Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ PITCH ❯ Wako City ( Chapter 28 )
[ 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: 07.10.2011 | Pages: 7 | Words: 13.5K | Visits: 230 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Death Note Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / Drama / Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.10.2011 | Pages: 7 | Words: 13.5K | Visits: 230 | Status: Work In Progress
PITCH
---------
Light x L
---------
Part 27
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: Enjoy.
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 27: (Wako City)
It was not a long journey to Wako. In direct travel time, it was around 40 minutes, though catching a train and also finding the address added much to that.
In fact, he'd been wandering around a residential area for some time now, passing the Wako City Library twice, even though he had a map of the area pulled up on his phone. The reception was not that good in some areas, L noticed, and it would drop his 3G connection, losing him the map.
It was not a long journey to Wako. In direct travel time, it was around 40 minutes, though catching a train and also finding the address added much to that.
In fact, he'd been wandering around a residential area for some time now, passing the Wako City Library twice, even though he had a map of the area pulled up on his phone. The reception was not that good in some areas, L noticed, and it would drop his 3G connection, losing him the map.
It was nearly 7 p.m. and getting dark by the time he found it.
'It' was an apartment building, tucked between more traditional 2-floor houses. There was no parking in front, or in the back that he could see. He wondered what one would do if they had driven here.
His heartbeat accelerated as he faced the building. It settled thickly in his throat as he opened the low, wrought iron gate that broke the solemn security of the concrete wall that lined the fronts of these residences.
Not for the first time, he wondered, Why Wako?
Not for the first time, he wondered if Raito would even be here. He felt a little foolish, coming all this way without knowing anything at all. But what else could he have done?
He consulted the paper again.
101 B.
It was a nervous habit. He didn't need verification - he'd memorized the address the moment he'd looked upon it in the mirror. Besides, the letters appeared backwards and he wasn't actually reading them anyway. He was merely taking the paper and looking at it, seeing the perfect writing, and putting it away again.
Nervous energy fluttered in his chest ominously, like caged butterflies. He didn't know what to expect. Didn't know what he would even say if he came face to face with the brunet, their last conversation (if you could call it that) hanging over his head. That horrible, abbreviated phone call and all of the mixed feelings it embodied. Memories twisted in the swirl of his thoughts - knives, cold eyes, warm skin. It was all muddied and confusing and desperate.
The most pessimistic part of him thought he might be walking into a trap. Wouldn't it be convenient for Raito if no one knew this address, if his intent was to sate his temper?
L paused. This setup did feel a little like the motel and trepidation trickled in to poison his resolve. He looked up at the second floor, the doors were identical and bland, unremarkable and un-noteworthy. Their only deviation from anonymity was the brass numbers and letter upon each door. 101 A, B, and C appeared to be on the second level while the 100 marked units were on the bottom along with what looked like an office.
But he'd already made up his mind.
He located the rickety looking stairs and started up, keeping a hand on the railing just in case one of the steps gave way.
As he drew closer, his mind kept offering scenarios, possible ways things would go as soon as he and the brunet laid eyes upon each other, and stress was closing off his throat. His stomach was burning emptily, gnawing with anxiousness now as well as hunger. That's what he got for not eating properly, he supposed. It intensified unbearably as he stood before 101 B, and tension flickered down his arms like static. Contemplating reaching out to turn the knob or knock on the door was making his heartbeat speed its staccato to the point where he thought it would burst.
Or am I to use the key?
Oh god, he wasn't sure.
Faced with such a conundrum, he decided to knock. He spent the next several moments focusing on not biting his nails off. He'd been through public transit after all, he didn't want to put his hands anywhere near his mouth. He held his breath.
101 B was silent, nearly mocking him with its windowless facade. There was no knocker on the door and no peep-hole through which the occupant might look out.
He bit his lip, considering. If there was no way for whoever was inside to verify who was outside...
Might this by why Raito had provided a key in addition to the address? The brunet would know exactly who it was if a key was used. But maybe Raito had given it to him in case he was not there whenever L decided to arrive?
Either way...
L dug into his pocket for the key. He didn't like just letting himself in, but there was no choice. He pushed it slowly into the lock, feeling metallic things catching and sliding against it. He turned it and felt the pressure of the lock regretfully giving way.
He retracted the key, heart in his throat as he pocketed it then turned the knob.
He opened the door and it swung outward.
It was dark as pitch inside. Fumbling along the right side of the door, he felt for a light switch. Finding one, he flicked it on and was surprised to see a multitude of boxes. It almost looked as if someone had just moved in. The place felt barren and un-lived in, as if the boxes were straight of the truck and not a single item had been unpacked.
"Hello?" he called hesitantly, stepping inside. Was Raito even home? Or was he in a room further in?
"Hello," a voice answered from behind him. He jumped, startled as badly as if he had been caught stealing, or if Death had popped out from around a corner, its skeletal face grinning from within hooded robes. He whipped around.
Raito was leaning against the wall, just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest and an impassive expression on his face.
L's heart constricted at the sight of him. He was frozen. Absolutely frozen. He didn't know how to react to that look. It gave nothing away.
"You might want to shut the door," the brunet said, nodding at the gaping entryway. "In case you were followed."
I was careful, he wanted to say. And why do you think I would be followed? he wanted to ask. But L couldn't force words to form upon his tongue, so he nodded silently. He closed the door and glanced at Raito again. The watchful brunet gave another brief nod - L's cue that he was to lock the door as well.
L did as he was bidden, wracking his brains for things he might say to the other man in order to break the silence. At the same time, he had the impression that this was Raito's domain, and that it was his prerogative if the silence would end, or when anything else would begin.
There had been so many things he'd wanted to say to Raito, most of them to the effect of 'I miss you.' But looking at him now, there were other things pressing to be said, such as: What are you doing here in Wako? Why doesn't your phone work? "How could you sleep with Misa?"
L recoiled as the words left his mouth, sharp and accusing.
Raito's mouth quirked up in a humorless smile. "Found out about that, did you?" Those eyes were shadowed, regarding him like pools of darkness. And L still had no explanation for how or why the brunet came to be loitering in the near blackness of this apartment at just the moment he came in. It was strange. He allotted quite a few resources to unraveling that quandary as he tried to distract himself from Raito's response.
"I warned you, didn't I?" Raito continued softly, his words containing razor wire. "I told you what would happen if you kept refusing me. It was your choice." His eyes were intense - traps with which to hold him still.
"It was only a week," L said hoarsely.
"I was forbidden contact by you." His head tilted in a superior fashion, a touch of cruelty in his posture. "By your imperious command. And so I have done as requested."
"That didn't mean you were supposed to sack up with Misa," L said in frustration, not comprehending how Raito could do such a thing and then tell him it was his fault. Hurt was seeping out of him like from a gushing wound. "How many days did it take? Or did you jump in bed with her at the first opportunity?"
Raito peeled himself off the wall, an unreadable look upon his face. "Don't insult me," he said in a dangerous voice. "You left me no choice. I did what I had to do."
"And that involved doing Misa?" His voice bore the strain of his weakening grip on himself. Anger. HURT. Oh, that lockbox he'd stuffed everything into had popped open. His hands were shaking, and possibly so was all of him. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," the brunet sneered. "You had no idea what was happening in your absence. NO idea what was going on as you took your time trying to gain your precious equilibrium."
Those words hit L like a slap to the face. He was beside himself with indignant fury. "AND WHO DO YOU THINK CAUSED THAT?"
He saw the slight jerk as his words struck the brunet right back, and there was a stillness about him afterwards like a holding of breath. Raito's eyes lost some of that sharpness, though a distinctive scowl had formed upon his face.
The silence dragged on between them, words downed like bleeding corpses.
The set of Raito's jaw told L that he was not going to be the one to break it.
"And here I'd believed your talk of resolving things," L said under his breath, anger and disappointment rattling his voice. "Even after you did that to me... I still sought compromise. I only asked you for what I thought would help me deal with what had happened." He scoffed. "You upheld that request so brilliantly," he laughed a little, "and yet sullied things so remarkably at the same time." Oh Jesus, his eyes were watering. The last thing he needed was to cry when he was so pissed off. ((And hurt)) part of him piped up unnecessarily.
"I couldn't tell you what was going on," Raito said, almost too quietly to be heard. "You would have thought it was an excuse to not uphold your request."
L couldn't look at him. He couldn't see straight and he needed to leave. He knew Raito could easily fabricate any story that he wanted. He was a consummate actor, after all. Everyone believed anything he said. Any lie sounded sweet on those lips. And L found that he was, pitiably, no different. It hurt to find he was no different, and that he had never touched that heart, had never known the alien landscape behind Raito's masks any more than anyone else ever had. He was more a fool than all of them, thinking his intellect and keen observation had brought him in deeper, protected him in such a risky venture and made the brunet see him as an equal.
The sound of a deadbolt being thrown caught L's attention.
Raito had gone over to engage the second lock on the door, and was now sitting himself down on the floor in front of it, resting his arms on his drawn up knees in a way that managed to look both confrontational and dejected at the same time.
L didn't say anything for a long time. He fought with himself until he was sure his words would come out as bland as he wanted. "What are you doing?"
"I can't let you leave."
Of course, Raito seemed to know his mind almost as well as he did. So why then? Why could he not see and understand the effects of his actions?! Why did he insist that he was blameless and that everyone around him carried the graver sins?
"You'll detain me for what purpose?" Blessedly, his poker face was firmly resting where it should and he was properly cool and detached.
There was a flicker of something raw in Raito's eyes which was swallowed up again almost immediately. He murmured, "It wasn't supposed to go like this."
"Indeed," L said. "If I'd have known, I would have been content to let you fade into obscurity just like you wanted."
Raito's eyes snapped up and his jaw clenched hard. "So you won't do me the honor of hearing me out? You know everything, do you? You have it all figured out?" He was incensed. "Tell me then, detective, what might I be doing in the middle of a new city, surrounded by boxes, cut off from everyone except you?"
"How should I know?" L snapped back. "Maybe you ran out of people who can't see you for what you are and you thought to start over."
Raito drew himself to his feet, eyes spitting fire. "And just what might that be?" The passingly pleasant tone was curdled and poisonous.
Warning bells were sounding off in L's head. He took a step back as the brunet loomed closer.
