There were nights that Light could not sleep. The sound of traffic echoed up from the street below, bouncing off the buildings until the clatter of it through the balcony door seemed as loud as if he stood on the street corner. Shifting slowly, Light rolled to his side, startled to see that L also did not sleep.
The detective studied Light for a long moment, only the occasional flash of light reflecting in his eyes. Light held his breath for a moment, then whispered, "I forgive you for thinking that I'm Kira."
L nodded slowly, his expression not changing. "I forgive you, Light."
"For what?"
"For being Kira," L breathed and Light stiffened, the metal of the manacle on his wrist suddenly, inexplicably, choking the breath from him.
"I'm not Kira."
L said nothing and Light rolled away. Closing his eyes, he started counting backwards from a thousand. It kept his thoughts away from the echoing suggestion that maybe he was wrong. Maybe L was right. And Light could forgive L for thinking him a murderer, but he did not know if he could ever forgive himself for being one.
*****************
There were nights that Light could not sleep. The sound of traffic echoed up from the street below, bouncing off the buildings until the clatter of it through the balcony door seemed as loud as if he stood on the street corner. Shifting slowly, Light rolled to his side, startled still to find himself alone.
L had been dead for almost a week now and every time Light closed his eyes to sleep, he could see L's eyes reflecting Light's visage as the detective gasped his last. Lying on his back, Light stared sightlessly at the ceiling, wondering what L's last thoughts had been.
For some reason, Light doubted they had been of forgiveness.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-01-11 01:23 am (UTC)The detective studied Light for a long moment, only the occasional flash of light reflecting in his eyes. Light held his breath for a moment, then whispered, "I forgive you for thinking that I'm Kira."
L nodded slowly, his expression not changing. "I forgive you, Light."
"For what?"
"For being Kira," L breathed and Light stiffened, the metal of the manacle on his wrist suddenly, inexplicably, choking the breath from him.
"I'm not Kira."
L said nothing and Light rolled away. Closing his eyes, he started counting backwards from a thousand. It kept his thoughts away from the echoing suggestion that maybe he was wrong. Maybe L was right. And Light could forgive L for thinking him a murderer, but he did not know if he could ever forgive himself for being one.
There were nights that Light could not sleep. The sound of traffic echoed up from the street below, bouncing off the buildings until the clatter of it through the balcony door seemed as loud as if he stood on the street corner. Shifting slowly, Light rolled to his side, startled still to find himself alone.
L had been dead for almost a week now and every time Light closed his eyes to sleep, he could see L's eyes reflecting Light's visage as the detective gasped his last. Lying on his back, Light stared sightlessly at the ceiling, wondering what L's last thoughts had been.
For some reason, Light doubted they had been of forgiveness.