[private]

[subversion]

Light makes absurd promises in the middle of the night, and never intends to keep any of them. However, there's a first time for everything, which is why he's dragging himself through one kitchen after another looking for peaches.

[[OOC: private to first_successor.]]

Comments

[subversion.livejournal.com]

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."

[first-successor.livejournal.com]

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.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

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.

[first-successor.livejournal.com]

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.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

"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."

[first-successor.livejournal.com]

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."

[subversion.livejournal.com]

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."

[first-successor.livejournal.com]

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.

[subversion.livejournal.com]

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.