Title: Hollow Victory
Genre: Angst/implied Raito/L
Disclaimer: Death Note and its characters belong to Ohba and Obata. They do not belong to me.
A/N: My first contribution to the death note fandom. Hopefully, i've described the scene more or less accurately.
Contains spoilers for chapter 57. You've been warned.
Readability's a 70.2, i think. Can't remember the exact figure.
The day Kira won, Raito lost.
It didn't register to him at first – not when he saw L's body go stiff, not when he collapsed onto the cold tiled floor or when he held his almost skeletal body to his chest. It didn't occur to him that the cry of rage and anguish that left his lips was anything more than a perfect act, an impeccable façade. It didn't occur to him that the twisted pain somewhere near the vicinity of his heart was the anguish and sadness brought on by his death, or rather…dying.
He remembered the shock on L's face, the widening of black insomniac eyes and the slight tinge of fear that crept into those midnight orbs in the last moments of his death. The look of fear which turned into desperation, and something akin to betrayal when he saw the sinister madness that crept up Raito's face, the evil twisted countenance for his eyes only.
He tried to cry out, oh yes he did. Through his thin cotton shirt, Raito could feel his muscles struggle as he tried to tell someone, anyone, his true identity even as Raito held him close, crying mock tears of sadness. He let out a shivering gasp, one that would be his last, and it was then, in that instance, that Raito saw the hope leave L's eyes.
Those eyes which he had come to know, which had become as familiar as his own, started to fade, the twinkle of life in them chased away by death itself. And in that one moment, regret flickered in those dying orbs, a rare sight Raito knew he would have missed had he blinked.
It stunned him, that one moment, and he stilled, suddenly unable to carry out his act as L went limp in his arms, eyes closing – never to open again. An unfamiliar feeling coursed through him, causing disruption on his mental state like that of a pebble falling into a still lake, the rippling effect sending waves of uncertainty through his soul.
Thankfully, the background noises of despair were more than enough to make up for his silence. He blinked rapidly, shaking off the uncertainty as he laid L on the cold floor, shocked that he had to will his arms to put L down. The more emotional part of him wanted to reach out to L and cradle his body to his chest, never to let him go.
He stood up, playing the perfect role of an anguished friend. "I'll chase him down," he had said with a certain brutality that came too easily for him. "I'll kill him myself."
A twisted smile, a cross between evil and despair, made its way onto his face. He was intelligent. And yet, he wasn't intelligent enough, not enough to pinpoint the exact moment when there was more to their friendship, more to that strange relationship they shared than simply detective and suspect.
He wasn't intelligent enough to realize that he would ever…regret killing L. Nor was he smart enough to register that the anguish that ripped his soul apart were truer than a façade could ever be; that his acting was way too good even for someone of his calibre, that the infinite sadness coursing through his soul at that time was too painful to be false.
His smile cracked, and an anguish tear streaked down his cheek.
Even for a genius like him, it took him too long to realize that in the end, there was no need for that pledge of vengeance. After all, he'd dug his own grave the day he killed L.
HNO3: Feedback is very welcome :)