fishing for? "No, really--"
Celia pursed her lips, managing to look hurt and disapproving at the same time. "I wish you could just find it in your heart to trust us. We can be very open minded--"
L was chewing the inside of his lower lip raw. They knew something. Or thought they did. And they were not going to rest until it was dragged into the light, kicking and screaming. He realized he was shaking his head back and forth. A subconscious reaction.
Celia looked L straight in the eye and said, "It's about Raito, isn't it?"
"W-What is?" he said, cursing the stammer that affirmed her question. His pulse was pounding in his ears and his palms had instantly dampened.
"The reason you've been all out of sorts lately," she clarified.
Good god. I don't know what to do. He felt pole-axed and he couldn't tell if she was thinking they'd had a fight between friends or if she was implying there was more between them. "Um..." 'Um?' Is that really the best I can do?!
She must mean friends. There's no reason for her to think we were more involved than that.
"We did have something of a fight recently," he relented, trying to play it off, "and I can't say that I'm quite used to quarrelling with friends..."
"Oh, but you're a good deal more than 'friends', aren't you, dear?"
L couldn't keep the shocked embarrassment off of his face. He could feel the heat of a flush giving him away. "Why would you say that?"
She settled back a bit, looking placated. "Well, I gave it some thought and all of the signs are there. Plus you've been moping about like you've had a lovers' spat..." She interrupted herself when she saw he was still mutely shaking his head. "It's ok, dear, you don't have to deny it. Watari and I have had a chat about this, and even if he does not get along with Raito, that doesn't mean the boy is a bad choice."
L sincerely wished the roof would cave in on him right then and there. He was almost afraid to look at Watari, and it seemed he could not make his head stop shaking back and forth in denial. Nor did he speak for several moments. Anything he said would probably be less than helpful.
"I have not been moping," he said at last.
She hmphed at him. "Call it what you like, dear, but you've lost your appetite and have been ghosting around like your heart's been ripped out."
If the roof wasn't going to oblige him, he would settle for the ground opening up and swallowing him.
...any time now.
---
L didn't know how he made it through the rest of dinner. As soon as they got back, he took the stairs to his room two at a time and hid behind his locked door. He flopped onto his bed face-first and lay there like a dead man.
The last thing he possibly felt capable of doing was calling Raito.
As such, he dug blindly into his pocket to retrieve the phone, lifting his head only enough to see the keypad as he dialed the brunet.
Nothing to lose, right? And I can't imagine suffering anything more embarrassing than I already have this evening.
A female voice came on the line. It was a recording. "The number you have dialed is not in service or is outside of the calling area. Please check the number and try again later. Thank you."
L sat up. That was strange. Had Raito had his phone disconnected? Or was he actually outside of the covered network?
He frowned. This was the only way he had to reach the brunet. It was... disconcerting.
I'll try again later, he decided, thinking it typical of recent events that once he'd determined that he should contact Raito, he wasn't actually able to. Tomorrow, perhaps. And if that does not prove fruitful, I can always contact him through his office.
He thought this, and yet he felt antsy. Why would Raito, who would practically need to live and die by his phone in his line of work, suddenly be unreachable? Not only for myself, but how would anyone reach him if something important had arisen? It seemed irresponsible, or... careless, unthinking. None of which seemed in line with the Raito he knew.
He shut his phone, which had been playing the recording at him on loop.
If something had happened to the brunet's phone, L knew that it would have been quickly replaced. The only possibilities were that he had terminated or suspended his contract... or he really had traveled outside of the range covered on his cell plan.
L unfolded himself from his bed and drifted over to his darkened window. Night had fallen heavily, stealing the view. Precious little was visible by the dull illumination of the street light. The wind was beginning to gust in fitful starts, promising a heavy rain soon.
He realized he was worried.
And maybe that wasn't his place. However, the feeling persisted and the need to get in touch with Raito was sharpening and was even washing out the case of nerves that had been plaguing him before.
Suddenly, ensuring that everything was ok with Raito was more important than the anxiety-ridden back and forth over whether their relationship had ended or not. It was more important than fixating on Misa's role in the brunet's life. It was more important than his own pride and well-being.
L chewed distractedly on the inside of his lip, canines playing with breaking through it again.
Eventually the rain began to come down in sporadic bursts of frantic pattering, tapping out a beat upon the roof, a little bit more insistent each time. It was promising to be an awful downpour.
Despite this, L was actively considering a walk. But not just any walk - one that would take him to the brunet's doorstep. He didn't know if Raito would be home, or if he would even open the door, but he didn't feel that he would be able to banish this restlessness until he had at least tried.
