DN fic: Look Away
Title: Look Away
Word Count: 1588
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairings: Lots, if you want to see them, but I'm calling this gen. :)
Notes: Originally posted over at writing_kills, I’m moving it here for archiving purposes.
Summary: L is everywhere, and he’s always watching.
The only thing that Light can hear is pouring water.
-
Look.
Misa’s lips are shining. She can’t even feel them as they slide together under layers of liner and gloss, the only color on her pale, pale face. Maybe she’s getting sick.
She feels sick sometimes, knowing he’s watching her, paler skin and wide eyes staring at monitors all day. Misa pouts a little as she applies eyeshadow, mascara, is this a two-way mirror? She smiles and winks at a face she can’t see.
Misa’s an actress. She puts on a mask with her makeup, a new show every day for stupid, spindly Ryuuzaki, pervert Ryuuzaki, hoping he’ll grant her favors, freedoms, and maybe, one day, let her go.
-
The glass is already frosted. Now it’s fogging up and no matter how hard he looks, Light can’t see more than a few blurry patches of light and shadow on the other side. He thinks of the veil across his memory as he rubs the fog away with the side of one clenched fist.
-
They believe in L the way other children believe in Santa Claus.
Look. It’s Christmas in autumn.
Year-round, Mello’s double-checking himself, because he wants the job, the title, the world at his fingers, and what he has now is never enough. Near only seems to want what he’s told to want, and that’s why Mello thinks he’s unsuitable, little bastard freak, he’s sterile and cold and desireless. Mello’s got fire in his veins.
Wammy’s has a list of unspoken rules and Mello’s sure that the word “ambition” is written on there somewhere.
-
Light rubs at the skin beneath the handcuff on his wrist. He’s almost stopped noticing it by now. He wouldn’t mind if it weren’t a symbol of mistrust. There’s a legend sitting on the other side of the shower door, eating with him every morning, sleeping with him every night and when Light sees the doubt in those eyes, he wonders. His memories don’t add up right, but there are facts that do.
-
Misa’s smarter than people give her credit for; her marks were good before she dropped out of school to continue modeling. She knows what she’s doing, and she knows people better than anyone.
But Ryuuzaki is a mystery and Misa still doesn’t know why she’s here. “Suspicion of being the second Kira” they say, that’s the official word, what would have been printed in all the newspapers and magazines if they were publicizing these things, and thank god they’re not, she thinks, thank god those embarrassing pictures of her tied up and humiliated aren’t plastered in the tabloids or she’d get more people coming after her, thinking they can do whatever they like. Misa isn’t anybody’s toy. She won’t dance for Ryuuzaki, she won’t let him play with her.
But he’s watching, he’s always watching, and she can’t read him. Ryuuzaki is every bit as smart as people give him credit for and Ryuuzaki gets what he wants. Ryuuzaki has his way. Misa thinks there’s only one man who can stop him. Her only light in the darkness.
Lately, Misa’s feeling weak. Don’t look.
-
Light can always feel L’s eyes. It doesn’t matter that they’re handcuffed together. They could be miles apart, on opposite ends of the world, and L would still be there like some giant force, greater than gravity, weighing on Light’s mind and his lying conscience. He thinks this must be what real guilt feels like, a murderer’s guilt, and he wonders if this means he has something to feel guilty for.
-
“You are L’s future.”
Near pulls at his hair and he’s wondering if Roger gives this speech to everyone. He’s trying to process the likelihood of it having something to do with the mustached man standing unobtrusively in the shadows. He’s getting a large number.
“You have a responsibility to take care of your body as well as your mind, and if you display any further misconduct, we’ll be forced to take preventative measures.”
Near already knows the likelihood of L sanctioning the removal of his brightest successor from the House, so he focuses on Roger’s shoes instead of his words. They’re scuffed, but they look expensive underneath the dirt. He wonders if they were worth the money. Near doesn’t know enough about shoes to tell. There are a lot of things Near doesn’t know, but there are a lot of people who don’t know this.
