Death Note: L/Light, now
Title: Equilibrium: III ( I, II)
Author: nardaviel
Theme: #10 (time periods), week 3: now
Rating: PG-13 -- dark themes
Warnings: SERIES: insanity orz, canon compliance through chapter 58/episode 25 (i.e. NO HAPPY ALTERNATE ENDING HERE), resulting spoilers, gay smex, very slight bending of canon timeline due to borked canon timeline; FIC: here be spoilers
Summary: SERIES: Light finds, and Light loses, and Light moves, but doesn't move on. FIC: Light has worked toward this moment for months.
Word Count: 602
Author's Note: Equilibrium this week is in a different tense. I promise, it's on purpose. This is crossposted to my fic journal, silent_eden, and will be linked to there from rxl_fans. And lastly, the Church of vashti the Fantabulous Beta Reader does not tolerate non-believers.
"Shall we go, then, Light-kun? It seems that things have gone well."
L tucks his phone into his pocket, his back to Light. His hands have left tingling trails along the soles of Light's feet, almost tickling, almost pleasurable, but the line of his shoulders suggests that Light will receive no tenderness from him now. Such a moody creature, so temperamental. Light watches him slouch off to the investigation room, hands in his pockets. He must, absolutely must feel Light's gaze on him, but he doesn't turn back.
Light pulls on his socks. The wet fabric clings to his skin, and the muscles in his feet instinctively tense, and just like that, L's work is unravelled. Light feels a pang of what could, in someone else, be called regret.
Ah, well. In order to create, he must first destroy, and if he takes pleasure in the downfall of his enemy, who wouldn't? The road to his utopia is becoming clearer by the day.
Because Light knows what was said at the other end of L's phone call. It's the only logical step to take. Anticipation and excitement, mostly dormant since his rendezvous with L earlier in the morning, stir again in his stomach. The fruition of his plans is moments away. Everything from the moment he first saw that despicable, pretentious letter L on his television has led up to this. He follows L's dripping trail, ducking his head to hide his manic smile from the cameras.
- - -
And L is beautiful, yes, stunning as his eyes widen, as he freezes, and not until his spoon clatters against the floor does Light dart forward to catch him.
L tumbles from his chair and into Light's arms, where he lies, staring, wide-eyed and knowing and heartbroken in perhaps the truest sense of the word. And Light can be a generous god. As L begins to fade, Light gives him a final gift: His mask falls away and in the privacy of their embrace L truly looks upon the face of the self-proclaimed god of the new world. You weren't wrong, L, you knew all along but I've still won, I've won, I've won, L, I've won. L's eyes are wide, wide, wider than Light has ever seen them, and the freedom of shedding his facade is heady, and L's body limp and dying in his arms feels better than Misa at her most passionate. This, yes, this is what he's wanted, this moment, this is what he's worked for. L, dying in his arms.
And then, as Light watches, L's eyes slide closed, slowly, gracefully, and his head lolls back, and he is still.
After a moment of staring, Light realizes that L must be dead.
And now -- now he's supposed to scream, and so he does, but he clings to L's body the whole time, and the terror in the scream is only mostly put on for effect. Why? L dying is the summation of everything he wanted.
And Light could have spent forever holding L as he died, but as he shouts nonsense at the task force, he realizes:
L's dying has finished. L is just dead, now. And that's not the same thing at all.
But-- it's a natural consequence, and of course he wanted this as well. This is what he tells himself as he relinquishes L's body, as he discovers that he no longer has the urge to be anywhere near it. It's just a mass of useless flesh, not L at all. L is nowhere, and Light has a utopia to build, and-- that's what he really wanted all along.
Of course it is. What else could it be?
Author: nardaviel
Theme: #10 (time periods), week 3: now
Rating: PG-13 -- dark themes
Warnings: SERIES: insanity orz, canon compliance through chapter 58/episode 25 (i.e. NO HAPPY ALTERNATE ENDING HERE), resulting spoilers, gay smex, very slight bending of canon timeline due to borked canon timeline; FIC: here be spoilers
Summary: SERIES: Light finds, and Light loses, and Light moves, but doesn't move on. FIC: Light has worked toward this moment for months.
Word Count: 602
Author's Note: Equilibrium this week is in a different tense. I promise, it's on purpose. This is crossposted to my fic journal, silent_eden, and will be linked to there from rxl_fans. And lastly, the Church of vashti the Fantabulous Beta Reader does not tolerate non-believers.
"Shall we go, then, Light-kun? It seems that things have gone well."
L tucks his phone into his pocket, his back to Light. His hands have left tingling trails along the soles of Light's feet, almost tickling, almost pleasurable, but the line of his shoulders suggests that Light will receive no tenderness from him now. Such a moody creature, so temperamental. Light watches him slouch off to the investigation room, hands in his pockets. He must, absolutely must feel Light's gaze on him, but he doesn't turn back.
Light pulls on his socks. The wet fabric clings to his skin, and the muscles in his feet instinctively tense, and just like that, L's work is unravelled. Light feels a pang of what could, in someone else, be called regret.
Ah, well. In order to create, he must first destroy, and if he takes pleasure in the downfall of his enemy, who wouldn't? The road to his utopia is becoming clearer by the day.
Because Light knows what was said at the other end of L's phone call. It's the only logical step to take. Anticipation and excitement, mostly dormant since his rendezvous with L earlier in the morning, stir again in his stomach. The fruition of his plans is moments away. Everything from the moment he first saw that despicable, pretentious letter L on his television has led up to this. He follows L's dripping trail, ducking his head to hide his manic smile from the cameras.
- - -
And L is beautiful, yes, stunning as his eyes widen, as he freezes, and not until his spoon clatters against the floor does Light dart forward to catch him.
L tumbles from his chair and into Light's arms, where he lies, staring, wide-eyed and knowing and heartbroken in perhaps the truest sense of the word. And Light can be a generous god. As L begins to fade, Light gives him a final gift: His mask falls away and in the privacy of their embrace L truly looks upon the face of the self-proclaimed god of the new world. You weren't wrong, L, you knew all along but I've still won, I've won, I've won, L, I've won. L's eyes are wide, wide, wider than Light has ever seen them, and the freedom of shedding his facade is heady, and L's body limp and dying in his arms feels better than Misa at her most passionate. This, yes, this is what he's wanted, this moment, this is what he's worked for. L, dying in his arms.
And then, as Light watches, L's eyes slide closed, slowly, gracefully, and his head lolls back, and he is still.
After a moment of staring, Light realizes that L must be dead.
And now -- now he's supposed to scream, and so he does, but he clings to L's body the whole time, and the terror in the scream is only mostly put on for effect. Why? L dying is the summation of everything he wanted.
And Light could have spent forever holding L as he died, but as he shouts nonsense at the task force, he realizes:
L's dying has finished. L is just dead, now. And that's not the same thing at all.
But-- it's a natural consequence, and of course he wanted this as well. This is what he tells himself as he relinquishes L's body, as he discovers that he no longer has the urge to be anywhere near it. It's just a mass of useless flesh, not L at all. L is nowhere, and Light has a utopia to build, and-- that's what he really wanted all along.
Of course it is. What else could it be?