"All out of words?" Raito mocked him, violence in his eyes. "Come, Lawliet, tell me what you really think of me."
"You're a liar," he tossed out as if it were a heavy stone that could impede the brunet's advance.
"Yes," he affirmed without a single change in his expression.
L glanced quickly behind him - worrying that he'd trip himself upon the boxes behind him as he moved away. "You're a thief."
"Yes," was the stony response.
Raito was still coming, an ugly yet superior look on his face.
"Y-You're a bastard," he said, not really knowing what else to say, and not wanting to escalate the brunet's dark mood. The closer Raito got, the more tongue-tied he was becoming. He didn't want to be part of this argument at close range. Not when he could see the jeweled glimmer of dark amber eyes, the sardonic twist of those full lips, and the air between them was thinning and becoming scarce enough for his head to spin.
"That's all you've got?" Raito laughed sharply, catching him by the front of the shirt. "I know what you really want to say." L shook his head, unable to breathe in the brunet's orbit. He was certain that hand would feel him trembling like a leaf. And it was not from fear. "How about," the brunet said, leaning forward to lay a word upon his lips, "monster?" That sensual mouth tainted his with its soft touch and harsh words, scalding him with its presence. "Or how about whore?"
No, those were not any words of his own. Raito was putting someone else's words there and telling him to claim them. He wouldn't.
There was a shift in the air and Raito's mouth was sinking slowly into his, parting his lips and drowning him with heat and fractured belonging. He wasn't sure how or why it was happening, but the kiss tasted of hurt and despair, which was making his chest clench. Where had they gone so wrong? Was there nothing for it?
Tears finally spilled upon his cheeks, denied for too long.
He'd missed Raito so badly, beyond reason, he'd missed him. And now, being so close to him... he felt further away from him than ever. Intimacies like this had always been a method of distraction in the brunet's hands. It didn't hold any inherent meaning.
He tried to push the other man away, feeling his composure crumbling. Raito allowed it, but instead of being able to disengage entirely, L found himself enveloped in a tight-armed embrace. He was motionless, his chin resting upon a tawny, bare shoulder.
It seemed a small eternity before the body against his took in breath to speak.
"I'm sorry," Raito said after a long moment, his slightly obstinate voice muffled in L's dark hair. Tension simmered within his lean frame. "...I don't want to fight with you. That's the last thing I want." His voice was tight, as if it was being forced through clenched teeth, but so completely without artifice that it almost did not sound like him at all. It was rough. A little raw. "I missed you, Lawliet," he murmured the admission. "More than I'd imagined was possible."
It sounded so authentic. But was it really? Was it horrible and stupid of him to wish that it was the truth? He was so tired of this second-guessing. He didn't have the energy or the strength for it. L sagged against him, the fight going out of him. Make me believe you, he begged silently, closing his eyes. Or at least be so convincing that I can't have reasonable doubts. Please.
---
Raito held the pale, fragile shell of Lawliet in his arms gently, as if he might break under too much pressure. Did the dark-haired detective realize he'd spoken that aloud? No, he couldn't have.
'Make me believe you.' His voice was faint and barely intelligible, but it cut through Raito like forge-heated steel. 'Or at least be so convincing that I can't have reasonable doubts. Please.' Those desperate words made him feel so blighted, so useless and foul.
He'd tried the hardest he ever had for anyone, for Lawliet - to be himself, to trust, to be trustworthy. Was this the gap between where he was and where he needed to be? It was a great divide. An infinite chasm with no bottom. He'd even reorganized his life for this person in his arms, but hadn't found the words to tell him. Instead, old patterns had taken over and he'd felt the need to fight; though moments before, his heart had lifted just at the sight of Lawliet stepping inside his doorway.
How did this keep happening? Apparently they'd both been under pressure the time they'd been apart, but a reunion should have been positive and fulfilling, not stymied, dark and shot through with sharp, knife-like words.
The first thing out of Lawliet's mouth though had been Misa - that plague upon them. She was like a force of locusts upon the field of their union, devouring and destroying the fruits of their efforts. The first thing the detective voiced was the transgression he regretted and would take back if he could. He was accused of it, had had it rubbed in his face, and his natural response was the anger and spite, those emotions that had been spiraling out of control when regret had first settled in, almost immediately after the act. He couldn't protect the other man from the backlash that he himself suffered from.
Could he even convey how distasteful that joining had been? How Lawliet's face haunted him every moment of it? How he'd wanted nothing more than for it to be the insomniac's slight body that he lay with, not the delicate body of a viper. Her hands had curled about him possessively, nails digging in to hook his flesh and pull him down into her nest, even as he tried to escape it. So he'd lied about needing to go to his parents' house. You're right, Lawliet, I'm a liar. But he couldn't take any more of her. He had to be free of it. I'm everything you've claimed I am and more.
Irony bit at him as he looked down upon the insomniac who'd fallen unconscious in his arms. I seem to have that effect on you.
The smudges beneath his eyes seemed darker, however, and the bones in his pale face were sharper than normal.
Raito frowned, gathering the detective in his arms. His spare body did not feel as heavy as it should have been.
Haven't you been taking care of yourself?
He brought Lawliet to the room he'd been sleeping in and lay him down upon the bed. He fidgeted before finally sitting beside his charge, antsy because of all the air they needed to clear. But he didn't wish to wake the other for selfish reasons, however much he wanted to. Compulsively, he lay his hand across the dark-haired man's forehead and felt it to be hot as if he were running a slight fever. I'll get a cold washcloth--
"What are you doing?" Lawliet said, eyes quite open when Raito pulled his hand back. They looked glazed, and a little hazy.
"You seem to be running a fever."
"Nonsense," Lawliet said, looking away as he sat up. "I just haven't-" he tilted woozily, and Raito's hands shot out to steady him, "-eaten recently."
"So we'll feed you."
"I don't want to impose." Lawliet's tone translated more to: 'I want nothing from you.'
"You've come all this way. Can't I at least do that for you?"
"No," the recalcitrant man said stubbornly.
"Then you intend to pass out on me again?"
"Hardly. I'm going home."
"You do realize you're likely to pass out on the train on the way back. That is, if you can find your way to the station."
"I'll take my chances."
Raito frowned at him. "Couldn't you just stay here, at least until it's light out?"
"What for?" Lawliet countered. "It seems to me there is little point."
Raito took in a long, slow breath and let it out again, just as slow. Another fight would be pointless. Lawliet was acting like this because his faith had been broken. Not by the means Raito would have thought, but through his association with Misa. He owed the other man some allowances for this. He could hold his tongue against barbed words.
Was it stupid that they had come this far and yet his primary concern was still, as it had ever been, simply to devise a way to keep this wary creature with him?
"Fine then, let's go," Raito said, rising and offering his hand.
---
L looked at the perfectly shaped hand in front of him and back to its owner. "What do you mean, 'let's'?"
Raito gave him a baleful look. "If you are insistent about leaving, I'm going to make sure you get home. I'll not leave you to wander the streets and get mugged or something worse."
"But you can't--" L hadn't seen Misa or Aiber, but what if that was merely a stroke of luck? If Raito brought him home, they'd have an easy time of getting to him or following him back here. But why would he still care about that at this point? It was useless. Useless....
Even so, he couldn't bear the thought of Misa getting anywhere near Raito.
Raito was raising a brow at him, not looking amused, but perplexed.
"You came out here because you didn't want anyone to know where you were, right?" L asked. "Well, Misa and now Aiber are looking for you."
"No, Lawliet, I came out here for other reasons."
"Which are?" L cursed himself for his curiosity getting the better of him, and for the words slipping out unbidden.
"Well, the first being that I quit my job. The second being that my new beginning starts here."
"So you did quit?" L tried not to be too disappointed in himself for engaging in the conversation. "Did you actually tell anyone yet?"
"No. I needed everything to be taken care of before taking that step. I've cleared out my residence -most of my things are in storage - and arranged for a buyer. I found this place to stay in for now..." He looked at L with nearly plaintive eyes. "I was hoping that you would approve of me leaving. You were so against my job, and the people that came with it."
He ran a hand through his hair in a nervous, agitated gesture.
Suddenly he began speaking again, as if unable to bear the silence or afraid of hearing L's answer. The appeal in his gaze was gone, swallowed up again as he schooled his expression. A touch of antagonism crept into his voice. "Can I tell you now, Lawliet? The day you made your request, I was given a choice." He paused, making sure he had L's full attention. "Chairman Amane decided that it was me or nothing. He issued me an ultimatum." His russet-colored eyes bored into L's own. He saw blame in their depths. "I could choose to keep my job and my career by resuming the relationship I'd ended with Misa, or I could lose everything and even be barred from the field."
L felt a wave of vertigo. That was certainly something he never could have anticipated. He could only imagine how that news had struck the brunet. Especially when he had just blindly told Raito not to contact him.
"I didn't know what to do. The matter concerned you as well - you were specifically mentioned. But I didn't feel I could risk trying to talk to you."
Raito wasn't looking at him now, but was staring at the sheets. "I kept waiting for you to come back, but it was looking hopeless. And several days later, I was forced to play my hand."
"I'm sorry," L said uselessly. So the accusations in those eyes had been for L not being around when Raito needed him. He'd failed the brunet in this way, unknowingly. And that he'd slept with Misa... is that also to be my fault?
The transgression with Misa... he couldn't forgive that so easily. It still stung, still pained him. It couldn't be wiped away by Raito pinning it upon his ill-timed request for some space. He could not, would not accept the blame for that sequence of events. How Raito could even begin to justify such a thing was beyond him. Didn't most people end relationships over such things?
L's face felt oddly stiff and immobile, like a rubber mask had been lain over his skin. He felt distorted.
"You must understand, Lawliet-" The brunet's lips were forming words. It took a moment for the sound to come through. "I wasn't in my right mind." Raito was looking to him in appeal. "I was starting to become convinced that my career might end up being all I had left."
Those words were familiar. Hadn't he thought along those lines himself? But his empathy was disjointed. The fact remained that, through his actions, Raito had given up on him, given up on them. All for a career that he had now thrown by the wayside. "Yet you've left it in the end."
"But then I realized," Raito continued doggedly, "I had to make a choice between the career I'd been building all this time or the chance that you still--" he broke off abruptly, breaking eye contact. His jaw suddenly looked set and determined.
