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He knew that he hadn't procured enough food to last as long as they would have needed, and more so he knew that Anslem wouldn't appreciate him wandering the halls at night. Or at least what they perceived to be night. But with no other options and the fact that the German boy was finally asleep, A snuck into the closest kitchen he could find to get more food.

"Oh. Ah, good evening," he muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly as he tried to figure out if this was the Light that Matt had mentioned.

"Hey."

Light has emptied the fruit bowl in its entirety, leaving bananas, apples and persimmons strewn across the counter, and is now picking through the cupboards. Perhaps some bizarro-universe has peach ramen.

"You're looking very out in public."

Yeah, this was the Light he was thinking of. He relaxed a bit, wondering if he should apologize for their last meeting.

"Very...what?"

"Out. In public."

All the usual flavours of dried processed tat, but nothing peachy except for a packet that seems to have something to do with angels (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel_Delight). With a shrug, he drops it in the bag.

"Last time I saw you, you didn't want to leave your room."

Apologise? Why would he do that?

He nodded and turned to a cupboard, searching for...well, anything. He wasn't picky, and he had a lot of weight to regain. Anything with sugar would probably be good...

"Ah, yes. That was...well, I'm feeling better now, thank you."

"Good. You're back in your own room now?"

Because of course, that room hadn't belonged to the two As at all.

"...We're not staying in Matt's room anymore, if that's what you're asking." No one needed to know exactly where they were staying, at least not until B was caught.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Suddenly acerbic, moving down the counter to start piling the useless fruit back into the bowl; one of the apples vanishes into his bag, too. They'd had no business being in her room at all.

One of the cabinets contained a few chocolate bars, no doubt there for Mello. He wouldn't mind if a few of them went missing, would he? Err, they? "Funny. One might construe that tone of yours as bitterness and not contentment at all."

"One might construe my tone as any number of things, and all of them would be wrong, A."

Whatever it was, it is now even more of it than it was before. What's the kid playing at now?

A smiled a bit, placing the chocolate bars on the counter before opening another cupboard. "Sorry to offend. No one can understand you, then?"

He laughs, sharp and hissing under his breath, leaning back on the counter. "Oh, you aren't sorry. People like you, you don't know how to be."

He doesn't sound offended; there's a trace of feline malice there, as if Light's playing with A simply because it's in his nature: a bored cat with a wasp.

He quirked an eyebrow, but didn't turn to face Light. "People like me? Enlighten me, if you please."

"What, you don't know the kind of person you are? You should, you know."

As he watches the younger man, Light's far too focused, and far too ready to go on the attack.

"That's odd. A moment ago you seemed so willing to tell me exactly what you thought of me. What changed?" He didn't expect this to turn into a passive aggressive verbal challenge, but he wasn't going to back down.

"Nice try."

His fingers are coiling around the counter and back again, spidery, making singsong accusations.

"You took her room. You hid in safety while she ran off and risked her life - and she got sick, do you know that? A shame you couldn't deal with your problems, rather than sweeping them under someone else's bed."

A felt bad enough about the fact that Matt had fallen ill after leaving them in her room; he had already apologized profusely to her. She, of course, had told him that it was no big deal, that it was her own fault, but he still felt a pang of guilt in the back of his mind. Or at least, it was in the back of his mind until Light decided to bring it to the surface.

"I did know that, as a matter of fact. I made her soup and toast before clearing out the room so that she could sleep soundly. What did you do to make her more comfortable?"

Given that he spent the night watching her and let her stay in his room, Light's conscience is clear enough. In fact, it's so clear he could spend the day batting it around like a balloon, with the bag of peach-related paraphernalia that's still in his hand.

He smiles again, sharp and certain and totally prepared to deny her entirely. "This isn't about me. It's about you, and what you did or didn't do. I may not be caring for her now, but that's my problem. You have your own."

