Chapter Text
The last time Light drove a car, it was his late father’s 1998 Honda Accord. Silver, scuffed on both sides, and smelling just faintly of secretly smoked cigarettes, the car fell into his hands after Soichiro passed away. About a month before he left Japan, Light took the Accord on a final drive outside city limits, to a crowded stationary store where a woman he’d contacted on a forum handed him a square plastic bag with two small pills inside. On the drive back, stars burned bright enough to illuminate the vehicle’s insides and Light imagined his father in the passenger seat.
“You’re making a grave choice,” Soichiro’s voice echoed throughout Light’s head. “A cowardly choice.”
“You don’t understand.” Light shook his head, hands gripped on the steering wheel as he took the exit toward their neighborhood. “You, Mom, even Sayu. You’d never understand why I’m doing this. I can’t be trapped here.”
“In your family’s house?” Even as a projected memory, his father’s sternness sent a shiver through Light’s spine. “In your home country?”
“Trapped in this body.” His hand rubbed over his stomach, the phantom of an unwanted visitor floating just beneath Light’s touch. “This is what I have to do to get out.”
When he looked to the seat beside him, there was nothing but his tiny bag of mifepristone and misoprostol. Yet in Light’s head was still his father’s voice. Through the cramping pain after he took his pills, the fatigue, and the miserable lie he told his mother about catching the flu, Light heard that voice from beyond the grave – upset that his daughter would ruin her perfect woman’s vessel for a future she couldn’t know. By the next morning, though, he heard nothing but the sweet bells of relief. He was no vessel; Light was free – at least until his mother found the test applicator with two tiny pink lines while taking out his trash.
After he left Japan, Light never drove again. Cars held little interest, and traffic gave him headaches. Ryuk helped him buy his first bike, which Light wrecked while doing his side-job delivering Wendy’s to college students who tipped him jack-shit on a delivery app. He saved for his next bike and buying it satisfied a deep, primordial itch in his gut – to have something entirely his own. The resulting silver hybrid city bike, with its rugged thin wheels and black wire basket, was Light’s and no one else’s. Right now, it was strapped to the back of L’s Subaru Outback as he and the other man barreled toward an uncertain fate.
For the first time in a long time, while in the passenger seat of L’s car, Light’s thoughts turned to his father’s old Accord. Maybe its shabby silver carapace was Sayu’s transportation now, continuing in its duty of carting the Yagami children around. Heart in his throat, Light glanced toward L, who held his steering wheel in one hand and his phone in the other. Oh good: Soichiro looking through the afterlife was sure to be thrilled his kid was in the passenger seat of a reckless driver.
“You should put that away while you drive,” Light said.
“I’m just letting Near know we’re heading his way.” Clicking his tongue, L tossed the phone into the center console and rested his elbow on its closed lid. “Don’t be so worried.”
“Don’t be worried?”
“Yeah.” L spun the wheel into a sharp turn. “I’m a great driver.”
“Just keep your eyes on the road.” Light grabbed hold of a ceiling handle and squeezed. “For my sake.”
They pulled into The Secret Garden’s small back parking lot without incident. Apart from one occupied by a small blue Honda, the wind blew through empty parking spaces. Light ran his hands over his coat, their sweat more heavy than he realized, and exhaled.
“What’s going on here?” He turned from the window to meet L’s gaze directly. “Tell me the truth this time.”
L threaded his hands together over his belly. With a withering chuckle, his gaunt features seemed to grow in age until Light saw every year of L’s life gouged in skin. Bubbling in Light’s stomach was anticipation – strange but serious anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to be on the same page as L.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” L said. “Not in detail. All I know is I want your help. I want you here with me. Can that be enough to get us out of the car?”
“I think that’ll be enough to get me a few feet further,” Light said. “I’ll need more, though, if you want me to walk the whole way with you.”
Once they entered the Garden, Light wobbled – thrown off by the inversion of coming through the exit. However, nothing behind the Garden’s check-out counter changed in the days since he came to plead for Miheal’s apprenticeship. Still at the custom bouquet counter was Near, staring out over the empty sales floor. L whistled – a long, impressive sound – and caught the young boy’s attention away from the dormant flower stands.
