whiterabbit1613: self portrait (this is all your fault)
Erm... yes. You did read that correctly. I was feeling strangely nostalgic today, so I decided to read through all my old (often left-for-dead) fics, and I found this one, which is probably technically incomplete, which is why I haven't posted it before now. But I'm strangely fond of it, so I dusted it off, tidied it up, and I now present to you what I hope is a tasty bit of DeathNote angst-crack.

Title: Everafter
Author: whiterabbit1613
Rating: PG
Summary: There is no Heaven or Hell, only eternity. (Light/L, angst/romance/humor/crack/I have no idea, 1600 words)


     It was... awkward.

     Well, really, Light said to himself scornfully. What did you expect?

     But here he was, and through with that strange, all-consuming anger that held him for so long, and since everyone and everything truly is equal in death...

     Of course he'd be here. What did Light expect? I don't know... but not this.

     L sat next to him. Sort of. It was a little complicated to explain, because they were dead, so L couldn't really be sitting on anything, but Light was kind of feeling like they were sitting, together on a bench, in a park on the other side of the light at the end of the tunnel.

     And then the dead boy opened his mouth.

     "Please don't say anything," Light whispered.

     L replied, "I missed you."


     It stayed awkward for a long time, because the underworld was only so big, and it was really quite impossible to avoid each other. Though, if they were completely honest, they didn't try too hard in the first place. L would just sit quietly, or stand quietly, or they would somehow meet on the dead-underworld-not-really-metro, and then L would sway back and forth quietly, clutching a steel bar in a way that looked easy and self-assured. Light tried not to notice, but he'd always had trouble not noticing L.

     Finally (eventually, inevitably), Light broke down. "How's it been, living here?" he asked quietly.

     "Fine." L looked at him with his disconcerting eyes. "Except I miss the sugar."

     Light smiled; he couldn't help it, it was such an L thing to say.


     Eventually, realizing perhaps that, being dead, they couldn't kill each other again, they loosened up, and Light started feeling bad instead of angry or apathetic. There was some small part of him, at least, that looked at L and just wanted to be his friend, though another rather larger part of him wanted him dead. He is dead, Light tried to reason with this part, And I am too. But he didn't pay attention.

     So it was a little less awkward - now they at least acknowledged each other, instead of L lurking conspicuously in the background while Light tried to find his way around.

     "It's quite the bustling place, actually," L observed one day as they walked down the street. "You can do anything you want, mostly. Except killing is rather pointless."

     Death just looked like a giant city, with its businesspeople, its good-for-nothings, its school children. Ladies in nice dresses pushed baby carriages with rosy-cheeked occupants. There were parks, skyscrapers and hovels. The only thing missing was crime.

      "Maybe I should get a job," Light said, contemplating eternity with nothing to do. Though he doubted if he was cut out for anything - maybe a desk job. Something quiet where he could disappear for a while.

     L shrugged. "I tried that for a while, but it became unbearably boring."

     Together, they meandered aimlessly down the street. Shops were open, swarms of squealing girls ogled the cuter boys - it was terribly normal. Light ignored it. (It was hard.)


     "Those were the best six months of my life," L admitted, which made Light really sad, though he tried to ignore the awkward feeling.

     "But I killed you."

     L looked at him. "Kira killed me. Anyway, I knew I would die eventually."

     The train swayed a little, and the silence between them turned a little less strained, a little more - casual. It was increasingly easier to just be.

     It shouldn't be easy, Light reminded himself. It should be painful. But it wasn't.


     They split up for a little while. Light lost track of days in random parks, feeding ducks with (stale) crumbs of bread. He needed no money, no food, no sleep, but he still napped a couple times a day, for the sake of appearances.

     The next time they happened to run into each other, L smiled very widely when they met, and Light found he couldn't resist the urge to reply in kind. Something awkward, a bird just testing its wings, fluttered in his stomach as the sunlight caught in L's hair and made it more than the black it was.

     "No need for detectives," L explained, sitting on their bench. "But I was considering being a Shinigami. A few positions are open..."

