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L doesn't like cemeteries—they're cold, dark, damp, and unwelcoming—but here we are.
He walks through the rows of headstones—bodies abandoned by their souls—spotting a familiar grave. He smiles sadly to himself, clenching the bouquet of lilies in his hand, paper crinkling from the force.
"Hi," L stood in front of the headstone, looking at the picture. Light looks– looked divine. His greeting was met with expected silence.
He felt his knees giving up on him. It wasn't in his plans to sit on the ground—it was raining, after all, but what can he do?
L placed his black umbrella to cover the rain drops, hastily hitting the ground, and scrunched up under it. His jeans were soaked already, what was there to lose after all...
"I caught him." L spoke to Light, closing his eyes. He pictured them sitting in headquarters before everything happened.
If only he believed Light.
He glanced up at his watch—the watch Light wore before he passed—January 22nd, 2005, 6:39 PM.
"Me and Watari found Kira..." His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he didn't believe his words himself. "I arranged it so I could be the one giving him the lethal injection."
L looked around, "Your father and the rest of the taskforce resigned after your passing. I already told you that, but.." L chewed on his thumbnail, accidentally drawing out blood.
"I'm sorry that I never believed you when you swore you weren't Kira." L finally placed the bouquet on the grave, his hand staying a little longer than it should've, the cold stone sensation bursting through his body like flash. L can still remember Light's body falling limp, experiencing cardiac arrest. His eyes were wide like cherry pies, bubbles coming out of his mouth... The image is colourful yet dull in his mind, burning onto his eyelids and marking his temporal lobe.
He doesn't know why Kira went for Light. That night, the night Light died—he was convinced L Lawliet got written in that damn notebook. How does a notebook even acquire such power? It's so... Stupid.
But, turns out, the Shinigami wrote Light Yagami instead—killing a poor, innocent boy. They found weird sand and the notebook itself in a completely different room in the building. L remembers the exact way Light's name was written—messy and smudged.
Oh, Light.
"I.. I was supposed to go back to England in a few days, but I cancelled." L doesn't want to admit it, but he got attached. Attached to a person, human being. The only problem is—it is a dead person. "I don't want.. to be away from you."
The wheel—an emotion wheel Watari got him at twelve years of age, which L took a mental picture of and haven't touched since, appeared and spun in L's head, choosing random emotions and wondering when he felt them. He imagined Awful. His brain pictured a detailed image of the night Light died. It had L walking up the stairs, legs barely working. He moved onto the green category and chose Tired. He saw himself shaking, alone, wishing Light was there after his insomnia worsened, leaving him sleepless for five days in a row. Peaceful. Light and the rest of the task force bonding while playing card games. Guilt. He opened his eyes and saw Light's tombstone. Weak. He saw his own reflection through the glass protecting Light's picture.
"You know, Light-kun," He spoke, his words slurred slightly, "I never knew what I would do after the Kira case. I've always been a reserved person, knowing what I'll do after each case, but..." He caressed the stems of the flowers sticking out of the soaked paper bag, "Spending time with you changed me and how I view the world."
"I regret not being able to meet you differently." He closed his eyes yet again, leaning in to rest his head against the tip of the stone.
If ghosts exist, Light most likely is looking down at him with rage in his expression. He probably hates L. He has every right to.
L hasn't noticed that the rain dripping onto his cheeks tasted salty.
"I'll forever remember you, Light–"
"Who is this?" A sharp, masculine voice pierced through the endless sound of rain drops—Ah, Soichiro. Before Light's death, he would've been happy to hear the man. But now, he was scared.
Soichiro blames L for what happened that night. He has every right to...
But, the problem is, Soichiro didn't want L to go anywhere near Light's grave. He said that if he ever saw him near Light's tombstone, then–
"Dad, it's oni-chan's friend. I remember him." Light's little sister, Sayu, spoke out from under her umbrella, slowly walking over to L. She crouched and peeked under L's cover, gently smiling at the sight of the wet, trembling detective being that terrified of her father. She knew he could he intimidating.
"Ryuga." She spoke, her voice was soft and caring.
"What did you just say, Sayu?"
"Ryuga?"
Soichiro stayed silent as he walked over to L's umbrella, standing over it before grabbing the end top with two fingers and pulling it up, finally revealing the image of the detective shivering, wet and mumbling prayers to himself in his head.
"Ryuzaki." Soichiro spoke, not a single bit of gentleness in his tone.
L opened his mouth, trying to talk—nothing came out. What a great time to go non-verbal.
He looked at the father of his deceased friend with a terrified expression. It almost made him look like a small puppy that got abandoned on the side of the road.
"Oh, dear, aren't you Light's friend?" Sachiko, Light's mom, spoke gently—words getting caught in her throat as a result of seeing the sight. He bets he looks stupid. Like a wet rat, or a raccoon.
"You could get badly sick!" She ran over to him, picking him up and wrapping a towel around his head. He doesn't know why they have a towel here in the first place. He doesn't care.
The touch made him remember Light, drying his hair on those stairs, warm hands caressing his freezing skin after.
After a moment, Sayu looked at him again, "Ryuga?" L titled his head.
"Are you crying?"
Was he crying?
Well, he supposes rain wasn't supposed to be salty.
Watari.. Where are you?
L sniffed a little, trying to use sign language to symbolize he is non-verbal, but the two ladies didn't seem to understand him.
He was sure Soichiro left to grab a gun and fire it at him as revenge, but instead, he felt two arms grab him by his shoulders and push him into their embrace.
The last time someone hugged him was the night Light died. The last time someone who wasn't Light hugged him was... Hm.
L hung like a doll in Soichiro's hug. Then, he slowly wrapped his arms around the man, feeling him rub his back.
That's when he started letting out his sobs, ugly cries—L wasn't a pretty crier. His face got red, eyes bulged and nose always was runny afterwards.
But he didn't care. He never felt this emotion before. Regret? Guilt? Pain? The wheel stopped spinning, he doesn't know what he feels. For the first time in his life, he doesn't know.
So, he let Soichiro handle him—Let Soichiro safety buckle him into his backseat after talking to Light, he let the man change his clothes, let him feed him, let him show L where Light stayed before joining the investigation, let him get L to sleep in one of their spare rooms and let him take care of himself until Watari returned and took him home.
While waiting for Watari, he sat with Sayu. They both didn't speak.
L's head hung low, fidgeting with his nails—until he heard Soichiro talking.
"I don't know why I feel the need to care for him," He heard the man sitting down on their couch, groaning. "It's like Light would want me to. I feel it."
L smiled to himself. Coincidence? That's the most likely option—but, detectives are allowed to dream, aren't they?
What if, in another life, Light would be alive and he would've died instead?
Or, even better—he and Light would be alive together in that world, working on cases, eating cake and having physical fights regularly...
L can only hope once he reincarnates—if the process even exists—he will find Light, never letting him go again.