“Look, Near, Near. Look at me when I’m speaking.”
Near doesn’t bother. He’s busy thinking that at least today he’s learned something new about Mello. He’s learned he can throw a punch.
-
Light’s showers at home were predictable and identical. Six minutes. It’s all he needs. No point wasting more water than necessary. He continues the tradition at work. He doesn’t time himself, it just comes out that way. Today, Light knows he’s taking longer. He wonders how this will affect L’s calculations and decides not to care.
-
Misa doesn’t put on any makeup her first day away from the cameras. She’ll never have an audience as softly demanding as Ryuuzaki, and the wider world outside her room seems strangely smaller than it did before. She keeps a few tubes of lipstick and mascara in her bag just in case, though, and finds herself applying them five minutes away from headquarters because she can still feel someone watching.
She hunches her shoulders and stays close to the sides of the buildings she passes. Misa got top marks in vocabulary she doesn’t use, so she knows there’s a word for this - paranoia. But somehow it’s more than that, Misa knows. And no matter how hard she looks, looks, looks all around her, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something.
When she comes back to the cameras and lets herself sleep, her dreamworld feels like the home she thought she’d lost. Those eyes open in front of her, and they’re not large and black like she’d expected. They’re sharp but kind, a woman’s eyes, and a low voice whispers that one day Ryuuzaki will be blind and no one will hurt her ever again.
-
But he does care, Light cares enough that he can’t stop thinking about it. On his knees in the shower, he pushes his dripping hair out of his face and he can’t even enjoy the only moment of solitude in his day. Light needs more than six minutes alone, and even with the glass between them, he can feel that stare. L must be inhuman, because he’s fucking everywhere and he never stops looking.
-
The trees are falling apart in England. Leaves cover the ground and Mello kicks them through the door. Laughter, wind, and rustling cascade down the hallway, a whirlwind of noise and cold air.
“L’s going to take him out any day now,” he says. “Like he did that serial killer two years ago.” He lifts his fingers in the shape of a gun. “Bang, bang!”
“L didn’t kill that one,” Matt reminds him quietly.
“I know that.” Tetchy. Mello grins. “That’s how I’m gonna do it when I’m L. No mercy.”
Mello drags Near outside as the sun is setting. He shoves at Near’s shoulder every few minutes, almost knocks him to the ground once. Near stares at him stonily with his lips pressed together, and Matt sees them turning white out of the corner of his eye. There’s red in the sky and the leaves and Near’s cheeks. He’s not used to the wind. His hand and Mello’s aren’t quite not touching on the walk back to the House, and Matt keeps his head down, eyes glued to the screen of his DS.
Don’t look, don’t-
-
And even though he can’t see anything, Light knows that L is watching.
-
Look.
Sayu is crying in the middle of the night. She hates the way it makes her feel, silly and small, and the skin around her eyes turns red and sore. But the house is dark and quiet, and Light…
Sayu’s mother likes to tell her stories about things she can’t remember.
“You cried all the time when you were a little girl,” she says, brushing Sayu’s hair off her forehead with a warm hand. “Your big brother was always looking out for you. So mature and serious, even then!”
When she pulls out old photo albums, Sayu sees a smaller version of the same boy who walked her to school, helped her with homework, said all the right words to make her smile through a skinned knee. She hasn’t seen him in weeks. She can’t recall the last time they hugged, and sometimes she wonders if he ever really touched her at all. Shouldn’t some of those big brains of his have rubbed off on her?
Sayu doesn’t mind being the ordinary child in the family. Not everyone’s born brilliant, she knows that. But she can still see herself in the eyes of the little girl in those photographs. Sayu thinks Light’s eyes should be the same too.
Look.
They’re not.
-
He’ll remember this when everything comes surging back like a flood. He’ll have a headache for the rest of the night, rub the empty place on his wrist and smile a little, and he’ll blame L when it takes him hours to fall asleep.
He’ll smile as L hits the ground. No mercy.
Light’s tears are shining.
