Chapter Text
The workplace is dead silent as usual, aside from the clicking of L’s keyboard as he types away who knows what.
That’s all he ever seems to do besides eat sweets.
Click, click, click ...
It might just be the decline of sleep he’s been getting lately, or the overwhelming experience of working on the Kira case while attending university, or the incredibly intriguing detective he found himself chained to, but Light’s head hurt like hell.
It’s been hurting for a while, actually, but it was just mild enough that he could ignore it and hope it would pass soon. And it did — but it would quickly come back even stronger. And each time it does, it only irritates him more.
Light’s eyes burned after staring into computer screens all day long, but no matter how long he shut them for, he just couldn’t drift to sleep. He’s tried every technique that has proven successful in helping him doze off in the past, yet none of them seem to be of any use now. His muscles refuse to relax, his entire body too stiff and tense.
After what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning restlessly in soft cotton sheets, rattling the chain connecting them, he gives up on trying to fall asleep and instead takes a seat at his desk, huffing in frustration. He taps his fingers against the hard desk, almost a mockery of L’s keyboard clicking.
Large black eyes stare at him — Light can see them from his peripheral vision. Feel them. But the keyboard keeps clicking.
This only irritates Light further, making his already visibly frustrated expression all the more so. He pinches his brows, lips forming a thin frown. For emphasis, he closes his eyes shut and crosses his arms across his chest; even spins his chair a bit to face away from the watchful gaze observing him. Some would call this dramatic, but when is Light not? It takes a little while, but his honest display of emotion serves its purpose. The keyboard clicking stops, and L spins on his own chair to face Light completely.
“Is something wrong?” he asks in a neutral, almost analytical, tone; eyes wide in attempt to read Light’s mannerisms.
“No,” Light replies harshly. “Just tired.”
L hums in thought. “Are you having trouble falling asleep?”
What do you think? Light scowls internally, but chooses to reply more respectfully.
“Yes,” he sighs, still facing away from the detective. But that’s not all there is to it.
There’s a moment of silence before L speaks up again.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do about it?”
The question catches Light slightly off guard, but he only spins his chair around just enough to observe the expression on L’s face.
It’s as stoic as ever. Light averts his gaze, thinking.
“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do.”
Normally, he’d tell L to turn off that damn computer and get in bed to actually sleep for once. This way, there would be no more bright blue light interfering with the darkness of the room, no more annoying clicking, and much less rattling from their chain. But over the past week or so, Light has gotten used to these disturbances, learning to sleep despite them. However, on nights he feels especially…cold, Light still attempts to usher the detective into bed. It’s fairly hard to convince him, but the few times he’s managed to have proven that the persuasion is definitely worth the extra bit of warmth, the knowledge of L resting by him, just a few inches away.
“Hm.”
More silence ensues.
Light wonders if tonight is just one of those nights he could use that extra bit of warmth.
“Perhaps you’d like to go on a walk?” L suggests, snapping the other out of his thoughts. “The physical activity might help tire you…”
The unexpected offer makes Light spin his chair to face L fully, though his arms remain crossed. The detective is hunched over in his usual odd sit — as always — fidgeting with his thumb between his strawberry-red lips. For once, his eerie black eyes aren't fixed on Light — rather, they are staring at a spot in the bottom right corner. Light squints suspiciously at the sight, wishing for probably the millionth time he had the ability to see into L’s brain and observe his thought process. It always felt like they understood each other so well, yet at the same time, struggled to decipher the true intentions behind the other’s actions.
He glances at the time written in the corner of L’s computer screen. 03:33.
“Sure,” Light says, already standing up from his chair, a small smile painting his face. “I think I could use a walk right now…even though it’s three in the morning.”
L’s large eyes look up at him for a moment, then he stands up as well. “Let’s go, then.”
***
Contrary to popular belief, L enjoys being outside. Why shouldn’t he? There’s not much to dislike about it — at least not in his eyes. In fact, he found it to be rather soothing…No, perhaps soothing isn’t the right word…comfortable or familiar would make for a better fit.
After all, in a way, the outside was his first ‘home’. Not this particular outside, of course, but L isn’t too bothered with regional differences. The sky is the same, varying in shades of cool blues to warm reds, depending on the day and hour. The Moon gazes down upon the world as always, illuminating even the darkest of nights. A few bright stars scatter the otherwise blank space, twinkling down at him. Sometimes the clouds make an appearance, as well. They were inconsistently consistent – always appearing in various shapes and sizes, moving at various speeds and sporting various shades of grey.
These were the sights he had memorized in very early childhood, before anything else. Before the blank walls of Wammy’s, there was the endless stretch of the ever-changing sky. There were rows of buildings and bushes, shrubs and sidewalks. Before the bright blue shine of the computer screen, there was the dim yellow glow of streetlamps. Before the constant warmth of the orphanage, there was the persistent chill of the surrounding breeze.
Yes, L loves being indoors. But that doesn’t mean he must hate being outdoors. The two can coexist, there is no need for one to contradict the other. They are not battling for L’s favor, after all. There was never a competition to begin with.
