ESCAPING CONVICTIONS

“Hey.”

Akiyama didn’t turn her way. “Diane. Get me a squad of CIA agents ready to go to Japan by tomorrow. I’m going to search that damned island, top to bottom.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, studying him. “The CIA won’t want to do that. They’re pissing themselves at the thought of Kira, just like the FBI is. And I assume that’s the only reason you want to employ them. It‘s not only criminals that he‘s murdered in the past.”

“Pay them more. Tell them we’ll fire them if they don’t.” Akiyama was not a man of sympathy. “The fact of the matter is, I’ve got a lead. There’s something suspicious here.”

“Oh?”

“Light Yagami. He hasn’t been at his college for a long time. I can’t find him anywhere in Tokyo. He‘s not at his parents‘ house, and there‘s no apartment registered in that name. This kid had been previously working on the case, too. Isn‘t this odd?”

Diane wasn’t usually the voice of reason, but she felt obligated to say, “That doesn’t mean much. He was a suspect of L’s, right? Maybe the pressure was overwhelming, and he’s taking a vacation. Be more delicate, Akiyama. This is the police chief’s son, and you should be getting on that man’s good side. Arresting his son with no real proof doesn’t qualify.”

“Considering the enormity of this particular issue, I’m going to take every hint that I have very seriously. No, it isn’t conclusive, Diane. But it also won’t hurt us if we pursue it. I want to find out just who exactly Yagami’s son is, and if there’s a mistake then I’ll apologize.”

It was as easy as that.

Paris was the heart of France, and the heart of Paris would have to be the river Seine. No, perhaps a more accurate description would be that it was the arteries of Paris in the way that it winded through the city with its life-giving water. Being a city next to a river wasn’t a necessity in this day and age, but now it too was a source for tourism. Bateaux-mouches, long boats that scattered at the shores of the riverside offered tours for a price along the river that passed by such famous attractions like the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre and the Notre Dame.

They crossed the bridge known as Pont-Neuf, reaching the other side where L had promised their hotel would be. Along the sides of the Seine river were numerous benches, filled with evening life. This evening life was, overwhelmingly, pairs of people shamelessly making out. The seats were littered with such public displays of affection, that Light thought sourly that it ought to be punishable as public indecency. In fact, now that he looked, not one of the occupied benches held anyone who wasn’t clearly doing more than holding hands.

And, as if on some obnoxious, clueless cue, L said, “Why don’t we take a seat, Light-kun? You look tired.”

“I’m not tired,” Light responded hastily. “Let’s keep going.”

“Your statement sounds suspicious to me. Your face is all flushed and your breathing has accelerated, so I believe that you’re lying.”

“It’s not that,” he answered, hoping that he wasn’t actually blushing. How naïve was this supposed ‘best detective in the world’, anyway? And for heaven‘s sake, his breathing had not accelerated. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“I’m not.”

“What?” Light asked, turning around.

“My ankle hurts,” L said calmly, his dark eyes revealing no answers. “There’s a fifty percent chance that I sprained it on Pont-Neuf bridge. I want to be sure that it‘s okay, so if you don‘t mind I would like to take a short intermission.”

Light stared, looking down at the man’s foot. Sure enough, he had his weight focused on a single left foot, and the other was raised slightly to avoid pressure. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you trip?”

“Clearly, Light-kun. Ankles do not sprain from normal walking.” L cocked his head to the side. “You were walking so rapidly in front of me, you must not have seen. I didn’t think it was so bad at first, but now it feels worse. So may we sit?”

Feeling guilty now, Light nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. You could have just said so instead of being so evasive about it.”

The detective smiled, a very controlled twitch of his lips, and Light offered him a shoulder. He wrapped his arm around his back, and together they approached an empty bench.

They sat there for a few minutes quietly, and Light sighed. The river Seine was beautiful, yes, but for some reason all he could think was that it kept flowing by. Every loose twig or leaf that floated on the surface, it was carried away and it would never return. In the quiet, all he could hear was the ticking of his wristwatch, in time to the beat of the river.

