Chapter Text
The morning sun’s rays woke Light, and the first thing he saw was Mikami’s drooling face resting on his chest. Holy shit, his whole shirt was covered in drool, which was disgusting. He could have asked Mikami for some clothes, but most of them would have been way too small for him; comparing Mikami’s and Light’s builds, it’s clear that Light wouldn’t fit into Mikami’s clothes, and even if he did, they’d be incredibly tight.
Fuck, Mikami wasn't just drooling like a dog—he was also moaning like some porn star. No, sorry. Mikami wasn’t moaning—he was fucking screaming. He literally gets turned on by everything Light does. You could even say that just hearing Mikami praise him would make him come without any physical contact. Actually, after what he heard Mikami say about him yesterday, that was 100 percent likely.
What was said yesterday made him very happy—that at least one person treats him the way he deserves to be treated; everyone should think of him as a savior who will protect this decaying world from further decay.
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—he had to admit that Mikami’s remark had sent waves of excitement through him; if he wanted to, he could have made Mikami praise him at every turn—What the hell is he thinking! Mikami is just another pawn in the plan to kill L, and nothing more! It was embarrassing that someone like Light Yagami even dared to think about wanting to get even a drop of attention from Teru fucking Mikami. After all, that man was so pitifully pathetic that Light could have killed him in the blink of an eye—correction, Mikami could have killed himself without Light’s help.
Okay, that's enough about Mikami!...
It would be hard to wrap up a conversation about someone who’s literally glued to him—Light could feel him on top of him, had his saliva on him, and could feel his tousled hair against his chin. What was he supposed to do—imagine he was somewhere else so he wouldn’t think about Mikami? What else was he supposed to do? Stare at Ryuka, who was standing right in front of the bed and giggling to himself the whole fucking time (and he means the WHOLE time)?
Lately, the whole world has been revolving around Mikami (Teru can be happy that he got God wrapped around his little finger)
After all, he was still supposed to go see a psychologist with him—he was the one who suggested it, so it would be a good idea to do that. He had a “friend” who would definitely agree to see them, even today; all he has to do is call her.
It would be good if Mikami were prescribed some medication; maybe it would at least help him. Even if Mikami turned out to be completely healthy (which was hard to believe), he would pay out of his own pocket to get a prescription for the medication.
Well, but I guess he had to ask him about various things in his life first, right? I think that's how it worked—he had to write down some questions that were essential for diagnosing certain mental disorders.
“It was shaping up to be such a wonderful day,” he thought sarcastically, staring at his lover’s face resting on his chest, and then, out of boredom, he began to play with Mikami’s tousled hair with his fingers; Mikami immediately shuddered at his touch—he must have just come and woken up.
“Are you up yet, honey?” he said, and immediately his face twisted into a look of embarrassment—damn it, they’re not in a romantic comedy, after all; why say things like that and then be too embarrassed to look at his own reflection in the mirror? He hoped Mikami hadn’t heard that.
Still looking sleepy, he sat up from his chest and put on the glasses that were lying on the nightstand.
He began looking around as if his bedroom were a place he didn't recognize at all; he rubbed his sore neck, which was clearly aching from Teru lying in the same position for several hours
He looked at Light and then noticed the sticky goo clinging to Light’s clothes. Who else but him could have done this? Teru blushed beet-red—how could he have desecrated his God like that! How could he! A God who tolerated his very presence! What he had done was disgusting, and he should be punished for it!
“Oh my God! I'm so sorry for what I did! I swear it wasn't on purpose! I would never treat you that way!” he whimpered, tears in his eyes, as he knelt by the bed and clasped his hands as if in prayer.
“Don't make a big deal out of it—it's just clothes. Just lend me some of yours,” he said, then watched as Mikami walked briskly toward the closet.
Mikami’s fucking submissiveness was incredibly arousing—he’d drop to his knees and apologize even for the tiniest trifles, and that’s exactly what Light likes about him... STOP! Light’s mind has been acting weird since this morning—really, really weird. Even though Mikami was pretty cute when he got embarrassed, Light couldn’t think of him with lust.HE WASN’T CUTE AT ALL! WHO THE HELL IS TAKING CONTROL OF HIS MIND! Now all they want is to pull out the Death Note and write their full names in it out of embarrassment
Mikami interrupted his internal struggle by setting the clothes down next to him; looking at what he’d given him, he’d look quite… different than usual.
This was different from how he usually dressed; he saw a loose T-shirt with the word “Pantera” printed on it, along with some other design—apparently it was a band that Light neither knew nor listened to—and the T-shirt was still okay, but the pants were flared jeans with a “Dystopia” patch—probably another band he didn’t know—but that raised two completely different questions for him: first, what normal person puts patches on flared jeans? And second, were flared jeans really the only kind of pants Mikami ever wore!? Well, I guess he had no other choice—he didn’t want to walk around all day in mismatched clothes, so he started getting changed.
Well, the T-shirt was pretty loose, but those pants were terribly tight around his thighs; he wasn't used to wearing clothes as tight as the ones Mikami wore—he probably would have wanted the ground to swallow him up if anyone he knew had seen him dressed like that.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Mikami was staring at him while he was getting changed, but whenever Light looked at him, Mikami immediately looked away.
