Sweet Little Lies

Two Weeks Too Long

It had been two weeks...𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔. Since the men had spoken properly, since Light had ignored L's manipulatively 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒆 confession. It made Light angry. Angrier than when they 𝒉𝒂𝒅 communicated.

Every morning. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 morning, Light would wake up, L would be laying beside him. L would stretch and yawn, his shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of the abdominal v line to his toned stomach. He'd smile all too gently...all too suspiciously at Light. It made Light 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚.

Every morning...Light would do his daily exercise, a difficult task to achieve while chained to another man. But with practice he'd gotten used to it. What he hadn't gotten used to, was L. L would sit in his habitual hunched stance, a curious thumb stroking his bottom lip leisurely while he watched Light's routine attentively. The detective's stare was hard to ignore, it seemed to follow all the different lines of Light's contracting muscles. Every tightening 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉 of the younger man's slender muscularity was analysed. Each bead of perspiration that dampened the end's of brunette strands was accounted for by the unwavering eyes of the detective. It made Light uncomfortable. It made Light 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚. Angry enough to exert himself 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆, from the motivation of annoyance at L's enjoyment of the display.

Every morning, when they would undress from their nightwear and L would release the boy's wrist from confinement...he would linger his long fingers over the sensitive underside of Light's wrist for 𝒇𝒂𝒓 longer than necessary. As of late, Light resorted to wearing high-necked attire, an effort to hide the evidence of L's presence on his skin from the task force....and his own reflection. Whenever Light would cover the yellowing bruise, L's stoic face would drop even more so than could be expected.

"It would be nice...if you refrained from concealing it from me. Just once."

It would cause the boy to flinch instinctively - heat rushing to his cheeks in an uncontrollable response of 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.

Each day, when Light would style his hair in front of the mirror, L would stand behind him. He would stand far too close, his dark foreboding presence loitering like a shadow; cold eyes causing goosebumps to spread over Light's body, shuddering within the icy air despite the heat from the blow-drier. It was rather...embarrassing in some way. Light took longer than L to get ready, Light couldn't help but feel slightly 𝒃𝒂𝒅 for stalling the detective from his investigative duties...until he remembered, L was a complete asshole who was currently completing his 'detective duties' by observing his unwilling 'suspect' so intently. Light wondered what the percentage of him being a murderer had come to in L's head since Light's new absence of acknowledgment. He could probably figure it out, if he thought about it. However, the goal of Light's silence toward his unfavourable roommate was to 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 thinking about him, and divert all his attention to the Kira case's success. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 where Light's contribution was needed most.

The two men possessed the useful ability of working together like robots on a production line, working seamlessly, successfully communicating with a lack of communication. The task force knew something was going on. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚, Matsuda would laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, and in some variation say the same thing.

"Hey! Light, is everything okay with you and Ryuzaki? I've noticed you still haven't been acting like yourself. Do you...need to talk...or something?"

Matsuda was a good person who meant well...unlike 𝑳. So Light couldn't be 𝒕𝒐𝒐 mad at him.

"Everything is okay Matsuda, Ryuzaki and I are just focusing all our attention on work. I apologise if we've left you out of the loop, but you needn't ask again."