And every second that ticked by was another second that he was vulnerable, without a proper plan to retaliate against Interpol and dispel suspicions that would possibly be raised against him.

"What do you think it is about rivers that creates a desire for lovers to osculate?" L asked casually, in reference to the many lovers kissing nearby.

Light was startled out of his thoughts, and caught his breath in surprise at L’s boldness. Then he shook his head. "I wish I knew. This is practically criminal."

"Light-kun doesn't enjoy the marvels of kissing? I'm reluctant to believe such a thing, because he has had, according to my records, seventeen separate partners."

The brunette stared at L. "Where are you getting your information about my personal life? Excluding Misa, I've had twelve girlfriends. But it's been twenty-three girls that I've kissed."

"What!" This seemed to unsettle the acclaimed world's-greatest-detective, and his wide owl eyes bulged with exaggerated awe. "Ah, well, it seems that even my sources can be off."

They were silent for a minute, as Light wondered who the hell his 'sources' were while watching the river flow by. Then something else began to flow - a realization in Light's head. "You're a liar," he said incredulously, with slight irritation. "You made that up that data, just so I'd tell you how many girls that I've actually kissed."

"Correct." Now the detective looked smug, giving Light a sideways glance. "Twenty-three, that's quite formidable, Light-kun. It appears that I underestimated you."

Light shook his head in disbelief. "You're crazy. ...Hang on, it's only fair that you tell me how many girls, or people for that matter, you've kissed."

"Why should I tell you? Life's not fair. If you wanted to know you'll have to trick me, like I did for you."

Again, Light shook his head, exasperated. He rather expected that the real answer would be... well... one, because the detective was as antisocial as they came. And he didn't think either of them would ever actually bring up those two incidents. So he said, with an air of arrogance, "That's okay, I'm not that interested in anyone's love life except for my own."

The gangly youth immediately retorted with a, "That trick will suffice. I've kissed five people."

"What?" Honest surprised submerged his being. "Five? Who? I mean, was it serious?" Only after the words came out was he aware that he probably sounded like a gossiping schoolgirl. Or Misa, who he wasn't sure had ever been a schoolgirl.

"'Who' is entirely irrelevant. No one you know, indeed I assure you that I didn't participate in any questionable acts with the task force. People who I grew up with. It was curiosity alone that drove me to such initiation, though to be honest I found the ordeal mostly dull and far too extended. I experimented with different people, different times of day and at different ages. I tried all variables, but my results were unexciting and insignificant."

"So it is Lawliet who doesn't enjoy the marvels of kissing," Light concluded with a smirk.

"Were you overcome with ecstasy while engaging in that act?" L asked with apparent honesty.

Because the question seemed genuine, Light paused to think out a genuine answer. "It's something to do, I guess. I've never been in love. When I was younger I used to pretend that I was, and that I was overcome with passion or whatever. But no matter how I tried, it always ended up being entirely physical."

"I see.” L nodded with a simple bob of his head. “If not entirely kissing, did the more sexual acts please you, then? Is that why you pretended?"

Light gasped and stared at the detective for being so blunt. "We're in public, talk appropriately!"

"Why? Who's watching? The ones who are very near engaging in more sexual acts themselves."

He didn't know how much more of this aggravating man he could handle. "Listen, there’s more to it than just that. When I was in high school, to be honest I was kind of depressed. I felt half-dead, like I was just floating through life. For awhile I thought that if I was in love, or at least pretended enough, then that would make me feel more alive.”

For whatever reason, L didn't answer right away. His charcoal eyes locked on to the river once again. "Yes, I also believe that passion is what makes people feel the most alive."

They were silent as they watched the river go by. Light was carried into deep contemplation. Floating substances in the river, even the longboats as they navigated by, they did so at a steady, unyielding rate. He found himself counting off the seconds that were announced by his wristwatch. Tick. Tick. Tick. Time went by, just like the river. And the more he sat there, contemplating, the more he became anxious about what time was going to bring him. If he couldn't find away to kill Interpol's second criminal, which was highly unlikely, suspicion against him would once again rise. Every second that went by was a milestone closer to downfall.

