A/N: OMG, you guys should love me!!! The original ending was only 300 words... I only wanted to expand it a bit, and I kept having to back track... GAH!

But now, I can say I'm satisfied. And that... is awesome. Lol.

So... the movie that everyone kept wondering about... ha ha...

Ever heard of a delightful little diddy called "Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind"? Yes, no? Then go see it if the answer if negative! GO BUY/RENT IT NOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!

*Ahem* Anyway. ^.^ You'll see the references if you see the movie. They are, quite blunt. LOL. I'm not done being hyper now. I need to gooooooo...

Hope you guys enjoy this last chapter/epilogue!

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it, when I sorrow most;

'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

-Alfred Tennyson

Title: Your Eyes, Shining

Five: Looking Back to go Forward

(It never felt like more than a dream… compared to our future, our past doesn't seem all that important.)

"So, I was thinking the other day…"

"Did you hurt yourself?"

L pouted as he shoved his hands within his jean pockets, the spring weather a grateful change compared to the horrible wintery season that had finally passed, bringing with it the truth hidden behind his emotions along with the beginning of his future.

"Very funny, Light…"

"Well?" Light smiled as he tugged on the frayed edges of his ever-present red scarf, his wooly coat exchanged for a light jacket and thin tee-shirt. "What were you thinking about, Mr. Writer?"

"After… after everything that happened between us that day I visited my grandfather, you've never told me…" Stalling for a moment, L pulled the younger man closer to his person, burying his head against the crook of his neck.

"Hm?" The tanned brunette muttered, dazed by the closure of space.

"You've never told me," L sighed against his lover's neck, brushing back the cinnamon-brown locks with reverent fingers and barely-there caresses, "about… well, us. From before."

"Well, once upon a time there was this fabulous college student who was just oh-so-awesome and he met this lame writer who just happened to be writing his first best-seller-"

"Light." The sharp inclination in L's voice halted the nonsensical brunette's joke in its tracks as blue eyes narrowed without warning.

"Do I honestly need to?" Light murmured against his neck, light hazel eyes dimmed heavily by the sleepiness of his form. "You have me now."

"… I would like it if-"

"If we could drop this matter and talk about something else?"

"If," L continued, unperturbed by the sudden disruption on his partner's part, "you would just tell me a tiny bit of what I would like to know."

"You're overwhelming curiosity just couldn't leave well enough alone, could it?" The photographer deadpanned, absently toying with frayed edges of his scarf.

"No. Not really." The writer admitted, delighting in the way his lover's eyes radiated with jovial amusement at his own lackadaisical attitude.

"Let's go home, then. We'll talk there."

And with a silent whoop of internal enthusiasm L grabbed Light's hand and quickly sped up the street towards his apartment, loving the sound of the word 'home' as it escaped Light's lips and what it meant for their relationship.

(Little things we thought we could have lived without… it's now we realize just how much of ourselves we had originally given up.)

Sitting on the bed, L patiently awaited the return of his paramour's lithe figure as he shed off all excess clothing; one thing about Light that not many people realized was how much time he not only put in with picking out and putting on clothes, but how much time he took in taking them off as well.

Not that L saw that as a bad thing.

Most days, he rather enjoyed the show.

Now, however, with his boyfriend all but complacent and willing to speak about a time that seemed to bring great pain to him, L just wished he would hurry the process along and get his behind under the sheets with him in an effort to both coax him into speaking and warm his limbs.

Finally, after nearly an ungodly amount of time (five minutes), L perked up at the sight of his pajama-clad lover and patted the spot next to him. The act of silliness was worth the exasperated smile and melodic laughter sent his way.

"Is that spot for me?" Was Light's flirty response before a pale hand reached forward and made a rolling motion, beckoning the younger man to join him before the author went insane.

"Light…" No matter how much time passed, Light would never be able to get over the sight of his partner whining like a child, lips downturn in definitive pout. Though the older man would deny doing so, Light enjoyed the view nonetheless. "Will you please come here?"

