Sweet Little Lies

We Feel Like A Ghost Story

"Ryuzaki, what do you suppose, in your opinion, a criminal gains from willingly confessing?"

Light knew L would find it peculiar. Silence, then all of a sudden, not. Because the unexpected question had been voiced and the journey of a china cup to pale lips halted. L never acted surprised. When he was caught off guard, most of the time, he would discontinue any movement except that of enlarged eyes—maybe with the addition of a raised eyebrow or look of deep irritation. He appeared this way now, as Light agreed, it was definitely a suspicious thing to say...𝒕𝒐𝒐 suspicious in fact, that when it came to Light Yagami, it wasn't suspicious at all because...Light Yagami would never ask a question like that.

The boy couldn't blame others for feeling greatly unnerved by L's incessant inspection...his black-holed stare. Midnight eyes of intrigue did so now, as though they were attempting to pick apart Light's brain for every reasoning, every answer...𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. He saw past Light's face, like he wasn't a person at 𝒂𝒍𝒍, but a puzzle; a conundrum.

"And why would Light Yagami ask 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕?"

There would never be an instance in which Light would be divulging that information.

"I'm just curious as to what you think, as always"

Light forced a smile that most likely appeared patronising but he was yet to care. The given explanation wasn't dishonest, however. Genuinely, Light was curious as to what L would come out with. The boy, had earlier today, engaged in a shameful encounter where lustfully, he confessed to being 𝑲𝒊𝒓𝒂...a said-aloud secret, that caused him to squirm; his body to feel good. He couldn't fully gauge 𝒘𝒉𝒚...but he would have L's opinion soon, because the detective slowly placed down his cup in preparation to speak, as he sat opposite Light at the dining table.

"Criminals, especially serial murderers; people who have committed especially heinous acts commonly like the notoriety of their actions...and it can excite them for people to know of their crimes...but you know that already..."

Of course this was known. It had been known for years. Criminology; 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚—the study of the insane was a common practice and essential to 𝒂𝒏𝒚 case. Criminals had various profiles. They were basic, predictable, and easily assorted into their own categories. Most serial killers—the most ill-famed Light could think of in this moment—were single males, who projected a complex with their mother, onto their victims. It was pathetic. But, Kira was not like this. Light did not care for notoriety. All he cared for was the completion of a mission for a better world—the greater good. The boy; the exceptional young man, he had a stable mind, a grounded perspective. Light did not dwell within disillusion, he was different from 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒔. This is why there was a lack of certainty surrounding his judgement because...𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔?

'𝑬𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆' - it was a key word. Light had experienced a rush of exhilaration. His own thoughts that manifested themselves into an image of L, made him speak of a desire for Light to confess, for the excitement of the detective. But Light 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆?...so why?

"I just wondered if you had any additional thoughts...that is all—your outlook is customarily unique"

A calmed body breathed evenly as L examined it, like this was an interrogation. Light leaned into the back of his chair with crossed legs and forced nonchalance to combat the growing tension. It was sickening, how obvious the detective wanted to 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 every aspect of Light's confidence. When he would sit like this, or smirk, or laugh a certain way, L would glare past his skin as though the boy's bones were something he needed to claim. The detective 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅...how pathetic.