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English
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Part 1 of to feel (is to know)
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Published:
2018-09-29
Updated:
2018-10-06
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2,837
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2/?
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submerged

Summary:

He’s drowning.

Someone is following him; trudging behind, matching his steps, and they are but a shadow in a deep, dark ocean. They stay at his heels through reality, through dreams, through nightmares, leaving a trail of death in their wake and gifting him nothing but their unwavering obsession and a name: KIRA.

(An AU where Light never picks up the Death Note due to his sensitivity towards negative energy, and gains a stalker that chases him through reality and dreams alike.)

Cross-posted on ff.net

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Intro: The Nightmare Journal

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

In the depths of his nightmares, there lives a man.

A man, Light knows by the rough, calloused hands which speak of effortless strength clamping around his neck and tightening as he struggles to breathe, his own hands grasping for a body that isn’t there, desperate pleas dragging from his hoarse throat. He knows it by the whiff of cologne— barely there and strikingly familiar, gone before he can place it. 

It’s always the same man. Light knows him through rough footsteps and bloodshot eyes and a smile that stretches far wider than it should. Light knows him through the tightness of his belly, through a blood-freezing sort of panic that rushes through his veins.

Reality is tiring, but unlike others, Light Yagami finds no rest in sleep.

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 935 

In this dream, I’m leaving a café I’ve never seen before. Before I exit, I catch the eyes of a man in the corner reading a magazine. He has a black surgical-looking mask on, those ones I’ve seen around Japan but are mostly worn in Korea or China due to pollution. He wears a beanie and sunglasses that perch low on his nose so that his eyes peer up into mine. I turn away and head home.

I wake up.

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 936 

The same man from the last dream is following me home. I only notice because I see him in the reflection of a passing bus. His footsteps are non-existent - he does not make a single sound, even when he does something that warrants it. He’s wearing the same clothing, but in the dream it feels like it’s been a while since I’ve last seen him. I try to lose him in the crowd. 

I wake up.

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 938 

He’s in my house. Nobody else seems to be here. He’s just staring at me. It’s terrifying. I ran to the neighbour’s house to get away and asked them to call the police, but they didn’t seem to listen, or grasp that the situation was dangerous. It was almost on purpose. It’s like they think I’m hallucinating. I told them to lock the door, and just as they got to the door, it opened and he walked right in and towards me. I felt this dread, but also a strange sense of defeat, as if this is a common occurrence and he’s finally won, or something like that. There’s a strange sense of panic within me for every step he takes. 

I wake up.

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 938 

In my dream, I live through what seems like a normal week of my life. Up until mid-week, nothing suspicious occurs. On Wednesday I take the train with Sayu and walk her to her school which is a block from mine. When I arrive the hallway is full and I head to my locker. Though my high school does not have lockers, in this dream it’s like they’d always been there. The atmosphere feels thicker, and the chatter of other students are muffled to my ears as if I am underwater. I open my locker and there is a gift on the shelf. Inside I find human hair laid in the shape of a heart and suddenly I experience that familiar horrible pressure on my shoulders, like I am holding the ocean’s weight. I can’t seem to breathe. It ends as fast as it came and I throw the box in the trash. The rest of the day I suffer from intense paranoia. The following days feel heavy, as if I’m being watched. On Saturday while walking home, I look behind me. Nobody is there.

I look down and notice that my shadow has eyes. 

They are not mine.

 

Nightmare Journal Entry 939 

The mirror is fogged with condensation, but for some reason my dream self doesn’t wipe it off. I just stare into the mirror, and I can see the vague outlines of myself. There’s vague outlines of something else too. I freeze as I notice it is in the shape of a person, and I feel a hot breath against my ear. In the mirror, the fog has melted into spots, right where two bloodshot eyes are looking right at me. I scream.

I wake up.

 

Nightmare Journal Entry ??? 

 

I know I’m not crazy. I saw him, for a second. It wasn’t a dream. He’s real.

 

He’s —

 

dangerous.

 

 

 

 

In another life, Light Yagami sees a black notebook fall from the sky. In this one, he stares down at his paper to hide the sunken eyes that even concealer can't cover.

 

Notes:

Chapter Re-Written as of 25/04/19

Chapter 2: Intro: Youth in Hand

Notes:

I hope everyone realises that this is my first fanfiction and that I'm not an all-knowing amazing writer, so if I make mistakes or the plotline isn't as good as it could be or whatever, please keep that in mind. I hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Light Yagami has lived with nightmares his whole life.

He is never a normal boy to begin with. Curious to a fault, some could say. Light is smart, and he ignores them with a sort of defiance born from understanding that humans don’t always know what they’re talking about. He is young, too young to grasp the things that he does, but soon ‘strange’ changes to ‘normal’ and ‘normal’ becomes ‘genius’ and expectations only seem to rise from there.

It draws attention - the good and the bad.

Children begin disappearing.