'You took the nice approach,' the smirking brunette nodded before getting into bed with his enthused lover, 'good choice, L, good choice.'

"Alright, you've got me," the photographer laid his head upon his pillow (as it had been dubbed since he started really sleeping in L's apartment) and smiled in lazy contentment, "what is it you wish to hear?"

"Well…" Now that he had the opportunity to get all the answers he had craved, it was like the questions had committed suicide within his own head. "Uh…"

"Yes…?"

"…"

"…"

"… What were we like?" L suddenly careened forward, letting his arms fall over his boyfriend's waist. "Did we fight a lot?"

"Do we fight a lot now?"

The author sputtered at the question, cheeks flushing as he thought about both his and Light's daily spats with each other. "Well, we certainly tend to disagree most days, but I wouldn't label it as fighting per se-"

"Well, let me put it this way then," Light interrupted, the reminiscent smile on his face crinkling at the edges, "we certainly had our fair share of… disagreements way back when. But most of the time, it wasn't anything serious. We just fought for the sake of fighting, really."

A pale hand came up and scratched the back of L's head, the blush set over his cheeks not lessening in the least. "That…"

"Sounds like a lot like now?" Light deadpanned. "Amazing how so much changes so fast, huh?"

"How did we meet?" L prodded, ignoring the cynical taunt and concentrating on his task at hand. "Was it love at first sight? Did we fight? Did you even act the same way as you do now?"

The photographer snorted, eyes dancing with mischief.

"I wouldn't call me barreling into you while you held a burning cup of coffee 'love at first sight'." Light ignored the wide-eyed surprise at such an admission and continued on as if he had said nothing at all. "If anything, I think I annoyed you at first with all my hyperactivity and semi-ADD; and yes, L, I really was the same exact way. As if I could act any other way even if I tried… But… you didn't seem to mind too much that I was the way I was, thinking back on it now…"

"You chased after me." L grinned, the hidden message loud and clear to a person who knew their way around Light's ambiguous rhetoric. "Twice."

"Yeah." The light-haired man admitted, not finding a reason to lie for once. "I did. But I think you liked the fact that I kept a firm hold on your coattails. Kind of a test of sorts to see if I had it in me to handle a guy like you, if you ask me. And sadly, knowing you, I'm probably right on the money with my ways in thinking."

"I suppose for us, some things never change." The writer smirked, pulling on a lock of perfectly straight auburn-colored hair.

"I always thought that it was funny, though-" A contemplative shroud of bemusement settled over the photographer's face as he pried the pale grip from off of his tawny-brown locks, his lips caught in between a smile and a frown, "the one thing that brought us together when we first met was the one thing that, ultimately, pulled us apart."

Blue eyes gleaming with curiosity widened as the man just across from them fidgeted, most likely thinking of time's past. "Which was?"

Light grinned, a nostalgic sadness lingering in his gaze as he traced the contour of his lover's cheek with one solitary finger.

"Your stubbornness."

(So let's lay these nonexistent worries between us… does it even matter what it is we used to feel?)

"Did that help any?" The mumbled question was quiet against the soft, sensitive skin of his neck, tingling the area rather spectacularly.

"… … No." L sighed, cradling his head within his hands. "Not one bit. But thank you…"

"It's nothing-"

"No," The writer interrupted his partner before he could brush off the graciousness on his own part, "I can tell even thinking about those times makes you feel miserable, Light. Don't make this a small deal when it isn't. Thank you."

Light sighed as L settled into his spot and closed his eyes, proceeding to drift off into his land of dreams even as Light himself felt as if he had somehow jipped his lover out of something; though he couldn't fathom on what. He had not been the cause of his partner's amnesia, but an irrefutable guilt hung over his shoulders. Though he wasn't the cause of the problem at hand, he still held something precious that L wanted-

A remembrance of the person he had been; of the person he, apparently, never wanted to become ever again if it meant losing what he now had.

