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It was Light’s mother who had first taken him out to a rooftop.
They were visiting her parents- for the last time, before they died, not that he had known it at the time- and Sachiko had led him gently by the hand to the roof access door of their apartment building and beckoned him to lie down next to her. The dusk was just settling in, colours dashing themselves across the sky as the sun dragged below the horizon.
“From up here,” she had told him, “you can forget just about everything else.” Light, at 6 years old, remembered thinking that she must be right. Staring straight up, the entire world vanished out of his periphery. All there was was the sky and the pale stars and all the feeling of the wind. He imagined he was floating there, in space, and his world was nowhere at all. He was king of the void.
“There it is,” Sachiko smiled at him, dragging his attention away from the deep vastness, sitting up and guiding his eyes behind them, to the other horizon. “There’s the moon. Though, my moon is right here, isn’t he.”
Light giggled. He lay himself back down and buried himself in the warmth of his mother’s side, one eye still scanning the ever-darkening skyline, watching as the light traded itself for the moon.
—
The next time Light was on that rooftop, it was because he couldn’t stand being in that stuffy apartment as his parents tidied up the last of his grandparents’ belongings.
He flung his weight through the door with all the might his little body could muster and as it slammed open he couldn’t help but think about how wrong he had been before: he wasn’t above the world. The tears flooded his face and they wouldn't stop coming, choking him and biting his throat. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his new black blazer his parents had bought him for the funeral, not caring how he might be scolded for making such a mess of it so quickly.
The cold air brought a fresh chill to his spine.
He wandered the small roof aimlessly, letting his feet guide him instead of his brain. He was tired of letting his brain lead him. All it ever seemed to do was hurt him.
Eventually his feet lead him to the small ledge at the edge of the building. He stepped up on the lip with little effort and finally his feet stopped. Light wasn’t afraid of heights, it was something he prided himself on for his age, yet another, and staring down at the city below a different sensation struck him. Not vertigo, not exactly, but at the same time that lurking feeling of falling (-or trying to fall?) crept into his skin. He sobbed again, sniffed, and looked around- Light felt the oddest feeling that he was doing something wrong. He looked upwards, at the cool December’s midday sun, then back down at the streets. While the sky was dead and flat, the ground was alive. How could he possibly forget that? All the living that people were doing below him? How could he not hear that, hear their own pain and misery, ignore it like a god in heaven ignoring their prayers? He couldn’t be a god up in the sky, like his namesake, but maybe from up here he could be in charge of the far below.
He wanted to walk among them. It was entirely unconscious what his body was doing, taking baby steps ahead, his brain was racing at a million miles for hour as it cycled between channels- the blue of the sky- his mother’s cries as they handed her the urn- the texture of his dress trousers- the fuzzy details down below- the photos placed at the funeral- the way Sayu had clung to their father’s leg and buried her face in him- and he tried, he tried to block all of it out but the cacophony of traffic could not be drowned out by the crows cawing in the sky as much as he willed them to. He desperately wanted to think of anything else, anything, but death just kept coming.
Light opened up the eyes he didn’t even realise he had screwed up and felt it all drain away as he gazed down. That indescribable feeling was back. He was closer now, to the edge, he must have moved without realising, and he leant to get a better look on his kingdom. His toes hung over the edge.
His father’s shout and frantic running footsteps almost achieved the opposite of what they were supposed to do, but Light collapsed under his embrace.
“Get away from the edge,” he commanded, breathless and red-eyed. “We were looking for you everywhere, and you could have gotten yourself- hurt yourself. Don’t go scaring us like that again, alright?”
Light didn’t answer, just wept into his shirt.
—
Maybe it was because his mother was the one who had brought him there, but when Light first sought out death, the first place he looked for was a roof.
He was 16 years old, and it was the anniversary of Sachiko’s death and like clockwork, his father had worked late again. It was as if he liked torturing himself by reminding himself what it felt like to abandon his family. Light had said as much when they’d fought after he came home.
