Idea: L Change the World!L and Death Note ending!Light meeting. They just end up hugging weirdly and think about crawling under eachother's skin so that they never get left alone again.
There is no afterlife. Light has known this for a long time. Heaven's gates closed when Ryuk's words reached his ears. It's why Light tried to stuff every last gloat he possibly could into L's last moments; he would never get another chance to do so again. He knew that from that moment on, this would be a game of solitaire instead of chess.
But alone in an apartment without cameras, he realizes something. He hadn't known just how much he had left to say to L.
hello thank you for this excellent prompt!!!
The room is dark. Light is at his desk, flipping listlessly through a newspaper, looking for people to kill.
He is alone, which these days is rare — Misa hangs around him like a leech pressed to skin but tonight she’s working late on a film. The solitude should be welcome, but he finds that it is not. He gets restless alone. He starts to think. His mind swells with things he wants to say.
He remembers long days chained to someone else. The glint of silver. The boy always on the other end, ready with a quick glance, a sharp word, conversation wound through with the threat of execution, and somehow more pleasurable for that.
He sets the paper down.
L is gone. He knows this. He is not merely elsewhere; he has been disappeared entirely, into an eternity of nothingness. It is not a punishment or a reward. It’s simply what will happen to all of them in the end. To him, too, although he shoves that thought aside — to flinch at the future is a weakness.
He won.
He’s the victor.
He glances beside him, at the place where L would be, had the chain still been in place.
This is a bad habit. He knows he shouldn’t do it. It’s utterly useless. L can’t hear him. L can’t hear anything. The only thing left of L are his cold ashes and bones. He could stand by L’s grave and talk to him — he knows some of the others do — but there would be no point, and so there’s no point to this either.
Still.
“I saw my mother today,” Light says. “She’s doing well. Did you have a mother? You must have had, once.”
There are so many questions he wants to ask. Things that hadn’t occurred to him to say to L, while he was still alive; useless mundanities that hadn’t seemed important at the time. Which, he reminds himself, remain unimportant now.
It’s only that there’s so much he could have learned.
It’s only that he’ll never learn anything again.
His throat feels stiff and he doesn’t know why. It isn’t as if he’s going to cry over L.
Written for @dnkinktober: Furry
Read here or on AO3
Contains: Fluff, (very) brief descriptions of mental illness
L and Light meet at a furry convention
The convention was good; it always was. It took place in a notably beige hotel a few hours away from his home. Light went every year, armed with a hefty budget and a badge on a lanyard depicting his fursona.
He was an orange fox named Kira, with sharp eyes not unlike his own and a wicked grin he never wore. Kira was crueller than him; braver in some ways, weaker in others. He liked that Kira was flawed.
Kira dressed in sleek black suits, but Light was wearing a white shirt and beige chinos, which made him stand out somewhat amongst the sea of graphic t-shirts. No one seemed to mind. This was why he liked conventions — you could be whatever you wanted there and no one cared. They were all freaks, and therefore they were all normal.
He was happy here.
He slipped behind the clusters of people leaning over artists booths, planning to retreat to his hotel room for water and the lunch he’d stashed there. It would be nice to drop off his tote bag, too — it was overflowing with art, and starting to get a bit heavy.
Around the corner, there was a fursuiter in a sleek black rabbit suit. They had a red collar around their throat. Light hesitated, then walked towards them.
“Hi,” he said. “I like your suit. Can I get a picture?”
The fursuiter looked towards him. There was a long pause, during which Light wondered if he’d somehow done something offensive — Kira wouldn’t care, but Light did — and then they spoke.
“Of course,” they said. They had a soft voice, almost inhuman, like bamboo reeds brushing across one another in the wind. It was slightly muffled by the suit, which only served to accentuate the effect. Light’s breath caught. He took out his phone and snapped a photo.
“Thanks,” he said.
“I like your ‘sona,” said the rabbit. “Are you here alone?”
