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I am not the type of person to make out with my psych ward roommate.
I'm not the type of person to have a psych ward roommate in the first place. I shouldn't be here. It was a mistake, a horrible, sloppy one. I should be dead.
But I'm here. I'm here, and when I imagine L leaning in close, his breath on my skin, I don't seem to mind that I am.
I hardly know anything about him. L is twenty-four years old to my eighteen. He's a strange man who always stares at people. He's the only man in this place. Other than me, I guess. His face is gaunt and he has an unnerving look in his eyes. I should want to stay away from him.
Our room is dark. We should be sleeping, but L is an insomniac and I can't get comfortable in this place. We've been exchanging occasional whispers, talking about philosophy. We don't really talk about ourselves, and I like that. L is sharp; he matches my pace. I like this too. But I don't like him.
It's been quiet for a while, but I can tell that he's still awake from the sound of his breathing. L tends to snore on the rare occasion that he does manage to fall asleep. It's very unpleasant.
I've never been the type of person to feel lonely. Alone, yes, but never made vulnerable because of it. There is a sort of wall that insulates myself from the rest of humanity. Other people have never been able to match my intelligence and values, or see past my facades. Hell, everyone in my life thinks that I'm a girl.
L knows, though. I've never told it to him outright, but he knows. With him, the wall is thinner. It's a disgusting feeling. Like looking at something gory that you can't make yourself turn away from. I feel sick with want.
Quickly, before I can change my mind, I get out of my bed and walk over to L's. I sit down. He sits up.
He doesn't need to ask what I'm doing. There's a creepy sort of perceptiveness to him, and even in the dark he can make out my intentions. We don't need to talk. I like this.
L is a silhouette of lanky limbs and shaggy chin-length hair. It tickles my cheek when he kisses me. He smells good, and he isn't supposed to but he does and it makes me feel ravenous. I try to remind myself that L is L, the creepy guy I have to share a room with in this rotten place, and he is messy and undignified and everything I shouldn't be and L is good, he is the only good thing in the world and I need him. I kiss his jaw, his neck. I've never kissed anyone for so long. I'm not sure if I'm good at it, but L doesn't seem to mind. He moves his head, smooth and rhythmic. He sucks on my tongue. He seems to like me. Me, the person sitting on the bed with him in the dark. Not Light Yagami. Not the perfect girl who's supposed to start school at To-Oh next week. My eyes feel hot. I don't want to cry.
"Light," he breathes. "You okay?"
I can't speak. I make some sort of strangled sound and L's voice is low and soothing and he knows, he seems to know everything when I hardly say a word about it and I'm not sure if he's incredibly perceptive or if everyone else in my life is dull.
"Just kiss me," I tell him.
I let myself think that he's saved me, that he's saving me with every kiss. I feel lightheaded. My entire body feels weightless, and I realize that he hasn't put his hands on me. Every boy I've kissed before has. Every boy I've kissed before, which hasn't been many, has made me feel like curling in on myself and running away and doing horrible things but L is special, L is safe, L is just like me. He knows, and I hate that he does but at the same time, it feels good to be softened. To let someone in.
L's hands are resting on the mattress. I consider them, brush against his right hand with careful fingers. He turns it palm-side up, inviting. My heart is pounding like a small bird's. L makes a low, contented sound, voices it into my mouth. I place my hand on top of his, like I don't know how to hold a hand. I don't know how to do anything. I don't know what I'll do when I get out. I don't want to think about it, about anything except for him. I shift, and finally take hold of his hand.
I want to stay like this. I'm not thinking about the nurse who will come to check on us soon; I'm not thinking about the morning when the lights come on and we pretend like this never happened. I don't want to think. I want his mouth on mine forever.