Our crooked line and the break point.

AN: the distance between them is too small—that's why L kisses him in the first place. But they're forever walking the crooked line, and if there was even the faintest possibility of ever crossing it, wouldn't they know?

The distance between them is so unbearably small. That's why L figures out there's nothing left to do but kiss him. So they kiss, and L remembers being vaguely surprised by the sweetness of Light's mouth. And they kiss, they kiss, they kiss. They kiss until there's nothing left but this, because they know they are not supposed to, not allowed to, but they do it anyways.

When they part they don't say anything, and go their own ways again. They know there is only one constant in both of their lives and that constant is driving them apart. Their lives have one similar point but yet they don't cross. They live separately with one crooked line between the two, so in the end it's just them stumbling beside it, reaching out, breaching through, if only to get a glimpse of what the other side is like. How the other lives, how he thinks about family and love and friendship. But when they reach out, breach through, they always have to pull away immediately, as if touched by fire. Because if there's even the faintest possibility of ever crossing it, wouldn't they know?

That's why when L sees Light again, he brushes away the crumbles on the boy's lip. It's enough to go completely mad, because they can't have this, even though they want it, which is obvious by the way Light closes his eyes when L touches him, and by the way L's thumb lingers just a second there. Yet it doesn't make the twisted line less real, and by the end they're just two people on different sides from the crooked line, and when they reach out, breach through, their hands are still miles away from it, and they do not burn themselves, but somehow they think it would have been worth it, and all that remains is the other's vague silhouette so far away but so close they can smell it.

Light hates it, but to him it's life's way of telling him it always comes back and kicks you in the butt, it's freaking karma, and there's nothing he can do about it. He just deserves to not have L. He needs to live so close to the man, without ever being able to touch him. They need to be together and be miles apart, because he doesn't deserve it. Maybe he wasn't a good boy, maybe he didn't set the table when mama asked him to, or maybe he just killed a lot of people. Though Light holy believes that last one isn't as significant as it seems to be. And maybe he's right, but he doesn't even know why.

L doesn't believe in karma, and this is the one thing he doesn't understand. He can see why Light is so close to him, and exactly how he's supposed to be far away, but he can't see why life did this to him. Because he deserves something good for once. He deserves crossing lines, because all he has is one crooked one, swaying in rough edges, keeping him separated from the rest, and that's not fair. Sometimes it seems like he can touch the outside, the other part of this entity and then the feeling disappears and he can feel the hot fire on his fingers, though now it's just a dull ache. They work towards the same point, both of them. But when they get there, when their silhouettes crawling next to the line might finally meet where their lives come together in their one similarity, their shared life-goal, one of them has to leave. The constant that keeps them there, is driving them apart. L can't have that, because he's been a good boy. He brushes his teeth and wipes his feet. He talks with two words just like Watari taught him, and solves the cases like he should. Maybe Light should be punished, but maybe L's good deeds weigh heavier than Light's bad deeds. And maybe that's true, but he doesn't see how it could be.

Light sometimes touches his lips, scarred, hurt, bruised and it's the only thing that's left. They both forever have their scarred, hurt, bruised lips with the imprint of the other's still there, but that's where it ends. There is nothing more now, and Light sometimes thinks that life isn't as good as it was before. He walks along that line by himself, head held high, but it's not worth it at all. Without the other silhouette nothing's worth it. It was what kept him in place, something to look forward to, the reason he walked the line to begin with. L was good, and L was worthy, and L shouldn't be death. But who's to blame for that? Light understand that he made mistakes, and this is life's way of kicking him in the butt. But that's not how it should have been.

L sometimes swipes his thumb across his lip, to remember how it felt when he touched Light's skin instead of his own. He hasn't lost, not by far, because contrary to Light, he can still see the silhouette, crawling on the other side. And he sees him as he really is, broken and hurt and completely lost, now that the one constant is no longer relevant, it's just a line he wants to follow because it's the only thing he knows. L wants to reach out, breach through, but he is gone, and the line still separates them. They're forever together but far away, L knows that. His hands are see-through and so are his feet, he can't reach out, breach through, what he couldn't when he was still solid. And who's to blame for that? But sometimes he thinks that he'd be able to reach out, breach through, if only Light showed the world how he's broken and hurt and completely lost but he knows Light, he knows there's a slim chance of that ever happening.

That's why when they reach the line again, when they're both there and Light can finally see L again, they just talk. They can't reach out, breach through, because even when they're death, they can still burn their fingers, and they can still feel the pain. They settle for just walking and just talking, because the point they both needed to reach so badly is now nonexistent. They chat about everything they can come up with, and sometimes it's about how badly they want to touch and be close, but it doesn't matter. Sometimes the line goes crooked and there's a small space where it's broken and torn, and they can stick a finger through without being burned and they laugh because of it. Maybe if they just keep on walking, they'll reach the nonexistent point again, and maybe now it will be a blank, big enough to allow them through. Maybe then they can finally reach the other side, breach the line and make it cave. It's just a small hope but they have forever to find out. Because there's the faintest possibility of ever crossing it, and they know.

AN: Please review—I'm not sure if it came across right Oo It turned out it bit differently than I wanted it to, so I wanna know your guys opinion, for all I know you're questioning my mental ability—and that would be too good.