Not wanting to risk the safety of his phone in the wall of water he would likely be trudging through, he left his phone on his bed. He went to his closet and rummaged through it, grabbing a dark coat that promised to be somewhat waterproof.
He drifted down the stairs, through the dim house, watchful and careful not to draw attention to himself. He let himself out, locking the front door and stepped into a deluge that plastered his hair to his head in an instant, pouring icy water straight down his back. GaaAAaaaH! He just barely kept from voicing the primal howl that worked to free itself from the depths of his being in response, and jammed his hands into his pockets.
It was a dreadful journey. Cold. Wet. His shoes were utterly soaked through in minutes and the cars that passed by were deadly accurate in the way they managed to hit every puddle, flinging an arc of dirty water over the side of him unerringly.
He grit his teeth, unable to do anything else as the sidewalk was the only place to walk, aside from the middle of the street. Water wouldn't kill him. Probably. Maybe he'd be throwing out this jacket though when all was said and done...
Come to think of it, why had he and Watari come to Japan? Living in one place or another was not essential for his line of work.
If they wanted inclement weather, they could have stayed in England.
Perhaps a change of scenery would come due very soon. Without Raito, there was no reason to stay. If they relocated, he'd at least be absolved of running into people like Aiber and Misa. He and Watari could go back to anonymity, no one knowing where they lived. It was good like that, wasn't it? Now L felt like too many people here knew who he was and it was unsettling.
What about Celia, though? If she and Watari were serious about each other... well, wouldn't that change everything? Would he and Watari even be able to live as they had, picking up and moving whenever it suited them, changing countries, living freely? She could always come with them, he supposed, but what of her attachments and obligations? Was she tied here? Was he, through Watari, now bound to this place as well? If he and Raito were no more, would he be subjected to things like running into him unexpectedly, or seeing him with other people on his arm? That would be......
L jammed his hands deeper into his pockets, not liking that scenario one bit. I'd have to move. I couldn't take it. Headlights signaled a vehicle approaching. He was ready for it this time, turning away so that the spray was less effective.
Though he'd like to think that he and the brunet would remain in each other's acquaintance even if they were not a couple, he didn't know that Raito did friendship. He did not seem in the habit of keeping people close to him... in fact, he had a rather solitary nature for one who practically lived in the limelight.
Well, isn't that contradictory of me. I'd want friendship, at least, and yet I wouldn't be able to bear being around him and would wish to move to be away from it all?
L shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts; they often didn't make sense where the brunet was concerned, why should that start now? And there was no sense dwelling upon these things before he had more information at his disposal.
He turned onto the street upon which Raito lived. It was not a long street and he could soon see his destination. There was no car in the driveway. However, there was one at the curb, black and expensive from the look of it, under the street light. When he got closer, he saw someone coming out from the covered doorway of the house, though he couldn't say whether they'd actually been inside or not. He tucked back into a shadow, so as not to be so obvious, and watched the figure move toward the car. It was a female, wearing a long coat and high heels, a dark umbrella obscuring her face. L squinted at her. She'd have to fold that umbrella up to get into the car - maybe then he could see her face.
He waited, and sure enough, as she opened the front passenger door, the umbrella dipped down and it was a bright blonde head he saw ducking into the car.
Everything seemed to freeze around him. Even the rain seemed suspended.
Damnit! He'd determined he wouldn't feel like this. He'd wanted to make sure that Raito was alright, even if it meant witnessing something unpleasant, but seeing Misa.... his limbs felt like rubber and his stomach was sick. Rain kept pelting his head and face, but he couldn't feel more than the wetness of it.
Long after the black vehicle left, L prodded himself into motion and made his way to the door, sodden and eerie as if he'd just emerged from the ocean like some kind of Lovecraftian creature of the depths. He raised his hand to knock and half expected to see something trailing his arm like slime, seaweed or some other such thing, so weighed down did it feel. But there was nothing. And nothing but silence answered his knock.
He waited for several minutes and tried again.
There was only the sound of the wind-driven rain.
Either Raito was not at home, or he was not accepting any more visitors.
Raito's car was not here, but that did not mean that he himself wasn't. He was very carefree in that regard, not tied to his transportation like most. He'd often called for a driver or had walked places instead. His personal vehicle was not his only method of transport; he was not overly concerned with it.
L slouched back down the driveway and started the laborious journey home.