He had to find the answer. There was always an answer. In the real world, there wasn’t an applicable mathematical equation that lacked a conclusion. In nature, all things made sense, so there had to be a way to solve this, too. Light had already wormed his way free of a hundred potentially detrimental situations. What were the facts?

One: Interpol was testing the notebook. There was no way that L would send them an entire notebook, because L wouldn’t like the idea of trusting the government. Either way, this didn’t affect him much unless he could ensure that the first experiment was a failure and they lacked the resources for a second try.

Two: Interpol shouldn’t know about Light Yagami. It was true that when L first took on the Kira case, he communicated with the entire Japanese force. But when Light got the FBI involved, and then killed them to make them back right out again, the Japanese force had lost all trust in L. When L privately worked with the few members of the Kira Investigation unit, his research was theoretically confidential to anyone outside of the team.

Three: Even if they did know that Light was a suspect, what did that prove? There was no evidence that Light tampered with the notebooks (indeed he didn't, not directly anyway, that was all thanks to Ryuk). It was still possible that he was innocent. Interpol wouldn’t take him into custody without proof… right?

But there was the fact that Light Yagami had disappeared from Japan. He was using a false identification and traveling around the world. Because Interpol wouldn’t know about L, that would seem suspicious… well, he was running, wasn’t he? If they found out… would that be enough to convict him? Would the excuse of helping his friend Ryuuzaki be enough to save him from capture?

If L found the ‘heroic intentions’ that he needed… no. Aside from his real name, apparently, L wanted nothing more than to send Light to execution. Because L knew the truth, and he was too stubborn of a person to let that slide.

"Would you stop worrying about things?" L suddenly said, cutting sharply into his pensive thoughts. Before Light could ask him what he meant, he said, "You look depressed. I'm guessing that Light-kun wishes that he had a lover right now to distract him like when he was younger, and follow suit with the other couples here. It seems that being in France isn't even enough for him to save him from himself."

Light stared at L, who was staring right back. Neither of them blinked, one surprised at the suggestive thing that was said, the other surprised that there was no retort to play along in the joke. When he tried to mentally explain what he was feeling, to Light it sounded completely ridiculous. There was nothing, everything, the river Seine and his wristwatch. There was Ryuuzaki, or Lawliet, there was Kira or Light or whatever, a jumbled mixture of thoughts that he didn't like but was morbidly curious about. Finally Light said, "Sitting still is the problem."

"I don't want to move yet. My ankle hurts.” At that point, L paused, looking at Light as though he had a business proposition. “And since we have nothing better to do, and I‘m feeling self-conscious around everyone else... do you have any better ideas?"

Did he really just say that?

The seconds that ticked on his wristwatch, that watch that still held a piece of a Death Note, suddenly they blurred together like drops of water. Tick, tick, ... tick... tick…..

It was ridiculous.

Why was he leaning forward to Lawliet? Why were his cold fingers lifting, his hands rising up toward his most deadly enemy? They rested hesitantly on his broad shoulders, as if to demand some kind of attention that Light didn't really want at all. Or did he? Was that the explanation as to why his face was next to Lawliet's, staring with eyes that weren't seeing anything except an inevitable death? What was he trying to accomplish here?

It was ridiculous.

Tentatively, Lawliet murmured, "It's okay. We're in Paris now." It wasn't a justification, it was a half-assed excuse because they were both confused and shared a common obsession. The warmth of Lawliet's cat-like tongue hesitantly met Light's lips. It brushed against them like a shy courtly gesture for permission to access the guarded area. Gently, the lips themselves locked on, but it was a careful movement, like walking in a field of land mines. One wrong step could lead to explosion. Any second they could be dead.

There will be no heaven or hell for you when you die. You'll be nothingness, do you want that?

