no·lens vo·lens
adv. Whether willing or unwilling.
"D… damn it…"
All humans will, without exception, eventually die.
The warehouse distorted around him as death shrouded his eyes with its unblinking glaze, the dusty linearity of the ceiling tiles blurring into clouds of gray, and then a beacon of pure white light severed the sky, pouring over him, pulling at him painfully until he was forced to blink.
After they die, the place they go is…
In that split second of dark departure, everything changed. His eyelids came together like the blades of Apropos' shears and severed his last remaining connection to the living world, and he could feel an alarming aberration in his body, as if the blood in his veins had suddenly reversed direction or dropped a dozen degrees in temperature. Maybe it was just the shock of suddenly hearing breath after gasping breath, his pulse pounding in his ears, when for a few terrible moments it had seemed that it would be silent forever…nothingness…
Laughter burst through Light's lips at the thought, an inharmonic weaving of his doubts and indignation and so many deadly shards of anger, craving for reciprocal blood and humiliation upon the wretches who had destroyed him, upon every God of Death and deity who had failed him… yet even as the tittering fit began, it was over, the ghost of his voice echoing oddly through the room. While his throat had constricted tight with realization, his eyes opened wider still, disbelieving of his own suspicions; but when he raised his shaking wrists to observe them against the bright backlight, the truth, however mystifying, could not be denied. The navy fabric of his business suit had been replaced by the beige of his high school days; the angles of his hands were smoother, younger; and suddenly these surroundings didn't seem so mundane and ignorable, because he recognized this place. The image of his hands was superimposed with the very window through which he had witnessed the Death Note's descent to earth, and surely all he had to do was reach out and grab it, and this time he would do it right, this time—
Light scrambled to his feet entirely inelegantly, knocking aside desks and chairs and papers as he sprinted from the room, but appearances hardly mattered when no one was there to see. The hallways were empty, as if a path were being cleared for him, and by the time he arrived in the entryway, a room steeped brilliantly in sunlight, God, he knew. On the other side of this door waited his divine right. Just one twist of the doorknob, the round cold shape every bit like an apple in his palm, and—
And it was locked.
Light screamed, slamming his palms against the door full force. For a moment, his fingers flexed and twitched in place, as if grasping for something, and then blunt nails dragged down the wood with a horrible whining pleading sound that he couldn't bring himself to make aloud — but that momentary collapse was all he allowed himself before standing straight again. There were other ways; there were always other ways, and yet every door, every window he checked was equally unyielding. Light found himself traveling up through the tiers in desperate, dizzying spirals, breath coming in gasps, like a drowned out rat, until…
An exit he had forgotten about, or perhaps blocked out, stood before him. It led to the rooftop, where some students liked to go to skip classes or have lunch together, and where on one beautiful autumn day, Light kissed Yuri… but that wasn't the time or place he was remembering as he stared at the barrier before him. He was remembering a day when he was nineteen floors closer to the sky and yet by the side of the only person capable of chaining him to the ground and keeping him from soaring in those heights, and a cleansing rain had fallen over the world, though cold.
Forcefully pushing the memories away with his hands pressed against gray paint, the optimist in Light was unsurprised when the door gave way, and he stepped out onto the school roof where the blue sky stretched endlessly clear and sun drops flecked his skin. He crossed to the far railing and leaned over unhesitatingly, and though he couldn't see the Death Note from here, there was a patch of bushes below that would cushion his fall. If he were jumping prepared to land on his feet, from only four stories up, there was no way anything could go wrong.
Satisfied with his reasoning, Light hopped over the chain link fence and landed on the ledge on the other side, holding onto the rail behind him for support and leaning forward, preparing to jump. Maybe this would even be fun, like flying. He had always wanted wings…
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."
The unfamiliar voice startled Light so much that his body jolted and his foot slipped, but his fingers' reflexive grip saved him from an unprepared fall, pulling him back toward the railing and onto the safety of solid ground.
Heart pounding, pumping adrenaline through his veins, Light said acidly, "Thanks for the warning; it was so very helpful. Now, if you would kindly mind your own fucking business…"
"You've changed, Light… or perhaps you are showing your true face for the first time?"
"No," he replied, utterly monotone.
"You deny it?"