“I — yeah, I am.”
“Well,” the rabbit said. “So am I, as it turns out. Perhaps you’d like to join me.”
-----
The rabbit’s name was L. He used he/him pronouns and was a little older than Light, thirty-four to Light’s twenty-nine. He worked in IT, which was unsurprising.
He was a good conversationalist. He didn’t press for Light’s story, which Light appreciated — he liked to talk, but he didn’t especially like to talk about himself. No one needed to know that he still lived at home, that he was wracked with depression, that his life had entirely fallen apart after university, that this convention was the one bright spot in his year. He preferred to be Kira, or else to be no one at all.
L broke off from the story he was telling about a particularly insipid user at his work. “Look,” he said. “Perhaps this is too much, but I have a hotel room here. Maybe you’d like to visit it.”
Light froze.
“I —” he said.
It wasn’t the sort of thing he did.
But Kira would.
“Yeah,” he said. “Okay, sure. I’d like that.”
-----
He stepped into L’s room, and L closed the door behind them. He took off his suit’s head.
Underneath he had an awkward-looking face, blotchy and sweaty from all that time under the suit. His eyes were absolutely gigantic and somewhat missized; his mouth seemed too wide for his face. His hair was a wild mess. He looked mixed, maybe half-Japanese. Light liked him immediately.
“Hello,” L said. Without the fabric, his voice was much clearer. “Would you like a drink, or —“
“I’m okay,” Light said. And, bold as Kira, he stepped forwards and placed one hand on L’s furry arm. “I want to kiss you.".
L’s eyes went even wider. “Well,” he said. “You’re very forward.” He didn’t sound unhappy, so Light didn’t look away. “You can certainly do that.”
Light leant forwards. He could feel the heat of L’s skin even before they touched — he seemed overheated from all that time in the suit. He pressed their lips together.
L tasted like mint and skin and sweat. He pulled away.
“Let me get the suit off,” L said. “I don’t want it damaged. You can sit on the bed.”
Light sat down on the bed and watched as L unzipped his suit and peeled himself out of it. Underneath he was wearing a plain long-sleeved white shirt and blue sweatpants. Once he was done he came and sat next to Light.
“God,” he said. “I’m all sweaty. I’m sorry. I didn’t think this through.”
“I don’t mind,” Light told him. It was true. He didn’t. There was something sort of appealing about it. He could smell L. It wasn’t a bad scent — he hadn’t had time to dry off and start smelling sour. It was simply musky and masculine. “Lie down. Let me kiss you again.”
L pushed himself back and lay down on the bed. Light crawled towards him.
“Do you still feel like L?” he said.
“Like my ‘sona?”
“Yeah.”
L hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “I think so.”
“I still feel like Kira. And you know what foxes do to rabbits.”
L’s eyes were huge and dark and fixed on him. “I have an inkling,” he said. It sounded vaguely musical.
“Shall I do some of those things to you?”
“Yes,” said L. “Yes, I think you should.”
Light straddled him. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to L’s throat. It tasted like salt. He smelled even stronger up close.
L whimpered. Light bared his teeth and dragged them down L’s skin, and L whimpered again.
“My lovely little rabbit,” Light said, into L’s ear. L shivered. “You’re all mine.”
“I’m all yours,” L repeated. His voice was breathy.
Light kissed him slow and deep. Then he reached for his waistband.
-----
Afterwards, L lay bonelessly in bed beside him, his clothes absent; L was still in his chinos and white shirt.
“I’ll give you my number,” L said. His voice sounded a little faraway. “I flew in, but I’ll fly back again, I'm sure.”
Light laughed. “Now who’s being forward,” he said. “But, yeah, I’d like that.”
L smiled. “My real name,” he said, “is Ryuuzaki.”
“Ryuuzaki,” Light said, tasting it. It was a nice name. Strong and sharp at once.
“I’m trusting you with it,” Ryuuzaki said. “Don’t do anything untoward.”
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