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There is a moment of total stillness. And then L breathes.
The feeling is foreign. He spends his first minutes of consciousness just hoping his lungs don’t collapse. Sensation blooms in extremities, limbs, and finally the rest of his body. When he opens his eyes, he’s met with a dim room illuminated only by the window in front of him, awash in faint blue light. It’s then that he realizes the cool, hard edges cutting into his wrists are handcuffs.
This must be hell; there’s nowhere else it could be. L swears he died only seconds ago. And yes, he remembers all of it: the Death Note, the Shinigami, the Task Force. Kira, the last face he ever saw. The person holding him during his final moments was not Light Yagami, but a monster made from the blood of hundreds slaughtered. As his life slipped between his fingers, L finally caught a glimpse beneath the mask, and what does he have to show for it now?
His stomach turns. There’s a foul taste in the back of his throat, like decay. His shoulders ache from how his arms are bound behind his back. Just when he’s about to try and adjust himself in his chair, he hears movement from across the room.
L freezes. Someone else is here. He is not alone. This thought hardly has time to substantiate itself before a hand slips out of the dark and wraps around his ankle.
L gasps and tries to wrench his bare foot away, but his leg is bound in place. He’s still confused, disoriented, and now utterly apprehensive. Adrenaline heats his body from the inside and sends his heart rate skyrocketing. But it’s only when a serrated edge presses to the back of his ankle that he feels his first true glimmer of fear.
There’s very little hesitation. Virtually no time for L to prepare. The hand holding the blade digs in and slices L’s Achilles tendon clean in half. Almost matter-of-fact.
The pain is blinding. A wail tears from L’s throat. Instinct takes over as he tries to kick his feet, but still to no avail—he’s tied up tight. Hot blood gushes down the back of his heel and spills onto the concrete floor. He feels light-headed listening to it drip, thinking about all the destroyed layers of tissue. And long before he has time to properly recover, the blade moves to his other ankle and repeats the process all over again. L screams through grit teeth and digs his nails into his palms until the skin breaks.
“L,” purrs a voice from the darkness, one L instantly recognizes even in his pained delirium. “How did you sleep?”
“Oh, god,” L moans. “I’m in hell.” His eyes roll back into his head. He can barely keep them open.
The voice laughs. “No. Not quite.”
L passes out.
*
He’s unsurprised when he wakes to Light looming over him. The fluorescents are on in the room now, shitty and flickering, but bright enough that L can make out his face. He looks older. More tired. As beautiful as he ever was. He wears black slacks and a white button-down, the sleeves already stained with L’s blood.
L keeps his eyes open just a sliver. He’s not in his chair anymore, instead lying in a heap on the concrete ground. He supposes, with the number Light did on his ankles, there’s no need to worry about him running. The thought makes him sick.
“You’re awake,” Light says.
L tries to keep a tremor out of his voice, but it proves difficult with the pain he’s in. “Aren’t I d-dead?”
“You are.” A pause. “You were, rather. For seven years, L, you were cold and lifeless underground. And I’ve been so bored. ” A pout works its way into Light’s voice. “So I decided to bring you back for a little excursion. Just the two of us.”
L is slow to process the information he’s being fed. If only Light would quit being so goddamn cryptic, but L knows that’s too much to ask of him.
To his surprise, though, Light crouches down beside him and keeps talking.
“You wouldn’t believe the lengths I’ve gone to to bring you here; the lengths I will go to. Ryuk was going to kill me, you know. I got everything I ever wanted, and it still wasn’t enough for him to stick around. So, he cut me a deal.”
Light leans in closer. There’s something in his hand. Whatever it is, it catches the light. Sick dread tunnels through L’s stomach.
“I could bring back anyone I wanted.” Light’s voice is lilting, musical, almost hypnotic. “And of course it was going to be you. It had to be you. There’s no point denying it now. The only catch is, anything I do to you comes back to me the second your heart stops.” He pauses. “Even death.”
L swallows the lump in his throat. “And do you plan on killing me, Light?”
Light smiles. It’s almost adoring. “ Yes. With my own two hands this time.”