He finally turned to face Light, his face neutral, but not entirely calm. "Why Light, I was aware that you cared for me so. Because seeing as how my problems have nothing to do with you, the only conclusion I can come to based your insistence to speak on them is that you have feelings of concern for me. Unless...you somehow feel that my problems are your own. Again, I'll ask you to enlighten me."

"You can think that if you like. Aren't we all responsible for each other here?" Something is starting to giggle at him - shouldn't he leave? Get out, before he digs himself deeper?

Nah.

"We're all trapped in here, isn't that right? No point fighting with each other. It's not my fault if you let him get killed."

He's not seriously...

A's fists clenched at his sides and his shoulders tensed visibly. The mature thing to do would be, of course, get up and walk away. Wammy's House hardly bred maturity, however.

"Exquisite contradiction; it's almost an art form, how you wove it. I'd appreciate it if you took it back."

"Hah. I am a contradiction." And it's true; he's almost someone else entirely, dragged down into the whirlpool. One hand trails in front of his face, with a finger pointing at A. "That's what I do. I'm not part of the puzzle."

His eyes are bright, and his voice gleeful, laughing; he has a feeling A is going to hit him, or throw something at him, at any moment. "But it shouldn't mean anything, isn't that right? He's not dead, after all. He came back. Lucky A."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it? To ignore past transgressions just because the outcome happened to be favorable?" He paused, not wanting to get into a physical fight as he had less than a 15% chance of winning against anyone in his current condition.

"And I'm guessing that your suicide attempt doesn't affect you in the slightest just because you lived? Lucky you." He wasn't certain that this was true, but after what he saw in the Death Room he had a pretty good idea that Light's vision was more than just a vision.

Placing his bag carefully on the counter, Light doesn't even have to think about it. The bowl's right there, and then it's in his hands, and then it's skimming past A's head, fruit tumbling and bruising as it goes. It explodes on the wall behind him, in a shower of glass shards.

His smile is quite insane - stare fixed, all of it too wide and manic - as he says, "I wasn't trying." - he means the bowl - "Don't mention things you know nothing about." You can't know. I haven't told anyone here - except - did I tell her when I was sick? I can't have.

A’s arms instinctively went up to wrap around his head for protection. He swore loudly, not even certain which word he had uttered until after the bowl hit the wall. Okay, maybe that was going a bit too far. I'll have to keep that in mind.

He took a cautious step away from Light, holding out his hands in protest. “Hey!” he yelled, taking a deep breath to calm his frantic heartbeat. “There’s no need to be so quick to resort to violence. I think you need to calm down.” He glanced towards the door, wondering if Light would just let him walk away. He was obviously in over his head at this point.

Light would be happy to see A turn tail and run; part of the point of the display is to drive him away. He doesn't come closer, just casts an eye slowly towards the knife block within easy reach of him. That smile grows sharp, spinning shuriken edges as well, but his voice is casual, not quite even.

"Mention that again, Sweetie, to anyone, ever, and I will kill you. Is that clear?"

Just now, he's far gone enough to mean it.

A went quiet, taking in Light's body language, tone of voice, the glance toward the knives. He swallowed back the nausea that swept over his body and began walking towards the door. Was this really the man that Matt was so keen on?

"I understand perfectly. Can you do something for me though, Light?" He was almost at the door, within distance that he could make a break for it if need be. The food that he had piled on the counter was ignored and left behind, suddenly no longer important.

Watching A make for the door, Light yawns back against the counter again, eyes narrowing like a lazy cat. It doesn't improve the look of him. "That would depend what it is, wouldn't it?"

The bored look on Light's face only proved to anger A. He didn't like losing, and even though Light was hardly doing a victory dance in front of him, he still had the distinct feeling of defeat.

"Don't go to see Matt until you've done something about that temper of yours."

"Oh, please. Run along and warn her about me. Go on."

He knows perfectly well he left her in his room, and A won't be able to find her. As one hand flips, shooing A towards the door, there's more of a triumphant edge to him; he's utterly caught up in what he's doing, and drowned. "She'll never believe you."

