[private]

[subversion]

Light didn't move for a couple of days, after that. Well, more or less. Sometimes one need or another would prod him towards the bathroom - water, or the toilet - and then he'd curl right back up beneath his quilt, and drift back off into sleep. The broken mirror gave him nightmares, and so did she

Comments

[stripesandheels]

[She loses courage at his door. There's a muffled thumb, a scrabbling noise, as she leans her forehead against the wood and manages a weak knock.

It's been a week. She stayed in bed just as long as he did. Had a little more to eat, maybe. Washed and combed her hair before coming here, brushed her teeth. Dressed in clean clothes. It's the best she's looked in a couple of days, and it does nothing to hide the shadows under her eyes, or the redness from the crying. She still hasn't stopped crying, even though her eyes itch and burn, and each time she swears she won't physically be able to start again. Somehow, she always does.]

[subversion]

[Light hears the knock and the scratching, like there's a wild animal out there. And that's just how he reacts - he stills beneath his covers, bruised eyes widening into a set stare, and he holds his breath. Maybe they'll go away.]

[stripesandheels]

Nnh- please?

[She gasps, knocking now, suddenly terrified that he won't let her in, that she'll be stuck outside his door in the hall forever. Or what if he isn't there? What if he moved somewhere else?]

[subversion]

[It is her. Well, he definitely doesn't want to see her - except-

His mouth draws in on itself as if he might sob, but he doesn't; instead, he draws further back into the covers, his defence against the world. The door's not locked; she could turn the handle and walk in, and he hopes she doesn't, and he hopes she does.

Somewhere, he remembers things being simple; remembers thinking he knew exactly what he wanted, in the ancient mists of his adolescence. No longer.]