Light is six, and students around him slowly begin to vanish as if they were never there in the first place. Only two of the eighteen children missing are from his class, but it’s enough. Laughter around him quivers and recedes against the darkening atmosphere tinged with fear. 

Light is six, and two of his classmates have turned up dead and molested.

He starts dreaming.

It’s enough to wake up screaming, some nights; others with cold sweat and his voice trapped in his throat, but the few where he wakes to the taste of vomit in his mouth, spread on his clothes is the worst of all. He dreams of lightning cackling overhead and shadows but no figures and hands that grasp him, they pull him, touch him, and he’s yelling, thrashing against them as they jerk him back, down into a void of water which is so cold it feels like a thousand tiny needles against his skin, so painful that he opens his mouth to scream and water gushes in, choking him—

Light is nearly seven, Sayu is three, and he sneaks into her bed after nightmares. 

(He hears his parents at night, his mother helpless and frustrated, unable to help her son and wanting his father to be more involved. I’m busy, his dad murmurs in a rough, tired voice, I’m trying to stop this, believe me Sachiko, but the kidnapper is elusive… )

(His mother slips pepper spray into his bag when he’s not looking, smiles a smile that does not reach her eyes when she sends him off.)

On Friday, Light is too far ahead school-wise to worry about his sleepy state in class, but that doesn’t mean nobody notices. His teacher, Mr. Zuki, is older than his father is, in his late thirties with dark hair and unblinking coffee eyes and he reaches out to set a comforting hand on Light’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Light? I’ve noticed you’ve been looking tired lately.”

“I’m fine, thank you, sensei,” he replies, leaning away slightly. 

“I know the kidnappings are making everyone jumpy, but I hope you know that you’re safe here,” Mr. Zuki adds.

“I know,” Light lies. Mr. Zuki nods firmly, smiling a secret smile.

He leans closer, whispers, “If you’d like to talk, I’m here after school for at least another hour, but don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want them to think I’m picking... favorites.”

Light nods and watches him, watches the way his eyes linger on Light’s face and the way his mouth twitches into a grin as he pulls away, straightening his tie. His teacher walks away with a slight spring to his step.

(And while Light is no stranger to ignoring his feelings, he cannot ignore the idea that curls in his stomach— something vile, something foreboding that writhes and screams and whispers, the nightmares, the nightmares…)

In the end, it’s his classmate Jun who gives him the proof he needs to tie it all together, when he leans towards Light from the desk over, light eyes peering out from chestnut hair and too-big glasses. He whispers, “Mr. Zuki’s real nice, you know? He said that to Ayame too, before she…” he winced, hands tightening against the edge of his desk for a second. “... y’know. I’m glad we have someone nice like he is.” 

Jun doesn’t seem to notice the look in Light’s eyes, the narrow, shrewd stare of realisation, of horror. He’s already leaning back with a smile, back pressed against his chair and arms stretching above his head without any care in the world. 

(He doesn’t wait for Mr. Zuki after school. Instead he races home and— with pepper spray clutched in his left hand, knuckles a stark white as bone clashes against skin— calls his father, a sort of calm panic creeping up on him, an oncoming tsunami towards a small, flat island. Dad, he says over the phone, I’ve got something important to tell you... )

Mr. Zuki is arrested two days later, under charges of serial kidnapping, rape, and murder.

(When his family asks, Light pretends that he doesn’t know that he was the next kid on the list, tries not to think back to the nightmares, to hands that grabbed and grabbed until there was nothing left to take, and frosty, bitter water crushing his lungs.)

It is the first time he helps out on a case, and it will not be the last.

Nightmares are a fine price to pay —Light concludes, pushing away the part of him that disagrees; the part that screams, chokes on ice water— if it means that justice can prevail.

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 438

I dream of watching myself in the mirror. My reflection reaches towards me, face full of an eerie blankness, and curls a hand around my throat. I’m choking, reaching up to grab the hand but it’s like there’s nothing there but air. I reach towards the mirror, trying to shatter it, to do something, but it’s like it’s unbreakable. 

I wake up.

 

Sayu isn’t as smart as Light, but she doesn’t need to be. 

He notices how intuitive she is, how she connects, understands her emotions and those around her better than he ever could. She’s in sync with her feelings, her heart on her wrist, while Light holds his deep within, with long sleeves and fake fake fake feelings, ignoring the storm inside, the roar of waves, the shriek of the wind as they fight to be unleashed, to be acknowledged.

If Light is the brain, then Sayu would be the heart.

They aren’t close, in the beginning. That quickly changes after Light’s first nightmare, and Light doesn’t know what he’s really thinking when he creeps into her room at night, only understanding a longing inside him, one that weeps and curls in on itself and waits for something that might never come. But then she’s shifting, rubbing sleepy eyes with truffle-sized fists and blinking at him with wide, chocolate irises. Sayu smiles —with gaps between her teeth and drool sticking to her chin and she lifts her chubby arms, gurgling, “Li-gh! Ligh!” with a delight. It’s so pure, so easy, so Light gathers her in his arms and lets his tears flow, and Sayu does not judge him, does not try to figure him out.

