Red eyes peered into his and the rest of the world was dark. There was a rushing sound and perhaps a hint of a devilish laughter. Fear teared at him like the kind of wolf who featured heavily in fairytales and had a nasty habit of gobbling up lost children. It was too much. He wanted to scream but his entire body was paralyzed and his heart was beating faster and he felt like a scared little boy again and the church was burning just out of sight and the air was thick with smoke and—

A hand was shaking him awake and a voice laced with concern was calling out his name, his true name. His mind was a fog and he couldn't quite make it out and he was drowning until he blinked awake with the kind of gasp that he imagined the dead would make if air one more filled their lungs. The eyes peering into his were a soft, honey brown. The room was dark, but moonlight filtered in through parted curtains. He felt like he could breathe again and he refused the tears that stung at the corners of his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." His deep, even, almost sleepy voice was jagged. "What happened?"

Arms were holding him. He felt like he was still asleep.

"You were thrashing and trying to scream but nothing was coming out. I was worried."

"I'm fine. A bad dream," he said with a smile. Or what he thought was a smile. From the look on Light's, it wasn't fooling anyone.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"No. No, I don't."

A soft kiss pressed against the back of his neck. It was the sort of kiss that said everything was fine, that reassured, that showed love. It was simple and he wanted to rip it into a million pieces. But he didn't. He was never quite sure what stopped him.

"We can go back to sleep," he said.

"Okay."

Light's hand gripped him tighter and his body curled into his. He could feel hot breath on his neck and a soft, strong heartbeat against his back. He waited, slowing his own breathing until the breathes on the back of his neck became deeper and more even. There was a soft, suggestion of a snore and he knew Light was well and truly asleep. He turned to face him.

Lovely, long eye lashes brushed the top of high cheekbones. An elegant mouth parted slightly. Hair, usually meticulous, fell in a sort of beautiful disarray that came from sleep. Light was beautiful. He had always known that. It was obvious. He looked as if he had been sculpted and, ever since the case ended, he looked more and more perfect. One of his pale hands cupped a perfect, tan cheek. A well of emotions and half memories, like old dreams, swam in his head, almost enough to bury him.

He felt like he shouldn't be so perfect. He felt like there should be a monster in there. He felt like the boy who was smart enough to match him was too soft. For what felt like weeks, he'd been looking for a crack in the mask, but there was nothing. But it had to be a mask. Or else why would he dream about Light killing him night after night? Before he could follow this train of thought anymore, a heavy, deep exhaustion fell across him, like a bat to the back of his skull. His eyes fluttered close and as he fell back into a deep, dark sleep, he thought he heard a sigh of relief that came from every corner of the room.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The (disappointing) Netflix Death Note trailer sent me back down that rabbit hole, so here we are. I'm hoping to update weekly, mostly likely Saturdays. Future chapters are much longer. Rating is subject to change, but I will give everyone a nice head's up if that is that case. Thanks for reading!