Sweet Little Lies

A Dream Came True

"You didn't take a lot of things to your room...do you need more?"

L watched as Light combed his hair in the mirror. Watching turned to touching when the detective could no longer resist. Skin was still slightly dampened from the brunette, ceasing at the nape of his neck. Pale fingertips travelled up the line of a smooth back, between scapula, and into the fluffy, invisible young hairs preceding the thick, long locks of rich sepia that decorated his skull.

This same, pale hand had been amongst the same head of hair, moments prior. In the shower, Light was on his hands and knees. The detective pulled brunette from behind as he gasped. Hips drove into Kira's body repeatedly—𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, like the hot shower air that stifled them.

Light's actions halted—interrupted by the detective's investigative fingers. They danced like a spider over his bare skin. Soft, almost indistinct when deciding to be gentle. He lowered the comb, to place it on the marble countertop. L remembered the array of various products that neatly encircled the sink. It was a ritual of sorts that Light would do every day. It looked empty now, without all of his things. Some had been left however—stored in a cabinet. Sometimes L would open up the bottles and smell them. The detective took it as Light's indirect, unspoken 𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏—not packing 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈—that he was going to die; that L had a time limit on his life. If L were to live on, there wouldn't be any need to leave a lot of his belongings behind. Had Light tampered with the hands of L's clock? Just for his own fancy, because that's what a god could do? A god, could effortlessly decide a man's expiry—is this what Light Yagami thought? Was he in the mood to be merciful, just because he 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅, so flippantly? Had Light Yagami the '𝑮𝒐𝒅' ordered time itself to halt, and it did so at the instruction of a divine being? When did Kira want L to die?

"I can always come back and get more some other time"

"Or you could stay"

There was a weight on his shoulder; arms around his waist. L rested a chin in the cradle of Light's neck. The pair caught eyes in the mirror.

Light's hand had forged a path in the condensation—dragged his palm's impression over the glass and it was within this reflective portal that they could view one another.

"You want me to stay?"

It wasn't a flawless medium to see his boy. Gravity existed, and it pulled on the cooling steam to submit to its inevitability. Thin streams of moisture ran over where Light had wiped the mirror clean. It was alike to viewing his boy's face in a diluted 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕. This was always how things were now, though. Except, Light lived behind a dense fog - Kira in his stead.

"Is that what I said? I don't remember saying that"

L wasn't that warm any longer. Light grimaced as the detective wrapped arms around him. He'd put another shirt on and it stuck to his wet skin, making it damp, and cold. Black hair remained saturated, also. Flattened and long, it clung to his hollow cheekbones. The wide neck of his most commonly worn article, fit him poorly. Clearly, the man had unthinkingly put it on. Now, it opened over his slender shoulder—exposing a prominent collarbone, and disappearing his left hand, entirely within his lengthened sleeve.

A soaking wet accumulation of bones clung to Light's back like a barnacle. Bones and intellect. His face was pretty. Strange and uncanny but pretty because of it. Beforehand, Light had been dry; a towel tied around his hips. Never mind that now though.

"So that '𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚' was—"

"Just an objective suggestion, void of any personal involvement"