Sweet Little Lies

Love?

L gave thought to many things. So many things, that the change of moonlight climbing across the bed, pulling with it darkness to unveil the sun - was swift. As if sped up video, and the detective accounted for every shortened minute as Light breathed on him. It wasn't long enough to appropriately dissect every winding track of reflection within L's vast brain. Because every deliberation's conclusion, was at the end of a road with many interesting temptations that would distract the detective before he could reach them. His mind liked to wander. Light's mind didn't do this. It was certain. The boy set out to do something, and he did it, there was no dawdling over distracting notions on his way to do so, he was disciplined like that.
It just wasn't enough 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. Because L was still unsure. Not unsure over his regard for the young man flattening a perfect face against his chest, but how to tackle this situation.

'𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝑹𝒚𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒌𝒊'
Replayed over and over in his head. Was it true? Light tended to avoid saying things like that to L, unless he meant them. But he was drunk, and tired...𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆? What even 𝒘𝒂𝒔 that foreign feeling others felt for each other?

'𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖'

That's what Paulo Coelho stated in 'The Alchemist'. L remembered when he once read that; thinking it impossible. People paved their own way through life, finding their own reason for existence. Whether this was through a strong and determined stride, like Light Yagami's, or floating with meandering nonchalance, as L's body tended to do - it was as a result of one's own actions. Sure, detective had decided to take the Kira case, and yes, suspect had decided to be Kira. They were responsible for their meeting. However, it still seemed 𝒔𝒐 circumstantial, L would almost be willing to accept the universe's intervention.

Robert A. Heinlein once stated: '𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆' 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏'

Was Light's happiness, essential to the detective's 𝒐𝒘𝒏?
L remembered when the boy had been sad. When he looked genuinely at a loss of hope, in comparison to when he sported that determined grin of his.

"We are gonna catch him no matter 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 Ryuzaki!!"

Then his head would be buried amongst a case file for hours - resoluteness unwavering. He really was amazing, L didn't quite know how the other half of their duo did it. Right now, he was carrying the pair of them, without complaint.

It was true, when the boy was upset, (though he denied it, it was obvious). When he 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 was disheartened - the detective was disheartened too. What about the other way around? L was always, somewhat miserable, if Light felt as he claimed, did this mean 𝒉𝒆 was also somewhat miserable? This hadn't previously been considered. Though, the detective had gotten an impression of firmly unchanging feelings of regard, from a boy who liked L as he is. The detective also liked Light just the way he is; able to look upon all his faults with fondness - because that's 𝒉𝒊𝒎, without those faults, it wouldn't be.

The boy could be a serial killer, but his sleeping face was fascinatingly beautiful. Everything tended to be analysed in a specific way by the detective - who saw constant grids with measuring rulers and diagrams. Big eyes were so, to take in all aspects of an environment. Left to right, top to bottom. L's vision was in constant analysis of absolutely everything within the wide scope of his vicinity. It was a useful skill, it meant he didn't have to move when tired, because a far reaching gaze could do it for him. Bearing all this in mind, of course, it didn't take any time at all, to notice how good looking this anomaly of a young man was. Everything was perfectly in proportion. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 was perfect. Not just from the other side of a sickly, rose-tinted, sight-altering filter of affection. But as a state of fact, objective observation; mathematics. Light was 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕. But the balance between man-made plastic doll and real person was still, somehow, tipped toward human. The boy had warmth in his eyes, he smiled and his flesh was soft, palpable; able to be moved - gripped. It was an unending riveting topic for the study of L's wide-eyed stare. The longer black pools lingered, the more layers of Light's personality would be drenched; soaked through beyond repair, only to fall away. The detective was glad this happened. They were very close now.