Seven Days of Canvas

A/N: Is there even such a thing as a seven shot? Basically, it came to me while having a chat with Kyarorain. I was saying how I thought the body was like a work of art to me, and of course these two came to mind.

And, the 7 chapter titles are eventually going to make up a sentence. Can you guess what it is?

EDIT: Haha, I'm not really editing this, though I want all of you who are reading this to know that this really is an early work xD I'm looking back on it and seeing rough descriptions and lack of style, though the character is okay. So bear with me, and know that I do better now.

Day One: Do


Light doesn't really have a forte for anything involving art. His mind is always set on the inevitability that he will always do well in his school work, that he will graduate from university and join the NPA, just as his father, if not better. Police work doesn't require knowledge of the arts, or the talent of it for that matter, unless the killer is some crazed art fanatic, leaving clues only a master of the arts could decipher. In which case, a specialist would be called in and Light would never have to sully his hands with a paint brush, or sully his mind with thinking of it. He has never even pondered acquiring a talent in art, until L utters the notion.

"Does Light-kun paint?"

Quite random, actually.

"No... Why?"

"Just wondering."

"...Do you?" He is almost hesitant to ask.

"Yes," The response is blunt and flat, just as L himself. Light watches (in somewhat of a cringe) at the way L claws at the pastry with his fork, eventually bringing it to his mouth with an irritating smacking sound as he chews. Chains. No more chains. Nothing to keep Light from ridding himself of the hindrance at all. That is, until L offers a proposition, "Would Light-kun do me a favor?"

"That depends on what the favor is, Ryuzaki."

"Will Light-kun be my muse?"

His muse.

His painting subject.

Although, Light does feel somewhat obliged to do such a thing. He internally admits that he is utterly curious as to what the detective's painting skills are like, or if they are even skills at all. He asks L to see them, but the bargain L offers in response is; "Light-kun has to first assist me in my final painting before he can see my others."

Light expected something like that.

He waits patiently on the rooftop where L has asked to meet him prior. The sun is rather settling with a pleasant glow today... Is that why L suggested such a place? Is it even where he is going to do it? Light fumbles with the cuff of his sleeve, a habit he hasn't done since the age of nine, and darts his eyes around every corner, every angle. Why isn't L here yet? Light knows the detective doesn't have so much as one common courtesy bone in his body, but still... Light's face almost reddens with anger, and his patience quickly dwindles.

"Ah, Light-kun," Light turns to meet L engulfed with painting supplies and a canvas, "I am sorry for my tardiness. I had to tell Watari to buy me the proper things."

"Didn't you already have supplies?"

"No, I haven't painted in five years. Thus, I wasn't prepared."

"You should have been."

"I know," L drops everything but the canvas to the cemented ground and places it in position, "Does Light-kun require a chair?"

"Yes, if it's really going to take that long, Ryuzaki."

"Actually, sit on the ground for a moment. I want to see something," L presses on Light's shoulders to emphasize his point and gently pushes him onto the floor. A wave of coldness strikes Light's bottom and he stiffens, sitting upright, "Stay like that..."

"What are you-"

"I like the angle from that position, will Light-kun stay there?"

"It's cold, Ryuzaki," Even though the sun hits the building with vibrant shades of light, the floor of the rooftop is rendered a stinging temperature of 40 degrees or so.

"Light-kun will get use to it," L aligns the jars of paint upon the floor in order from darkest to lightest, and Light furrows his eyebrows in irritation. Perhaps the agreement to do this isn't worthwhile, and Light shouldn't be giving into L's demands so casually. Some form of protest usually acquitted to such a situation, but Light needn't do that, not right now. After all, he's curious.

L begins (from a standing point, not even bothering to sit) with a dip of the brush in water, then he begins with the color of gray, carefully, almost awkwardly, making swift, gentle strokes that lace the bottom of the frame. Light wonders whether he should look at L or towards some other direction, but L hasn't complained so neither will Light. Instead, he settles his sight on the fixated expression taking over L's usually impassive features, mesmerized at the entity of it all. It is a moment, but a moment, and Light doesn't take it for granted.