Me & Her

Me

"I couldn't sleep. Did you sleep well?" I ask quickly.

Last night is definitely not what I want to talk about.

"Yes, actually. I've made pancakes". Pancakes. Instantly, the world seems brighter.

"Thanks". Still, I can't escape the nausea in my stomach. Last night. What did she do? Mum seems okay, but what about Dr. Light? What if she's done something to him?

As my Mother swings back around the door, I lurch up from the couch, rushing to the dining table. It isn't right to go careening into Light's bedroom. But what if...?

Slotting into a chair, I start shovelling pancakes onto my plate. I just hope he's okay. He doesn't exactly deserve to be, but I hope he is.

To alleviate my nerves, I pile on more pancakes, tucking in with the ferocity of a wild animal.

"Good morning".

I turn, half a pancake hanging out my mouth, to see him in the doorway, rubbing his forehead. His skin – pale as it is – seems paler, like an alabaster statue in a museum. A museum. I remember going to one, although I'm not entirely sure which. Mum must have taken me, but I can't recall seeing her face. Just hearing her.

"Don't go running off like that," she had said to me. "I don't want to lose you".

Dousing my suddenly dry throat in orange juice, I watch Dr. Light ease onto the chair. He really does look awful. All his movements are so stiff, stiffer than mine. A blush creeps onto my cheeks as I realise I still have half a pancake hanging out my mouth.

Not so subtly, I finish it. Light only takes one. His eyes meet mine. Tired eyes. He isn't tired in the sense of sleep – I know he isn't – but something else. Mentally tired, as if he's holding himself back. Back from what?

"Are you okay?" he asks me eventually. If I wasn't so worried, I would have registered his concern.

"Yes. I'm fine". Lying, always lying. I'll never be allowed to stop.

"Are you okay?" His expression falters slightly.

"Yes," he says. Liar. Both of us are too accustomed to playing a part.

My brow itches. I don't understand him. For someone with a Harvard degree and a snappy suit, he's pretty miserable. Like me, I suppose. But then, I have an excuse.

Looking down at my hands, phantom veils of mud coat my fingernails.

Closing my palms, I move on to my next pancake. Mum sweeps in, picks up Light's plate. He mutters an almost inaudible thank you.

Mum kisses my forehead, running a hand through my hair as she passes.

"I'm going to go out shopping today. We've only got tumbleweeds in the fridge. Do you want anything?"

My memories. My old life, a proper life, not whatever this fractal existence is. But I doubt those things can be store bought.

Instead, another idea takes root.

"Maybe, dumbbells or a workout magazine or something. I just think it might be good for me to build up my strength and get some exercise," I add sincerely. I'm not sure why I'm thinking of lifting weights, but I am. I also find myself wanting to ask for gym equipment.

Mum looks sceptical, and I fear she's going to say no, when Light clears his throat.

"That isn't a bad idea. She's currently underweight and raising her endorphin levels might help her feel better". Mum flashes him a stern glare, but it's so fast I barely see it.