
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12707349.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Fandom:
      Death_Note_(Anime_&_Manga)
  Character:
      Yagami_Light, L_(Death_Note), Matsuda_Touta
  Additional Tags:
      Rape, CSA, child_molestation, light_is_traumatized, L_isnt_good_with
      people, this_is_really_self_indulgent_its_all_about_my_personal_trauma
      sorry, this_is_seriously_all_over_the_place_i_hate_this, PTSD, venting,
      Violence, graphic_depiction_of_rape, please_be_careful_dont_read_this_if
      itll_trigger_you
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-13 Words: 2469
****** penance ******
by terraven
Summary
     In a way, it feels like the greatest form of payback.
Notes
     this is graphic. it is completely venting. i know its a bit ooc
     (trust me, i know) but i. needed to project. im sorry for this. find
     me on tumblr @yagvmi
Heavy breaths. Calloused hands. The room is humid. Light's pants end up halfway
across the room. Small, smooth legs spread, strained so high above his head it
hurts. He lets out a small squeak and the person above him shushes him harshly,
legs even higher now, spread so far apart his thighs strain. Broad hips,
broader than a seven year olds shoulders, find their way between his legs. The
rough feeling of pubic hair against Light's young privates makes him cringe,
shying away from the touch. The rough, large hand brings his face back to look
at the perpetrator, eyes burning into Light's. Tears begin to well up, and a
few spill over on to his round cheeks.
The man likes this. He moans, licking at the tears as he breaches Light. The
young boy cries, clinging to the man's shoulders, so as to ground himself. The
movement starts, blood mixing with spit to ease the pathway into a body broken
too soon. As it ends, Light's body responds in a way that makes him choke back
vomit. He is left on the bed while his teacher bathes, then sends him on his
way with brand new boxers and scars.
 
He is 10 years old when a story breaks. He is 10 years old when a few boys and
girls came forward about their tennis coach. He is 10 years old when they press
teachers, coaches, parents. He is 10 years old when the man disappears. He is
10 years old when his father gently asks if anything happened. He is 10 years
old when his mother asks if he needs to talk. He is 10 years old when he tells
them no, everything is fine. He is 10 years old when he tells them no, he was a
good coach, and never touched him. He is 10 years old when he lies so well he
begins to believe it. He is 10 years old when the man is found innocent,
because these children simply mixed up regular affection and inappropriate
touching. He is 10 years old when the man reappears at the same elementary
school.
 
He is 13 years old when Sayu comes home, saying that her new tennis club
sponsor is a creepy guy. He is 13 years old when Sayu asks how he knows her
tennis club sponsor? Because he keeps calling her Light. He is 13 years old
when Sayu comes home and says she doesn't want to be in tennis club anymore. He
is 13 years old when Sayu asks Light what it means for an older man to touch
her breasts. He is 13 years old when he finds out the man has transferred
schools. He is 13 years old when Sayu changes schools at Light's demands. He is
13 years old when he stops wearing long sleeves, because his arms make him feel
too exposed; and short sleeves are unbecoming of someone who'd made so many
mistakes.
 
He is 15 years old when he walks straight into a teacher. He is 15 years old
when the teacher smiles at him and asks how he's been. He is 15 years old when
he decides not to tell his parents. He is 15 years old when he gains new scars
on his arms. He is 15 years old when the flashbacks start again. He is 15 years
old when the teacher won't stop calling on him. He is 15 years old when he goes
back to his principal and changes his mind, that yes, he would like
specifically educational classes and he would like to forgo all clubs and
extracurriculars except for student council. He is 15 years old when he smiles
at the teacher. He is 15 years old when his father asks him if everything is
okay. He is 15 years old when he once more, becomes passive.
He is 17 years old when the Death Note chooses him. He is 17 years old when he
vomits. He is 17 years old when his favourite white coat gets crumpled into the
corner, his skin burning against the hot water. He is 17 years old when Ryuk
asks him why he put so much work into this name. He is 17 years old when he
writes the third name in the Death Note. He is 17 years old when he hears his
dad say, “Remember Mr. Sato? Your mother said he died this morning.” He is 17
years old when he feigns surprise. He is 17 years old when he says, “That's too
bad. He was such a good teacher.” He is 17 years old when Sayu asks him what
they're talking about. He is 17 years old when he answers, “Nothing.”
 