Never believe me? What is he implying? This is some side of himself that she's never seen, or he knows that she's too in love with him to believe that he could resort to such acts?

He should run. He knew it. So why he continued standing in front of Light, his line of sight locked directly on him, he had no idea. What he did know is that Light was obviously not of sound mind, possibly having a psychotic episode, and he was potentially a threat to Matt and whoever else he might come across at this moment. But he also realized that he was ill equipped to handle this type of situation, and the last thing he needed was another enemy.

"Where is she?"

"Nuh-uh." The demurral's easy enough: a slow swish of his head, a slide of his smirk to left and right. "Your turn to spend weeks and days and nights looking for her. I don't keep her in my pocket."

He's not thinking; the words are automatic. What he's feeling is wings, dragging him right up against the ceiling, the sound singing to him: I won, I won. Later he'll hate himself, but now ... is not then.

Ah. So that's what all of this is about.

A relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his back straightening. He only hoped that if Light felt the need to throw anything else at him, then he also felt the need to miss on purpose again.

"I don't understand. Why don't you admit that you care for her?"

I don't care for her. She's nothing to me.

Even as he is, he can't say either of them; the effort jolts him out of himself, and some of the glittering malice clouds out of his face. But only some.

"Don't make me wait for this place to spawn another fruitbowl, A."

A understood when he was pressing his luck, but he was also still flustered from having the first fruitbowl thrown at him. For now he was convinced that Light wouldn't be hurting Matt; this frustration would more than likely only be taken out on him.

He paused and quirked his head to the side, regarding Light with a critical look. "You're not as enigmatic as you think, you know," he said quietly. "If you let it, it'll consume you. And if she's worth anything at all to you, you'll do something about it." He didn't mention that he was speaking was personal experience, but the insinuation was there.

The clattering, conflicting impulses finally untangle themselves, leaving something Light can definitely say, and is oh so very determined to believe. "I don't need her." One hand slides into the bag he's hiding, and the smile reasserts himself. Like he'd back down. Like he's capable of anything, by now, other than running on instinct.

It's clear enough that whatever comes out next is heading straight for A.

He's bluffing. He doesn't want to hurt me.

"Another lovely contradiction," he said, holding up a hand, seemingly in apology; his own contradiction. "And throwing your lunch at me won't solve anything, will it?"

He took another step towards the door, only two more and he would be in the hallway.

"No contradiction. It's over your head, that's all."

The apple comes out of the bag, and bounces in his hand, as if to illustrate. Somewhere he remembers that out of the two, he'd preferred this A; that really, neither of them have done anything. "It'll make me feel better, A."

He only hoped that the apple would also go over his head.

"Light, it would be better if we could discuss this like sensible men rather than barbarians. Please."

The apple bounces a little higher, a little more threatening; an internalised voice is murmuring at him not to waste food, and he doesn't recall whose it originally was. Long ago, far away, when he was someone else entirely. He feels sick, and twin spots of pink have risen in his face; he's squinting. The kitchen is bright; perhaps he's dazzled.

Why is he standing in the kitchen holding an apple? How did he get here? Why doesn't any of this make sense?

Snatching the apple back into his hand, he glares at A as hard as he can; he'll still throw it, if he has to. "Get out."

Edited 2009-07-27 01:37 (UTC)

A sighed softly, realizing that there was nothing at all that he could say that would get through to Light at this point. Perhaps it was smarter to live to fight another day, even if he would have to live with his wounded pride.

He didn't say another word, just gave Light a polite bow of his head before making his way into the hallway to find another kitchen.

As soon as A's gone, Light spins around and folds up on the counter, holding his breath, pulling himself back together. Stupid. Stupid. What's happening to him? - well, he knows exactly what's happening, doesn't he? Everything's too loud, too bright, too immediately real and painful. Time to hide.

When he gets back to his room, Matt is still sleeping; Light places the bag quietly on the table beside her, before leaving her asleep and sick in his bed. He won't be back.

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