Like A Moth To A Flame

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Fic was made less fail by Dooki-chan who is a very nice and helpful beta. I took on her suggestion for the title, using the word "moth". Also, in the light how this piece has really got no reviews so far, if you read this now - please don't hesitate to tell me what you think? The lack of anything is really, honestly unsettling ):. If you say "it sucks" then I'd at least know something.

Warning(s): Present tense. Disturbing, jarring imagery. Wordiness. Not all-around tight syntax. Smut. And not all parts are equally well-written? And yes, because neither me nor my beta are infallible, some typos might linger XDD.


(love's a thing that happens at first sight)

Chief Inspector Yagami's house is splendid, Matsuda thinks as his eyes sweep over the clean living room. The brightness of it all: the sparkling floor, and the smell of fresh roses lingering in the air – it's all so lovely!

And his children – they're so perfectly well-behaved! Little angels that follow their Daddy's eyes obediently, and, like overexcited puppies wag their tiny tails excitedly as -

"Matsuda! Are you listening?"

No, he's not listening, for the first time defying his superior.

Well, maybe Sayu, he thinks, is like a pup- no more like a Cheshire Cat, if the grin she's directing at him is anything to go by. And Matsuda wants to stick out his tongue, but doesn't because that's so childlike and he's supposed to be the adult here – but he can't resist and sticks out his tongue, anyway. So, he fixes his eyes on the son.

The boy sitting opposite of him is not that much of a child. Matsuda has heard about Light Yagami before. Everyone tells him that the teenager is a genius, and that – one fine day – he'll follow his father's footsteps. And maybe it's only the illumination in the living-room - the bright incandescence of the bulb smiling down at them - that makes everyone, but especially Light glitter.

It nearly looks like he's got a gold-shimmering aura around him, and Matsuda can't look away, can't take his eyes away from the boy that is called Light.

(don't worry, baby .. i'll protect you forever)

Matsuda really doesn't like that L observes people through a camera. It's so creepy and it sends chills rushing down his spine as he thinks about it. Because the cameras are everywhere, breaking through the peaceful sanctum of a perfect home with their wrathful glare. And Matsuda thinks that the Yagami-household should never be broken because it's so shiny and it makes him sad when shiny things are made duller by corruption.

"Are you sure that the cameras have to be installed everywhere?" Matsuda asks L cautiously, as he sees the universally acknowledged genius detective nibbling on his thumb. "Even in the showers?"

"Yes, that is of utmost necessity."

Matsuda coughs, feeling that he's misunderstood, but then that's hardly possible – seeing how Ryuuzaki never says anything wrong. Even if he did say something wrong, it's not like Touta Matsuda – former class clown, who only become detective because of contacts – can say anything to him.

And yet, he can't stop.

"B-but you'd be looking at them naked!" Matsuda exclaims, feeling horror build up inside of him as he thinks of L – that weird man with a sitting position that only a chimpanzee on a palm-tree could imitate – looking at poor Sayu-chan bathe or Light undress. And that - more than anything - sends the bile rising to his throat. "Don't you think that's a bit perverted?"

L glares at him.

L has got such big, bug-like eyes. Sometimes, they make Matsuda feel just a tiny bit scared because bugs don't have feelings and look at you in the same way before eating you alive. Matsuda slaps himself on the forehead. He really does have a weird imagination.

And yet, he thinks that L's way of just looking at him is so void of anything - so void of anything but annoyance. .

But as he grinds his teeth together, he thinks that he'll try to do anything in his power to maybe persuade Ryuuzaki that installing cameras isn't necessary a good thing.

(burn, burn green envy in the heart of fools)

Light can't be Kira, Matsuda instantly believes when Light willingly offers himself to be locked up. It can't be! And Matsuda shudders as he sees L – ever so briefly – smirk like a fox before a delicious meal. No, not like a fox, more like a witch in Macbeth's play, brewing a deadly potion with spidery fingers and smiling viciously as evil plans roam about her head. Matsuda has never really liked Shakespeare that much, but – due to an Elizabethan-drama obsessed English teacher, he's had no choice but to be aware of his existence.

One day, Matsuda - by accident - walks in on a spectacle that burns itself into his mind forever: L, seated on his chair, while thrusting upwards into Light who's groaning, and sweating and meeting each of the detective's harsh thrusts with hip movements of his own. Still dressed in his shirt, Light's body shudders as L's wirey, but talented fingers grab hold of his length, pumping while he keeps on thrusting and thrusting.

It's sick and yet beautiful. Because, though different in size and shape, together L and Light make up a completed puzzle.