"The chance that I what?" L prompted. He was caught suddenly by the difficulty Raito seemed to be having, and that the disrupted flow of words seemed to carry more weight than the ones before. The blame-deflecting had eased and the brunet's demeanor, while growing more agitated, seemed to be showing the vulnerability of naked truth.
It struck L rather strongly, pulling him in to dissect it more closely. He wouldn't say it was hope that he felt, but maybe something akin to it. His gaze rested more heavily upon the other man, trying to pry more from him than he was consciously giving. He sensed a turnabout however - Raito was on the verge of retreating, busily trying to reconstruct a fitting facade that he could disappear behind.
"It doesn't matter," the brunet tossed out. "This move would have needed to happen either way." Raito looked cagey. "They aren't likely to leave me alone once they find out. I'm not sure if they will hassle you as well." His walls were going back up as if his flow of words were bricks. His voice was becoming more practiced, sure, and distant. "You are welcome to stay here - I chose a place that was big enough..." He trailed off suddenly as if realizing he'd just divulged a closely guarded secret. The faint surprise in his face made him look more boyish than usual.
He chose this place with me in mind? For what? In case I would still uphold my agreement to live with him?
"Excuse me, I'll be right back," Raito murmured, looking intent on fleeing the room.
---
Stupid, STUPID! Raito berated himself. How could he let that slip after trying so hard to cover it up? Lawliet was not of a mind to care that he had been holding out hope for his return. The detective was made of distrust, and everything Raito said was suspect.
He'd only wanted to air out some of the truth, to let his reluctant guest see how everything had come to pass. He'd wanted to see if Lawliet might find it within himself to forgive him. He'd seen proof that the dark-haired man cared. He still did, but he obviously thought such feelings were foolish and a liability. He felt that Raito was taking him for a ride. But I'm not! The one time I am not, I am being seen as a devil.
He did not want to expose his feelings to Lawliet only to have them be scoffed at and dismissed. He'd been under too much pressure to weather that well, and was not sure what he would do in response. He felt as if, in that scenario, he just might snap.
He made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle from under the sink. It was a bottle of alcohol, though he didn't bother to look at what kind. He grabbed a small glass from the nearly empty cabinet and poured some of the dark liquid into it, downing it in one burning gulp.
What are my social skills and manipulations worth if they can't help me keep you?
Unhappiness was spearing his chest. He could just feel the scope of the backslide that was coming if Lawliet walked out on him.
God damnit. I can't take it.
What did all of his hard work matter? He'd come this far, severed all his ties save those with his parents and the one he'd created with Lawliet. He'd passed his second Bar Examination in the 99th percentile, was set on his path doing the required menial labor for the next three months at the Legal Training and Research Institute which was mere minutes away, and within a short time he would be starting out as a Public Prosecutor Assistant Officer.
It wasn't perhaps the entry into law enforcement that his father had envisioned, but going through the Police Academy would mean doing a lot of grunt work as an actual police officer before being considered for taking even the Sergeant examination. It didn't really appeal to him. Aiming to be a prosecutor, however, put him above all of those positions. The police would perform the legwork and would have direct contact with the public, packaging it all up in the end with a pretty little bow and handing it over to people like him. He could work cases and wield the law as it suited him and the decision to indict or not would also be left to his discretion.
There were a lot of specialties he could go into, everything from criminal law to foreign affairs. It was wide open. It would also give him the chance to rise in power, higher than the Chairman, and he would have the authority to conduct his own investigations... he could even go after 'corrupt' officials if misconduct was suspected. It was perfect. And there was no end to the ranks he could climb.
The Local Public Prosecutors Office, The District Public Prosecutors Office, The High Public Prosecutors Office and, finally, the Supreme Prosecutor's Office (that was the equivalent of America's Supreme Court, only in Japan it was an even more integral part of the government).
His score on the Bar ensured that he would not be kept waiting long before being considered for a decent position. Once he'd undergone the requisite 'training', boring though it would be, he was sure to ascend the ranks quickly. He'd already been scouted in this short time. Whether it was simply his brain that caught their attention, or his face that they found remarkable, it didn't matter. He could do well here with his skills, and he'd be without the Amanes hanging over him like an oppressive black cloud, holding him back.
He'd look back on this later and laugh - that he'd ever considered staying beneath their thumb. How could he have been so short-sighted? The world was his oyster. He'd hardly even scratched the surface.
He tossed back another drink. For all his optimism, there was one thing that caused it to blur like a hateful mirage. And that something was sitting upon his bed, wishing to be anywhere else but near him.
Christ.
His hand closed harder upon the glass, masking the tremor that flickered through it. That hurtling, un-control sort of feeling was pressing in upon him, demanding that he act and take what he wanted by force. Only force would not gain him what he truly wished for. It would drive it further from his reach.
But still...
Lawliet was weak to his advances, and they were currently at a stalemate. Could he push things into a direction he liked by giving in to impulse?
He could still feel the heat of the detective's mouth under his. He'd been so angry, and yet the closer he'd gotten to those dark eyes, the clearer it was to him that Lawliet was not as calm as he looked. He was shaking like a leaf and those eyes had begged him to come no closer - which beckoned him forward unerringly. His own rage and the urge to intimidate subsided as the softness of those lips quavered beneath his. He became fascinated, drawn in, and couldn't help himself.
The tears had startled him, waking him to the wrecked mental state that must be riding his companion. Guilt and grief had speared through him sharply, surprising him beyond measure. He had the sudden fear then that he was capable of breaking the toy he'd come to love. Toy... He meant that in only the barest sense of the word. Maybe in the beginning Lawliet had been like a shiny new toy, affording endless entertainment, but it had escalated so far past that now. Lawliet had become integral. A necessity.
One that was perfectly capable of disappearing on him and leaving him in shambles.
He knocked back another glass of the alcohol, not tasting anything but the fire of it in his throat.
He hated this shabby apartment. It held none of the comfort or elegance of his old place. Lawliet was the only thing that could improve the ambience, and he was determined to vacate the premises.
---
L looked up as Raito returned looking quite composed.
"Did you advance your cases as much as you'd hoped in your absence?" the brunet asked conversationally.
L sensed a probing for information hidden in the benign words. "Perhaps."
"I should think that would be a resounding 'yes' with nothing to steal your attention," he remarked blithely, taking up residence upon the bed. He lay back, reclining and propping himself up on his arms. That he was facing the door, instead of L, gave the illusion that he was not in L's personal space merely because he wasn't looking at him.
L ripped his eyes from the smooth, tawny skin that lay invitingly before him. Why am I focusing on that now of all times? There was so much uneven ground between them at this point that they might never again find themselves in the capacity for touch. He wasn't entirely sure they would still even be in a relationship after all of this. "Indeed, the first several days were more productive than I could have imagined." It was useless to take note of the brunet's pleasing form.
Rich, dark amber eyes rolled up to meet his, looking nearly solicitous beneath the feathering of side swept bangs. "And after that?" he inquired, his voice bordering on silky.
L fought the urge to inch away as Raito's voice and presence insidiously started affecting him. He was distracted as he answered. "I had things on my mind..." Why did he have to feel this... need tugging at him yet again? Raito's body language was open, calling to him, promising him sweet, sweet lies. He wrenched his eyes away.
"What sorts of things?" Raito asked innocently, though there was an undercurrent of the suggestive in it. He'd rolled onto his side and was slinking closer.
"Nothing that concerns you," L said.
"Really?" Raito moved forward like a cat - sinuous, graceful, unhurried. His eyes were on L's face as if by drifting closer he might be able to discern some hitherto unnamed secret. "That sounds a little too specific to be the truth, Lawliet."
The brunet was so close now that the only thing between them was L's legs, drawn up to his chest. He renounced the caressing sound of his name. "Stop it," he whispered.
Raito's proximity was making his mind go hazy. He could feel the heat of his body against the braced barrier of his legs, even through the cloth of his pants, and could sense that lean body was poised to topple him. But he couldn't allow anything to happen, or there would be no resolution to any of this, he was sure. He would be pulled into the brunet's pace yet again, with no recourse.
"Stop what?" Raito murmured, pressing forward, past his knees and through his defenses, coming dangerously close to his face.
L tried to scramble back, but Raito did not allow him distance and he soon fell beneath the younger man, heart pounding. The brunet's body bore down upon him, pinning him there, and L's body shuddered wantonly. He turned his head to the side, trying to reject the brunet's closeness.
It was no good. His entire focus was locked on the person that lay against him, and it only got worse as Raito bent to his throat. Gentle breath and the grazing of lips played upon his skin, unhurried, enticing, unraveling him.
"How can I stop, Lawliet?" Raito murmured against his neck, the quality of his voice sending chills down L's spine. His mouth was warm, ruinous against his skin. "I don't know how to quit you."
"You have to--" L broke off, not even sure of what he'd been about to say, as Raito's lips lay solemn kisses upon the tender flesh of his throat.
"I don't know how," Raito repeated plaintively, the despair within his tone tugging at L's chest. "It isn't possible," he added dismissively, petulantly, as if he'd just discovered it to be so.
L tried to look the brunet in the eye, but Raito was tipping his face up to receive a kiss he couldn't quite escape. He expected possessiveness, maybe even roughness. But the lips that brushed his were gentle. "I've never needed anyone before." Raito confessed against them softly, discontent drifting through his words, frustration. "How is this supposed to work? What am I supposed to do?"
L wasn't sure if it was honesty closing in on him or a trap. He felt torn as he heard Raito say these things to him. He was as distrustful as before, yet he was wearing down. He was fighting not only his emotions but his body as well. It craved the touch of the brunet so profoundly; it kept his head still as Raito slid between his lips and it throbbed in reaction. It was treacherous.
A small noise escaped the back of his throat as that kiss swelled to encompass the whole of his awareness. Almost as if in response, a tentative hand brushed up his thigh, engorging the heat within him and dragging out a choked moan.
No...
I swore I wouldn't fall prey to this.
That hand slid up under his shirt, cool against his unbearably hot skin as it stroked his stomach.
He was losing control of the situation - and of himself. He couldn't fend off the desire that was curling in his belly. His body wanted that hand to slip lower and take his mind permanently out of commission.