Because they had fought. Sayu was (supposedly) asleep in bed and it was nearly 1am and Soichiro had thought apparently that that meant it was the right time to drop through the door as if he hadn’t left them alone. Alone on that day, that day specifically. Light had screamed until his voice went hoarse that why the hell did it have to be that day? Why could he not just be there for them for once, dammit? Why wasn’t he the one making Sayu dinner and asking her how her day was and how she was holding up that day and why the hell was all he could say some stupid excuse about needing to finish something up? What was more important than this? Than her? Was justice really worth more than them?
And when Soichiro had said that he was here now, for gods sake Light had just stopped and stared and answered that the day is fucking over, you’re back after the day is fucking over because you can’t even face us now like you could then. At least in that fucking hospital room you had the decency to look us in the eyes. Are you gonna start pretending she died on this day instead? Are you gonna lie to yourself and say you were there for us now so who cares about then? Because I was there yesterday, not you. Why the hell am I playing your part? Why am I the one making sure Sayu eats?
And his father had told him that you do your bit so well, you look after her when I can’t Light had bit back without a second’s hesitation and who is gonna look after me? Because it isn’t ever going to be you and his father sighed, years etched deep into his face that he does care, even if you can’t see it, Light, I swear on everything left that matters that I would lay down my life to protect you
I’m not asking you to die for me, Light had barked, biting back tears, I’m asking you to live with me.
His silence was an admission of defeat. Light took it as a sign that his father couldn’t conform to his terms. He slammed the front door on his way out, the set of keys his father had got made when he realised that Light needed to be able to get himself home when Soichiro wasn’t back first still jingling in the lock.
He didn’t plan on retrieving them.
Light wasn't quite sure where he was running, just up the hill at the end of his street towards the outskirts of the metropolitan city area.
When he saw an old office block with a faulty fire escape door he didn’t even hesitate, throwing himself through the entrance with complete disregard to a potential alarm system or cameras. As he would come to realise, there weren’t any in that particular stairwell.
Up on the roof, he felt like he could breathe. He was god of his own little world up here, and the weight of down below couldn't reach him. He was master of his own fate, in complete control of whether he continued his own life or not. He felt powerful, knowing that. His only bargaining chip was his own life, and here he could use it.
It was cloudy, but the glow of the moon still pushed through the sky.
Light's voice was already broken but he screamed until barely a sound came out, a deep guttural rending being the last noise to echo into the night, swallowed by the wind. He wanted to give every last drop of himself before he died. Leave nothing inside his hollow shell. Give it all to the night. His breaths ripped through him, too fast and too shallow. His vision swam even as he sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself tightly, clutching like he was holding broken shards together. Illuminated by the glow of the fire escape sign some feet away, he stayed there, near-fetal on the concrete, desperately clinging onto himself, trying to force his breathing to something resembling healthy. The air whistled through his teeth.
“I can’t...” Light whispered into the night. “I can’t keep doing this… I- I can’t- I just…” he trailed off. “I’m so tired,” he exhaled, and the sob that followed brought with it a strangled smile. He laughed, despite everything. Not a big laugh, just stark enough to cut through the heaviness in the air. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Light stumbled as he first got up, legs numb and shaky, but he slowly made his way over to the ledge. He was struck with the realisation that this building was an awful lot taller than his grandparents’ apartment. He could see each curve of the river as it sliced its way through the city, he could see the park, see in the far distance the looming NPA building and hotels dotting the skyline. The sight hitched his breath.
He paused halfway through apologising to Sayu for leaving her all alone.
The moon was peaking out from behind the clouds now.
“Mom,” he groaned, each syllable unravelling the tightly wound ball of grief in his chest. With every inhale he found a new loose thread. Every exhale was one more than she’d had. “Mom, why did you have to leave me?” He cried, ducking his head down into his chest. His arms were outspread and he could feel every last whisper of the wind between his fingers, and yet he felt none of the 6 years that had passed since he was gripping her bedside with one hand, phone in the other helplessly ringing out. “I can’t do this alone. Why did you have to leave this all to me?”
He hacked at the itch in his chest as if he could dislodge the grief from his throat, hurl it all up and not feel it anymore, throw away the bundle of pain and then feel the ease of suicide. Oh god, he was going to be sick.