“Oh.” Near spun around with two fingers tangled in his white curls. “Hey. Bad timing for all this to go down, right?”
“Not many good times for a person to go missing.” L slung his coat off and held his hand out for Light’s. He hung both on a small set of hooks already burdened by an off-white parka and, Light realized with a dry mouth, Miheal’s hole-ridden hoodie. Now dressed down to a white shirt and jeans, L made a little show of riffling through his keys. Near slumped off his stool and waddled over, snatching L’s keys out of his loose grasp.
“Missing.” Near snorted. His small, stout hands found a long silver key among the cluttered carabiner. “Funny way to say Beyond called and Mello ran off with him.”
Light’s eyes went wide, but his shock paled in comparison to the frank devastation on L’s face. L grabbed Near by the shoulder and shoved him back against the greenhouse. The structure wobbled with a solid thunk, and Light frowned. Hitting a pane of glass didn’t sound like that; the noise was more the warbled clatter of smacking into a television.
“Beyond?” L dropped his hand from Near with a distressed groan. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“You were on a date.” Near shrugged his shoulder toward Light. “Seemed rude to mention a previous lover.”
Questions flooded Light’s mouth, but he had no time to speak any of them before Near unlocked the greenhouse door. It hissed, steam spilling free from the opened door. Near slipped out of L’s hold and trundled in, L stalking behind. Mouth dry, Light followed after the two inside.
The door shut behind him on a room that looked nothing like a greenhouse. Wall to wall were the backs of large monitors, their hum only drowned by a lone fan rotating in the right corner. Besides the fan was an oriental rug thrown over linoleum tile, but those two objects proved the only furniture. Light wiped sweat from his upper lip – the change in temperature from the cool store to the sweltering sizzle of several screens running. He glanced at L, whose shoulders still hit his ears.
“A secret hideout in the flower shop?” Light looked over the multiple humming machines. “I should be less surprised, I think.”
“Well, we’re all getting surprised today,” L grumbled.
Near crouched, sliding his thumb beneath the rug and flipping it up. Underneath was a section cut-out from the linoleum, revealing beneath the tile a layer of soundproof foam and beneath that hardwood floor. At the center of the hardwood floor was the outline of a cellar door. Near wrenched the door open and started down a set of stairs that dropped quickly out of view. His white hair disappeared into shadows before popping back up to give both L and Light a baleful squint.
“C’mon,” he said. “No dawdling.”
L rounded on Light, who widened his eyes in disbelief. He started the day worried about a date and now he literally had to go down a rabbit hole.
“This is where you require more information,” L said, “before you keeping going with us.”
“It’s just a lot.” Light wiped his hands on his jeans, their sweaty palms only growing clammier as he watched L’s nervous twitches. If he’d felt dizzy before, his head was a cement-mixer now. “This is a lot to take in. This is” – he wavered, bending over to put his head between his legs – “Oh boy.”
A hand smoothed over his back, and L rubbed in circles while Light heaved. His other hand found Light’s, steadying shaking limbs while Light focused his entire body on deep breaths. Minutes passed of just his breath, L’s breath, and their hands clasped together in an anxious approximation of comfort. Slowly but surely, the room stopped spinning enough for a complete sentence to pass Light’s lips.
“If I go down there,” Light said, “will you tell me the whole truth? Everything that’s been going on?”
A hard swallow swelled L’s throat, gray eyes wavering with some wet, nervous sorrow. Light squeezed the hand in his. With a sigh, L patted the small of Light’s back and his smile drew up in a faint curve.
“I know you’re making a hard choice right now,” he said. “And if you decide to leave, that’s okay – you’d still have made the right choice. But I’d like you to keep going, with me, because I think you’re a good person to keep around.”
Light stared down into the dark behind Near, the stairs descent into a place he couldn’t predict. Yet his panic faded, placated by the firm weight of L’s palm against him. He wasn’t scared; he was almost excited – though the two emotions felt near the same. Against all logic, L had given him all the information he needed to continue forward.
“Yeah.” Light nodded. “That’ll work for now.”