"I thought of you often," Raito said to him, distracting him from his distraction. "Did you think of me at all?"
No, L was going to say. No, not at all. He wanted to lie and sting the other with it, pricking that ego. But Raito had shifted, giving his hand the access that it hadn't had before and clever fingers descended upon L's clothed desire as he started to speak. "N--yes," he breathed, that stroking hand ruining his reply. His cheeks flushed in mortification at hearing himself sound like that. He tried to rebuke his response, but Raito's mouth moved to cover his own, sweetly debilitating and invasive as that hand palmed him more insistently.
He was trapped.
Raito was going to burn him alive.
He struggled against it in a panic, trying to push Raito back and gain some distance but that just served to get his wrists entrapped in an elegant, powerful hand and pushed into the mattress over his head. Why must I want you like this? Raito's other hand worked on the button of his pants, then dragged the clothing down off of his hips.
Please, he thought, his mind derailing as Raito touched his bare, throbbing skin. Sensation dredged through his being and he no longer knew if he'd wanted the brunet to please stop or please continue. It was too late for that now, anyway. At the mercy of Raito's hands, he couldn't fight back for long. His limbs soon melted and became useless. His breath hitched and his body reacted to everything now. He couldn't stop it.
Even as his wrists were released, he knew he could not do anything with them. They were as unresisting as the rest of him. He could not pull away as Raito pushed his own slacks over his hips and out of the way. He could do nothing but suck his breath in sharply as the brunet lay against him once more, all smooth skin and hot, hardened flesh. It felt scandalous and intoxicating, and he was powerless against the feel of it as Raito's hips ground against his and his mouth was reclaimed.
It was all he wanted - this contact that was strong enough to break him inside and out.
God.
He shuddered, pleasure rippling and spiking through him relentlessly. It was almost too much to bear. He couldn't--
He groaned aloud, audible now; the brunet had released his mouth suddenly as orgasm encroached upon him and a fine sheen of sweat misted his skin.
Teeth and lips freely explored the arch of his neck, both threatening and gentle in turn, twisting him up inside. So close now... His body was shaking and tightening like a coiled spring. He tried to hold out, but just as he couldn't silence the noises that fell from his lips. He couldn't stop the chain reaction that occurred when Raito bent to his ear and said, "Come," in that blisteringly sexual tone of his.
L's hands dug into the body above him, clinging to flesh and sinew as the sudden force of release ravaged and tore through him. His mind felt blown open, white, and blank as it happened. All he could do was feel and shake and drown it. The heat of their aroused bodies, the strain of taut muscles, it all seemed to contain all he had ever craved in this world and was a thing of such exquisite beauty in that moment that it bore the markings of an epiphany.
Raito soon shuddered against him, erotically breathless syllables falling from his lips as pleasure overtook him. He was perfect. Every nuance of him, every sound, every reaction culminated into making him unavoidably alluring and engaging. And he was the perfect cage, entrapping L in the structure of his embrace, claiming his mouth lustfully even as tension slid from his body.
---
It was with mixed feelings that Raito came back to himself, still twined with pale limbs and breathing in the heady scent of shared passion. It was not his way to regret such things as this, but once the fog cleared from Lawliet's head, what would he be able to expect from the other man?
Raito hadn't made any sort of conscious decision to seduce him, it had just happened that way. He didn't want it to be held against him - as if he had all the control in these encounters when they had just as much control over him.
He lay still for many long moments, wondering if Lawliet's now steady breathing might be indicative of sleep. He waited before separating from him, not wishing to wake him if that was the case, admitting to himself that he was dreading the judgment he might face in those abyssal eyes when they finally focused on him.
I've used intimacy as a tool for so long, who would rightly suspect I'd suddenly want the thing itself?
He wracked his brain for something he could do or say that would bring things around, that would ward against the inevitable fights and would keep the detective with him willingly. Again, he nearly wished that he could admit his feelings to his companion, but he would run the very high risk of having those sentiments summarily dismissed. Just because he often happened to play the role of a liar.
He ground his teeth in frustration. How inconvenient.
Could he reason with Lawliet?
But how, when any truth he spoke was suspect?
He sat up, rubbing a fist over his eyes to relieve the pressure. He desperately wanted a cigarette right now. Not only that, he wanted to take it while sitting in the cool, pristine calm of his old patio's garden. What did he have here but blank white walls, boxes he didn't feel like unpacking, and a couple of dingy windows on the back wall of the apartment? There was no patio here - just a front door, a walkway, and a dismal view of the street.
He'd chosen a tenant house for anonymity. Misa was going to be out looking for him as soon as she realized he'd slipped from her grasp. The lack of parking, an inconvenience at first glance, actually suited him. There was a detached row of single garages on the owner's other lot a few minutes away. He would not be found by his car in the driveway, that was for sure. He'd also chosen this one for the size... just in case Lawliet wasn't quite done washing his hands of him.
Raito heard his mother's words haunt him again.
So he was lucky if the detective deigned to speak to him again, was he? Well, they'd certainly just done a lot more than that.
((Not that it changes anything.))
He let out his breath slowly, feeling his nerves fraying. Maybe he would risk that cigarette. He needed something to calm this agitation so that he could think.
He slipped out of bed carefully, taking a moment to erase evidence of their intimacy before dragging his pants up over his hips. He couldn't be bothered with looking for a shirt to wear. Besides, he wasn't overly concerned if someone got an eyeful.
Silently, he left the room and drifted into the kitchen where he began rummaging for the old pack of cigarettes. Where did I put those? he wondered idly. He'd been too busy the last several days to bother with them. Not to mention, he'd been staying at his parents' and then here, disrupting his normal patterns and the urge itself had been hit or miss anyhow.
He found them tossed in an empty kitchen drawer. He tapped one out and put it to his lips, then continued to search for a means with which to light it. One would think a lighter might reside in the same drawer, but luck was not with him. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he checked multiple other drawers and cabinets. He would settle for a cheap, disposable lighter, or even some matches. His nice lighter, he hadn't seen since he'd moved. It irked him.
Looking back towards the bedroom, he thought again upon the dark-haired detective and wondered what he was supposed to do. Lawliet did not respond well to force, and yet too little of such was just as insufficient to keep him rooted.
Raito picked up the permanent marker he'd spied loitering on the countertop and went back into the bedroom. There, he located his wallet on the side table and put it in his pocket. Lawliet looked as if he might be asleep but Raito really doubted that he was. He sat on the bed next to him, taking a slender arm in his hands and draping it over his knees. He turned it wrist up, then uncapped the marker and began scrawling his new number upon the skin, large enough to be nearly obnoxious.
There was something cathartic about making the deep black lines upon the pale purity of his skin. In almost a trance, he watched the numbers form from straight lines and sweeping curves. The number took up almost the whole of the space between Lawliet's wrist and elbow. The writing was clear and bold and would be able to be seen from a mile away. Not that that was why he'd done it - he just wanted the numbers to be so large that Lawliet couldn't ignore them. He sensed that he was going to have to let the other man go, and all he could do was hope that that displayed trust and the relinquishment of control.
God, it made him uneasy.
He looked down on the face of his lover and worried that he might never see it in such repose ever again. Those features had become so precious to him. Despite himself, he reached out and touched the curve of a cheek. It was over-warm, reminding him of his earlier suspicion that Lawliet was running a fever, and that he apparently hadn't eaten in a long while.
It was late, maybe 10 p.m. or so. But there should be at least a convenience store or something that would still be open at this hour. He grabbed a white shirt off of the floor, pulling its tautness over his head and across his chest and shoulders. It was a tight fit, molding to his body in what he knew to be an appealing fashion. Such was not his interest at the moment but it was also one of the few shirts he had access to, the others being largely boxed up, and it was reasonably clean. He'd only worn it for a short time earlier.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the cigarette still caught in his lips. It was at least a 10 minute walk to the store he was thinking of. He placed it upon the nightstand. No point in taking it with him.
He located his expensive but comfortable leather sandals and slid them on, thinking he probably looked like a bum. A sophisticated bum, with the dark black chinos that rode low on his hips, a white t-shirt that hugged his frame, and expertly cut hair that managed to look good even when it was ruffled, but a bum nonetheless. It felt a bit liberating to not have to conform to any sort of standard dress, merely for going outside. Perhaps this was why Lawliet dressed the way he did at times, in clothes so baggy they seemed just short of falling off of him. It was comfortable, also.
Raito never could have dressed so dismissively before. Everything he did could, and was, being watched. He had to remain ever immaculate.
Perfection was typically his preference, but he did so hate being forced to things.
Giving the abandoned cigarette a second look, he picked it up again and returned it to its place of honor between his lips. He could always buy a lighter while he was out.
---
L listened for the jangle of keys locking the door, then quickly sat up and gathered his clothing.
Once properly attired once more, he made sure he had his phone and the key and carefully slipped out of the apartment himself.
He doubted the brunet actually thought him to be asleep. As such, it was piquing his curiosity as to why Raito took no pains to say where he might be going, or to exchange any sort of words with him at all to try to resolve anything. He could easily disappear while the brunet was gone.
L kept to the doorway and to shadows while Raito took the stairs, his footfalls brief and businesslike upon them. His white shirt made him quite visible in the gloom, and it was with little effort that L was able to follow him.
L's eyes may have been closed earlier, but he had been cataloguing everything the younger man did. He'd followed his movements through the apartment and even heard him curse after opening a multitude of drawers and cabinets as if he was looking for something.
He'd been surprised when the brunet sat beside him, taking possession of his arm and tracing something upon it, tickling the skin. From the smell, it was a permanent marker. He wasn't overjoyed at the prospect, but he was supposed to be asleep, so he did nothing. As Raito worked, slowly, L snuck a glance at him and was caught with the quality of his expression. It was pensive and somber, and almost gave the impression of the other biting his lip, but there was some softness in it as well that was elusive and shifting.
L watched Raito mark his skin and it seemed to bear the gravity of ritual. The whole thing was moving in a way that he couldn't quite describe.
Confusion pooled within him when the brunet's fingertips had tentatively graced his face. It seemed so incongruous with what he knew of the other man, lacking none of the forceful possessiveness that was prone to pervade so many of the things he did. The touch was... nearly melancholy in its lingering.