Light didn't want nothingness. He didn’t want to feel half-alive anymore, either. Maybe that was why his hands rose from Lawliet's shoulders and to the back of his head. Fingers curled around thick, unruly midnight hair, wrapping themselves intimately into his companion's scalp. Lawliet responded by tangling his own arms around the brunette, one pressing into the bones of his spine and the other claiming the back of his neck. Affirming this action, Light lessened the distance between them, parting his lips to let in the uncertain male. He slid his own tongue softly on top on Lawliet's, crossing the distance like a bridge over the river into the other territory. He explored it assertively but with caution, almost expecting his enemy, or whoever he was, to clamp down razor teeth and slice through his tongue, leaving him to bleed to death.

That didn't happen.

It was a thing of hesitant aggression - fingers clawed into the skin of the other, demanding it to submit and come closer. Contrarily, the sensitive skin of lips was uncertain, unsure, aware of the act. Aware that this couldn't be a rational action, this was probably unwise, but then the movement of the tongues inside vessels argued that it was irrelevant anyway. It was only because they had nothing better to do, and they were curious, and it didn't really matter. It was a distraction.

The closed lids of Light's eyes were what spoke the truth the most wisely. His upper eyelashes crushed into his lower lashes with determined, consented ignorance. It shielded his irises from the River Seine that ticked away the seconds of the time that he was running away from. Time ticked away everything - the rotting world, the lifespan that one had left, the good things in life that were destined to wither like cherry blossoms after limited opportunity to show off their beauty. Maybe this was the real reason why the benches by the river were crowded with lovers. When one is kissing, clutching onto something, one doesn't have to think about all the wretched things. They kiss by the river to ignore the river, to ignore Time.

When it was over, it happened mutually. The tight grips of their hands weakened and released, and then their tongues found their homes and their lips released, too. Eyelids released their prisoners, and heads turned forward, systematically looking away.

In all of the times Light had made out with someone, there had always been something to say. Some thoughtful word of closure that he perhaps pretended to believe, even if inside he didn't. "Well.." he started awkwardly.

"It's getting dark out," L interrupted. "My ankle is fine now, so let's go find the hotel."

It was an immediate transition from that bizarre event back into reality. Wait, reality? This wasn't reality. At least, not the reality that Light was used to. "I thought you said that you sprained your ankle. It doesn't even look swollen!"

"Ah, so it doesn't. It appears I made a mistake." There it was, that smug look that he didn't even try to conceal.

"Oh, you bastard," Light said incredulously. "It was never hurt at all, was it?"

As if to arrogantly confirm, L easily stood up, stretching. "Let's get going, if you‘re still up for walking. I can call a taxi if I tired you out."

Though Light was unimpressed by such displays of wealth, he felt extremely under-dressed in his green sweater and khaki pants - which had once been nice, but the day had dirtied them, not to mention his uncombed hair... His paranoid side felt the hotel staff raise their noses at him as they wore expensive tuxedos and all looked as though they had showered just fifteen minutes ago. L, however, arrogantly clueless man that he was, bounded right up to the check-in desk, completely unconcerned about the stains and rips in his old white cotton shirt.

He said something in French to the lady at the counter, and Light recognized the name "Ames". The lady frowned as she checked her computer, and momentarily said something else. At this point, L's face turned toward Light, who raised his eyebrows questioningly, but L turned back and nodded in affirmation.

"What's that about?" Light asked after taking on the of room keys they had been offered, as they headed toward their room. "Didn't they have your reservation?"

"The idiots just messed up, that's all," L answered, pointedly walking in front of Light. He did not elaborate, so they continued to walk.

When they reached the correct room (number 118), Light wondered briefly just how expensive the room was. It matched the same rich quality that was present in the lobby. Velvet red curtains draped over a large window. A glass coffee table sat next to a mahogany couch, right by a small table with complimentary coffee packets and chocolate mints. It was true that Light had spent the last few months of his life living in extravagance, as seemed to suit L's exquisite tastes, but even so he felt somewhat out of place. He spent a moment appreciating the fineness, before he realized the problem.

"There's only one bed," he said out loud with irritation. So that had been what the hotel had messed up on. Sure, it was a large king-sized bed, and he had slept with L straight during the handcuff period... but that was something that he did not miss.

"Yes. I know that you hate how I take the blankets at night, but don't worry because I've already ordered you a cot."

