Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Rules ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 7 )

Rules

 

Chapter 6

 

The brisk evening wind fluttered out the cape behind Light as he walked along the sidewalk towards Professor McCormick's house. Although he usually viewed anything that required costumes to be a waste of time and had therefore agreed to this choice because it seemed insanely simple, he had to admit that the vampire idea fit him very well. He had donned his best three-piece suit with a black bow tie, shiny dress shoes, and even a pair of white gloves that he had found at a local Goodwill. A cheerful sophomore woman two doors down had happily agreed to let him use her makeup, going so far as to put it on him herself. His face was now several degrees paler than usual with black-rimmed eyes and shining red lips. When she had finished, she had fake-swooned into his arms; he had thanked her by pretending to bite her in the neck, sending her into uncontrollable giggles.

 

Light smiled as he remembered the way Ryuk had followed her down the hall when she returned to her room. The Shinigami had become quite the voyeur. Apparently the woman who lived above him liked to lounge about her room in her underwear, and the man who lived next door, whose girlfriend attended a different college, would have the occasional interesting conversation with her. Ryuk had actually whined when Light suggested he go back to Misa. He would have to go back soon, however. The student simply could not afford to pay for the God's apple addiction.

 

Shaking thoughts of Ryuk and Misa from his mind, Light turned down his professor's walkway, stepped up to the door, and rang the bell. A few heartbeats later, Errol Flynn opened the door.

 

"Hey, Light!" the being in a far-too-poofy peasant blouse greeted. "Come on in. You look great!"

 

"Thanks, Ethan," Light answered as he stepped into the house. He noted a few people chatting in corners and heard the sounds of women laughing in the kitchen, but for now the house still seemed rather empty. "Am I early?"

 

"A bit," Ethan answered. "But don't worry, we won't make you help set up. Just come in and relax for a while." He slung an arm around Light's shoulders and pulled him into the living room. Light jumped a bit at the jangling sound by his ear; a quick glance confirmed that Ethan's wrists were covered in cheap bracelets. Slightly perturbed, he did a fast once-over of the "pirate" and noted the fake earring, the plastic sword hanging in his breeches, and the definitely not fake knife tucked into one of his high boots.

 

Light was just about to comment about the RenFaire wanting their supplies back when the other man stopped suddenly and cried, "Elijah! You're not in costume? What's the matter?"

 

The brunet's head snapped up, and his eyes met those of the already-staring blond, standing, hunched, at the bottom of the stairs to the second floor.

 

"Nothing's the matter," Elijah answered Ethan. "I've simply decided to wear a different costume. I'm a serial murder."

 

Light's intestines froze. Those damn blue eyes hadn't moved.

 

Ethan stood silent for a minute and then began to laugh. "I get it," he said. "Because they look like everybody else." He shook his head in amused disapproval. "Sorry, 'Lij. No matter which way you look at it, you are definitely not like anyone else in this world. I might be able to pull that joke, but you can't."

 

Elijah tipped his head to the side slightly in consideration. The eyes flickered briefly to Ethan. "I suppose you're right. It would be a better costume for you. Or for Light." And the eyes returned with renewed force.

 

"I think a vampire fits Light very well," a female voice commented to Light's relief. From the kitchen, Annie appeared and bounced her way over to Elijah's elbow. She had chosen a Lolita image, wearing a white blouse open to reveal a black bra, a too-short plaid skirt, and thigh-high socks held up by lacy garters. Pigtails with beaded elastics and a cross necklace completed the effect.

 

Smiling brightly at Light, she continued her comments. "You look really sharp! I bet you'll have dozens of girls begging you to bite them tonight." Her eyes twinkled. "Maybe me included. But for now …" She turned and captured Elijah's elbow in a strong grip. "'Lij. Upstairs. Costume. Now."

 

He turned his eyes to her, and they softened into something akin to pleading. "Must I?"