Sayu. Mom. If only she could see him now. But she couldn’t. She’d left him alone to deal with everything and even though he loved her so much it had never been enough- he knew, ok, he knew that love couldn't have stopped what happened, but at that moment he couldn’t help but think that love should have made him not be alone when she had left. Love should have been enough to bring his father into that room on time to say goodbye. And every day that Light turned that stupid key in the lock and said good night to Sayu it felt like he was losing someone all over again, losing his father slowly every single day. He couldn’t take any more loss. He swallowed hard. It didn’t dislodge the blockage in his throat, the pain that burned his lungs. The void was calling to him, and his feet were half off the edge of the roof already.
He tried again, tried to find the words to apologise to Sayu.
“Mom,” he croaked out again in lieu. “Mom…” No more words found their way to his tongue, but other thoughts buried their way into his mind, his sister, her night, her morning, hoping it was better than his, hoping she wouldn’t mind too much, hoping she got herself up in the morning on time and didn’t burn her toast and ate some fruit every once in a while.
Thinking of her now, though, Light realised with sinking deep seated certainty that the game was up: he couldn’t do it, couldn't do that to Sayu all over again- not today- especially not now that she could remember it- see his corpse as clearly as he could see their mother’s.
He didn’t really think of his father in that regard. In fact, the cruellest little part just wanted to see his father to be part of the police cordon as they waited for a cleaner.
Light backed away from the ledge, nearly tripping over his own feet in the haste to get away.
He didn’t come down from the rooftop all night though, no, he just laid on his back and tried to spot the stars through the haze. As it turned out, there were a lot more than he’d thought when he actually tried to look.
—
They say it takes 21 days to build a habit, but Light stopped counting after 2 weeks of ritually returning to that same spot at least once every few days.
Maybe he should have felt uncomfortable coming back to the place he’d felt his darkest, but rather than discomfort, it felt more like peace; a place which had heard his voice and hadn't reviled. It was like having friends, in a way, he’d thought one day, having someone to turn to.
Light did have friends, he had a small group with whom he talked every day about school and plans and the lighthearted stuff but- but none of what was real that he could possibly say to them could be as simple as that. How could he possibly explain the knot in his chest that never went away? How could he expect them to understand that every moment of every day he mourned two people, and one of them wasn’t even dead? How could they ever react in the right way if he mentioned that he snuck off to a rooftop sometimes just to sit and watch the world go by and convince himself that he was stronger than the Appel du vide which told him to push himself off the ledge with his palms and hit the ground chest first, and he was right to not listen to it before? That he tried to kill himself before? Even his father didn’t know, he couldn’t. It was out of his reach. He could never understand suicide.
The world didn’t get to see anyone other than the soft and gentle boy who floated through life as if he weren’t even there. He wouldn’t let them see the rest.
And so, two weeks or not, it became a pattern. A habit.
Sayu noticed him coming home later, so he told her he’d got a job. He’d have to sort one out soon, a real one, to keep the game up. He was sure he’d seen that the izakaya pub near the university was hiring for waitstaff, they’d probably let him in.
Once, he’d risked a visit late at night. The grief was drowning him again- or near to it- and if he stayed cooped up in his room the rising tide was going to suffocate him. The thoughts swelled like a crashing wave in his mind and the walls were too close and it was too hot for this time of night and he just couldn’t- couldn't deal with it all in here.
He took a key with him that time.
It seemed the fire escape door was never going to be fixed, not as long as he propped it open discretely and the overworked office workers who droned around there during the day never noticed it. They didn’t even notice when he tiptoed his way up there during working hours, even when he saw their cars parked outside and men in suits milling about with their cigarettes and tired expressions.
And above them all, the last soul in that radius, he could breathe again. The cool air whipped at his hair and clothes and grounded him to the real world again. Despite what every urge told him, Light didn’t approach the edge.
He didn’t want to be tempted.
Instead, he followed his mothers command from all those years ago. He lay down, let the rest of the world fade from his vision and for a fleeting moment he was floating in the void again, weightless and without a single care to drag him down.