Refusing to let the man wallow in his own anguish and confusion any longer, Light finally decided to take his own form of action. If he knew L as well as he did, and if Mihael was right in saying what he did to him all those months ago…

'Now, if I was L, where would I keep all of my most sacred belongings…?'

And just like that, it all became so very clear.

'Sacred… I am such an idiot.'

(Why search for something you don't want to find if you still get to hold me close?)

The next day, the sleep-ridden author was greeted with a cold, Light-less spot in bed and a dark leather-bound journal left in his lover's stead. A little note was taped to the front, the handwriting clearly not his own.

L,

I'm not surprised you still don't remember anything about our time together, even after our little discussion. I was never the one who was all that gifted with words, so it doesn't shock me, really. You, though socially-retarded, are probably the most eloquent person I have ever met.

'Of course, in order to give me a compliment, it must be wrapped within an insult.' L scoffed, shaking his head before going back to the note.

If anyone could make you remember your own past, it would be you. So, I present to you your journal from our time together! Luckily for you, I know how to pick locks, and that little hidden chest underneath your bed (it's the one place you used to call 'sanctimonious', and quite frankly, I don't want to ever find out why) was pretty easy to open. Once you're done with this, you should take a gander in there, or vice-versa…

Even I was surprised by the things I found, truth be told.

But, to cut a long note short, here is our time together in your own words. Don't worry, I didn't peak too much.

Scout's honor.

-Light

L smirked as he thought of Light forcing the padlocked chest beneath his bed open, shaking his head in morbid amusement.

"You were never a scout, Light, you're mother told me…" L muttered to himself, bringing the journal up to his face.

Should he…?

Pushing the journal out of the way, L glanced over at his dresser. There for all the world to see was the now-opened box that had given him so much trouble in the year, papers and tiny objects spilling over its sides.

'Yes. Yes, you should.'

(The past is irreplaceable, but the future-it's still so bright.)

Picking through the items, L thought he would feel some flash of recognition strike through him and flood him with… well, something-

(honestly, he didn't know what it was he was expecting, only that that sense of clarity he had been missing would mysteriously pop back up and hit him over the head again)

That would cancel out all the confusion and well-worn headaches and bring him just a bit of-

(but was that too much to ask for considering whatever was lying in his past was something that still hurt Light to this day; his Light who despite all misgivings and own fair share of tears was willing to look past all of it and still love him for not only who he was but who he could be)

Peace.

Each piece of paper was nearly as unrecognizable as the last-

(Dear L, L, To: L)

And every tear-spotted line and blurred images of ink did nothing to jog anything but more pity on his lover's part-

(Why won't you write back to me? Was I really worth nothing to you? After everything, don't I deserve an outright rejection instead of… this?)

And a bit of… rancor on his own-

(Who are you trying to fool? Yourself? L, no matter how many times you tell yourself something, you know the truth will always win out!)

How could he do this?

How could he wallow in his own pain without thinking of Light's; what had he been thinking?

Glancing back at the journal laying innocently on the dresser behind, L wondered…

Clinging to something you can't remember; why can't you cling to me instead?

Settling himself by the window farthest from his bed, L carefully pried the journal open and kept his stare directly on his lap, the paper yellowed with age as lines of elegant black ink flowed against its dull plane.

Carefully tracing his own handwriting with his right index finger, L couldn't keep in his gasp as he glanced down at the date; years and years held right in his hand, and by his own account.

'I suppose writing in one of these is a rather cliché thing for a writer such as myself to indulge himself with, but my thoughts, as chaotic as they are, refuse to settle within my own mind. So, in an effort to calm my own mental settings, I should hope that writing them down should do me a bit of good.'

It was almost like an echo; L could practically see himself writing this all down, a small pensive frown adorning his face as he gripped the pen with lanky fingers smudged with black and blue ink.

Skipping over the pages, L skimmed and skimmed and skimmed…

'Today was drab as always; why is it that mundane seems to capture my attention even more than the extraordinary? My grandfather said my father was the same way-always playing down his greatest accomplishments, yet mulling over the most insignificant of things. Why is that, I wonder?'

