It was raining. Pouring down water in heavy droplets which bounced off the hard ground like jumping beans. There's no escaping the rain, for even indoors, the persistent sound is still heard - a steady rhythm drumming on the rooftops, the constant stream like a waterfall that engulfs everything below the vast sky.

Most people hate the rain, for it interferes with their daily lives and stops them from walking freely outside. People don't like having to build the routine of their day around the rain, therefore they cannot see it for what it is: a much needed part of nature, a wonder in all things natural. No, to them it is simply an inconvenience. Something to sigh about when seen and complain about when they know it will come.

But for one detective, that was not the case. To L, the rain was something beautiful, and he found himself wondering where the ability to appreciate it came from. Maybe it was his exceptional intelligence? Surely that would enable him to think outside the box of the narrow-minded, common person? Or maybe it was his lack of concern for his appearance? He did not care in the slightest if his hair, clothes or anything else most people would object to disturbing were not dry and pristine.

No... neither of those options explained his admiration of the wet weather well enough.

So then, could it be that when he stood in the rain, and turned his gaze upwards, his mind was at peace?

Yes, that seemed the most fitting answer.

The truth was, that when the sky-cold water was dotting across L's pale skin, drenching him from head to foot and leaving him pleasantly numb, he could almost relax. The rain was like his release, a place to go where others were reluctant to follow, an element to slip into where the stresses of the dry world were washed away.

Especially the world of the investigation which imprisoned L so relentlessly.

L felt... done. Totally and completely exhausted. Not because the case was particularly difficult, in fact, it was more because it was so easy, for he'd known the answer all along.

Light Yagami was Kira.

Simple. True. Yet no one would believe his words.

And so, L faced a dead end. He knew there was no point in fighting a battle he would never win, but lying down and letting Light triumph wasn't exactly to his tastes either. He couldn't stand the situation, being so utterly powerless. It frustrated him like nothing ever had before, and every moment he was forced to endure the look of smug satisfaction on that murdering bastard's face was something close to pure torture.

Which was why L now took refuge on the roof, basking in heaven's tears for the last time. He savoured every one of them, trying to concentrate on nothing but them, and not the bitter, grudging thoughts which threatened to overtake him completely. These were his final hours after all, and he'd be damned if he didn't enjoy them to the fullest. He most certainly did not want to spend them thinking about things which just didn't deserve his attention at present.

A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. To the people who hate the rain, this would be a sad and depressing atmosphere for an equally tragic scenario. To L, it was the perfect gift, almost like the earth was blessing him with his favourite setting before his departure, for he loved nothing more than the rain.

Except, maybe...

No.

But L couldn't help it. He stood there, soaked to the skin, and absently wondered if Light could ever appreciate nature like this. Was he ever capable of simply enjoying the world for the wonder it was before his mind was corrupted by the Death Note?

If only he could have known him as Light, and not Kira...

As if on cue, Light himself appeared at the roof entrance. He looked slightly surprised when he spotted the detective through the curtain of rain, who cocked his head slightly to look at him impassively.

"What are you doing up here, Ryuzaki?" Light called.

L stared blankly for a few moments, contemplating whether or not to just ignore him. But, as usual, he couldn't seem to manage that, and rose a hand to his ear instead.

"What are you doing up here, Ryuzaki?" Light shouted louder, his voice drowned easily by the heavily falling water.

Again L raised a hand to his ear, a silly grin on his face. God, his jaw muscles actually ached - he couldn't even remember the last time he'd smiled. Squinting though the rain, L watched Light dithering, appearing unsure what to do. He was quite certain Light wasn't a fan of water, so was rather taken aback when the younger man stepped out to meet him, an arm held up to his face.

At a few feet apart, Light repeated the question for a third time, amusement hinting at the corners of his mouth.

L considered this for a moment. What exactly was he doing? Stood on the roof of the investigation headquarters in the pouring rain, wet to the bone, clothes sodden, staring at the sky while contemplating his now soon-to-be-ended life?

L attempted to think of an answer he could condense all of that information into.

"Nothing really. Just... thinking." Wow, sometimes his own brain really amazed him.

Light raised one brown eyebrow and came closer, gaze still intently focused on the slouching detective as though reading his mind. Indeed, the brunette genius always seemed able to read him like a book - a seriously unnerving trait, yet positively intriguing, for nobody ever understood the thoughts of L.

