Too Little Too Late

Give Me Just One Thing

"Ryuuzaki, let's- go to bed."

L's eyes drifted from the glaring screen that had been abusing them for several hours towards Light's soft voice as he otherwise made no move to acknowledge the request --or demand really, except it wasn't, not with the hesitance in his voice, even bricked up with self assurance as it was. The words had undoubtedly been picked out carefully before-hand, all of this scripted, rehearsed even, but that didn't necessarily mean it was staged. There was a vulnerability beneath it all, faintly showing through the cracks in the caricature, those that were barely visible from the outside and only that to the trained eye, but which L knew ran deep and jagged throughout Light's being, that even after months of observing and picking apart the layers and layers and layers of this boy's unstable but absolutely beautiful mind was mostly unfamiliar. He could easily spot it when Light was being insincere, to such an extent that it was as ridiculously obvious as if he was literally shoving rainbows up the asses of all those around, but any trace of actual honesty, as there'd seemed to be an abundance of since the end of his confinement, was completely mystifying. And the external evidence of the brokenness L had known was there all along, this unsure, insecure part of Light --Light, who before had kept is so deeply buried that he hadn't been conscious of it himself-- that had surfaced only a small handful times since the handcuffs had first closed over their wrists... It wasn't at all as satisfying as he would have imagined. 

It also made it slightly more difficult to discern exactly what he meant despite the clear invitation in the weight behind his words. It was his attitude, the somber stillness. There was a hesitance but also...acceptance.  Of L? Of this situation? Of what he was asking for? This wasn't the Light he knew; this wasn't how he would have approached something like this. He would have been playful, in that way that had taken sharp edges and beaten them down to a glossy smooth; polished, that was Light. This was...soft. Fragile. Whatever was left after everything L knew of Light was gone. No, not everything, not quite. Because this was calculated. Conflicted. Thought through over and over, edited, revised, rewritten. That pre-thought, that careful control, it was familiar from L's dealings with Light but held an entirely different nature. That Light, Kira --perhaps by the time he'd gone into that cell there hadn't been any true piece of Light left-- used pretense and masks to project an alternate version of reality, the reality he had constructed in his head, that romanticized perspective of justice, of government, of brilliance --it was almost as if Light had been replaced completely by Kira at some point early on and Kira had just been acting out the role of a dedicated young prodigy, and now Kira had somehow been banished and Light returned. This Light --this light-- used pretense and calculation to accurately express reality, the reality he'd suddenly found himself in and of his reactions to it; of an overwhelmed, broken, insecure, worn, persevering, capable, incredible, human, teen-aged boy. L knew he didn't have much experience with truly expressing himself --because why would he? He'd never had anyone who would have anything meaningful to say in return, any of the comfort or the answers he'd be seeking-- and so he'd put thought behind this, made his words deliberate and concise, his expression shuttered, open but only to reveal what he chose to, in order to convey the relevant portion of what he was thinking: he wanted this.

What L wanted to know was why. Why now, when they still hadn't made any progress, when L still had nothing to reassure him that Light truly was innocent at the moment (other than his own ego thinking he knew Light, or at least had know Kira) or to explain how he possibly could be. Light knew that L was wary of him --he'd made it quite clear on multiple occasions just in case the handcuffs weren't enough to clue him in-- so why would he do this now when he knew that it would only make him more suspicious? But he must have also known that L didn't know, was unsure, of Light, of Kira, of everything, because L wouldn't have released him if he'd thought that Light really had been acting in that car, and he wouldn't have even put him in that situation and risked Chief Yagami's death and Kira's escape if he hadn't thought that Light was innocent, changed, and Light knew that. L might have tried to believe that this was a ploy, a way to get something from him, whether it be his trust or simply the knowledge that he'd duped the world's greatest detective into thinking that Light Yagami would ever want to sleep with him, would ever want him, or even just to know that the world's greatest detective wanted him; any of the three would have been plausible before that car, before the cell, before this Light, Light. So why would this Light want this? Comfort?