 

"Yes!" she insisted with a sharp tug. Several minutes later, she had somehow managed to drag him up the entire flight of stairs.

 

As a door slammed loudly somewhere on the second floor, Light found himself gripped by an intense curiosity. He turned to Ethan. "Elijah has a costume?"

 

"Yeah," the other answered. "Annie picked it out for him."

 

A dozen images flew through Light's mind, each more unpleasant than the last. He began to feel a bit sorry for the older man. "What is it?"

 

"It's … well …" Ethan's face wrinkled up into a half-grimace as he struggled for the right words. "It's basically indescribable," he eventually admitted. "You'll just have to see it for yourself."

 

The doorbell cut off any more questions from Light. Mildly annoyed, he decided to follow Ethan back into the hallway and join him in greeting the new arrival. The door swung open to reveal a black-hooded figure holding a long plastic scythe. As Ethan peered at him, the person's free hand reached out for his neck, showing off black gloves screen-printed with white bones.

 

"Mark, I presume," Ethan said evenly, ignoring the fingers groping for his throat. "But what is this taped to your chest?" He pointed at a piece of paper Light hadn't noticed before. "Is that a 1040?"

 

Mark pushed back his hood and grinned at both of them. "Yeah. I'm 'Death and Taxes'."

 

Ethan stared at him for a beat. Then, he announced, "Sorry, no puns allowed," and attempted to shut the door in Mark's face. The younger man shoved his scythe in the door at the last second and, laughing, began to wheedle and whine his way into the house. Rolling his eyes, Light left in search of something to drink.

 

Twenty minutes later, Light had managed to find a decent Merlot in the sea of beer and soda that had taken over the kitchen. He had also found a good-looking brunette, dressed as some character from a sci-fi show he had never seen, and had settled onto a couch with both. Determined to charm the woman into a quivering pool of goo, for the practice if for no other reason, Light had all but forgotten Elijah. Therefore, he completely missed the sounds of an upstairs door opening and feet descending the stairs. But when the soft, slightly hazy eyes in front of his suddenly sharpened and cleared, and the timid rabbit he had been preying on rose to her feet and excused herself, he couldn't help but watch her go, dumbfounded, as she left his presence and joined the group of women who had gathered at the bottom of the stairs.

 

There, in the center of their attention, stood Elijah. Light's mouth fell open at the sight of him. Although still barefoot, he had changed from his normal clothes into a tight-fitting black turtleneck and black jeans. One studded leather belt circled his waist, and two others Annie had draped haphazardly around his abdomen. She had attacked his face with makeup, turning his freckled complexion into one sickly pale with black rings around his eyes -- Light's stomach turned upside down at the sight -- and to make matters worse, she had finished the look with a black wig. If he ignored the different clothes, Light could almost believe that he had returned to the team's investigation headquarters and that he would momentarily have to start anew the dance of pretending to catch Kira while avoiding being truly caught.

 

One thing, however, brought the transformation from Elijah to Ryuzaki to a screeching halt: a pair of black, feathery wings. But instead of easing his discomfort, the wings took Light's mind in a different direction. With those wings and all the black and the belts, the older man now reminded the younger of someone else, a "person" with an entirely different type of food craving.

 

"Wow, Elijah! You look so cool!" one of the admiring females gushed.

 

"Thank you," he replied hesitantly. Turning a bit to Annie, he added, "Although I'm still unsure as to what I am supposed to be."

 

Annie just grinned at him. "Who cares as long as you look good?" When he blinked at her, she admitted, "Well, if you insist, I had a sort of Angel of Death thing in mind when I assembled it."

 

Several of the women "oohed" at that, and Light heard a few comments of "A fallen angel!" and "How sexy!" A couple even reached out to pet his wings, causing Elijah to jerk sideways into Annie who just laughed at him. Light ignored them. His mind had roared into life. It had to be a coincidence. It just had to. L had touched Rem's note, not Ryuk's. There was absolutely no way that the detective could have known what the original Shinigami looked like. Even if he had steered Annie in specific directions when she picked out his costume, it had to be guesswork and an immense amount of luck. Nothing else.