He tried to look unconscious as he processed his reaction to it, and as Raito dressed.
Raito had been acting abnormally. Even when they'd been fighting earlier, something had been different. He'd been overly aggressive before, but it seemed more a lashing out - a lack of control. And control was something the brunet was typically very good at.
And the intimacy... what were the things Raito was saying to him so candidly when the brunet had him too knotted up to even think? They'd sounded like confessions, though he hadn't been sure at the time that they were heartfelt - they could easily have been just more words with calculated effect. But where was the self-satisfaction Raito usually exhibited after they'd come together like this? This time he seemed antsy, restless, and there was a heavy silence that indicated he was thinking upon something with great focus.
L studied his target, taking in the appearance of him, this slightly mussed version of him which was almost more captivating than the sleek, polished veneer he typically presented.
So much was changing so fast.
This was all so far away from where things had begun. That Raito had cast off his career was a shock. To be honest, the flashiness and the dishonesty seemed to suit the brunet only too well. Which had served to make L uneasy. It had the look of a happy arrangement on the surface, and Raito had appeared to be thriving on such work and the monetary bounty.
But to have terminated his employment...
What was it he had said before? That he'd been given an ultimatum: He could keep what he had with the addition of being with Misa again... or he could forfeit all and also be barred from continuing in that line of work...
Raito was moving through the streets with an easy, confident stride. He carried himself differently here - almost lazily compared to the crisp, authoritative movements L had observed of him in the office or in a business setting. The brunet was blending in.
Did you really quit in order to be away from Misa? he asked the back of Raito's head. But why would you go so far as to sleep with her, only to make that decision later? I don't understand it.
Something Raito had said earlier drifted back into his mind: 'I thought my career was all I would have left...'
Then... if the brunet was feeling as if he had suffered a loss during the time they were not speaking... L frowned, deep in thought. Had Raito actually feared that things were over between them? That was the only explanation that made sense. And he'd also said that he hadn't been in his right mind, indicating that he might also have been distressed over the prospect.
Could he assume that his absence had really had this profound an effect on the brunet? That was how it was starting to look, and yet didn't that hint that strong feelings were involved? Though Raito had never come out and said anything to him directly about such a thing...
...but there were many instances where he'd made admissions that sounded like he might actually really care. That is, if it wasn't an act. The sticking point. How would L know if what he was seeing or hearing was real at any given moment? There was no way, really, not with how skilled an actor Raito was. However, the things that had occurred in his absence, and even in the moments where a performance would have gained the brunet nothing -like when L appeared to be asleep- perhaps if he looked more closely to those things, he could find an answer.
L wobbled, a wave of dizziness swamping him just then, greying out over 65% of his vision, forcing him to stop and brace himself against a light post. He leaned his head against it and closed his eyes, focusing on taking deep, even breaths to try and clear his head. He really should have eaten earlier instead of pushing the food Watari had brought him aside. So it would have been sometime yesterday when he'd eaten last. Dinner, was it? And that had had merely been some miso soup and generally light fare.
He raised the back of his hand to feel his forehead, and it did seem that his temperature might be elevated. Between his lack of sufficient caloric intake and the stress he'd been under, it was no wonder if his immune system was faltering. Not to mention that long walk in the rain the other night... Maybe he really was running a fever.
Raito was just turning a corner out of view when L looked up again. Cursing himself for nearly losing the brunet, L resumed his tail, running as unobtrusively and quietly as he could until he gained the corner. He peeked around it and saw Raito disappear into a convenience store. His stomach gnawed in distress at its long standing empty state, and he wondered if he should try buying something within. He had his wallet on him, after all. But... How would he explain his presence? Or was he planning to not return to the apartment before the brunet? Or at all?
He chewed his lip in distraction. If he did not return, he would be knowingly placing a greater strain on things that were already pressed well past their limit. Counter-productive, to say the least.
---
Raito entered the glaring brightness of the small store and paused, searching for a likely place to begin. He lightly bounced the cigarette in his lips distractedly up and down, wondering where the pre-made foods section might be.
He felt kind of cheap about not having anything better to offer his guest, but he hadn't exactly stocked the refrigerator nor had he felt motivated to cook these past days. Well, at least he could get something more substantial for the dark-haired man than chips, pretzels or other kinds of snack food. Providing there was anything left at this time of day.
The selection, when he found it, was less than inspiring. He looked over it in annoyance, thinking that at this rate, he should just take Lawliet out somewhere to eat, but he knew he'd never get the ornery insomniac to agree.
There was a western-style meatball sandwich with red sauce and congealed cheese that was absolutely out of the question. Just as unappealing was a noodle salad with strips of some bland, pale, leafy vegetable and chunks of... he couldn't tell if they were supposed to be baby octopi or squid. That left some vegetable gyoza. The dumplings looked a little worse for wear, but were passable. There were two packages left and he took them both.
On a second, baleful assessment of the small refrigerated case he spied some onigiri and nikuman. He wasn't sold on the quality of the pork buns, but figured it couldn't hurt to give the dark-eyed waif more options. He wouldn't put it past him to be picky. He added both the nikuman and some onigiri to his stash and made his way to the register. If he was honest, he hadn't been eating so well himself lately. Decent food or not, it was better to have something sitting in the cavernous space of the empty fridge in case hunger called.
He paid the clerk and made his way outside, the plastic bag crinkling in the slight breeze. He was so focused on returning 'home' (and he sneered at the thought of calling that place home) that he'd gotten nearly 10 yards before remembering he needed a lighter. "Fuck," he muttered in frustration, lifting his face skyward as if to give himself strength, the well-travelled cigarette still hanging from his lips.
It was a pain to have to go back, but since he was already here...
Doggedly, he retraced his steps, went back into the store, and bought the cheapest thing they had. Out of irritation.
Stepping back outside with the opaque, white plastic lighter with a red tab, he set his bag of food upon the ground to light up. Fire flared pleasingly and he was soon breathing in a lungful of his bad habit. He wondered how long it would take him to find his good lighter. And how many other things of quality would he be setting aside and making do without as his life resettled about him? It was annoying. Aggravating. He took another pull on the cigarette then picked up the bag. He tried not to think about returning to an empty apartment. It was far easier to focus on small inconveniences.
__________________________________________________ __________
"I'm sorry," Raito said after a long moment, his slightly obstinate voice muffled in L's dark hair. Tension simmered within his lean frame. "...I don't want to fight with you. That's the last thing I want." His voice was tight, as if it was being forced through clenched teeth, but so completely without artifice that it almost did not sound like him at all. It was rough. A little raw. "I missed you, Lawliet," he murmured the admission. "More than I'd imagined was possible."
It sounded so authentic. But was it really? Was it horrible and stupid of him to wish that it was the truth? He was so tired of this second-guessing. He didn't have the energy or the strength for it. L sagged against him, the fight going out of him. Make me believe you, he begged silently, closing his eyes. Or at least be so convincing that I can't have reasonable doubts. Please.
---
Raito held the pale, fragile shell of Lawliet in his arms gently, as if he might break under too much pressure. Did the dark-haired detective realize he'd spoken that aloud? No, he couldn't have.
'Make me believe you.' His voice was faint and barely intelligible, but it cut through Raito like forge-heated steel. 'Or at least be so convincing that I can't have reasonable doubts. Please.' Those desperate words made him feel so blighted, so useless and foul.
He'd tried the hardest he ever had for anyone, for Lawliet - to be himself, to trust, to be trustworthy. Was this the gap between where he was and where he needed to be? It was a great divide. An infinite chasm with no bottom. He'd even reorganized his life for this person in his arms, but hadn't found the words to tell him. Instead, old patterns had taken over and he'd felt the need to fight; though moments before, his heart had lifted just at the sight of Lawliet stepping inside his doorway.
How did this keep happening? Apparently they'd both been under pressure the time they'd been apart, but a reunion should have been positive and fulfilling, not stymied, dark and shot through with sharp, knife-like words.
The first thing out of Lawliet's mouth though had been Misa - that plague upon them. She was like a force of locusts upon the field of their union, devouring and destroying the fruits of their efforts. The first thing the detective voiced was the transgression he regretted and would take back if he could. He was accused of it, had had it rubbed in his face, and his natural response was the anger and spite, those emotions that had been spiraling out of control when regret had first settled in, almost immediately after the act. He couldn't protect the other man from the backlash that he himself suffered from.
Could he even convey how distasteful that joining had been? How Lawliet's face haunted him every moment of it? How he'd wanted nothing more than for it to be the insomniac's slight body that he lay with, not the delicate body of a viper. Her hands had curled about him possessively, nails digging in to hook his flesh and pull him down into her nest, even as he tried to escape it. So he'd lied about needing to go to his parents' house. You're right, Lawliet, I'm a liar. But he couldn't take any more of her. He had to be free of it. I'm everything you've claimed I am and more.
Irony bit at him as he looked down upon the insomniac who'd fallen unconscious in his arms. I seem to have that effect on you.
The smudges beneath his eyes seemed darker, however, and the bones in his pale face were sharper than normal.
Raito frowned, gathering the detective in his arms. His spare body did not feel as heavy as it should have been.
Haven't you been taking care of yourself?
He brought Lawliet to the room he'd been sleeping in and lay him down upon the bed. He fidgeted before finally sitting beside his charge, antsy because of all the air they needed to clear. But he didn't wish to wake the other for selfish reasons, however much he wanted to. Compulsively, he lay his hand across the dark-haired man's forehead and felt it to be hot as if he were running a slight fever. I'll get a cold washcloth--
"What are you doing?" Lawliet said, eyes quite open when Raito pulled his hand back. They looked glazed, and a little hazy.
"You seem to be running a fever."
"Nonsense," Lawliet said, looking away as he sat up. "I just haven't-" he tilted woozily, and Raito's hands shot out to steady him, "-eaten recently."
"So we'll feed you."
"I don't want to impose." Lawliet's tone translated more to: 'I want nothing from you.'
"You've come all this way. Can't I at least do that for you?"
"No," the recalcitrant man said stubbornly.
"Then you intend to pass out on me again?"
"Hardly. I'm going home."
"You do realize you're likely to pass out on the train on the way back. That is, if you can find your way to the station."
"I'll take my chances."
Raito frowned at him. "Couldn't you just stay here, at least until it's light out?"
