Disclaimer: Don't own Death Note. Lyrics are This Is The Future by Owl City.

Note: I hate that it took so long for me to get this up. I've had it written for ages, but sheer laziness stopped me. SORRY. I am going to make it up to any readers left by hopefully spam updating the next week or so. Love you all. Hope this end doesn't suck too hard.


Chapter Seven - Rise


because this is the future

and you are alive

you're headed home


If he hadn't shouted, and had just kept running, Matsuda would be dead.

If he had shouted, and had stopped running, Matsuda would be dead.

Because he did both, Matsuda is alive, pinned underneath him, angry, hurling his fists against Ide's chest, but alive, and his gun has skittered away into the shadows.

The warehouse door groans, and swings shut. They are alone and completely in the dark.

It's far from silent, though. Rain pounds on the roof, thrums against the thin sides of the warehouse, and Matsuda is shouting.

"Get off me! What right do you have – you said I was like Light! Like Light! You always said I wasn't and then you said – and if Light is dead, if it's a good thing Light is dead, then –"

"I love you."

Ide realises he hasn't been listening to what Matsuda has been saying. He's just been studying the place where his face should be, seeing only vague movements in the pitch dark as Matsuda thrashes about, and it hits him then just what it would be like, just how much it would matter to him, if he went his whole life without looking at Matsuda ever again.

And he just...said it.

Underneath him, Matsuda has stilled.

"Wha -?"

"I love you," Ide repeats, and discovers he doesn't want to stop saying it. Not today, and not ever. "Matsuda, I love you. Don't you dare do this to me. Don't you dare."

Matsuda's stillness has subsided into shaking, and Ide thinks he can hear the quiet sounds of sobs.

"Matsuda," he says, his voice softer now, as he leans down, finds Matsuda's mouth with his ear. "You've changed. And yeah, you've changed to be like Light."

More sobs, and his body stiffens under him.

"But...you're still you. I know you are. I've seen it. Not often, but here and there, flashes of that guy I knew who told me I'd never had a great romance." In the dark, Ide grins, and he can hear rain dripping off his hair onto the floor. It must be after midnight now. It's been raining for a week. "Well, I have news for you. You were right. I hadn't. And I still haven't." His hands tighten around Matsuda's wrists. "I have something better. I have you. And I am not going to let anyone – not Light, not Kira, not you – take that away from me."

Matsuda still hasn't said anything. Ide almost doesn't care. He wants him to say it back, he does, but that...that doesn't matter. What matters is fixing him.


"Matsuda. I'm gonna make you okay, yeah?"

A pause. Shaking. "...Yeah."

That's all Ide needed to hear.


By the time they make it outside, Matsuda leaning heavily on Ide, who's having a hard enough time staying upright, so many hours have passed that the sky is starting to get pale. A little way off, Mogi is standing, waiting for them.

It has stopped raining.

There are clouds in the sky, but they are beginning to drift away. Weak glimmers of sunlight are beginning to drift across the sky, and the shadows are clearing. Matsuda slips a little, leans more heavily into him, and Ide glances across at him.

His face is clearer than it has been in years. For the first time since the end of the Kira case, Matsuda looks as if his mind is occupied completely with just one issue – in this case, staying upright, and not dragging Ide down with him if he does slip.

Ide laughs. He can't help it. This, this is Matsuda – this is the barely-out-of-boyhood man he knew, with the puppy dog eyes and the easy, lightbulb grin, and it's all there, all bound up in the fact that he's concentrating on standing up harder than he's concentrated on anything in his life.

He laughs and laughs and can't stop laughing, and then Matsuda is looking at him incredulously. The new, scarred face is still there, the same shadow of old threats and bad memories lingering behind his eyes, but it's battling with the spark of brightness, the glint of innocence.

He'll never be innocent again, Ide knows, knows he's had that taken from him by Light. That, if he's honest, is the main reason he's never entertained the notion that Light might have been right. Light stole something that was far more precious to Ide than the lives of people he didn't know – he stole Matsuda.

And Ide, Ide had stolen him back.


It hasn't rained in a while. There's been a bit of drizzle, here and there, but there's been no thunderstorms, no rainclouds, no remakings of the deluge. The skies have been clear; the skies have been bright.

Things are changing.

Matsuda yawns loudly. Ide looks up. His friend – his lover, he amends, silently, in his mind, because now that he's admitted to the emotion in it, it's wrong to call it anything else – is sprawled out on the grass beside him. His eyes are closed, and the muscles of his face are slack. He looks beautiful.

The sun is warm, but not hot, bright, but not dazzling. It is a perfect day, and it coincides with the first day off they have had in a while. Matsuda insisted they went to the park, and this thrilled Ide in ways he couldn't describe. Dragging him to a public park was something Matsuda would have done before Kira, something that was woven into him, something that fit. Ide had gone along with it, even though he hated being outdoors, and even though Matsuda had refused to allow him to bring a book.

He grimaces, looking at Matsuda's peaceful form. The bastard, ordering him not to bring any literature and then just going off to sleep as soon as they got here. Good naturedly, Ide whapshim on the head with the back of his hand.

"Ow!" Matsuda says, jolting up. He scowls darkly. "What was that for?"

Ide studies his expression. There's still the hint of danger at the edges of it, a touch of ice curling around the sides of him. But it's fading. Each and every day, it is fading.

Matsuda is never going to be back to the way he was, not perfectly. But the Matsuda he has now – and Ide winces internally at the sheer insanity of him even thinking something so soppily pathetic – the Matsuda he has now is sort of perfect. In his own, unique, fucked up way.

Ide can deal with that.

Matsuda is watching his face carefully. "I'm going to kiss you," he declares.

Ide blinks. "Here? Now? In public?"

Matsuda raises his eyebrows. "S'matter? Thought you said you loved me?" He smiles a smile that is half wicked, half adorable, and entirely Matsuda.

"I do," Ide says, feeling a little uncomfortable. Emotional declarations have never been his strong suit. He isn't sure he'd even have been able to tell him back in the warehouse, if so much hadn't been at stake.

"Well, then you'll let me kiss you." He says it matter-of-factly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I – it doesn't really work like that! We're out in public, Matsuda, and –"

"Oh, Ide, " Matsuda says, and sighs theatrically. "You've never had a great romance."

Ide stares at him, dumbfounded, and then he laughs. Matsuda's been making him do that a lot lately.

He knows then that they're both going to be fine.