He’s no longer a small, pitiful child roaming the outside, bursting with curiosity about the stars, the moon, the sky. Not really, since the endless questions he had regarding practically everything out of his reach were fully answered long ago.
L actually doesn’t remember much of his childhood before being taken in by Watari. It should only be normal that one can’t recall childhood events, before taking into consideration the fact that L was already around 8 years old. By that age, there should be a decent amount of memories formed that can be looked back on even in adulthood. So although he may not recall what exactly occurred to him on most days he spent outside back then, L enjoys being outside even as an adult. He supposes this is one of those peculiar cases where the body remembers experiences, rather than the brain.
He enjoys it even as one of his arms is restrained and chained to another human being, which should be unfortunate since L isn’t the most fond of socializing, but strangely it seems to be the opposite.
The chain glistened under the faint glow of streetlamps, rattling as the two walked at a steady pace. Though L is moving much slower in comparison to the man ahead of him, he makes sure to remain close enough so that the chain doesn’t startle between them. That might only irritate Light, which wasn’t the smartest thing to do at the moment considering he already seemed to be in low spirits. In fact, the reason the two were out here in the first place was because L had suggested they take a walk after noticing Light’s distress — not that he actually cares much about his suspect’s emotional and physical wellbeing, of course. It is only out of pure politeness he had prompted this idea, as well as the fact that their work wouldn’t be very efficient if one of them was sleepy or in a bad mood. The chance it would lead to conflict between them was all too high, seeing as it has happened before, and good cooperation is vital in investigative tasks.
It’s not like two people who are chained together have much of a choice but to cooperate…though L can admit that what they have is likely more than pure tolerance of the other. Naturally, sometimes it is less, for it’s simply impossible to spend every minute of everyday with the same person no further than 2 feet away from you and not get irritated with them at some point. Well, it’s not like L was sacrificing his own comfort, anyway. One might even say he would be rather disappointed if Light had declined his offer.
The darkness around them clearly indicates that it’s already a few hours past midnight. Light is usually already in bed by this time, if not sleeping. He insists on keeping a healthy sleep schedule, which is somewhat difficult when chained to an insomniac who practically works day and night.
He’s been able to fall asleep perfectly fine before, though…, L ponders, zoning out as he trails behind Light with one hand in his pocket and the thumb of his other between his lips. I’m not the issue this time, either…otherwise, he would have told me to go to bed as well…
Due to the late hour, there is hardly any movement or sound around them. It’s like the entire world is on pause just for them. The streets appear empty and infinite — liminal, not in the way that is eerie or unsettling, but the opposite — peaceful and comforting. There is no rushing, no deducting, no acting. It’s just the two of them, linked together, alone in the world.
L is jerked out of his thoughts when the chain suddenly stills, no longer rattling. Curious as to why Light halted in the middle of his stroll, L steps closer. The other man promptly turns around so that they face each other, the chain now freely hanging between them. Light keeps his head angled down, bangs falling over eyes that stare at the ground. L watches him carefully, but his suspect’s expression is unreadable.
“Is something the matter?” he prods after a brief moment of silence.
Ignoring his question, Light says in an almost accusatory tone, “Y’know, L, you know so much about me but I barely know anything about you.”
L wonders what his motive could be for bringing this up, settling on asking if that's an issue.
“Yes,” he states sternly, “It is an issue. Not only is it invasive — it makes me feel as if we are on unequal footing.”
L hums, taking a seat on the curb, resting his hands on his knees and chin in between. Light follows shortly afterward, though he lets his legs stretch out in front of him.
“Is that what has been bothering you recently?” L asks after they are both seated. “Other than your trouble falling asleep.”
“What’s bothering me shouldn’t be your concern, Ryūzaki,” Light answers calmly in an inoffensive tone. “I just believe it would be helpful for both of us to have equal amounts of information regarding each other.”
It’s amazing how such a busy place can be so silent and still simply because it is nighttime. The world around them is practically lifeless, their voices — along with the soft breeze — the only things that seem to exist in the moment.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s possible, Light-kun,” L says in his usual neutral manner. “How do you suppose it will be helpful for us, though?”
“It may provide us with more relatability towards each other, which in turn will increase our cooperation,” Light explains before adding, “and strength of friendship.”
Friendship… Yes, what they have exceeds tolerance, but can it really be called friendship? Maybe not in the traditional definition of the term, no…
I suppose that time I declared he was my first friend really stuck with him. Back then, it wasn’t very sincere, but now…?
“Ah, I see.” L keeps his gaze on his fingers as they fidget with the loose shoelaces peeking out from under his baggy jeans. “Yes, I agree such conversations might strengthen our… connection.”
Time seems to freeze entirely for a moment before L continues.
“However, please understand that there is not much information about myself I will be able to offer you.”
Light’s demeanor remains calm, but a hint of frustration leaks through his voice. “Why is that? It’s only fair, isn’t it? Especially considering the fact that most of the information you have about me was obtained behind my back.”
“Oh, if that's the type of information you're referring to, I'd say we are on equal footing. Don't you think so, as well?”