"No, no, no…" There was a rising pitch of panic in the chorus, and as it reached its peak, Light turned to meet L's eyes as if being sucked into a black hole. The distance drawn between them like a battleground didn't make those pitch-dark pupils any less deep, any less powerful; those twin bastilles that bound him in their dank dungeon cell where he wasn't allowed to look at the sky, let alone take flight. In that midnight realm, there was only L; but midnight was also the hour when the enchantment broke, and Light tore his eyes away as if scorched, even though L was appraising him with Aurora Borealis chill. With a shaky exhalation, he let go of the bars to his prison and fell.
It was only natural that L would latch onto him like a parasite, spindle fingers pricking painfully into his skin even through layers of thick, stiff fabric as L struggled to keep him aloft, and Light's feet fought against the side of the building, though he wasn't quite sure if he was trying to push himself away or regain his footing.
"I told you… not to do that… you stubborn fool," L gasped, and with a decisive heave, they were both thrown back onto the roof. A splitting crack sounded as L landed on the cement, but Light didn't bother to check if he was okay, because from his supine position on L's chest, the man's every wheezing breath ghosted through his hair and onto the nape of his neck, where his respiration settled like dust. L was warm, solid, real.
Rolling off onto his hands and knees, Light eyed L critically from above, like a science lab specimen, until wide unblinking eyes fixed on the sky returned his gaze. Immediately, Light flinched away, moving back the five feet of slack their eidolon chain would allow.
"There is no need for concern. I cannot die twice." L's lack of bitterness or sorrow or anger, the utter offhandedness of the comment, somehow accentuated that it was a jab about his murder.
"Nor can I. You had no reason to stop me," Light declared, and the double-entendre poured steel over L's eyes, already cold. The crouched position he assumed as he spoke, rather than the tight defensive ball Light was used to, seemed almost predatory.
"Ah… that is an entirely different matter. If one leaves this building, one's soul is obliterated."
Light wanted to say, 'If that's the case, then why did you save me?' but settled for a skeptical, "How would you know, anyway? You're still here."
"I don't know for certain, however…" L pinned him with a meaningful look. "Can't you feel it? This place… we are not meant to part with it. We are bound to it."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." His tone was brusque and self-assured, but in truth, L's claims had started an itch beneath his skin. "I don't feel any attachment to this place at all. My desire to leave is overwhelming, especially now that you're here."
"Interesting." The condescension rolled off L's tongue as his eyes dilated to reveal more of that bleak black-and-white expanse. "Consider this, Light… what if that desire was programmed into you by a higher power, such that you would exterminate yourself? You are a mass murderer, after all."
"I am a god," he counterstroked, a crisp verbal backhand across the face, and a physical fight seemed imminent as spines straightened and muscles tensed, but when Light's jaw clenched, the looking glass shattered and L's lips dropped open to speak.
"You may think yourself a god, Light Yagami, but you are not invincible. You may be dead, but you do not have angel wings. If you wish to plunge twenty-three stories onto pavement, by all means…"
"I… what?"
"I said, 'You may think—'"
"Shut up." Glances to his left and right confirmed his location: the school roof. "This building only has four stories."
The man across from him cocked his head to one side, brows furrowing, but before thumb could meet flesh and drag it down it that grotesque way, Light snapped, "Don't give me that look." The approaching hand dropped back onto L's knee without protest and his head righted itself, but his manual attempt to return his eyes to their normal proportions resulted in an even stranger look.
"Just where do you think we are?"
"My high school. Where do you think we are?"
"Headquarters."
"…"
"…"
It was Light who broke their silent standoff with a frustrated sigh.
"I'm not going to be manipulated by you. You're trying to make me feel bad about having you killed, right? Even though you would have done the same to me…"
Peering out through the web of his fingers as he attempted to massage away an oncoming migraine, Light waited for a reaction that never came. Blank slate eyes turned skyward, as if ignoring Light's very existence, and though he recognized this as L thinking deeply, his ego nevertheless allowed him to feel insulted by the action. The line between deception and self-deception had blurred long ago as each successive stroke made on the lines of the Death Note grew darker and smoother.
L murmured at length, "Chains," the focus in his lens-like eyes suddenly returning as he lifted a languid wrist, shook it, and spoke louder, firmer, "Even though we were sent to different places after death, our worlds overlap at the roof. It is our chain of fate."