"What for?" Lawliet countered. "It seems to me there is little point."
Raito took in a long, slow breath and let it out again, just as slow. Another fight would be pointless. Lawliet was acting like this because his faith had been broken. Not by the means Raito would have thought, but through his association with Misa. He owed the other man some allowances for this. He could hold his tongue against barbed words.
Was it stupid that they had come this far and yet his primary concern was still, as it had ever been, simply to devise a way to keep this wary creature with him?
"Fine then, let's go," Raito said, rising and offering his hand.
---
L looked at the perfectly shaped hand in front of him and back to its owner. "What do you mean, 'let's'?"
Raito gave him a baleful look. "If you are insistent about leaving, I'm going to make sure you get home. I'll not leave you to wander the streets and get mugged or something worse."
"But you can't--" L hadn't seen Misa or Aiber, but what if that was merely a stroke of luck? If Raito brought him home, they'd have an easy time of getting to him or following him back here. But why would he still care about that at this point? It was useless. Useless....
Even so, he couldn't bear the thought of Misa getting anywhere near Raito.
Raito was raising a brow at him, not looking amused, but perplexed.
"You came out here because you didn't want anyone to know where you were, right?" L asked. "Well, Misa and now Aiber are looking for you."
"No, Lawliet, I came out here for other reasons."
"Which are?" L cursed himself for his curiosity getting the better of him, and for the words slipping out unbidden.
"Well, the first being that I quit my job. The second being that my new beginning starts here."
"So you did quit?" L tried not to be too disappointed in himself for engaging in the conversation. "Did you actually tell anyone yet?"
"No. I needed everything to be taken care of before taking that step. I've cleared out my residence -most of my things are in storage - and arranged for a buyer. I found this place to stay in for now..." He looked at L with nearly plaintive eyes. "I was hoping that you would approve of me leaving. You were so against my job, and the people that came with it."
He ran a hand through his hair in a nervous, agitated gesture.
Suddenly he began speaking again, as if unable to bear the silence or afraid of hearing L's answer. The appeal in his gaze was gone, swallowed up again as he schooled his expression. A touch of antagonism crept into his voice. "Can I tell you now, Lawliet? The day you made your request, I was given a choice." He paused, making sure he had L's full attention. "Chairman Amane decided that it was me or nothing. He issued me an ultimatum." His russet-colored eyes bored into L's own. He saw blame in their depths. "I could choose to keep my job and my career by resuming the relationship I'd ended with Misa, or I could lose everything and even be barred from the field."
L felt a wave of vertigo. That was certainly something he never could have anticipated. He could only imagine how that news had struck the brunet. Especially when he had just blindly told Raito not to contact him.
"I didn't know what to do. The matter concerned you as well - you were specifically mentioned. But I didn't feel I could risk trying to talk to you."
Raito wasn't looking at him now, but was staring at the sheets. "I kept waiting for you to come back, but it was looking hopeless. And several days later, I was forced to play my hand."
"I'm sorry," L said uselessly. So the accusations in those eyes had been for L not being around when Raito needed him. He'd failed the brunet in this way, unknowingly. And that he'd slept with Misa... is that also to be my fault?
The transgression with Misa... he couldn't forgive that so easily. It still stung, still pained him. It couldn't be wiped away by Raito pinning it upon his ill-timed request for some space. He could not, would not accept the blame for that sequence of events. How Raito could even begin to justify such a thing was beyond him. Didn't most people end relationships over such things?
L's face felt oddly stiff and immobile, like a rubber mask had been lain over his skin. He felt distorted.
"You must understand, Lawliet-" The brunet's lips were forming words. It took a moment for the sound to come through. "I wasn't in my right mind." Raito was looking to him in appeal. "I was starting to become convinced that my career might end up being all I had left."
Those words were familiar. Hadn't he thought along those lines himself? But his empathy was disjointed. The fact remained that, through his actions, Raito had given up on him, given up on them. All for a career that he had now thrown by the wayside. "Yet you've left it in the end."
"But then I realized," Raito continued doggedly, "I had to make a choice between the career I'd been building all this time or the chance that you still--" he broke off abruptly, breaking eye contact. His jaw suddenly looked set and determined.
"The chance that I what?" L prompted. He was caught suddenly by the difficulty Raito seemed to be having, and that the disrupted flow of words seemed to carry more weight than the ones before. The blame-deflecting had eased and the brunet's demeanor, while growing more agitated, seemed to be showing the vulnerability of naked truth.
It struck L rather strongly, pulling him in to dissect it more closely. He wouldn't say it was hope that he felt, but maybe something akin to it. His gaze rested more heavily upon the other man, trying to pry more from him than he was consciously giving. He sensed a turnabout however - Raito was on the verge of retreating, busily trying to reconstruct a fitting facade that he could disappear behind.
"It doesn't matter," the brunet tossed out. "This move would have needed to happen either way." Raito looked cagey. "They aren't likely to leave me alone once they find out. I'm not sure if they will hassle you as well." His walls were going back up as if his flow of words were bricks. His voice was becoming more practiced, sure, and distant. "You are welcome to stay here - I chose a place that was big enough..." He trailed off suddenly as if realizing he'd just divulged a closely guarded secret. The faint surprise in his face made him look more boyish than usual.
He chose this place with me in mind? For what? In case I would still uphold my agreement to live with him?
"Excuse me, I'll be right back," Raito murmured, looking intent on fleeing the room.
---
Stupid, STUPID! Raito berated himself. How could he let that slip after trying so hard to cover it up? Lawliet was not of a mind to care that he had been holding out hope for his return. The detective was made of distrust, and everything Raito said was suspect.
He'd only wanted to air out some of the truth, to let his reluctant guest see how everything had come to pass. He'd wanted to see if Lawliet might find it within himself to forgive him. He'd seen proof that the dark-haired man cared. He still did, but he obviously thought such feelings were foolish and a liability. He felt that Raito was taking him for a ride. But I'm not! The one time I am not, I am being seen as a devil.
He did not want to expose his feelings to Lawliet only to have them be scoffed at and dismissed. He'd been under too much pressure to weather that well, and was not sure what he would do in response. He felt as if, in that scenario, he just might snap.
He made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle from under the sink. It was a bottle of alcohol, though he didn't bother to look at what kind. He grabbed a small glass from the nearly empty cabinet and poured some of the dark liquid into it, downing it in one burning gulp.
What are my social skills and manipulations worth if they can't help me keep you?
Unhappiness was spearing his chest. He could just feel the scope of the backslide that was coming if Lawliet walked out on him.
God damnit. I can't take it.
What did all of his hard work matter? He'd come this far, severed all his ties save those with his parents and the one he'd created with Lawliet. He'd passed his second Bar Examination in the 99th percentile, was set on his path doing the required menial labor for the next three months at the Legal Training and Research Institute which was mere minutes away, and within a short time he would be starting out as a Public Prosecutor Assistant Officer.
It wasn't perhaps the entry into law enforcement that his father had envisioned, but going through the Police Academy would mean doing a lot of grunt work as an actual police officer before being considered for taking even the Sergeant examination. It didn't really appeal to him. Aiming to be a prosecutor, however, put him above all of those positions. The police would perform the legwork and would have direct contact with the public, packaging it all up in the end with a pretty little bow and handing it over to people like him. He could work cases and wield the law as it suited him and the decision to indict or not would also be left to his discretion.
There were a lot of specialties he could go into, everything from criminal law to foreign affairs. It was wide open. It would also give him the chance to rise in power, higher than the Chairman, and he would have the authority to conduct his own investigations... he could even go after 'corrupt' officials if misconduct was suspected. It was perfect. And there was no end to the ranks he could climb.
The Local Public Prosecutors Office, The District Public Prosecutors Office, The High Public Prosecutors Office and, finally, the Supreme Prosecutor's Office (that was the equivalent of America's Supreme Court, only in Japan it was an even more integral part of the government).
His score on the Bar ensured that he would not be kept waiting long before being considered for a decent position. Once he'd undergone the requisite 'training', boring though it would be, he was sure to ascend the ranks quickly. He'd already been scouted in this short time. Whether it was simply his brain that caught their attention, or his face that they found remarkable, it didn't matter. He could do well here with his skills, and he'd be without the Amanes hanging over him like an oppressive black cloud, holding him back.
He'd look back on this later and laugh - that he'd ever considered staying beneath their thumb. How could he have been so short-sighted? The world was his oyster. He'd hardly even scratched the surface.
He tossed back another drink. For all his optimism, there was one thing that caused it to blur like a hateful mirage. And that something was sitting upon his bed, wishing to be anywhere else but near him.
Christ.
His hand closed harder upon the glass, masking the tremor that flickered through it. That hurtling, un-control sort of feeling was pressing in upon him, demanding that he act and take what he wanted by force. Only force would not gain him what he truly wished for. It would drive it further from his reach.
But still...
Lawliet was weak to his advances, and they were currently at a stalemate. Could he push things into a direction he liked by giving in to impulse?
He could still feel the heat of the detective's mouth under his. He'd been so angry, and yet the closer he'd gotten to those dark eyes, the clearer it was to him that Lawliet was not as calm as he looked. He was shaking like a leaf and those eyes had begged him to come no closer - which beckoned him forward unerringly. His own rage and the urge to intimidate subsided as the softness of those lips quavered beneath his. He became fascinated, drawn in, and couldn't help himself.
The tears had startled him, waking him to the wrecked mental state that must be riding his companion. Guilt and grief had speared through him sharply, surprising him beyond measure. He had the sudden fear then that he was capable of breaking the toy he'd come to love. Toy... He meant that in only the barest sense of the word. Maybe in the beginning Lawliet had been like a shiny new toy, affording endless entertainment, but it had escalated so far past that now. Lawliet had become integral. A necessity.
One that was perfectly capable of disappearing on him and leaving him in shambles.
He knocked back another glass of the alcohol, not tasting anything but the fire of it in his throat.
He hated this shabby apartment. It held none of the comfort or elegance of his old place. Lawliet was the only thing that could improve the ambience, and he was determined to vacate the premises.
---
L looked up as Raito returned looking quite composed.
"Did you advance your cases as much as you'd hoped in your absence?" the brunet asked conversationally.