"What? I have to be in the cot? You don't sleep anyway," Light accused. "And I'm still suffering minor influenza. I should get the bed."

"Precisely. Light-kun will inevitably fall into a very deep slumber wherever he chooses to rest his body. Because I will likely be somewhat awake for a considerable portion of the night, it's fair that I receive the greater comfort."

"What do you have to miss out on?" Light challenged, taking it a new direction. "You've been to Paris before, and you've stayed in this exact hotel. Therefore you've already had the opportunity to sleep in the bed. I haven't, therefore it's fair that I'm rewarded this experience."

"Rewarded?" L stared. "The way I remember it, Light-kun, these travel expenses that you are consuming come from my salary. I bought this hotel room, for the next few days everything in it belongs to me. You should be grateful that I'm offering to order a cot for you! My economic situation isn't infinite, and the more logical, conservative choice would be to have you sleep on the floor."

"To hell with that," Light shot back. "You should instead feel honored that I chose to come with you on this 'adventure'. There's a thousand things that I could be doing if I were still at home, such as, oh, going to college, but instead I chose to keep you company. You should be thinking of me as a guest instead. And what a rotten host you are if you're going to be greedy about the resources."

"You? A guest?" the detective said incredulously. "There's a particular period of time that can't be surpassed that a guest can impose upon hospitality, otherwise the alleged 'guest' loses his privileges and status. I've been feeding and housing you for months, so I say its time you pulled your own weight."

"Feeding and housing me? I was a prisoner! You had me handcuffed to you! I should damned well expect that you'd feed me and give me a place to stay, or I swear to God that I would've had you jailed for violating human rights. Sort of like how you are now!"

"Well... you aren't my prisoner now, so that's inconsequential."

They stood there, glaring at each other, fingers tightening into fists. They could have been spurting out flames from the magnitude of wrath in their scowling faces. Light tensed, tightening his muscles just in case L wanted to resort to a wrestling match to determine the winner as opposed to rhetoric competition. The detective's teeth were gnawing at his lower lip, and Light noted maniacally that if he were to punch him now, the teeth would dig right into sensitive skin.

Then L moved. Light immediately raised his fists in defense, only to find that "moving" was running away. The detective scampered away, and the brunette choked back a laugh. ...Only to find that L's destination had been the king-sized bed. He sprang on top of it, spreading out his limbs as if he were hugging it tightly and possessively.

"Lawliet!" Light yelled furiously, running forward. "Get off of my bed!"

"You're deluded. Not an aspect entirely uncharacteristic of Light Yagami, though!"

"Tch! I'm so damned tired of you and beds!" With that, he jumped on the bed, viciously grabbing L's ankles. He had every intention of dragging that lanky bastard off.

But when he began to pull, the unexpected happened. Instead of being met with the force of resistance, L had sat up and pounced forward. His slim, yet hard muscled body slammed at full force right into Light's chest. Light was forced to relinquish the ankles he held due to the awkward position of suddenly being on his back. His head was dangling in the air beyond the stability of the mattress, and he craned it forward so there would be less leverage if he were to fall off. L, with a smug look bedecking his features, grabbed on to his shoulders to keep him down.

"Light-kun is either still quite sick, or not quite as strong as I previously thought," he commented with a superior air.

That did it - he sure as hell wasn't going to give in to that bastard now. Light relaxed his body for a second, as if in defeat. Then, like a canon ball exploding into freedom, he lurched forward and twisted his weight sideways. Because L had only been holding onto his shoulders, the detective toppled off as Light rolled out from under him. Immediately, Light crawled to the middle of the bed and sat up so as to be in a strategically logical position and prepared for whatever L might next throw at him.

Which was, again, his entire body. For being thin and gangly, L could have been an America football player, his body was like a merciless missile. He tackled Light, though Light had shifted his weight as to save himself from some of the blow as well as avoid another pin. Immediately he curled his legs inward, and sprang them forward right into L's stomach - a kick that knocked the offender backwards.

"One for one," L declared vigorously, and then smashed his own foot forward into an unprotected ribcage. The raven-haired youth then realized that his foot wasn't returning him, and the surprised look on his face was exaggerated and comical when he must have taken in that Light had grabbed it.