When he had got home however, the door was still unlocked and his father was at the kitchen table. An empty glass sat before him, and his stern expression dug a pit in Light’s stomach.
“Where were you?” He asked before Light even took his assumed position in the chair opposite. His tone was even, never raised, Light wasn't sure he’d ever heard his father’s voice truly shouting, even when they’d fought. That was what made his anger scary, the coolness.
“…I was working. I thought Sayu would have told you.”
“Where do you work?”
“At the Izakaya bar, near the economics university.” He quickly answered.
“Really? And where after that?”
“What do you mean?”
“They closed an hour ago, Light.”
“I needed to clean up, close everything down, you know how long that can take,” he tried to laugh it off, but something in his fathers expression still doubted him.
“You should know that 16 year olds can’t be working past 10pm, particularly in places that serve alcohol. I’ll go down there tomorrow and speak to them about making sure they abide by these rules if they're going to keep employing you.”
Light’s eyes widened momentarily in panic.
“No- no, it’s fine, I’ll tell them myself. You don’t need to give yourself even more to do. I’m still looking after Sayu, anyway.”
“Yes, I know. I spoke to her when I got home, Light. She said she didn’t hear you leave until after she’d gone to bed. That was half past 11 at night, son. You weren’t at work. So where were you?”
“You don’t need to monitor everywhere I go, alright? Sayu was safe, the door was locked, I can look after myself!”
“I just want to know where you were, Light, if you were safe-“
“Oh, so now you care about my safety? You want to know how I’m doing? Keep an eye on me like a good parent?”
“We don’t need to go there, Light.”
“We do when it’s that. When it’s you not being there for the last 6 years-“
“I’ve been here-“
“You’ve paid the bills and given me money to do our grocery shopping, sure.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a job that needs to be done, to keep us all safe.”
“If you were doing such a good job then why were you so scared I was out on my own?”
“… where were you, Light?”
For some reason foreign to Light, those words made his eyes and throat burn.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself this time, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The silence between them stretched indefinitely with only the obnoxiously loud clock ticking as a marker.
Soichiro’s expression was somewhere between shock, grief and guilt all at once. He had looked up sharply at the admission, but even as Light shrugged his flannel back onto his shoulders and slowly lumbered his way out of the chair and back upstairs, Soichiro didn’t say a word, didn’t call out, just felt the pain sting and simmer there.
Neither man brought it up again, not the next morning or the one after that. They fell into the same old routine, and if Sayu heard through her bedroom floor that was nobody’s business but her own.
—
Just as Soichiro’s schedule continued to be erratic and ever lengthening, and as Light took care of the house, and as constant as the fact that the days were getting longer and hotter as August dragged on, Light carried on going to the roof. Never at night, never when he might be caught. It was his space, it belonged to him more than it did the company that owned or rented this block.
He lurked to find some peace or because he was peaceful already and didn’t want to have that shattered or because he nearly failed a maths test and needed somewhere to scream or because he wanted to berate himself for not standing up for Kamoda when that ass Sakota bullied him again or because he was desperate to feel in control of something, anything. And sometimes, in the most idle way, that something was the amount of time left in his life.
More often than not, he would sit or stand right at the closest edge of the building, feet feeling the corner where the trim cut off and the sky began.
He didn’t ever try to jump, or even fall. He just had a hunger deep inside of him to feel it. Light desired more than anything to feel like he could die, and revelled in it. He was the god of his little world. He answered to no man and had no obligation to anyone anywhere anymore. He was not a human. He was Schrödinger's cat, floating between dead and not dead, on the precipice.
Sometimes he would just sit there and apologise, again and again and again and again and
—
4 years dragged by. Light never stopped going back, never broke his addiction to the thrill of shouting to the void and it answering back with a voice full of beckoning whispers. It was a high he could not quit.
It was common sense, therefore, that when he realised that the death note was real and a shinigami was haunting him already, he ran there and finally took the plunge.
It came as quite the disturbance when the death note came flying back at him. He wondered if the shinigami would bother doing the same to him if he followed it.
He never got to finish his apology.