A smile. "So out of all the places to think, you chose the roof, in a raging thunderstorm." Light's tone was dark, rich in that maddening, sickeningly alluring way, and followed by another deliberate step forward, closing the gap between them to a few centimetres. L couldn't help but look into his eyes, those deep hazel windows to his soul- or whatever was left of it, anyway. His face was a mask of pure menace, a small smirk on his lips, eyes lustfully narrowed.

L sighed at how so very typical of Light this was. Even while safe in the knowledge of his upcoming victory the malevolent bastard was still invading him, denying L the simple pleasure of being alone in his last few hours. He had calculated the chances of this long before, of course, but that still didn't lessen the anger.

He therefore didn't appreciate it too much when Light shoved him against the cool metal of a nearby pole and pressed himself against him. However, it was impossible to resist such a delicious assault and he found his own lips meeting Light's harshly in spite of himself. His arms instinctively wound around Light's shoulders and he pulled him closer, blood boiling with annoyance - both at himself and at the man who was currently sucking on his tongue - that he was giving in this easily, yet again.

Another, much louder rumble of thunder shuddered around them - as though in acknowledgement of their passion - and the rain jetted down even harder, engulfing them as they kissed and groped furiously against the hard roof fixture. And like the rain, Light was covering L; Light's swollen lips were rock hard against his own, his hands were eagerly roaming the sharp contours of L's body and L was under no illusions as to why the younger man seemed so much more enthusiastic this time than any of their other encounters.

L felt drunk on sensation - his soaked clothing, heavy with water, was chaffing against him, the cascading water was mixing with his hot breath, and Light's skilled hands inside his shirt weren't exactly helping to ease his laboured panting. He finally felt his last threads of control snap when Light sharply pushed a thigh between his - the feel of rough, wet denim rubbing against him making his hips involuntarily jerk - though he was sure to clamp down hard on Light's bottom lip to hold in a hefty groan.

Damn it.

L hated- no, loathed the way Light could make him loose control like this. L had always prided himself on being level-headed and indifferent to such petty things like emotions, after all, you can't be the best detective in the world and let stuff like that get in the way. Not that a life of solitude (Watari excused) and secrecy left much room for such things.

Is that why he yielded to him every time? Simple curiosity?

That may be the reason, L thought. But the percentage it was simply because it felt too good was far greater. That thought was confirmed when Light's fingertips brushed against his nipples, resulting in a loud moan that he hoped to hell was drowned out by another loud thunderclap. His own hands were buried somewhere in the fabric of Light's shirt, numb with cold from the rain and the pressure of his grip - Light's mouth was biting and sucking down his neck and if he squinted L could just about see the cloud formation that had caught his attention earlier - but at the moment he'd rather focus on the insistent grinding of Light's hips against his.

Their mouths clashed again and L knew this was the last time he would ever hold Light like this - the last time he would look into those amazing brown eyes and see himself reflected in them. And twisted as their relationship was, L knew he would miss it.

Or maybe he wouldn't... did the dead feel?

L didn't know or care. His mind was too focused on other things. Namely, the hands that were impatiently yanking open his jeans, and the hard pounding in his chest that was steadily growing fiercer, like his heart was determined to beat a lifetime's worth before it finally stopped. He listened to himself moan with disgust as Light's hand slipped into his sodden briefs; the younger man's smirk was burning through his eyes and L wanted nothing more than to shove him off, shove him away, shove him right over the roof's edge - but somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Damn it damn it damn it!

Light grunted in a rather unrefined way and worked him faster; L could feel Light's own arousal against his thigh but he'd be damned if he'd assist him, though Light didn't seem to care anyway. His eyes were fixed intently on the detective's face, glinting madly in what L perceived as some sort of sadistic pleasure every time his own mouth failed to contain a gasp or a groan - and he once again had to resist the urge to land a vicious punch right in that smug face - though deep down he knew it didn't really matter that he'd submitted to the younger man yet again. Hell, it didn't even matter that he was going to die, because he knew that in the end, justice would prevail, and Yagami Light would get what was coming to him.

A flash of lightning struck in the background as L shuddered his release with a moan, bittersweet and rasping into Light's shoulder before greedily pulling him flush against him to hold him for the last time. L's whole body was numb and uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to retreat from this awkward position, but only after he'd slipped a hand into the younger man's sodden shirt, curling it over Light's heart.

Its pace was unaffected, steadily thudding like a dull metronome.

L smiled without humor.

See you soon, Light.