 

Or so he kept telling himself.

 

"What do you think, Light?"

 

The addressed brunet looked up to find Ethan leaning over the back of the couch he sat on with Mark standing next to him. Ethan nodded his head towards the group of girls still fussing over Elijah and continued, "Looks like she successfully pulled off her Operation: Ugly Duckling. He looks good like that, and the women seem to agree."

 

"I dunno," Mark commented as he moved to sit on the arm of the couch. His long robe made this more difficult than it should have been. "I think the makeup is a bit too much. He looks like a skeleton."

 

"So it's appropriate," Ethan countered. He smirked lightly at Mark. "You know, Halloween and all." When Mark just shrugged, Ethan turned to Light and winked slyly at him. "You're just upset because no one's fawning over your pun-tastic outfit."

 

Mark opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped when he noticed that Elijah had leaned in towards Annie to whisper in her ear. She leaned up and whispered something back, causing a soft smile to spread across his face. Light had followed Mark's gaze at the other's silence, and he noted that smile with confusion. It was almost tender. And Annie had her hands around his upper arm and had yet to let go. Was such a thing even possible? Elijah and Annie?

 

Then he noticed Mark's hands clench around the handle of his scythe, and he knew it was all a ploy. Tired of listening to him tease her about Elijah, Annie was pretending to be interested in the older man to make the younger jealous. And it was working. Light stole a glance at Ethan and saw the mischief in his eyes. Ethan was clearly in on it. That didn't surprise Light. What did surprise him was that Elijah had not only agreed to this, but that he also was playing his part so well. Since when had Ryuzaki shown any sexual interest in anyone of either gender?

 

Of course, if L had returned as Elijah in order to experience a normal life, then a girlfriend would be an important part of that. And truly, who else so clearly deserved the sweet joy that came with a devoted girl more than L? After all the loneliness, the paranoia, the competition, the tricks and backstabbing, and ultimately the betrayal, to have gentleness, love, and fulfillment would be something akin to Heaven. If anyone deserved to touch that happiness, L did.

 

Light blinked, ran that train of thought through his head again so he could reexamine it, and nearly fainted. What the hell was he thinking? L was his nemesis, his sworn enemy. The only thing that freak deserved was another heart attack, gasping and choking out his last breath on the floor. Or better yet, handcuff him to Misa until one of them strangled the other with the chains. Or throw him in a vat of unsweetened coffee and let him die from drowning or from panic over lack of sugar, whichever came first. Or maybe …

 

Light glanced at the glass of wine in his hand and slowly put it down on the end table next to him. Perhaps he would stay away from alcohol tonight.

 

xXx

 

The worst thing about his costume, Elijah had decided, were the wings. They made it amazingly difficult to do anything. He couldn't walk around without banging them into things or people, and sitting down was nearly impossible. Plus, the women kept wanting to touch them, and while Elijah had no problem with women as a whole, he didn't exactly appreciate having individual ones coming up to him all night and flirting with him all because of some feathers attached to wires.

 

It took him a painfully long time, but he finally managed to acquire a cup of tea, heavily sugared, and a bag of Milanos. He took both to the back porch and perched in one of the deck chairs, carefully positioning the wings to drape over each arm. With a small sigh, he pulled the first cookie from the bag, examined it critically, and declared to no one in particular, "I am never attending one of these things again."

 

To his surprise, he received a light laugh in reply from the direction of another chair. Elijah didn't need to turn to know the identity of the other person. He knew that laugh very well.

 

"You don't like parties, Elijah?"

 

"No, Light, I don't. And from the fact that you are out here with me instead of in there with everyone else, I might conclude that you dislike them as well."

 

Light shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "I'm fine with parties, but the music has gotten a bit loud, so I came out here for a break."