His mind was a wash. Nothing surfaced past the recycled din of everything he'd thought about prior. Muddled and useless.
He couldn't say whether any vehicles anointed him on the way back.
The house was just as dark and quiet when he arrived as when he left. The key turning the lock could not be heard over the rain, but the dripping of his clothes upon the floor sounded even louder to his ears than the deadbolt sliding home.
Drip. Drip.
Drip drip drip.
Drip.
The jacket he'd thought of throwing out, but it would seem an odd item to find in the garbage bin. But there was little use in dripping it up the stairs if he wasn't set on keeping it. Nevertheless, he could hardly cast it off at the door in a sodden pile.
Drip drip, his clothing insisted.
He brushed his bangs, which were dripping just as insistently, out of his eyes and headed up the stairs. Closing his door, he kicked off his shoes which stubbornly clung to his feet, and started stripping off the layers of wet clothes. The room felt nearly claustrophobic, so much stuffier than it had been outside, though it was only because outside had been so wet and frigid.
He supposed he should shower. He didn't feel like it. It seemed too much trouble to go through and he was tired and just wanted to stop moving, stop thinking, stop feeling. So much easier to just dry the cold from his body and fall into bed for a few blissfully unconscious hours. At least, he could hope it would be that long.
The closet door was still ajar. He opened it and grabbed out a clean, long sleeved shirt and rubbed his face with it, and then his chest, stomach, arms, legs and back. He tossed it on top of the pile of wet clothes that were now residing in a growing puddle on the floor, and grabbed out another shirt, this one to wear. A pair of jeans found their way into his hands due to habit, but he tossed them back, not wishing to sleep in them, and pulled out a pair of drab grey boxers to put on instead.
When was the last time he had actually wanted to sleep?
When had it ever seemed desirable to lose time that could be better spent elsewhere? When had sleep ever felt like an escape? A solace?
He hit the light, plunging the room back into darkness and made his way into bed.
Until the last several weeks, he couldn't say that he even liked sleep. Or needed it. Yet, beside Raito, sleep he had. And it was for longer than usual, and even seemed deeper and more sound.
And now, when sleep was something he wanted for the first time, L was suddenly afraid that he might have insomnia.
He rolled onto his side and pulled the comforter over his shoulder.
There was no scent of the brunet upon the pillows, the sheets had been changed long ago, but his memory of it was as strong as the sensory memory of Raito's lean body under his arm and the warmth of his neck and shoulder.
But his arms, in reality, were as empty as his bed. This sparked a feeling of great loss and he fought against it, deeming it ridiculous, and not conducive to restfulness. His eyes were screwed shut against it, and he forced himself to count sheep as an appropriate distraction.
His sheep looked nothing like sheep. And he couldn't really get a proper image of the fence they were supposed to jump over. In truth, all he could do was feel how very barren this bed was when he was alone in it, and his mind kept conjuring Raito within it. Raito's legs twining with his, Raito's hand tilting his face up into a melting kiss, Raito's body warm against his.
He gave up and crammed the bed's extra pillow beneath his arm, holding it to him as if it were the brunet and burying his face in it.
This is so sad, he thought, wishing oblivion would come swiftly, before the tightness in his chest manifested further than the prickling in his eyes.
____________________________________________________________< /font>
TBC
A/N 2: I felt this song went really well with some of L's pov.
Red - "Nothing and Everything" lyrics:
Enemy, familiar friend
My beginning and my end
Broken truth, whispering lies
And it hurts again
What I fear and what I try
Words I say and what I hide
All the pain, I want it to end
But I want it again
My beginning and my end
Broken truth, whispering lies
And it hurts again
What I fear and what I try
Words I say and what I hide
All the pain, I want it to end
But I want it again
And it finds me
The fight inside is coursing through my veins
And it's raging
The fight inside is breaking me again
The fight inside is coursing through my veins
And it's raging
The fight inside is breaking me again
It's still the same, pursuing pain
Is it worth all I have gained
We both know how it will end
But I do it again
Is it worth all I have gained
We both know how it will end
But I do it again
And it finds me
The fight inside is coursing through my veins
And it's raging
The fight inside is hurting me again
The fight inside is coursing through my veins
And it's raging
The fight inside is hurting me again
And it finds me
The war within me pulls me under
And without you
The fight inside is breaking me again
The war within me pulls me under
And without you
The fight inside is breaking me again
And it finds me
The war within me pulls me under
And without you
The fight inside is breaking me again
The war within me pulls me under
And without you
The fight inside is breaking me again
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh, it's everything
Oh