More frustration slips through, now infecting Light’s body language. He turns to face L, expressing an irritated pout which L can clearly see out of the corner of his eye. Unfortunately for him, it is hard to find another word to describe the expression besides 'cute'.
“I know it was for good reason, but you had multiple cameras hidden in my room,” Light reminds him. L can feel his strong gaze lingering but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel like returning it.
If anything, Light shouldn’t be making these types of demands from L in the first place. Technically, Light is still L’s suspect. The detective is supposed to learn all about their suspect, gather enough evidence to prove them either guilty or innocent, then be on with their life. It’s not supposed to go both ways. But perhaps their relationship has long since crossed the line of simply 'a detective and his suspect'.
“As I said, Light — with that logic, all the information I obtained from the cameras, you should have obtained through your own observations by now,” L mutters, lifting his left arm to accentuate his point. “We have been chained together for quite some time now, correct?”
L watches as Light glances at the chain hanging between them, an unreadable expression on his face.
“That’s not the same, L, and you know it,” he says firmly. His light brown eyes stare fiercely at L’s impossibly black ones. Sometimes, they remind Light of black holes — magnetic, intriguing, and mysterious. “Besides, there is only so much one can learn from pure observation alone. Most of that data would solely consist of assumptions, anyway.”
“So what is it that you’re suggesting?”
“I would like to hear things about you,” Light clarifies, gaze never faltering, “from you.”
There’s a strange fluttery sensation in L’s chest which he deliberately ignores. He stares back at Light, attempting to decipher the meaning behind that specific look — that special glint in his eyes.
“How is that any more reliable than observing? I can always lie to you, you know. In fact, you of all people would know that very well.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of L’s mouth. Light seems to be offended by the comment, brows furrowing.
“What are you implying?”
“I believe that is quite obvious, especially for a genius like you.”
Light hopes the dim lighting conceals the faint pink he knows sprouted on his cheeks. He noticed that such a reaction occurred nearly every time L complimented him, but Light always does his best to ignore it. There are far more important things he must focus on than some random, silly bodily reaction which likely doesn’t even mean anything, anyway.
“Then how can I trust anything you say?” Light counters. “How can I know if the compliment you just gave me was genuine?”
L’s smile doesn’t falter as he replies, “I don’t know, you tell me, Light-kun.”
“You’re so infuriating sometimes, L,” Light huffs.
“I could say the same about you.”
“Oh, really? Would you like to provide an example of an instance wherein I came off as infuriating to you?”
L hums, eyes drifting back to his shoes. The Light he thought he knew had seemingly disappeared — would it even be accurate to label the person who was so infuriating, the same person he's idly chatting with now?
“No, I would rather not…”
Yet when did L care the slightest about honesty? Accurate or not, Light Yagami remains Light Yagami — of course, that fact cannot be changed... But still...
The detective feels Light’s gaze pierce his pale skin for a moment.
“So you can’t?”
“Not being able to and not wanting to are very different things.”
Light's mouth opens as if he’s about to snap back something witty, but then it just closes again.
Screw L. Screw this stupid walk, screw not being able to fall asleep. How foolish of me for even attempting to get to know this guy more. What a complete waste of my time.
“I’m too tired for this,” he admits wearily. “I guess the walk did help, after all.”
“Oh. I’m glad,” L says truthfully. “Should we head back, then?”
“Yes, before my sleepiness escapes again.”
“Of course.”
The two begin to make their way back in silence. But this time, they walk side by side, letting the chain hang between them. The world around them is still empty and dark, but the sky seems to be getting brighter.
Light glances at his watch, reading 04:03.
Beside him, he notices L staring up at the sky as he walks. Following his gaze, Light’s eyes meet the full Moon shining down at them through the thin clouds. Neither of them are watching their step now — the Moon just seems to be too enchanting to pull their eyes away from, its silver shade contrasting beautifully with the midnight blue surrounding it, twinkling stars nearby only adding to the beauty of the main celestial object.
Light always found himself with a special liking for the Moon, his name being written in the same kanji for it.
L, observant as ever, seems to notice Light’s mutual fascination with the satellite above because he softly asks, “The Moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
The phrase makes Light blink a few times in surprise. He turns to face L, not expecting to be met with familiar black eyes and a thumb tucked in between smooth lips. L is looking at him.
Light isn’t sure when, but both of them seem to have subconsciously stopped walking.
Did I hear that right? Does L even know the implications of that expression?
He has to, right? No, then he wouldn’t say it… He’s definitely just unaware… an innocent mistake — surely.
Still, Light feels his cheeks flush. Must be from the cold…
It’s best if I act clueless, too. Asking him about it would only make things more awkward.
“Yeah,” Light agrees almost breathlessly. “It really is.”
Their eye contact lingers for a second longer, but it feels like an eternity.
“We should still head back, though,” L says, breaking the stretched silence. “I wouldn’t want you to feel too awake, again.”
It’s already too late for that, Light thinks to himself.
“Ah, that’s right…”
They walk the rest of the way back without uttering a single word or sharing a single look. The world around them remains silent, though cars would begin flooding the streets the second dawn washes over the horizon.
But for now, it’s just them and the soft rattle of the chain connecting the two.