He is 18 years old while he is working with Ryuuzaki, having been 'cleared'
(Ryuuzaki has his reservations) of all suspicions. He is 7 years old when
Ryuuzaki pokes at him while they go over names, producing a years old article.
He is 10 years old when Ryuuzaki asks him if he heard about this? It was in
Light's elementary school, after all. He is 13 years old when Ryuuzaki cocks an
eyebrow, asks if he was Light's teacher at all? He is 15 years old when he
answers in the negative, immediately turning back to his computer. He is
focusing on Reiji Namikawa's financials, eyes dead ahead at the screen,
controlling his shaking on the inside. He is 17 years old when he remembers how
he felt when he heard the news, a pleasant surprise on a Sunday morning. He is
18 years old when Ryuuzaki says something to the tune of, “What a filthy
animal. Taking advantage of children like that...I'd like him to rot in a
cell.”
 
He is 18 years old when Ryuuzaki brings it up again. They are on opposite ends
of a couch, Ryuuzaki reading case reports, Light thumbing through victim
profiles. Every so often Light's arm jerks lightly backwards as Ryuuzaki puts a
jelly bean in his mouth, then relaxes as he licks his fingers. It is a calm,
hardly tense atmosphere. He is 18 years old when Ryuuzaki asks, “Why do you
only wear long sleeves, Light?”
Light looks up from the victim profiles to find Ryuuzaki staring at him rather
intensely. “That's a weird question,” he says, leaving it there in hopes that
the older man will drop it. When it becomes clear he won't, the teenager
continues. “Uh, I dunno. I like them. I think they make my arms look nice. I
can't be a little vain?”
“I thought you were always vain.” Ryuuzaki shoots back, another jelly bean
examined, then popped into his mouth. That irritates Light, furrowing his brows
together. “We've been handcuffed together for a month now. It's odd...” he
drops a case file, and moves on to the next one. Light vaguely wonders what it
is he's looking at. “...that I've only seen you wear short sleeves while
playing tennis.”
“Kind of ridiculous to wear long sleeves while playing sports. It gets hot
awfully fast, you know.”
“You wear long sleeves all summer.” He catches Light's eye once more. “Are you
perhaps, self conscious?”
“No offense, Ryuuzaki, but I don't think that's any of your business.” The
victim profile goes down on Light's lap, frustration now at the forefront of
his mind. “Why are you so adamant on knowing? You wear the same shirt and jeans
practically every day. Why do you always wear long sleeves?”
Ryuuzaki takes the jelly bean dish off of his knee and places it on the glass
coffee table in the lounge of the room they're staying in. The case reports get
placed next to the dish, carelessly spreading across the smooth surface.
Ryuuzaki leans forward into Light's personal space, making the younger male
press his back against the arm of the couch. “Ryuuzaki—” he spits out, his face
moving backward. Ryuuzaki's knees brush against Light's, and the detective
begins to roll up his sleeves.
His skin is pale, but his arms are lightly muscled. He presses them forward,
into Light's vision. He turns his arms, and Light sees a single defensive wound
on the man's forearm. Questions run through his head as his roommate says, “I
show you mine, you show me yours.”
The idea of being exposed makes Light begin to sweat. He pulls his knee to his
chest, then lodges his foot into Ryuuzaki's stomach. He is pushed backwards,
and Light shoots up off the couch, causing the taller man to fall to the floor.
He begins to walk toward their room, Ryuuzaki struggling to find his footing
and yank the chain hard enough to make Light stumble. The brunette shoots him a
glare, his brown eyes narrowing. Ryuuzaki recognizes the look as similar to the
way Light looked at him before he went into that room, before they became
chained together. It's a look he hasn't seen in over two months.
“You can't demand I undress for you, Ryuuzaki,” Light bites, yanking the chain
as well, but with less success. The taller man doesn't even move. “And I won't
be subjected to such interrogation. Haven't I had that enough?”
“Tell me about Gamou Elementary.” Ryuuzaki says, moving closer to Light.
“I won't. Nothing happened there. I went to Gamou, and my parents transferred
me to Daikoku Primary when they decided I was a genius.”
“But Gamou was an elite school as well. And then you went to Gamou Prep, where
Ippei Sato transferred to teach.” Without thinking, Light reared back and hit
him.
His fist connected with Ryuuzaki's cheek with a sickening crunch. Before he
could fall backwards, Ryuuzaki grabbed hold of Light's wrist, and pulled him
forward to Ryuuzaki's chest. The teenager collided, hard, and attempted to
wretch himself away. The detective's grip was tight, so Light pulled his knee
up and shoved into Ryuuzaki's family jewels. He coughed, doubling over, but
refused to let go of Light.
“Let go of me, Ryuuzaki!” Light butted his head against the other's jaw, but he
moved his head backwards and then pressed Light down into the couch. He raised
his knee and pressed it to the latter's stomach, keeping Light's wrists in his
hands. “Let go!” A grown man's weight on his stomach made it hard for him to
breathe; he gasped for air, throwing his head side-to-side.
“Light, have you ever talked to someone about this?” He wanted to cover his
ears, he didn't want to hear it. “Does your father know? Did the school know
about you?”
“Nothing happened!” he's desperate. He's never been desperate before in his
life. Please let this end.
“Talk to me, Light. Let me see your arms.”
“Why are you so weird?! They're just arms!”
“Then let me see.” he moves Light's wrists to be held by only one hand, and
grabs the edge of his sleeve. He gets to the edge of a pale bump, ragged, at
the base of his wrist bone, before Light bites him.
He sinks his teeth into Ryuuzaki's hand, hard, and he rips it backward. Light
shoves him, pulling himself up and not stopping for even a second before making
a beeline for the bathroom. Ryuuzaki is pulling on the chain, trying to make
him stay, and failing; Light is too determined. The teenager reaches the
bathroom and shuts the door, leading the chain under it and then turning the
lock.
On the other side, Ryuuzaki is silent. Light presses his back to the door
before sliding down it, sitting against the wood. He breathes deeply, counting
backwards from 10, trying to relax himself and steady his airflow. He does not
pull his legs to his chest, he does not begin to cry. He simply stares at the
white tile, Ryuuzaki's words hammering around his skull.
 