Look. That’s what he wants.
Word Count: 1588
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairings: Lots, if you want to see them, but I'm calling this gen. :)
Notes: Originally posted over at writing_kills, I’m moving it here for archiving purposes.
Summary: L is everywhere, and he’s always watching.
The only thing that Light can hear is pouring water.
-
Look.
Misa’s lips are shining. She can’t even feel them as they slide together under layers of liner and gloss, the only color on her pale, pale face. Maybe she’s getting sick.
She feels sick sometimes, knowing he’s watching her, paler skin and wide eyes staring at monitors all day. Misa pouts a little as she applies eyeshadow, mascara, is this a two-way mirror? She smiles and winks at a face she can’t see.
Misa’s an actress. She puts on a mask with her makeup, a new show every day for stupid, spindly Ryuuzaki, pervert Ryuuzaki, hoping he’ll grant her favors, freedoms, and maybe, one day, let her go.
-
The glass is already frosted. Now it’s fogging up and no matter how hard he looks, Light can’t see more than a few blurry patches of light and shadow on the other side. He thinks of the veil across his memory as he rubs the fog away with the side of one clenched fist.
-
They believe in L the way other children believe in Santa Claus.
Look. It’s Christmas in autumn.
Year-round, Mello’s double-checking himself, because he wants the job, the title, the world at his fingers, and what he has now is never enough. Near only seems to want what he’s told to want, and that’s why Mello thinks he’s unsuitable, little bastard freak, he’s sterile and cold and desireless. Mello’s got fire in his veins.
Wammy’s has a list of unspoken rules and Mello’s sure that the word “ambition” is written on there somewhere.
-
Light rubs at the skin beneath the handcuff on his wrist. He’s almost stopped noticing it by now. He wouldn’t mind if it weren’t a symbol of mistrust. There’s a legend sitting on the other side of the shower door, eating with him every morning, sleeping with him every night and when Light sees the doubt in those eyes, he wonders. His memories don’t add up right, but there are facts that do.
-
Misa’s smarter than people give her credit for; her marks were good before she dropped out of school to continue modeling. She knows what she’s doing, and she knows people better than anyone.
But Ryuuzaki is a mystery and Misa still doesn’t know why she’s here. “Suspicion of being the second Kira” they say, that’s the official word, what would have been printed in all the newspapers and magazines if they were publicizing these things, and thank god they’re not, she thinks, thank god those embarrassing pictures of her tied up and humiliated aren’t plastered in the tabloids or she’d get more people coming after her, thinking they can do whatever they like. Misa isn’t anybody’s toy. She won’t dance for Ryuuzaki, she won’t let him play with her.
But he’s watching, he’s always watching, and she can’t read him. Ryuuzaki is every bit as smart as people give him credit for and Ryuuzaki gets what he wants. Ryuuzaki has his way. Misa thinks there’s only one man who can stop him. Her only light in the darkness.
Lately, Misa’s feeling weak. Don’t look.
-
Light can always feel L’s eyes. It doesn’t matter that they’re handcuffed together. They could be miles apart, on opposite ends of the world, and L would still be there like some giant force, greater than gravity, weighing on Light’s mind and his lying conscience. He thinks this must be what real guilt feels like, a murderer’s guilt, and he wonders if this means he has something to feel guilty for.
-
“You are L’s future.”
Near pulls at his hair and he’s wondering if Roger gives this speech to everyone. He’s trying to process the likelihood of it having something to do with the mustached man standing unobtrusively in the shadows. He’s getting a large number.
“You have a responsibility to take care of your body as well as your mind, and if you display any further misconduct, we’ll be forced to take preventative measures.”
Near already knows the likelihood of L sanctioning the removal of his brightest successor from the House, so he focuses on Roger’s shoes instead of his words. They’re scuffed, but they look expensive underneath the dirt. He wonders if they were worth the money. Near doesn’t know enough about shoes to tell. There are a lot of things Near doesn’t know, but there are a lot of people who don’t know this.