'My editor called me today. Told me my writing was 'slipping'. What does she know?'

'Nothing new to report today; perhaps I should look for something to entertain myself. A hobby perhaps?'

'This is really starting to get to me… I think I may be going insane! I need something to take my mind off of all this… repetitiveness.'

'Oh dear God. I think I may have found my savior out of this monotony.'

L blinked as he halted in his thoughts, the crisp page filled with hurried penmanship and stumbling blotches of ink sprawled against the page in random intervals.

'He was… ok, maybe I should start from the beginning, since I realize that just rambling would take away from the significance of this truly remarkable encounter. It all started when I went out this morning for my daily walk. I went to my favorite spot near the park by my apartment and had a sudden hankering for a nice big cup of coffee…'

L blinked as he caressed the page and let his mind drift off as the words floated around his mind.

He could… almost see it in his mind…

(When you find what you are looking for, will you be satisfied?)

The young writer yelped as his cup of coffee spilled over the sides and fell all over the sidewalk, though (thankfully) nowhere near his person. A bundle of lively energy picked itself up from off the sidewalk and brushed himself off, glancing up at the author with wide cinnamon-brown eyes and a horrified expression set over his visage.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

L fumbled with his now-empty cup of coffee as a young brunette with golden-brown eyes held his clutch-case to his person, having just a second before nearly elbowed the older of the two in the face with a sudden spin on his own part. After balancing his coffee cup with one hand and steadying himself with the other, L sighed as he gave the boy a nonchalant glance while curtly nodding.

"I'm so, so sorry, I just didn't see you there! It's like you popped up out of thin air!" Brushing off the awkward joke, L smiled politely to the student, if going by the uniform he was wearing was any indication, and made to walk away and grab himself another cup of joe. "Hey! Wait up Mr… Uh… Guy…"

Cringing as the boy grabbed onto his coat sleeve, dark cerulean eyes rolled back to their aggressor. "I just… I feel bad about the coffee. Can I at least make amends by buying you another one and spare myself the feeling of guilt for the rest of the day?"

"I…" Though in the future he would most definitely say otherwise, there had been something in child's gaze that had hypnotized him in that moment, speaking of other worldly things that L could only imagine and inked onto paper with his collection of pens. It was, in other words…

Magical.

"S-sure." Trying to at least summon up some semblance of a kind smile, L struggled to not laugh as the look on the boy's face brightened considerably and elegant golden fingers grabbed onto his free hand with a tight grip. Not looking the least perturbed the by shocked looks on countless stranger's faces as he pulled on L's arm and rushed them both forward, the boy began to speed-walk to his destination, slightly unmindful of the man striding behind him.

"Great! I know this awesome place just a few blocks away from here! You'll love it! Totally worth the extra five or ten minutes! You're not late, are you? I sure hope not. But their coffee is awesome enough to have life spare you the little bit of extra time! Uh… I'm having a caffeine-gasm just thinking about it!"

In any other case, L would have pulled his hand away and run the other direction to try to get away from this suddenly peppy teenager who seemed to be floating on invisible wings attached to his feet, but he had to say, he was curious.

Light bells of laughter tinkled within the air as L simply followed, knowing this was the beginning of a grand new adventure he would never wish to forget.

(What we want, it has nothing to do with what we've done.)

Things he couldn't remember before flooded into his subconscious in a string of inevitable encounters and beautiful smiles.

L smiled as he vacantly stared up at the night sky through his window, journal gently falling off of his lap.

It was almost like a hit over the head.

He had been right.

It didn't hurt though.

Some things really didn't changed.

He wasn't afraid.

But that didn't mean that they couldn't.

When Light returned, he would see…

Just what it was he couldn't live without.

(And even if I never, ever truly remember your face, the emotion is still here inside… along with your eyes, shining with unforgettable grace.)

Fin.