Sweet Little Lies

Pancakes And Perfidy

"I finished Ulysses"

𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒎...a change of subject. L was trying to be clever. The detective was going to stubbornly ignore his plate of incomparably palatable pancakes; leave them to go cold whilst he droned on about something idiotic. Light had gone to great lengths to prepare L's breakfast '𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒅', now their perfection were to be 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅—all of Light's precious time and effort, for 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.

L could discern that Light's irritation over him, wholly discarding the breakfast he'd prepared, was disguised as concerned exasperation toward a detective, who wasn't eating, 𝒐𝒓 sleeping properly...how horrendous. As 𝒊𝒇 Kira cared for L in this way. 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 had cared. It was 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 who grew instantly furious when the detective neglected his health. Nevertheless, L couldn't help but feel the 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒕 shred of self-satisfaction for no doubt, getting under Kira's skin with the entirety of this pancake palaver.

"Ryuzaki...you'd barely gotten halfway and the novel has 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏-𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚-𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔. You can't just come out with a statement so absurd as one to express that, you, quite simply '𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅' Ulysses in one night. Don't be nonsensical you didn't finish Ulysses in one night Ryuzaki...

...besides, didn't you say it was boring?"

Light was coming across as...rather 𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒅. Was he projecting his '𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓' frustrations into their current topic of discussion? Because he snapped instantly then sighed—seemingly tired; patience tried then broken. It was instantaneous. Kira wasn't the sort to be so blatantly aggravated by something so trivial—but 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔. Could he in fact, be somewhere inside this—to all appearances—𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒚, former shell, after all?

"It was very boring, but there wasn't really, anything else I could do to occupy myself"

The detective looked sorry for himself as he gratingly scraped a metal fork across the plate of ceramic—evidently staring into Light, making purposeful effort to irritate him...the 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅. It was a terrible, 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 sound but Light didn't react. He only sipped his coffee—hot liquid melting evidence of annoyance away before he mumbled a suitable response. Say something unassuming in tone, but to L, make the words as 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 as one could 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒚 imagine. It would infuriate the detective endlessly, because, to all appearances...Light was just offering his usual, judicious advice.

"If you're going to stay up all night, why not dedicate those additional hours to the Kira investigation—if you want to be helpful?"

If L weren't so adept in the art of nonchalance, pale fingers would redden with aggression—bending the fork in half within the tension of his angered fist. Light was employing 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 effort to be as condescending as one could 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒚 imagine. The detective was inwardly furious because not only was Kira acting 𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚 loathsome but...Light's right leg crossed over his left and he leaned into the back of his chair with complete confidence at his remark. He was so attractive. It made L hate him more. Always 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 that ridiculously pretty, impeccably neat—to the point it was comical—hair. L remembered how it felt, bunched in his hands as he pulled it. It was so slippery, and soft. It taunted the detective as it rested, slightly over piercing eyes until it didn't, because Light had a tendency to move his head abruptly; flick his fringe subsequently from obscuring his vision. It was so detestably 𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 of him...L was almost ashamed as to how it made him feel...what a cocky, sickeningly perfect, nauseatingly beautiful, unconsciously arrogant boy...it was so irrational as to how 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 Kira could be, L despised him with every fibre of his being and he loved Light so intensely—it was all so terrible.