Well, L knows what he’s in for, then. Judging by the uninhibited look in Light’s eye, his death won’t be a quick one. Not quite hell, his ass. This is the closest he’s ever come.
Light drags the object in his hand up L’s sternum. L can see it now—a scalpel. Light wastes no time cutting down the front of L’s shirt, the blade sharp enough to split the fabric like butter. Upon seeing the expanse of unblemished skin beneath him, Light’s pupils dilate, and he runs one trembling hand over L’s stomach.
“I imagined you would put up more of a fight than this,” Light remarks. “Look at you. You’re better behaved than I thought.”
L is already too exhausted for his blood to really boil, but the comment certainly doesn’t sit well with him. Light pushes him onto his back, slings a leg over his hips, and straddles his torso. L’s hands dig into the concrete floor. He winces.
“You just about cut off my feet,” he grits out. “And my hands are out of commission. No shit I’m not putting up more of a fight.”
“I can assure you, your hands are not out of commission,” Light says. He drags the tip of the blade from L’s sternum to his navel, not pressing hard enough to puncture the skin. When L shudders, he grins like a Cheshire cat. “I can’t believe I finally have you all to myself. I’m going to show you how badly I’ve missed you. Just you wait. You’ll see.”
The end of the scalpel presses into the top right quadrant of L’s stomach, then drags downward agonizingly slow, blood gushing to the surface and staining porcelain skin.
L tries not to scream this time. He bites the insides of his cheeks hard, so hard that his mouth fills with blood only moments later. Light drives the scalpel deeper and deeper and deeper. He finally finishes the cut, and L gasps, gargling thick, metallic liquid.
Light crouches over him and holds the bloodied scalpel up to his face, uncomfortably close to his eye. L doesn’t dare squirm, even though he wants to.
“I didn’t do all of this just for you to lie there and grit your teeth,” Light snarls. “I want to hear you scream.”
L squares his jaw, narrows his eyes. He knows he’s in for more pain no matter what, and Light clearly expected him to resist from the beginning, so he might as well put up all the fight as he still can. Light starts a second cut and he gags, eyes rolling back into his head, mouth falling open soundlessly. Please stop. Please, please, please stop. Please have mercy. Please don’t hurt me anymore.
“ Scream! ” Light shrieks, and plunges the scalpel into L’s shoulder.
L can’t help but follow orders then. The pain blacks out his vision. He’s consumed by it for what feels like hours, fighting just to keep air flowing through his lungs. It radiates all throughout his body, racking him with terrible chills and bringing hot, shameful tears to his eyes.
When he comes back to himself, he’s crying silently.
“Good.” Light smiles again, still sickly sweet. He smacks the back of his hand against L’s cheek until he opens his eyes again. “That’s what I want to hear from now on, do you understand? No more hiding from me.”
L nods weakly. Light withdraws the scalpel from his shoulder and he hiccups at the jolt of agony it sends through him.
“Where were we?” Light looks back down at his handiwork before beginning the next cut.
L doesn’t hold himself back anymore. He makes it known just how miserable he is. Some of the cuts go so deep, he wouldn’t be surprised if his body fat was visible through them. In spite of the fog in his brain, it doesn’t take him long to puzzle out Light is carving letters.
“All done,” Light says, pulling back. “Do you want to see?”
L shakes his head, but Light stands up and walks to a table across the room before he even gets the chance to see it. He comes back with a handheld mirror and points it down at L’s stomach so he can see the letters carved there. KIRA’S, they read.
“Do you like it?” Light asks.
Involuntarily, L makes a scared, pitiful noise high in his throat. If he didn’t want to melt into the floor before, he certainly does now.
“Oh, don’t be that way.” Light takes the mirror, setting it back on the table and returning with a serrated knife. Judging by the bloodied blade, it’s the same one he used to cut L’s Achilles tendons. “We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Do you remember what I said about your hands being out of commission?”
L’s blood runs cold. “Light.”
“Yes?”
