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The Loading Dock
or should I say Unloading dock
Misa Hates Abstract Art 
12th-Jan-2005 08:55 pm
And I hate this fic. An excercise in shallowness.

DEATH NOTE (not mine)

Title: Misa Hates Abstract Art
Rating: G
In Misa's Dreams, Not in this Fic: Light/Misa
Genre: Introspective with backstory
Warning: Spoilers for after chapter 37.
Summary: Misa thinks. "A high-class hotel is still a hotel, somewhere that doesn't feel like home. A luxurious prison is a prison all the same."


Light and Ryuzaki are on one side of the room, and Misa is on the other. She's sitting on the couch- on one of the many couches laid out like islands in a sea of empty space. She doesn't like it: the rooms here are large, and comfortable, and but they're also bland and impersonal. Her new suite has too many blank walls. Misa hates the art that comes with the rooms because it's too numbered, too corporate, and too abstract.

A high-class hotel is still a hotel, somewhere that doesn't feel like home. A luxurious prison is a prison all the same. And if Misa's suite upstairs is bad then the one Light and Ryuzaki share is worse, because it is absolutely bland. It could belong to anyone.

"Let's order out," she says to the two of them. "Misa is tired of Watari's cooking,"

Light looks up from his place hunched over Ryuzaki's shoulder. "I would," he says, "but…"

"It's impossible," interrupts Ryuzaki. He has not bothered to look away from his computer. "No deliveryman can be given the necessary security clearance."

"So send someone out for food," she says, and stretches casually. It's wasted on Ryuzaki, but Light is still watching her. Other people are, too. "Matsuda, would you go pick something up for us?"

"He can't hear you," Ryuzaki says. "Today is his day off." He pecks at a few keys, just like the finches at her parent's window box used to do in the winter.

Booring. "Can't Misa go out?" she asks. "She promises she'll be back in an hour." It's not like she doesn't already know the answer, but some part of her is sure that if she just asks often enough…

"Tell her, Yagami."

"You know you can't," Light says. "Aren't we in this together?"

"Yes," she says. "As long as we're together." She ignores the way Light's shoulders stiffen.

The first thing she'll do when Ryuzaki lets her out- it will have to happen eventually, they can't live like this forever - is shop. She'll need enough art to cover the walls and enough clothes to cover the floor. The next thing she'll buy is flowers, lilies and dahlias, and a vase. The flowers will be for Light: something to put on the table in the middle of the room.

"What kinds of flowers do you like, Light?" she asks, before he can turn away from her. She sits up.

"Flowers?" he asks. His brow furrows as if the idea of flowers is foreign to him. "I've never thought about it. Why does it matter?"

"Misa wants to buy you some, like boyfriends and girlfriends do," she says.

His shoulders stiffen again. "Whatever you want," he says, eventually. "You don't have to."

Lillies and Dahlias. Those were her mother's favorites; fresh flowers on the table every morning and her father would always smell them before he left for work. A kitchen in warm colors, pictures of herself tacked to the walls, old prints. Her old room that she'd claimed not to remember the color of the walls or floor of, they'd been covered in junk for so long. (She had pink walls and a black floor. She's been wearing those two colors more often recently and wonders if there's a connection.)

"Misa wants to," she says. "Hey, where do you want to go when we get out of here? Do you like Indian food?"

"I prefer traditional foods," Light says. "But Misa, it's pointless to talk about these things now. You should wait until we can do something about them."

"Yes, Misa," Ryuzaki says, twisting around in his chair. His arm brushes Light's and her eyes narrow. "You should go back to your own room and let Yagami and I work."

"The sooner we solve this case the sooner we can all go home," Light adds.

Like hell she'll leave them alone together. "Misa isn't going anywhere," she says. "Misa's room is so boring! You said she could visit you."

"If you let us work," Light said. "That was the deal. Remember, Misa?"

"Yes, Light, Misa remembers," she says. "She'll be good." When both their backs are turned she sticks her tongue out at Ryuzaki.

If it weren't for him she'd move in down here. A whole floor is too much space for one person. She could keep a better eye on Light. But she doesn't want Ryuzaki to keep a better eye on her, so for now she'll stay where she is. Flowers, though. Every time Light looks at them he'll have to think of her.

Misa sighs and takes a magazine from the pile beside the couch. She doesn't bother to check the fashion section--L won't let her read anything more recent than a few months ago, and there's no point reading about yesterday's fads. Instead she turns to the crosswords. The room is silent and it bothers her, but then Light and Ryuzaki begin to discuss the case and she relaxes. She's slumped against the couch with her eyes half closed before she even notices what she's doing.

It's funny. She's spent more time together with Ryuzaki and Light than she used to spend with her own family. Her father was always working; she usually tried to stay out of her mother's way, kept to her own room after school while her mother cleaned. But they always ate dinner together on Saturdays.

"Can Misa help?"

"No," they say together. She sticks her tongue out again and tries to get back to her crossword.

For one year in middle school Home Ecconomics tried to teach Misa about families, before the school gave it up for sewing and cooking and other, more concrete lessons. She remembers her teacher from that year saying that a truly close family is one that can spend time together comfortably. They don't have to be doing the same thing, but they often decide to do different things together in the same room.

But this is a stupid comparison - the happy families in her textbook were never under compulsion. It's stupid to think that Ryuzaki is as close to her now as her parents were then. It's stupider to think that her parents weren't as close as she remembers. No wonder her Home Economics teacher was single.

Light, though. That's a nice thought. Too bad Misa's not a domestic kind of girl- she's too modern for that happy family stuff. And anyway, Light isn't family, he's her boyfriend.

Misa falls asleep on the couch before she can finish the crossword.
roses (by iconz_kthx)
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