The bilious taste in Light's mouth became genuine nausea when he stood up and saw L lurch forward slightly, as if the chain had been pulled taut between them and disturbed his balance. The actual meaning behind the motion became clear, however, when L settled easily back into place and watched with a curious stare as he began to pace: it had been preparation to prevent another "suicide attempt." Light laughed hollowly. Everything he thought to be fact was crashing down around him in this topsy-turvy world where the detective who had wanted nothing more in life than to inject him with pancuronium bromide was suddenly concerned for his safety; and his voice, detached shattered glass, it said:
"You're wrong. Your theory is all wrong. I was told by a very reputable source on matters of life and death, a God of Death, that we all go to the same place when we die. Death is equal, and therefore… therefore…"
Light's lips pursed in an effort to hold back the impending explosion, but when L prompted, "Therefore?" it was all over. He kicked the nearest object in sight, which unfortunately wasn't L's face, and the railing clanged like a gong announcing his tirade.Curses and punts gushed forth, his tantrum spurred on all the more by the knowledge that Ryuk would be untouchable even if he were present, until finally silence and stillness clotted over.
"Are you quite finished?" L asked amusedly. Unfazed by the glare Light sent his way, he advanced, "Perhaps we do all go to the same place when we die, but we are blind to everyone but the one who really matters. Perhaps death is 'equal' because we find our equal there."
"Enough, L," he hissed, offering his back to the other man as he latched onto the top rung of the fence with both hands.
Warningly, "Light—"
"For Christ's sake, I'm not jumping!" Light snapped. "Although I would be wise to, with you nipping at my heels. Just… let me think."
With a jagged sigh that bordered on a growl, Light's arms slid down to form a cross atop the bar and his forehead slumped onto the cool relief of the back of his hand, pushing away the bangs that obscured his vision only after he had closed his eyes. The sky vanished, the rooftop vanished, L vanished, and though Light had said he was going to think, in fact, he was only concentrating on his breathing: on expelling the rottenness with each exhalation — first the anger, now the self-deprecation — and inhaling pure air in turn.
That elusive state of paradisiacal unawareness had almost been achieved when suddenly he sensed a presence nearby and his body automatically tensed with paranoia, because certainly L was underhanded enough to attack him from behind or try to push him over the railing or—
The reality of the situation was infinitely worse. Warm arms grazed his sides and draped loosely around his waist, and it had even gotten to the point where Light felt a weight nuzzling in between his shoulder blades before the frozen state of shock trapping him in place was thawed by a furious anger. He threw back an elbow with all of his strength and felt it dig into the underside of L's ribcage in a way that must have been incredibly painful, yet L didn't make a sound, as if he had been expecting it. If anything, the hold on Light's waist was tightening, and the action pressed a dangerous sonance stirring in the pit of his stomach up through his throat.
The next moment, L was arched back over the railing in an inversion of his usual slouch, but he refused to struggle even as Light inched him further and further over the edge, simply staring ahead with that infuriatingly impassive expression on his face.
"I loathe you," Light said, a cadence of soft, sharp, soft, and he then released his victim with the air of one disposing of trash. It was with morbid satisfaction that he watched L fall and land right at his feet, sprawled ungainly on hands and knees, as if bowing before his God and imploring forgiveness. Light made a point of grinding down on a spiderlike hand, crushing the pest underfoot, as he turned to walk away.
"Light-kun?"
Something had been conveyed in that single word, some deep and terrible stain of emotion, but Light didn't care to identify it. He just kept walking without a backward glance. When he reached the doorway and stepped inside, the voice came again, softer this time:
"I'll be here on the roof, if you ever want to see me."
Light slammed the door behind him.
A/N: If you enjoyed this, you might be interested in my other serial fanfic about Light and L's afterlife, Ad Hominem; or if you've already read Ad Hominem, what's your verdict on these two pieces as a couplet? My hope is that the worlds and interactions therein didn't feel repetitive just because they were both postmortem, but that they still had a certain similarity, a contrast between them — like two sides of the same coin. That was the feel I was going for, and that's why I decided to give them both Latin names and post them on consecutive days. So, though they're not related plot-wise, it might be interesting to read both. Thank you for your time.