L sensed a probing for information hidden in the benign words. "Perhaps."
"I should think that would be a resounding 'yes' with nothing to steal your attention," he remarked blithely, taking up residence upon the bed. He lay back, reclining and propping himself up on his arms. That he was facing the door, instead of L, gave the illusion that he was not in L's personal space merely because he wasn't looking at him.
L ripped his eyes from the smooth, tawny skin that lay invitingly before him. Why am I focusing on that now of all times? There was so much uneven ground between them at this point that they might never again find themselves in the capacity for touch. He wasn't entirely sure they would still even be in a relationship after all of this. "Indeed, the first several days were more productive than I could have imagined." It was useless to take note of the brunet's pleasing form.
Rich, dark amber eyes rolled up to meet his, looking nearly solicitous beneath the feathering of side swept bangs. "And after that?" he inquired, his voice bordering on silky.
L fought the urge to inch away as Raito's voice and presence insidiously started affecting him. He was distracted as he answered. "I had things on my mind..." Why did he have to feel this... need tugging at him yet again? Raito's body language was open, calling to him, promising him sweet, sweet lies. He wrenched his eyes away.
"What sorts of things?" Raito asked innocently, though there was an undercurrent of the suggestive in it. He'd rolled onto his side and was slinking closer.
"Nothing that concerns you," L said.
"Really?" Raito moved forward like a cat - sinuous, graceful, unhurried. His eyes were on L's face as if by drifting closer he might be able to discern some hitherto unnamed secret. "That sounds a little too specific to be the truth, Lawliet."
The brunet was so close now that the only thing between them was L's legs, drawn up to his chest. He renounced the caressing sound of his name. "Stop it," he whispered.
Raito's proximity was making his mind go hazy. He could feel the heat of his body against the braced barrier of his legs, even through the cloth of his pants, and could sense that lean body was poised to topple him. But he couldn't allow anything to happen, or there would be no resolution to any of this, he was sure. He would be pulled into the brunet's pace yet again, with no recourse.
"Stop what?" Raito murmured, pressing forward, past his knees and through his defenses, coming dangerously close to his face.
L tried to scramble back, but Raito did not allow him distance and he soon fell beneath the younger man, heart pounding. The brunet's body bore down upon him, pinning him there, and L's body shuddered wantonly. He turned his head to the side, trying to reject the brunet's closeness.
It was no good. His entire focus was locked on the person that lay against him, and it only got worse as Raito bent to his throat. Gentle breath and the grazing of lips played upon his skin, unhurried, enticing, unraveling him.
"How can I stop, Lawliet?" Raito murmured against his neck, the quality of his voice sending chills down L's spine. His mouth was warm, ruinous against his skin. "I don't know how to quit you."
"You have to--" L broke off, not even sure of what he'd been about to say, as Raito's lips lay solemn kisses upon the tender flesh of his throat.
"I don't know how," Raito repeated plaintively, the despair within his tone tugging at L's chest. "It isn't possible," he added dismissively, petulantly, as if he'd just discovered it to be so.
L tried to look the brunet in the eye, but Raito was tipping his face up to receive a kiss he couldn't quite escape. He expected possessiveness, maybe even roughness. But the lips that brushed his were gentle. "I've never needed anyone before." Raito confessed against them softly, discontent drifting through his words, frustration. "How is this supposed to work? What am I supposed to do?"
L wasn't sure if it was honesty closing in on him or a trap. He felt torn as he heard Raito say these things to him. He was as distrustful as before, yet he was wearing down. He was fighting not only his emotions but his body as well. It craved the touch of the brunet so profoundly; it kept his head still as Raito slid between his lips and it throbbed in reaction. It was treacherous.
A small noise escaped the back of his throat as that kiss swelled to encompass the whole of his awareness. Almost as if in response, a tentative hand brushed up his thigh, engorging the heat within him and dragging out a choked moan.
No...
I swore I wouldn't fall prey to this.
That hand slid up under his shirt, cool against his unbearably hot skin as it stroked his stomach.
He was losing control of the situation - and of himself. He couldn't fend off the desire that was curling in his belly. His body wanted that hand to slip lower and take his mind permanently out of commission.
"I thought of you often," Raito said to him, distracting him from his distraction. "Did you think of me at all?"
No, L was going to say. No, not at all. He wanted to lie and sting the other with it, pricking that ego. But Raito had shifted, giving his hand the access that it hadn't had before and clever fingers descended upon L's clothed desire as he started to speak. "N--yes," he breathed, that stroking hand ruining his reply. His cheeks flushed in mortification at hearing himself sound like that. He tried to rebuke his response, but Raito's mouth moved to cover his own, sweetly debilitating and invasive as that hand palmed him more insistently.
He was trapped.
Raito was going to burn him alive.
He struggled against it in a panic, trying to push Raito back and gain some distance but that just served to get his wrists entrapped in an elegant, powerful hand and pushed into the mattress over his head. Why must I want you like this? Raito's other hand worked on the button of his pants, then dragged the clothing down off of his hips.
Please, he thought, his mind derailing as Raito touched his bare, throbbing skin. Sensation dredged through his being and he no longer knew if he'd wanted the brunet to please stop or please continue. It was too late for that now, anyway. At the mercy of Raito's hands, he couldn't fight back for long. His limbs soon melted and became useless. His breath hitched and his body reacted to everything now. He couldn't stop it.
Even as his wrists were released, he knew he could not do anything with them. They were as unresisting as the rest of him. He could not pull away as Raito pushed his own slacks over his hips and out of the way. He could do nothing but suck his breath in sharply as the brunet lay against him once more, all smooth skin and hot, hardened flesh. It felt scandalous and intoxicating, and he was powerless against the feel of it as Raito's hips ground against his and his mouth was reclaimed.
It was all he wanted - this contact that was strong enough to break him inside and out.
God.
He shuddered, pleasure rippling and spiking through him relentlessly. It was almost too much to bear. He couldn't--
He groaned aloud, audible now; the brunet had released his mouth suddenly as orgasm encroached upon him and a fine sheen of sweat misted his skin.
Teeth and lips freely explored the arch of his neck, both threatening and gentle in turn, twisting him up inside. So close now... His body was shaking and tightening like a coiled spring. He tried to hold out, but just as he couldn't silence the noises that fell from his lips. He couldn't stop the chain reaction that occurred when Raito bent to his ear and said, "Come," in that blisteringly sexual tone of his.
L's hands dug into the body above him, clinging to flesh and sinew as the sudden force of release ravaged and tore through him. His mind felt blown open, white, and blank as it happened. All he could do was feel and shake and drown it. The heat of their aroused bodies, the strain of taut muscles, it all seemed to contain all he had ever craved in this world and was a thing of such exquisite beauty in that moment that it bore the markings of an epiphany.
Raito soon shuddered against him, erotically breathless syllables falling from his lips as pleasure overtook him. He was perfect. Every nuance of him, every sound, every reaction culminated into making him unavoidably alluring and engaging. And he was the perfect cage, entrapping L in the structure of his embrace, claiming his mouth lustfully even as tension slid from his body.
---
It was with mixed feelings that Raito came back to himself, still twined with pale limbs and breathing in the heady scent of shared passion. It was not his way to regret such things as this, but once the fog cleared from Lawliet's head, what would he be able to expect from the other man?
Raito hadn't made any sort of conscious decision to seduce him, it had just happened that way. He didn't want it to be held against him - as if he had all the control in these encounters when they had just as much control over him.
He lay still for many long moments, wondering if Lawliet's now steady breathing might be indicative of sleep. He waited before separating from him, not wishing to wake him if that was the case, admitting to himself that he was dreading the judgment he might face in those abyssal eyes when they finally focused on him.
I've used intimacy as a tool for so long, who would rightly suspect I'd suddenly want the thing itself?
He wracked his brain for something he could do or say that would bring things around, that would ward against the inevitable fights and would keep the detective with him willingly. Again, he nearly wished that he could admit his feelings to his companion, but he would run the very high risk of having those sentiments summarily dismissed. Just because he often happened to play the role of a liar.
He ground his teeth in frustration. How inconvenient.
Could he reason with Lawliet?
But how, when any truth he spoke was suspect?
He sat up, rubbing a fist over his eyes to relieve the pressure. He desperately wanted a cigarette right now. Not only that, he wanted to take it while sitting in the cool, pristine calm of his old patio's garden. What did he have here but blank white walls, boxes he didn't feel like unpacking, and a couple of dingy windows on the back wall of the apartment? There was no patio here - just a front door, a walkway, and a dismal view of the street.
He'd chosen a tenant house for anonymity. Misa was going to be out looking for him as soon as she realized he'd slipped from her grasp. The lack of parking, an inconvenience at first glance, actually suited him. There was a detached row of single garages on the owner's other lot a few minutes away. He would not be found by his car in the driveway, that was for sure. He'd also chosen this one for the size... just in case Lawliet wasn't quite done washing his hands of him.
Raito heard his mother's words haunt him again.
So he was lucky if the detective deigned to speak to him again, was he? Well, they'd certainly just done a lot more than that.
((Not that it changes anything.))
He let out his breath slowly, feeling his nerves fraying. Maybe he would risk that cigarette. He needed something to calm this agitation so that he could think.
He slipped out of bed carefully, taking a moment to erase evidence of their intimacy before dragging his pants up over his hips. He couldn't be bothered with looking for a shirt to wear. Besides, he wasn't overly concerned if someone got an eyeful.
Silently, he left the room and drifted into the kitchen where he began rummaging for the old pack of cigarettes. Where did I put those? he wondered idly. He'd been too busy the last several days to bother with them. Not to mention, he'd been staying at his parents' and then here, disrupting his normal patterns and the urge itself had been hit or miss anyhow.
He found them tossed in an empty kitchen drawer. He tapped one out and put it to his lips, then continued to search for a means with which to light it. One would think a lighter might reside in the same drawer, but luck was not with him. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he checked multiple other drawers and cabinets. He would settle for a cheap, disposable lighter, or even some matches. His nice lighter, he hadn't seen since he'd moved. It irked him.
Looking back towards the bedroom, he thought again upon the dark-haired detective and wondered what he was supposed to do. Lawliet did not respond well to force, and yet too little of such was just as insufficient to keep him rooted.