Matsuda shouldn't peek, knowing that it's – a voice in his gut tells him – so very wrong. But then, like a spectator watching gladiators fight for their lives, Matsuda can't tear his eyes away from the scene.

(first kisses make you feel like being lifted up to heavens where you'll meet diamonds in the sky)

It's raining as they lead Ryuuzaki (or Ryuuga, L or whatever else the man went by) to his last slumber. The slosh wets his shoes, and mud attaches itself to the soles whenever he steps into a muddy puddle, but Matsuda isn't really there.

Too sudden are the images of L – that great detective – falling the ground with his spoon landing on the ground with a clatter. And then Light's scream and the fear and despair ...

Matsuda curls his sweaty palm to a fist, winces when his fingernails dig too deeply into sensitive skin.

When everyone else departs, he stays behind with Light. He knows he shouldn't be here, but leave Light alone instead. Alone with the memories of the man growing colder and colder underneath the earth.

"Light," Matsuda whispers. Not Light-kun – because that's what L used to call him – but simply Light. For Matsuda, Light is nothing but that. Not Kira. Not God. Just Light. "If I can do anything for you, just tell me. I'll do it."

Light looks up at him, eyes blazing with an emotion that Matsuda can't place. He's never seen it on that face before, and never wants to again. He takes a step back.

And then, he feels that hot mouth against his, more aggressive than he ever imagined but it's fine. Matsuda gives in, allowing Light to slip his tongue into his mouth – and they just stand there, clawing at each other in this sickening and age-old dance. Matsuda can't deny that he's wanted all this ever since he first set eyes on Light.

Matsuda's head spins as Light pushes him against L's tombstone, and it's only when he hears the sound of a zipper tugged downwards that sanity grabs hold of him for a while.

"This is wrong, Light ... this is a funer-"

His hot mouth is on Matsuda's cock, teeth boldly scraping against the head and Matsuda goes "oh" and "fuck, this feels good" because Light's mouth is damned talent and that tongue flickering against his erection just makes him forget everything else. Like the fact that L was still alive twenty-four hours ago, that his body, which is still unaffected by the progress of rotting, probably warmed Light's at nights.

"L probably appreciated it, voyeuristic little bitch that he was," Light simply says afterwards, wiping off the come with a handkerchief he grabs out of his pockets (Sachiko always says that Light is such a neat boy).

And Matsuda breaks into a laugh, knows that he shouldn't but the irony of the situation just strikes him like a thunderbolt and it really can't be helped.

(and we all fall down, as lust overtakes us and with - scalpel-like precision – seeps through our bones)

"Misa's asleep now," Light whispers into his ear, and waves of excitement slither down his spine. A smile breaks onto his face, as Light starts attacking his neck with kisses, and he submits. Submits because he wants to and because Light makes him all fluttery inside. Even if they're about to do it on a heavy couch that scratches his back, and it all ends way too quickly – it's enough for Matsuda.

When they're done, Matsuda lays his head on Light's sweaty chest, searching for the heartbeat that he knows must be there (because they're alive and Kira be damned) .

(and betrayal has never tasted oh so sweet, my darling)

Maybe, deep down, Matsuda always knew that Light wasn't as effulgent. But then, nothing could have prepared him for this – Light proudly declaring that he's Kira.

Something ugly crawls up Matsuda's throat, as he realises that Light was just playing a role all this time (perfect student, perfect son, perfect lover ... nothing but lies), and that the pretty face he's learnt to admire is nothing but a mask. As the mask slides down the floor, Matsuda sees for the first time.

The tears trail down his face, as Matsuda shoots, hearing the gunshots resound in the air and seeing how the bullets tear through Light's clothes (tear through skin, through flesh and stay stuck somewhere in there, lodged like a parasite digging deeper and deeper into its victim)

And yet, it's not enough. "You've sent your father to death."

But that wasn't all. Matsuda wants to say: "You betrayed me, you made me fall in love with you, but never loved me."

He shoots again, hears Light roar in pain and it nearly feels good, nearly makes the growing hollowness inside of him disappear.

But it won't be fine because as Light falls to the ground, and Matsuda himself is held back, he feels that nothing is good about this. Instead, there's just this lump forming inside his throat, which grows bigger as an ear-shattering scream pierces through the room. It's Mikami's last cry of pain – and maybe even disappointment as his blood sprays all over the place like a heavy torrent of rain.

And, while they're all distracted by the screaming, Matsuda senses that Light's using the last bout of his energy to drag his broken body out of the place, out to -


There's just no way Light can win now.

Logic tells that Matsuda he should run after Light, but he's rooted on the spot - momentarily. Because, hands shaking, he realises that he won't ever fully be fine again.

(because once you play with fire, you have deal with the burns as well).