Leaving Mikami to his own devices, he went out into the hallway to call Mayu, who was his ex-girlfriend and would gladly refer him to a therapist through her connections.
“Hello, this is Mayu Urata. How can I help you?”
“Hey Mayu, listen, it’s Light Yagami here. We used to know each other well, and you know I’m aware that you’re a psychologist. Well, I’m in a bit of a crisis right now because I really need to talk to a psychologist today. Would you be willing to see me in your office as a favor?”—What he said was incredibly underhanded, but did he even care? Not really.
“Oh, yeah, I remember you from high school... I don't usually make exceptions like this, but since we know each other, I don't think it'll be a problem—I have an opening today at 2 p.m.”
“Thank you so much—I owe you one.”
“Sure, but could you tell me why you want to talk to a psychologist?”
“Um, well, you know, I suspect that someone close to me might have some kind of disorder. I'd like to find out if everything is definitely okay and if this person is really sick” — “someone close to me”—that's a good one.
"Oh, okay, but in order to diagnose the disorder, we also need to know the patient’s family history, as genetics could be a factor in this disorder. If that’s not a problem, please ask the person you suspect has the disorder if they have any addictions or if they know of anyone else in their family who has any illnesses. It would really help me if you could find that out.”
“Sure, that can be done. Thanks again,” he muttered, then hung up. Well, it looks like he'll find out more about Mikami today.
Light walked into the bedroom and sat down next to Mikami on the bed
“Listen, I need to ask you a few questions, and you have to answer them honestly, okay?”
“Okay”
“Do you have anyone in your family who has any health issues? If you don't know, you can call your father to find out—”
“You know, I don't think my dad took it very well at all—if he wanted to, he'd sell me at the market for $2. Should I call my mom?”
Wow, what he said about his father was really sad. I wonder what Mikami must have done to him for him to harbor such intense hatred toward him, as Mikami describes.
Mikami picked up the phone and began dialing her mother's number
The woman answered almost immediately
You could hear the joy in Mikami's mother's voice, which suggested that Mikami didn't call her very often
Not even five minutes had passed when he hung up, shook his head from side to side, and then replied that no one in his family was sick
“Okay, so do you have any addictions?”
After hearing the question, Mikami nervously rubbed the back of his neck
“Um, I smoke weed sometimes, but does that mean I'm addicted?” he said, clearly nervous about Light's reaction.
“Oh, okay,” he mumbled, glancing at his lover's flushed face; he had the impression that Mikami turned bright red at even the slightest trifle.
***
“Light, he's stressed out...” he whispered in his ear as he entered the therapist's office.
“Come on, everything will be fine,” he whispered in reply, and then the two of them sat down across from a woman named Mayu.
“So, what’s your name?” the woman asked, pulling a notebook out of her bag.
“Mikami Teru.”
The woman died as if she had just heard that Teru had, at the very least, done a somersault on the ceiling
“Excuse me, did I hear that right? Mikami Teru, right?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
Light furrowed his brow and glanced back and forth between Mikami and Mayu
“That’s kind of funny—a few months ago, I had a client with the exact same first and last name as you, and he was also diagnosed with a certain disorder. He was prescribed medication—did you come in for another dose?”
At that moment, Light felt like strangling Mikami. How the hell could someone be so scatterbrained as to forget that he’d been diagnosed with a disorder? After all, it wasn’t something you could easily forget—it was a fucking disorder that you’d think would be hard to forget so easily, but apparently, it is that easy to forget
“I’m sorry, but what was the disorder, if you can recall—”
“As I recall, it was bipolar disorder. I prescribed mood stabilizers; I can even give you those medications right now.”
Light had guessed that Teru might have this disorder, but he hadn’t expected him to actually have it. After making such a lucky guess, he could head to the casino.
The woman set aside two boxes of pills labeled Lamilept and Bonogren
Light took the two boxes of pills, grabbed Teru by the hand, and led him out of the office.
“L-Light, are you mad? I-I-I’m sorry, it just completely slipped my mind—I forgot and—” he mumbled, but Light cut him off mid-sentence.
“You forgot!? For fuck’s sake, Teru, you can forget about grocery shopping or doing laundry, but not about a fucking illness!”—he was furious at Teru for wasting his precious time; he could have done so many useful things, but what did he do? He made a fool of himself in front of his old friend, to whom he’d now be indebted
They looked at each other awkwardly for a good two minutes, after which Teru walked over to him, wrapped his arms around his waist, buried his face in the taller man’s shoulder, and began to whimper an apology.
They went outside in complete silence and walked toward Teru’s house in that same silence.
On the way, Light asked if Mikami wanted to stop by the café they were passing, to which he simply nodded, and the two of them went into the café and sat down at a table
Teru didn’t break the silence even after they sat down at the table; Light tried to start a conversation by offering him a caramel candy he’d found in his pants pocket, but Teru just shook his head
Light chewed on the candy—who knew how long it had been in that pocket?—expecting Mikami to remain silent, but Mikkami spoke up, saying he didn’t really like sweets.
“You know, there’s this guy at work who eats nothing but candy,” he said, and then he saw a twinkle in Teru’s eye.
“Come on, don’t be jealous—you’re the only one I have my eye on,” he said, and then
he winked at Teru, which made him smile slightly.
That was probably the cheesiest thing he could ever have said...