      "No! I mean," Light turned red, "Do you really want to go around killing people?"

      L blinked. "I don't know. You seemed to enjoy it."

      This made Light even more embarassed. "Not exactly." But even that was a lie.


     Once, L disappeared for a month, and though Light tried to distract himself with ducks and picking up litter and helping old ladies across the street, he was starting to panic when L finally returned, starting to believe he really would go and become a Shinigami and leave him alone for the rest of eternity.

     L looked terrifically surprised and a bit awkward as a bundle of Light suddenly became entangled in his arms. "I thought you'd left me!" Light half-sobbed. "I was so worried!" L had never inspired this kind of reaction in anyone, even his own parents. He carefully embraced his killer, his... friend? as though the boy might break if touched too firmly.

     "It was just for a little while," L murmured.

     Light frowned. "But how am I supposed to know that if you never tell me?"

     Things were starting to get a little out of hand. L didn't know the first thing about having a relationship that actually mattered with anyone. He had no idea about accountability and concern. He knew logically that Light would still be there when he returned; if he weren't, he was bound to return sometime.

     "Isn't it a little funny for you to be so concerned about me?" Light drew back as though burned, and, oddly, L felt ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

     Light wiped a sleeve across his eyes - had those been tears? - but nodded. "Maybe not, but you're still right."


     Two steps forward, one step back. Light was still polite, still friendly, but there was that slight coolness, now. It made L feel ungainly, awkward for the first time in his life. He tried to say 'sorry' in a million different ways, but food, always his fallback, wouldn't work here.

     Light built himself a shell, shrunk slowly back into it, and then tried to float downstream.


     "Er," L said awkwardly. "Have you been drinking, Light-kun?"

     Light laughed (hiccupped) and decisively answered, "Yesh, I have been drinking quite a lot, ackshually. Have you ever been drunk, L?"

     "No," the no-longer-boy detective admitted, wide-eyed. (As always.)

     "Well I," Light continued, "am about to find out what it'sh like."

     When they were alive, neither would even have contemplated touching alcohol. Being incapacitated in such a way was something Light had to avoid at all costs, lest he accidentally let something slip, revealing his secret role as Kira. L had never been exposed to the intoxicant. Since all he ate was sugar, there was no need for anything stronger.

     "It'sh pretty disgushting shtuff," Light said, pulling a face. "I don't know if it'sh like thish on Earth, but if sho, I don't get why anyone likesh it." He knocked back half the bottle and almost gagged.

     Which L paid no attention to. All he noticed was the rather pleasant way Light's cheeks turned red as he got completely smashed. "Give me that," he eventually said, and when Light didn't respond he grabbed Light's hand, Light's hand around the bottle, and lifted the flask to his lips.

     In not long at all they were ridiculously drunk, and ridiculously lucky that no one in the park paid them any attention. L, his sanity already questionable, was telling dirty jokes at the rate of five a minute, and every brain cell of Light's that wasn't saturated with bad gin wondered where he had learned them all.

     Somewhere it registered with L that he was babbling, that he should really stop talking, but he absolutely couldn't. For some reason, he was nervous, the fact that two Lights were currently sitting next to him not alleviating the situation. "... and if I'm talking too much Yagamikun-" (it was one name now) "-feel free to shut me MMPH-"

     Light leaned back before the fact that oh god their lips had just TOUCHED could register with L, and he said, "Just Light, if you please, and yes, you are talking entirely too much." Then he shoved L sideways, until he was sprawled on his back on the warm grass, and then he kissed him.


     For another week, they would be walking down the street when Light would drag L into an alley away from prying eyes and kiss him soundly on the lips. L didn't mind at all, though it became a little funnier once Light got a job at the local bookstore, and then he'd have to linger at the back door until Light came running out at his break, complete with little blue apron, to wrap his arms around him and give him the happiest kiss in the history of the world. It made L a little dizzy, but as he grew accustomed, the feeling was increasingly un-awkward.

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