"Surrender yet?" Light asked with a wry smile.

Wide, dark-rimmed eyes blinked. "I suggest that we open ourselves to negotiation."

Light laughed out loud then, all previous irritations released, and he let go of the ankle and laid down on the blankets. The detective followed suit right next to him, folding his hands behind his head in a make-shift pillow. They laid there, side-by-side, smiling and chuckling under their breaths. Inwardly they both knew that such an obsequious fight was only to distract themselves from the truth.

In reality, there will be no negotiations.

The brunette knew this, and he found his mind wandering in that direction. In reality, in the world of Kira and L, one would lose, and that meant death. A heart attack from a Death Note, or execution by lethal injection, or perhaps other creative means. In reality, they weren't fighting over something so menial as a stupid bed that neither actually cared about in the first place. In reality they were pitching Justice against Justice, and only one was right: that would be the one who didn't die.

L broke the silence. "It looks like we'll be sharing a bed again, right?"

"Just like old times," Light responded with a note of irony. "But if I wake up in the middle of the night without a blanket, I'm going through with my threat of having you jailed for human rights violation."

"Hm, well, I'll send you back to your father then." At saying that, L's face turned to Light. "You should call him."

"My father?" Light asked, not to clarify his hearing but because he didn't understand why L was suggesting it.

"I'm certain that he's been worrying about you. Call him and tell him you're okay."

Immediately, Light's mind fell again to paranoia - if he contacted the Japanese police, he might be asked to return to Japan during the thirteen-day trial period.

"That's not what I meant," L said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"The thing that I think you are thinking. I wasn't scheming anything. Yagami-san loves his son more than anything. He deserves to know that he's okay."

Light nodded after a brief moment. "I'll call him sometime soon."

"Yes, within the next couple of days, please."

Tick, tick, tick.

It was suddenly as if the fever had never left, because Light was drenched in a chill. Of course, it was nothing that didn't know - in a few days, Interpol's second criminal would not die of a heart attack. L knew damned well, Light knew damned well. After those days, if he called Soichiro, he would be asked, no, commanded to return to headquarters for further investigation. And Light didn't know what to do about that. He couldn't think of anything to do, short of breaking into Interpol files and finding out who he was, so he could kill him himself. But break into Interpol? That was impossible.

Because at times like these, Light Yagami was only human. It was a sin that he didn't know how to forgive. The world would be even less merciful.

If Kira lost, then Kira was evil. Only if Kira won, would he be righteous. It's the victors who choose what goes into history books, after the seconds start ticking again.

"Light-kun is thinking too much again..." Five bony fingers touched his upper arm, rather awkwardly but in an attempt at comfort.

Light sat up. "Not really."

Lawliet also sat up, and gave Light a peculiar look. He pushed his weight forward on his knees, so that he was behind Light. Two slender palms landed on Light's back gently.

"What are you doing?" the surprised brunette asked, turning around.

"No, stay like that," the other insisted. "I'm going to give you a massage. I'm good at that." Upon those words, his thumbs pressed into the skin on his back, circling between the shoulder blades. His fingers joined in soon after, biting like the fangs of a cat into the ruthless knots. "There's a lot of tension built up back here..."

"Ah..." Light tried to hold back the little moan as L worked into his tight shoulders. "Ryuuzaki, ah, Lawliet, you don't have to do that. Please stop."

"You're tensing up even more. It works better if you relax.” His hands worked their way in, starting out more cautiously but becoming more fierce as the seconds ticked by. Fingers pinched into his neck, circling around some strained muscle.

“Unh!” Light squeaked out. It was a pathetic sound, and he blushed because he knew it was. He must have adjusted to the soreness that he had carried (probably ever since he picked up the Death Note), but now that Lawliet was challenging the rigid muscles, it all shot out agonizingly. “Ryuuzaki, I mean, Lawliet, you don’t… ah… it’s okay, I don’t even feel it.”

Lawliet must have misunderstood, because he applied more merciless pressure, like cutting like knives through a jungle of vines on his back. “Can you feel this?”

