Rating: PG-13ish, for and lime.
Genre: Angsty then fluffy, I guess?
Summary: He was dead, killed by Kira. And it hurt.
Notes: Do not own this obviously. Spoilers for L's real name, annnddd…
the credit for this idea comes from seaserpent on Livejournal,
she gave me the idea of L walking toward a black and white horizon after he died.
There was something about this place…
The first thing he noticed was the complete lack of… everything. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to smell, nothing to touch. It wasn't like he couldn't have used those senses; he could've, if there had been anything to use them on. It was simply a white space, stretching on endlessly. Because of the infinity of nothing, there was no point in moving. As with his senses, he could move, but he didn't make any progress in actually going somewhere. It was unnerving.
Idly, he wondered if he could speak, and decided to test his thoughts.
So he could speak. That was reassuring, in a way. At least he wasn't completely deprived of basic human functions.
That brought him to his next question. Where was he? The memories were a little fuzzy, but he could remember his plan, he could remember the rain, and his face, his lips, and then, how loud the bells had been. The intensity of the bells had frightened him; the last time he had heard the bells ring so loudly, he'd ended up in an orphanage. The theories that flooded his mind occupied his thoughts for a few moments, as he considered the meaning of the noise. He could almost hear them, as loud as they had been on the day of—
He was dead. That was the missing piece. He'd been killed by somebody. So had Mr. Wammy. There had been a blackout, the backup lights had flickered on, bathing the room in a blood-red light, and he'd watched the words 'data deletion' flash across his screen before feeling a wave of panic and sadness wash over him. The realization that Mr. Wammy was dead, the anguish that he had felt, and then, pain. His heart shuddered to a stop, he'd fallen out of his chair, and somebody had caught him. Somebody had thrown their self to the ground to break his fall.
Light had caught him, and he'd watched the younger man's features twist into something that resembled pain, and then… then that evil grin, the one that meant he'd been right all along. And the memories were fresh now, and they hurt. They hurt like hell, and he would've curled up into a ball and screamed if he could've. He was dead, killed by Kira. Killed by Light, Light Yagami, his first friend, his first and only… love.
Light Yagami was Kira.
And L did scream. He screamed, sobbed, the anguish broke loose and made his throat hurt. The noise echoed emptily across the barren landscape, unheard.
It seemed like years that he'd been floating here, but L was starting to figure things out. As long as he didn't think of him, he could concentrate on making the white space into something. Shapes materialized in front of him, and he smiled (or at least, he thought he did) at the ability to actually see again. There was a road, and around it colors began to fade into view. Green trees, green undergrowth, grey rocks, a dusty brown path. L finally was able to stand properly, and relief flooded through him as he realized he could finally move, finally bring his thumb to his lips in a familiar gesture.
His thumb did rise up, but immediately dropped back down to be shoved in his pockets. The movement reminded him of their first kiss, and if L started to think of him, the trees would begin to fade. So he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, and paid attention only to the road before him. He started to walk.
There was nothing but that frightening white a few feet in front of him, where the path faded. But as he moved toward that blankness, sketches of the objects would be drawn in, as if an invisible artist was doodling all over L's very small world. Those sketches would fill up with color, similar to paint dripping down the sides. And then, once L had walked past them, they vanished, and did not reappear.
For a long time, L walked. It was aimless, really, more like something to be doing than actually achieving any set goal. But the sights and sounds that he'd missed in those moments that had felt like years comforted him, and he didn't want them to leave, so he kept chasing them. And then suddenly, the trees stopped filling with color. He continued on through the sketchy trees, ignoring the panic rising in his chest, and watched as a black and white sunset inked itself into his vision, far in front of him.
What was there? L wondered if it led to anything interesting.
Anything would've been more interesting than this. So he trudged on, until the sunset was right in front of him. And there was a door.
The door was huge; easily sixteen, seventeen feet up, and imposing. Just like the sunset and the sketchy trees, it had absolutely no color; it instead looked like an artist had merely drawn and shaded it, not bothering to finish. Intricate engravings decorated the door from top to bottom, glowing a soft blue (the only color seen for miles except for L himself) from the depths of the dark wood that the door was constructed with. To L's intrigue, black mist spewed from the crack under the door. Whatever was in here was having less of a pleasant time than he was, he was sure of that.
L raised a hand curled into a fist (he noticed it was in full color, in contrast to the rest of his world, something he found slightly interesting), and knocked softly on the door, curious. To his surprise, the door clicked open, creaking as it swung slowly to reveal a thick, black nothingness, much like the landscape behind him. L frowned, stepping back, and he fully intended to close the door and continue on elsewhere, but a noise caught his attention. It was quiet, nearly swallowed by the suffocating darkness, but it sounded familiar…
Against his better judgment (logic had no place here, it seemed) L stepped into the darkness, and began to make his way through the fog. He was somewhat pleased to find that the white from outside the door followed him in, allowing him to move through the black with ease. There didn't seem to be a purpose to his little side-adventure, but then again, what had he been trying to do before? It was simply easier to see in the white than in the dark; there honestly was no difference between the two except for that fact.
L jumped, startled, and glanced around. He couldn't see much outside of the tiny white circle that surrounded him, but he still could hear well enough. It wasn't his real name (nobody but Watari knew that and the thought of the elderly man sent a pang of sadness through his heart) he'd responded because the voice, the tone of desperation that it was tinged with, sounded so familiar. L swiped at the fog, searching for the source of the noise.
And then, he found it.
For a moment, L could not move, could not breathe, could not do anything. There, in front of him, was Light Yagami, a sight L had thought he'd never see again.