“You…you don’t have to do this. If what you said was true, then you’re doing nothing but creating more pain for yourself.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Light spits. “Because I do, and I’ve been thinking very fucking hard about it. Do you think I want to feel everything you do the second your heart stops beating? Do you think I want to be slowly dismembered? I don’t, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He takes a deep breath. “To end things the right way.”
L shouldn’t ask. Especially when he already knows the answer. “What was wrong with how things ended the first time?”
“I had Rem do it.” Light sneers her name like it utterly disgusts him. “It seemed like the perfect plan. I mean, I wouldn’t even have to touch you. No one would ever suspect it was me. But when I watched the life leave your eyes, I realized it wasn’t enough, and it was never going to be. I’ve spent so many years thinking about destroying you. Bashing your head in. Stabbing you through the heart. Strangling you to death. I want to see you hurt. And this won’t be finished until I do.”
So, even if killing me kills him, at least he can die happy. “Light, can I tell you what I think?”
“What’s that?”
“I think you’re insane.” L scowls. “I always have.”
A dark, horrible look passes over Light’s face. He does not like that. “On your stomach.”
L hesitates.
“On your fucking stomach.” Light kicks him hard in the ribs.
L wheezes and crumples in on himself, but eventually obeys. Light straddles him again, and when he goes to unlock L’s handcuffs, L thinks he might have an opening to try and defend himself. Or at least to get back at Light for bringing him here just to torture him. He’s not as sharp as usual, though, and Light is quick to cuff one hand to a nearby metal pipe. The other, he holds against the floor by L’s wrist.
What happens next is fuzzy as L’s mind desperately tries to take him somewhere else. Light breathes so hard, every exhale sounds like a moan. L watches him. Watches him hold the knife up to his fingers. Watches his eyes go wide. Watches him think about what he’s about to do. L is still conscious enough to struggle, breath hitching as the blade presses to his skin.
He doesn’t beg. He can’t. He won’t.
“ Hah… ” Light barks out a single, breathless laugh. “Fuck.”
“What?” L speaks before his logical brain can catch up with him. “Can’t bring yourself to do it, Kira?”
It’s the last dig L gets at him before he descends into screams again. Light presses the blade in deep. He drags it back and forth, back and forth, sickening and inescapable. When L feels it skid against bone, he jerks his head to the side and coughs up bile all over the floor.
Light is laughing with his whole chest now. He saws faster. The sound is slick and grating. The smell of iron hangs heavy in the air.
“You have beautiful hands,” Light says when he’s come down from hysterics. L barely hears him. His voice sounds as though it’s coming from underwater. “Shame I have to do this, isn’t it?”
L gurgles. He watches the knife finish slicing clean through four of his fingers, and that pushes him over the edge. He loses consciousness again.
*
He wakes, but he has no sight, and there is an awful, all-consuming pain radiating from his eyes to the back of his skull.
Something is very wrong.
“Light?” L calls out, hating how weak and terrified his voice sounds. He tunes into the pain in his hands when he reaches out for something, anything to hold onto. Fuck. Did Light take the fingers on his right hand too? He can tell the handcuffs are gone, but the agony is so great he can’t distinguish anything other than that.
A sob escapes his throat. He doesn’t know what’s going on or why he can’t see or where Light is and it’s all wrapping around his neck like a noose. His head spins with it. L’s earlier resolve to stay strong in spite of his fate crumbles. He doesn’t want this. He’s not sure how much more he can take.
“ Light? ” L’s voice, more panicked this time, breaks over the syllable. “Light, please…”
A few moments later, there’s the sound of a door swinging shut, and then heavy footsteps that come ever closer. L stiffens, not sure whether to be afraid or relieved.
“Welcome back,” says Light’s voice.
“Light.” L sucks in a shuddery breath. “Why can’t I see?”
“Oh, that?” Light sounds utterly unbothered. “I took your eyes.”
There’s a long moment of silence. Then L says, slowly, “You took my eyes?”
“While you were asleep I took my scalpel and gouged out your eyes. Here, feel them.”