“Look, Near, Near. Look at me when I’m speaking.”
Near doesn’t bother. He’s busy thinking that at least today he’s learned something new about Mello. He’s learned he can throw a punch.
-
Light’s showers at home were predictable and identical. Six minutes. It’s all he needs. No point wasting more water than necessary. He continues the tradition at work. He doesn’t time himself, it just comes out that way. Today, Light knows he’s taking longer. He wonders how this will affect L’s calculations and decides not to care.
-
Misa doesn’t put on any makeup her first day away from the cameras. She’ll never have an audience as softly demanding as Ryuuzaki, and the wider world outside her room seems strangely smaller than it did before. She keeps a few tubes of lipstick and mascara in her bag just in case, though, and finds herself applying them five minutes away from headquarters because she can still feel someone watching.
She hunches her shoulders and stays close to the sides of the buildings she passes. Misa got top marks in vocabulary she doesn’t use, so she knows there’s a word for this - paranoia. But somehow it’s more than that, Misa knows. And no matter how hard she looks, looks, looks all around her, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something.
When she comes back to the cameras and lets herself sleep, her dreamworld feels like the home she thought she’d lost. Those eyes open in front of her, and they’re not large and black like she’d expected. They’re sharp but kind, a woman’s eyes, and a low voice whispers that one day Ryuuzaki will be blind and no one will hurt her ever again.
-
But he does care, Light cares enough that he can’t stop thinking about it. On his knees in the shower, he pushes his dripping hair out of his face and he can’t even enjoy the only moment of solitude in his day. Light needs more than six minutes alone, and even with the glass between them, he can feel that stare. L must be inhuman, because he’s fucking everywhere and he never stops looking.
-
The trees are falling apart in England. Leaves cover the ground and Mello kicks them through the door. Laughter, wind, and rustling cascade down the hallway, a whirlwind of noise and cold air.
“L’s going to take him out any day now,” he says. “Like he did that serial killer two years ago.” He lifts his fingers in the shape of a gun. “Bang, bang!”
“L didn’t kill that one,” Matt reminds him quietly.
“I know that.” Tetchy. Mello grins. “That’s how I’m gonna do it when I’m L. No mercy.”
Mello drags Near outside as the sun is setting. He shoves at Near’s shoulder every few minutes, almost knocks him to the ground once. Near stares at him stonily with his lips pressed together, and Matt sees them turning white out of the corner of his eye. There’s red in the sky and the leaves and Near’s cheeks. He’s not used to the wind. His hand and Mello’s aren’t quite not touching on the walk back to the House, and Matt keeps his head down, eyes glued to the screen of his DS.
Don’t look, don’t-
-
And even though he can’t see anything, Light knows that L is watching.
-
Look.
Sayu is crying in the middle of the night. She hates the way it makes her feel, silly and small, and the skin around her eyes turns red and sore. But the house is dark and quiet, and Light…
Sayu’s mother likes to tell her stories about things she can’t remember.
“You cried all the time when you were a little girl,” she says, brushing Sayu’s hair off her forehead with a warm hand. “Your big brother was always looking out for you. So mature and serious, even then!”
When she pulls out old photo albums, Sayu sees a smaller version of the same boy who walked her to school, helped her with homework, said all the right words to make her smile through a skinned knee. She hasn’t seen him in weeks. She can’t recall the last time they hugged, and sometimes she wonders if he ever really touched her at all. Shouldn’t some of those big brains of his have rubbed off on her?
Sayu doesn’t mind being the ordinary child in the family. Not everyone’s born brilliant, she knows that. But she can still see herself in the eyes of the little girl in those photographs. Sayu thinks Light’s eyes should be the same too.
Look.
They’re not.
-
He’ll remember this when everything comes surging back like a flood. He’ll have a headache for the rest of the night, rub the empty place on his wrist and smile a little, and he’ll blame L when it takes him hours to fall asleep.
He’ll smile as L hits the ground. No mercy.
Light’s tears are shining.
Look. That’s what he wants.