Light looked older than L remembered. His hair was a little longer, his face a little more square, but there was no mistaking it. His eyes were wide open, unblinking, and his perfect features were twisted in horror, pain, desperation. L's heart (or whatever he possessed now) broke into pieces, and he fell to his knees, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders and trying to shake him out of the trance. Light jerked violently out of L's grasp, letting out a heart-wrenching scream, curling into a ball. Tears gathered in L's eyes as he shook the boy more, and they began to fall when the boy reacted as if he was being beaten.
L relinquished his grip, stumbling to his feet. Maybe if he got Light out of the darkness—
Light cried out when L grabbed his legs and began to pull, and almost knocked the detective over in his violent twisting. But L was stubborn, and did not let go again, kept his fingers locked around Light's ankles in a deathly grip. And then suddenly, they were at the door, and with one last huge effort, L dragged Light out of the black into the white.
Light gasped sharply, and sat up, breathing erratically. He glanced around frantically, as if trying to figure out where he was, and then stopped dead when he saw L, who sat back, panting.
"Ryu…Ruyzaki!" The cry tore at L's emotions, but he barely had time to sit properly when Light tackled him, hugging his midsection tightly. The younger man shook as sobs wracked his body, as he cried desperately into L's white shirt. And L did not push him back, like he would have done when they had still been… alive. Instead, he grasped at Light's clothing and pulled the boy as close as possible, emotions tumbling through him relentlessly.
"Ryu…Ryuzaki, I'm so sorry! I killed you, you're dead, and then I couldn't control him, because you were the only thing keeping him away, but then he got loose and killed you and took over, and then it hurt so much, all the bullets, and then the darkness, God, Ryuzaki, the darkness, I watched you die over and over, watched my dad die, and then you came—"
L made soft noises, clutching Light tightly, burying his nose in the boy's hair, and thanking every god he knew of for letting Light's hair smell the same…
"—and I don't deserve to be here, I don't care if Kira did all that, he was me, and I killed so many people, killed you, killed my dad, and you saved me, why did you save me? You should hate me…hate me…"
The young man mumbled this over and over, and his grasp tightened, if possible, as if afraid the realization would cause L to shove him away. But L shook his head, pulling Light up to look him in the eye.
"I do not hate you, Light-kun."
Light froze, and stared up at him, unblinkingly.
L lifted a hand to brush the unruly brown locks out of Light's face, smiling.
"I do not. Quite the opposite, actually."
Light was very still, staring at the detective, trembling. Slowly, the young man leaned forward, resting his head on L's shoulder. For a moment, L stiffened, unused to the contact, and then relaxed, pulling Light into a haphazard hug. The two sat there for a long time. When Light did pull out of the hug, calm, he stared at L again, frowning.
The detective lifted a hand to touch Light's face, tracing the outline hesitantly, unsure of what was happening. The fact that the two of them were here together, even in death, sounded like something straight out of a fairy tale, or a cheesy romantic movie. It didn't change the fact that L felt like his heart was beating again, or the fact that simply staring back at his first friend was the first thrilling thing that had happened to him since dying. It also did not look like Light had really acknowledged that the two of them were sitting there yet, and although L barely believed it himself, the detective was more willing to accept it. The younger man had been in that darkness, and if what he'd said was true, he'd probably seen L many times, only to have him be snatched away. It was understandable that Light didn't fully believe.
"No, Light-kun. My name is not Ryuzaki." L interrupted, hands falling to rest on Light's shoulders. Light blinked, puzzled, and opened his mouth to speak again, but L did not allow it.
"My name is L Lawliet. I want you to call me L, or even Lawliet. Ryuzaki is an alias I no longer have any use for."
Light's features formed a small smile, which trembled, but held. "We're dead, aren't we, Lawliet?"
L leaned forward until their noses touched, and he smiled back. "Indeed, Light-kun. I believe that is the case."
Light did not hesitate; he closed the distance between their lips and caught L in a soft kiss. L returned the enthusiasm, knocking Light back gently so as to straddle him, hands intertwining with Light's. Light's tongue ran along L's, nipping lightly, asking for permission, and L granted it, opening his mouth further to allow the boy in. For a moment, it felt like they were still alive; the kiss became angry as the two battled for dominance, exploring each other's mouths as they did the first time they'd ever locked lips. Neither of them wanted to submit, but as usual, L was able to keep his position above Light, always the stronger of the two.
Accepting his defeat, Light backed down, letting L ravish his mouth. It seemed odd to the detective; never before had the younger man ever let L win. And L found out why, soon enough: Light was playing dirty. A hand trailed down L's stomach, resting right above his crotch, and L let out a sort of choking sound, half a chuckle, half a noise of pleasure. He reached down to grab the hand, and pull it back upward, chuckling more as Light growled disappointedly into his mouth.
"No, Light-kun, I do not believe this is the appropriate time or place…" L mumbled, breaking the kiss and leaning back. Light wiggled out from under the detective, and, in the superior way that he did everything, pouted. A laugh actually broke free from L's lips this time, a noise that startled both men, made them jump. They were quiet for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing, echoing in the large empty forest-like space around them.
L recovered first, and stood up (not necessarily straight), offering a hand to Light. The younger man accepted the gesture, and pulled himself up, brushed off his clothes, and fixed L with a questioning stare. The detective placed his thumb at his lips, unafraid to do so now that he was here with Light, and motioned off to the left, where the path waited patiently.
"Perhaps we should follow the path to find somewhere more comfortable. Then we can discuss all of this at length."
Light smiled again, and turned to the path. "Maybe then I can find some way to apologize." He mumbled as he began to follow the dusty road. L walked after him, easily keeping pace with the straight-backed young man. There didn't seem to be an end in sight, but L found he didn't really mind. In fact, he thought, as he felt Light's hand snake down to grasp his own, the walk would be quite pleasurable.