L is so beside himself with shock he doesn’t even have time to fear for what feel them might mean. That is, until Light grabs his wrist and deposits two slick objects into his palm. L feels the severed optic nerves and knows this is real. He just doesn’t want to believe it. When Light mentioned slow dismemberment, L had hoped it was figurative, but of course it wasn’t going to be. This is Kira he’s dealing with. Kira has more reason to hate him than anyone else in the world.
Light takes back L’s eyes and deposits them who knows where. L coughs up another mouthful of bile onto the floor, then spends the next several minutes curled into himself, dry heaving. He can feel Light standing over him.
Are you enjoying yourself? L wants to say. Is this what you wanted? Well, I hope you’re fucking happy.
“I think I’m nearly done with you,” Light says, and there’s a strange quality to his voice, like deep regret. “You’ve lost so much blood, I know it’s only a matter of time. I’ll…”
He trails off. L waits. The silence carries on for what feels like hours, and L’s anxiety only grows.
“I’ll miss you,” Light says. The sincerity in his voice is sickening. “I have missed you. And I’ll miss you again.”
L coughs. His mouth twists into a bitter, I-told-you-so smile. “It’ll be lonely, won’t it?”
Light doesn’t respond.
He rolls L over onto his back with his foot. L is too weak to resist him. Light crouches down between L’s thighs and runs a hand up his bloodied stomach, over his chest, and all the way to the base of his throat. L thinks he’s going to choke him, but Light doesn’t. He just rests his hand there, feeling L’s pulse through his carotids.
“This isn’t enough,” Light murmurs.
A chill goes through L. All of this isn’t enough?
Light leaves him for a moment, but he’s back in a flash. L’s stomach twists with sickening dread. A familiar serrated blade grazes the skin of his abdomen, and he can’t help himself—he yelps.
L doesn’t want to die. This hits him with alarming clarity. His heart beats out of his chest and he whimpers when Light makes a shallow cut below his navel. “Light, please don’t. Please. ”
Begging gets him nowhere. The air goes very still, and then Light digs the knife deep into L’s abdomen.
He screams like he never has in his life. The sound of it startles him. He keeps thinking that Light will stop, that he won’t end this just yet— please, please, I don’t want to die —but he cuts through L like he’s searching for something within him. Everything is blinding pain. It’s all L knows, all he thinks he’s ever known.
Light tosses the knife aside an eternity later. Somehow, through the roaring in his ears, L makes out the sound of a zipper being pulled, and his whole body goes rigid. He convinces himself it’s not going to happen until he distinctly hears Light working his fist over his cock, and the whole situation is so terrifying and out of his control that there’s nothing L can do but lie there and wait, a nervous little laugh slipping past his lips. Light puts his hand back on the base of his neck and uses it for leverage as he pushes himself into the cavity he’s created.
L punches out an agonized moan. He reaches for Light with his blood-sticky hands and finds the front of his shirt, unable to do anything except paw at him uselessly. Light gives him a small mercy, though, and leans in closer. Close enough that their breath mingles in the space between them.
“Can you feel it, L?” Light asks. “How close we are?”
That’s when he begins thrusting his hips, and L collapses into quiet sobs. When Light kisses him, a sloppy press of lips and teeth, something in L can’t help but kiss him back.
*
Light stands over L’s body. Both of them are soaked with blood. It’s smeared across the floor, dark and viscous, splattered on the nearby wall. L looks beautiful, the most peaceful Light has ever seen him. His guts twist with the knowledge that his own cum is buried deep in L’s insides.
Watching him die was everything he wanted the first time around. Light kept his hand against L’s throat so he could feel the exact moment his heart stopped. It happened probably ten minutes into fucking him, and seeing L’s eyes roll back into his head as his final few breaths passed through his lungs was what ultimately pushed Light over the edge.
He knows what’s coming to him now, though. He’d be foolish to think he could come out of this unscathed. Ryuk promised him it would hurt, in the end, and Light knows better than to think he’s lying about that.
There’s a cold rush of air. It sends a chill down his spine and through his entire body.
And then, finally: the cold press of a blade against the back of his ankle.