Because not everything I write in this collection has to end with kissing. (:
the fear of being touched
The handcuffs had been a horrible idea; it was more of a death wish than anything. Any small, fragmented sensation of skin meeting skin would send goosepimples bursting up on his hands and his wrists and his forearms. He would hide them easily, thanking himself for the colorless long sleeves of his shirt, and moved as far away as the multiple feet of chain would allow.
There were times, looking back, where the detective could not stem his hatred of the other man. He despised him, even. A plethora of moments where he just wanted to kick him away, but then realized that that would mean touching him in some way. The plan was thrown out of his file cabinet-brain immediately.
L kept himself clear of Light, but yet again, the chains of the elder's lack of foresight kept them together like bugs stuck to a trap. And whenever the iron jangled upon the tiled floor, L would feel himself tense enormously, fingers almost incapable of continuing their fast-paced typing. His heart beat quickly and he felt beads of perspiration form upon his forehead.
It took a while to realize the term he was looking for was "frightened."
And he would mentally kick himself; the supposedly great detective scared out of his wits because of a little touch, an invasion of his personal space for a second? No. No, no, no, no, no. Not possible!
"Ryuzaki," Light said one afternoon, arm outstretched towards L, palm facing upward. L stared. "I need those documents you printed out from last night, please."
L lifted the small pile of papers, littered with graphs and charts and numbers, up in his so-called peculiar way and handed them to the mahogany-haired man without a word. He forced his limbs to quit their trembling as he did so, gaze now glued to his computer monitor; the documents were taken away with a mumbled "thank you."
And L could not help but notice the contact his hand made with Light's.
He tried to hide his blush, his shaking, his closed eyes as he fought back the upsurge of hatred and confusion and terror.
The detective knew that Light could see it, regardless. But the other man remained silent.