“Ah… yes, but it hurts.” He hadn’t meant to say that either. Stupid, stupid. He was Kira, why was he whining about some dumb back massage?

“Won’t so much if you relax.” Relentlessly, those probing hands continued their work, battling the knots in his back with expert skill. L was a man of many mysterious talents, if it was fair to call something so painful a 'talent'. “Actually, I’d like you to relax, Light-kun. When you’re so tense, I get tense too.”

That line surprised him, and Light forced out a small laugh. “So it’s all for personal benefit then, right?”

“Say what you will,” came the answer that wasn’t really an answer.

Light tried to take the advice and sit very still during the torture, though he found that the more still he tried to be, the more he subconsciously tightened his muscles. He tried to think coherently, but now everything was a mess. Interpol, contacting his father and Misa, the thirteen days and ugh, Lawliet hit another spot.

But in a way, it felt good. It felt really good. Light just couldn’t tell why.

After an undetermined amount of time, Lawliet’s fingers slowed down. Light could sense the man behind him pause, and then stop altogether while still resting his hands on Light’s back.

“If you’re tired, you can stop,” Light said graciously. “Thanks for going as long as you did. It hurts like hell now, but maybe in the morning I’ll see that your labor has paid off.”

“It will. Trust me.” What a phrase, ‘trust me’. It was empty and meaningless between a pair like them. Being in Paris now only altered the immediate circumstances. It didn't change reality. 'Trust' was nothing more than another blank game of pretend, for further investigative purposes. The games were always facetious, the ironic friendship was in name only, waiting for the chance to backfire and spit venom in the eyes of whoever slipped up first. Not even Paris could deny the fact that they both had knives aimed into the backs of the other.

That day in Moscow, the only reason that I didn't stab him was because I would have been arrested in Russia. It had been a sloppy plan. No reason more. A room where a pair such as them had the opportunity to be honest would be a silent place.

“I suppose I am kind of tired,” Lawliet said softly.

Before Light could turn around, something new was resting on his shoulder - Lawliet’s chin. The raven-haired youth's face turned inward to Light’s neck, pausing, and then out again. But it stayed there, breathing out a little sigh, while Light felt himself tense up so greatly that he was certain that all of L’s work had been undone. What was he trying to do? Was he the one wielding the pocket knife now?

Then, that feeling decreased, the frantic anxiety mutated into... something else, something almost comforting. He let him stay there, until they drooped over to fall into deep sleep.

There was that time, and it felt like a long time ago. It was as though Light were looking back into a faraway childhood memory, even though it was only a month and a half in the past. Perhaps it felt so distant, because that was a time when he wasn’t pretending, and because of that L’s guard also went down. It was all because for awhile, Light wasn’t Kira, and L knew that, and they didn’t need to hide the fierce feelings that they didn’t have.

The long handcuff between the two of them had been a promise: Together, We Will Prevail. It tied their fates together as well as their separate intellects and skills. Sometimes, when working with immense determination, they were a single entity. Together, they were the most fierce opponent that Kira had. (That’s what they thought anyway. It later turned out that Kira outsmarted them.)

Beside from being an unshakable vow, the handcuff was also a source of annoyance and mild frustration. Light, who spent his life sleeping in his own bed, had very meticulous conditions for slumber: it had to be completely dark, completely silent, and without a single other soul in his room. That fantasy was certainly shattered when L hopped on the large bed next to him, muttering an apology about the handcuff, but he still refused to take it off.

That night, Light had woke up, restless. No, something had definitely woken him up, because it was four in the morning and he was too exhausted to just snap awake like he did. Upon adjusting his eyes, he felt something at his side move, squirm slightly, in-and-out breathing. Light turned to see Ryuuzaki, fast asleep but curled up beside him, using his suspect’s arm as a pillow. Awkwardly, Light tried to roll away without waking him, only to find that he was already at the edge of the bed.

And then he smiled, because what the hell. He tightened his arm around Ryuuzaki’s shoulders. When the sun rose, it would be easy enough to forget that it happened. But until then... well, until then.