 

"I see." He crunched into the cookie, fully intending to end the conversation there.

 

However, it seemed Light had other plans. "Annie did a nice job picking out that costume for you. It suits you well." When Elijah refused to respond, he continued, "Speaking of Annie, I heard that she and Mark have been making out in the kitchen for about thirty minutes."

 

Elijah smiled. "Good," he replied quietly, stirring his tea. "It worked then."

 

The brunet tilted his head back and gazed up at the night sky. "Yeah, it did," he agreed. Then, with a small smirk, he shifted his eyes to the black-wigged blond. "So, what about you?"

 

"What about me?"

 

"You had a large number of women interested in you tonight. Which one are you going to pick?"

 

Elijah grimaced slightly at the question. "None," he answered truthfully. "I'm not interested in women."

 

"I see," Light replied easily as Elijah took a sip of tea. "So you'd rather be set up with a guy then?"

 

Elijah inhaled sharply in surprise. Unfortunately, his mouth was full of tea. The warm liquid sloshed into his windpipe, and he pitched forward in a frantic coughing fit. His shaking hands nearly dropped the cup and saucer to the floor, but elegant fingers plucked them away before he could and laid them on a nearby table. As Elijah continued coughing and hacking, trying to stop the burning in his lungs, Light sat down on the arm of his chair and placed a hand on his back, alternately rubbing and pounding between his shoulder blades.

 

"Sorry, sorry," Light apologized with definite amusement in his voice. "I didn't mean to make you choke, but I couldn't resist."

 

Elijah just sent him his best glare. He lifted a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, completely forgetting about the makeup until he pulled his hand away and found his fingers black. After a moment of consideration, he wiped them on his shirt. Then he reached into the bag of Milanos, pulled out three, stuffed them into his mouth, and sulked with his hands around his legs and his chin on his knees.

 

Light, who had been trying to keep from laughing, failed at last. He laughed long and hard, finally resorting to wrapping his arms around his stomach in an attempt to stop. Eventually, Elijah could take no more, and in one smooth movement, he shot out a hand and pushed Light bodily off of the chair. The younger man landed on the porch boards with a dull thud.

 

Instantly, blue connected with brown, and the two locked. The wills behind them flared. Equal strength and determination clashed with each other, battling fiercely in silence. The air between them all but crackled with the heated intensity of their stares. Then, Elijah blinked and Light fidgeted; Elijah's lip curled slightly and Light repressed a snort. A second later, they had both fallen into fits of hysterical laughter, at themselves and at everything else.

 

"Truce?" Light gasped when he could speak again. Still on the floor, he held out a hand and smiled up at the other. Elijah had just begun to reach out his own hand, when Light added quietly, "Ryuzaki."

 

The older man froze. What was Light thinking? To offer peace and then a challenge within consecutive breaths. But that look on the younger man's face, that smile that lifted all the way to his eyes, he had not seen that expression since the days they hunted the third Kira together. Since the time when Kira had left Light's soul as he knew now the monster had.

 

Quickly, Elijah searched his mind for options. The rules were specific and strict. He could not break them. He would not break them, not for anyone. But then, as he ran them through his mind again, he remembered that final rule. The one that allowed him to hide behind silence.

 

Elijah smiled. Light was extremely intelligent. If anyone could figure it out, Light would.

 

"Truce," he replied, briefly touching Light's hand with his fingertips before drawing it back. Still smiling, he leaned back and watched the surprise enter the other's face. Right now, Light's mind was screaming into action, taking the simple fact that Elijah had not reacted to the challenge and dissecting it into pieces. The game had just gotten much more interesting.

 

Carefully, Elijah extracted a Milano from the bag and held it out to Light, eyebrow raised in question. The brunet stared at the offered treat for several seconds before breaking into a small smile. He took the cookie, stood up, and returned to his chair. Nodding in satisfaction, Elijah reclaimed his tea and began to drink, only mildly annoyed that it had gone cold.