Raito picked up the permanent marker he'd spied loitering on the countertop and went back into the bedroom. There, he located his wallet on the side table and put it in his pocket. Lawliet looked as if he might be asleep but Raito really doubted that he was. He sat on the bed next to him, taking a slender arm in his hands and draping it over his knees. He turned it wrist up, then uncapped the marker and began scrawling his new number upon the skin, large enough to be nearly obnoxious.
There was something cathartic about making the deep black lines upon the pale purity of his skin. In almost a trance, he watched the numbers form from straight lines and sweeping curves. The number took up almost the whole of the space between Lawliet's wrist and elbow. The writing was clear and bold and would be able to be seen from a mile away. Not that that was why he'd done it - he just wanted the numbers to be so large that Lawliet couldn't ignore them. He sensed that he was going to have to let the other man go, and all he could do was hope that that displayed trust and the relinquishment of control.
God, it made him uneasy.
He looked down on the face of his lover and worried that he might never see it in such repose ever again. Those features had become so precious to him. Despite himself, he reached out and touched the curve of a cheek. It was over-warm, reminding him of his earlier suspicion that Lawliet was running a fever, and that he apparently hadn't eaten in a long while.
It was late, maybe 10 p.m. or so. But there should be at least a convenience store or something that would still be open at this hour. He grabbed a white shirt off of the floor, pulling its tautness over his head and across his chest and shoulders. It was a tight fit, molding to his body in what he knew to be an appealing fashion. Such was not his interest at the moment but it was also one of the few shirts he had access to, the others being largely boxed up, and it was reasonably clean. He'd only worn it for a short time earlier.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the cigarette still caught in his lips. It was at least a 10 minute walk to the store he was thinking of. He placed it upon the nightstand. No point in taking it with him.
He located his expensive but comfortable leather sandals and slid them on, thinking he probably looked like a bum. A sophisticated bum, with the dark black chinos that rode low on his hips, a white t-shirt that hugged his frame, and expertly cut hair that managed to look good even when it was ruffled, but a bum nonetheless. It felt a bit liberating to not have to conform to any sort of standard dress, merely for going outside. Perhaps this was why Lawliet dressed the way he did at times, in clothes so baggy they seemed just short of falling off of him. It was comfortable, also.
Raito never could have dressed so dismissively before. Everything he did could, and was, being watched. He had to remain ever immaculate.
Perfection was typically his preference, but he did so hate being forced to things.
Giving the abandoned cigarette a second look, he picked it up again and returned it to its place of honor between his lips. He could always buy a lighter while he was out.
---
L listened for the jangle of keys locking the door, then quickly sat up and gathered his clothing.
Once properly attired once more, he made sure he had his phone and the key and carefully slipped out of the apartment himself.
He doubted the brunet actually thought him to be asleep. As such, it was piquing his curiosity as to why Raito took no pains to say where he might be going, or to exchange any sort of words with him at all to try to resolve anything. He could easily disappear while the brunet was gone.
L kept to the doorway and to shadows while Raito took the stairs, his footfalls brief and businesslike upon them. His white shirt made him quite visible in the gloom, and it was with little effort that L was able to follow him.
L's eyes may have been closed earlier, but he had been cataloguing everything the younger man did. He'd followed his movements through the apartment and even heard him curse after opening a multitude of drawers and cabinets as if he was looking for something.
He'd been surprised when the brunet sat beside him, taking possession of his arm and tracing something upon it, tickling the skin. From the smell, it was a permanent marker. He wasn't overjoyed at the prospect, but he was supposed to be asleep, so he did nothing. As Raito worked, slowly, L snuck a glance at him and was caught with the quality of his expression. It was pensive and somber, and almost gave the impression of the other biting his lip, but there was some softness in it as well that was elusive and shifting.
L watched Raito mark his skin and it seemed to bear the gravity of ritual. The whole thing was moving in a way that he couldn't quite describe.
Confusion pooled within him when the brunet's fingertips had tentatively graced his face. It seemed so incongruous with what he knew of the other man, lacking none of the forceful possessiveness that was prone to pervade so many of the things he did. The touch was... nearly melancholy in its lingering.
He tried to look unconscious as he processed his reaction to it, and as Raito dressed.
Raito had been acting abnormally. Even when they'd been fighting earlier, something had been different. He'd been overly aggressive before, but it seemed more a lashing out - a lack of control. And control was something the brunet was typically very good at.
And the intimacy... what were the things Raito was saying to him so candidly when the brunet had him too knotted up to even think? They'd sounded like confessions, though he hadn't been sure at the time that they were heartfelt - they could easily have been just more words with calculated effect. But where was the self-satisfaction Raito usually exhibited after they'd come together like this? This time he seemed antsy, restless, and there was a heavy silence that indicated he was thinking upon something with great focus.
L studied his target, taking in the appearance of him, this slightly mussed version of him which was almost more captivating than the sleek, polished veneer he typically presented.
So much was changing so fast.
This was all so far away from where things had begun. That Raito had cast off his career was a shock. To be honest, the flashiness and the dishonesty seemed to suit the brunet only too well. Which had served to make L uneasy. It had the look of a happy arrangement on the surface, and Raito had appeared to be thriving on such work and the monetary bounty.
But to have terminated his employment...
What was it he had said before? That he'd been given an ultimatum: He could keep what he had with the addition of being with Misa again... or he could forfeit all and also be barred from continuing in that line of work...
Raito was moving through the streets with an easy, confident stride. He carried himself differently here - almost lazily compared to the crisp, authoritative movements L had observed of him in the office or in a business setting. The brunet was blending in.
Did you really quit in order to be away from Misa? he asked the back of Raito's head. But why would you go so far as to sleep with her, only to make that decision later? I don't understand it.
Something Raito had said earlier drifted back into his mind: 'I thought my career was all I would have left...'
Then... if the brunet was feeling as if he had suffered a loss during the time they were not speaking... L frowned, deep in thought. Had Raito actually feared that things were over between them? That was the only explanation that made sense. And he'd also said that he hadn't been in his right mind, indicating that he might also have been distressed over the prospect.
Could he assume that his absence had really had this profound an effect on the brunet? That was how it was starting to look, and yet didn't that hint that strong feelings were involved? Though Raito had never come out and said anything to him directly about such a thing...
...but there were many instances where he'd made admissions that sounded like he might actually really care. That is, if it wasn't an act. The sticking point. How would L know if what he was seeing or hearing was real at any given moment? There was no way, really, not with how skilled an actor Raito was. However, the things that had occurred in his absence, and even in the moments where a performance would have gained the brunet nothing -like when L appeared to be asleep- perhaps if he looked more closely to those things, he could find an answer.
L wobbled, a wave of dizziness swamping him just then, greying out over 65% of his vision, forcing him to stop and brace himself against a light post. He leaned his head against it and closed his eyes, focusing on taking deep, even breaths to try and clear his head. He really should have eaten earlier instead of pushing the food Watari had brought him aside. So it would have been sometime yesterday when he'd eaten last. Dinner, was it? And that had had merely been some miso soup and generally light fare.
He raised the back of his hand to feel his forehead, and it did seem that his temperature might be elevated. Between his lack of sufficient caloric intake and the stress he'd been under, it was no wonder if his immune system was faltering. Not to mention that long walk in the rain the other night... Maybe he really was running a fever.
Raito was just turning a corner out of view when L looked up again. Cursing himself for nearly losing the brunet, L resumed his tail, running as unobtrusively and quietly as he could until he gained the corner. He peeked around it and saw Raito disappear into a convenience store. His stomach gnawed in distress at its long standing empty state, and he wondered if he should try buying something within. He had his wallet on him, after all. But... How would he explain his presence? Or was he planning to not return to the apartment before the brunet? Or at all?
He chewed his lip in distraction. If he did not return, he would be knowingly placing a greater strain on things that were already pressed well past their limit. Counter-productive, to say the least.
---
Raito entered the glaring brightness of the small store and paused, searching for a likely place to begin. He lightly bounced the cigarette in his lips distractedly up and down, wondering where the pre-made foods section might be.
He felt kind of cheap about not having anything better to offer his guest, but he hadn't exactly stocked the refrigerator nor had he felt motivated to cook these past days. Well, at least he could get something more substantial for the dark-haired man than chips, pretzels or other kinds of snack food. Providing there was anything left at this time of day.
The selection, when he found it, was less than inspiring. He looked over it in annoyance, thinking that at this rate, he should just take Lawliet out somewhere to eat, but he knew he'd never get the ornery insomniac to agree.
There was a western-style meatball sandwich with red sauce and congealed cheese that was absolutely out of the question. Just as unappealing was a noodle salad with strips of some bland, pale, leafy vegetable and chunks of... he couldn't tell if they were supposed to be baby octopi or squid. That left some vegetable gyoza. The dumplings looked a little worse for wear, but were passable. There were two packages left and he took them both.
On a second, baleful assessment of the small refrigerated case he spied some onigiri and nikuman. He wasn't sold on the quality of the pork buns, but figured it couldn't hurt to give the dark-eyed waif more options. He wouldn't put it past him to be picky. He added both the nikuman and some onigiri to his stash and made his way to the register. If he was honest, he hadn't been eating so well himself lately. Decent food or not, it was better to have something sitting in the cavernous space of the empty fridge in case hunger called.
He paid the clerk and made his way outside, the plastic bag crinkling in the slight breeze. He was so focused on returning 'home' (and he sneered at the thought of calling that place home) that he'd gotten nearly 10 yards before remembering he needed a lighter. "Fuck," he muttered in frustration, lifting his face skyward as if to give himself strength, the well-travelled cigarette still hanging from his lips.
It was a pain to have to go back, but since he was already here...
Doggedly, he retraced his steps, went back into the store, and bought the cheapest thing they had. Out of irritation.
Stepping back outside with the opaque, white plastic lighter with a red tab, he set his bag of food upon the ground to light up. Fire flared pleasingly and he was soon breathing in a lungful of his bad habit. He wondered how long it would take him to find his good lighter. And how many other things of quality would he be setting aside and making do without as his life resettled about him? It was annoying. Aggravating. He took another pull on the cigarette then picked up the bag. He tried not to think about returning to an empty apartment. It was far easier to focus on small inconveniences.
__________________________________________________ __________
TBC