Three hours pass before Ryuuzaki says, “There is no shame in something like
that.”
“Nothing happened,” Light answers. Ryuuzaki is silent, and he thinks he's going
to stop the conversation. Instead, he says something that makes Light's blood
boil.
“You're a bad liar, Light Yagami.”
 
When Light comes out of the bathroom, Ryuuzaki seems surprised. It has been
five hours since he slammed the door. Light's eyes no longer had that sharp,
cold edge they had before he became confined. Their round, young brightness had
come back, but the anger stayed.
“Why do you think he did something to me.” he asks, fists clenched.
“Because I was following him through a kiddie porn ring for two years,” he
answered, standing to meet Light's gaze. However, the detective that had his
hard drive messed up the chain of custody—the judge had it thrown out. That's
what convinced the jury he was innocent.”
“That doesn't tell me why you're so convinced I was one of them.”
He gives Light a look like he doesn't want to continue. He pushes his hands in
his pockets, his signature stance taking form. “There were pictures on the hard
drive, Light.”
 
He is 18 years old when he finds out there were pictures. He is 18 years old
when he swallows the disgust. He is 18 years old when the man he has such a
complicated relationship with informs him that the images were only seen be
him, the finding detective, and the judge. He is 18 years old when he takes a
deep breath and states, “I'm fine.” He is 18 years old when Ryuuzaki asks him
if he'd like to talk about it at all, that he's not phenomenal with people, but
he can listen. He is 18 years old when he lays in bed, Ryuuzaki beside him wide
awake, hypersensitive of the older man's weight. He is 18 years old when he
mumbles, “Ryuuzaki, could you please get out of the bed.” He is 18 years old
when he lies awake all night, unable to stop the feeling of his elementary
school tennis coach's hands on him.
 
When he gets his memories back, when Ryuuzaki's dead, when he's Kira again, he
is starkly reminded of the encounter as he's throwing away the chain. The
feeling of filth comes rushing back, and he drops it suddenly, spooking Matsuda
who is across the room. He asks Light if everything okay, who smiles and says,
“Everything's fine. I was just thinking of the time we spent together.” Matsuda
rubs his arms and gives his condolences for what's probably the millionth time,
telling Light he knows how close they were. He thanks the cop and turns back to
pick up the chain, eyeing it like it's the one who forced memories of his grade
school years back up. Eventually, he tosses it in the trash where it belongs;
just like Ryuuzaki and those memories. In a way, it feels like the greatest
form of payback.
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