(And it feels like things are going to be okay, for once. Before, it could’ve been hard to distinguish the nightmares from reality, but now he has Sayu. Now he has something to ground him.)

Sayu offers the kind of comfort that Light could never ask of his parents - who smile down at him and run their fingers through his hair and say, don’t worry about it, Light, they aren’t real, they’re just nightmares, and Light stares back and eats his words until they churn in his stomach, a sea-foam hiss of you’re wrong, you’re wrong, just listen to me. 

"Thank you,”  he says to her when she’s asleep, when she’s drooling on his shirt and her fingers are in her mouth but he can’t bring himself to care. 

Nobody really understands him, but Sayu is as close as they come, and Light appreciates it either way.

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 527

I sit in an abyss of black, and it’s cold, it’s dark and lonely. I feel fear - of the unknown, of reaching forwards and finding something I won’t like. I feel loss, too, and it’s like I don’t know what I look like anymore. I’m scared to see my own hand in this endless void, as if it will confirm something I’ve been dreading. My eyes are forcing themselves closed. I’m cold.

I wake up.

 

Light is perfect. His classmates say so, as do his parents, and his teachers. It’s easy to get lost in the idea, one where Light is truly perfect and doesn’t hide himself and doesn’t wake up with tears in his eyes as he muffles his heaving breaths into his pillow and doesn’t lean on his little sister for comfort. 

Light’s dad speaks of justice and fairness and equality. Light’s mother has always told him that actions will speak louder than words. 

He thinks its funny how hypocritical they both are. His father is the chief of police and at work he seeks answers in deep waters and looks at the big picture but behind closed doors he can only look as shallow as Light’s skin and not anywhere beneath. He does not ask his son how his day was, does not want to know his thoughts or feelings. He arrives home and says, “Hello, Light. Have you finished studying?” and Light’s heartbeat raises along with his frustration, a raging storm emerging from everlasting calm waters, but he clams up, slips on a pearly smile and says, “Yes, father.” 

His father only graces him with a sharp nod. “Good,” he’d say.

His mother, with all of her wisdom and advice, does not put her thoughts into action. She doesn’t notice, but only stays the dutiful housewife. Kind to a fault, some could say. Dinner with the both of them feels like an act to a life-long play.

It’s then when Light looks around him, looks at himself, thinks, I’m not really living, am I? I’m just surviving, just walking around with no purpose, no drive other than to make those around me happy by hiding myself… Who am I really?

Light doesn’t know who he is, not really. He feels like he’s playing dress up with feelings, with actions, day by day switching from “perfect student” to “perfect friend” to “perfect son” until it all blends together and Light is straining against a riptide, thrashing and crying out but understanding the inevitable loss of breath, of nobody saving him. Why can’t you see me?  He thinks, meeting his father’s stern eyes, his mother’s warm smile.

(Sayu does not meet his eyes  — she has never been one to have to see to understand. Instead, she curls her tiny hands into his larger one under the table, and squeezes gently. It’s not enough, but it’s something, and that alone keeps him centered, keeps him cool. He squeezes back.

Actions speak louder than words, Light echoes.)

 

Nightmare Journal, Entry 589

I dream of playing with a jewelled necklace around my throat as I sit at my desk in school. My eyes are drawn to my desk, where a blank paper sits. I start to feel nauseous, unbalanced somehow. Suddenly someone grabs my necklace from behind and begins to strangle me with it. I’m gasping for breath, and I can feel the burn on my fingers from trying to lift the necklace away. My classmates don’t notice; they don’t even glance my way, and the teacher continues speaking to them in a foreign language. My arms weaken, and fall limp at my sides. My eyes are sliding shut. I’m being murdered.

I wake up.

 

Light is fourteen, and he notices when people are looking at him. It’s easy to ignore, most of the time, but other times they only look away after he turns and stares back. His classmate Shinjirou is staring with a look Light has never seen on him before. It’s a glare, and Light has only ever noticed Shinjirou with brighter eyes and a joyous smile, and it’s jarring. 

It affects him, maybe just a little, but Light will never admit it out loud.

Shinjirou glares with a ferocity which makes Light compare him to a Lion, or maybe an angry bull pawing at the dirt with it’s leg. There’s an intention there, he notices, something furious and righteous and it makes goosebumps gather at his spine.

“Shinjirou,” Light calls one day after class, “What’s wrong? Did I do something to offend you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he says, pushing past him. “You have everything.”


(Jealousy is a frightening tool, but intention, Light learns, is everything.)

Notes:

Can anyone guess what Light's nightmares mean?

Comment if you can - it does wonders for my writing motivation!

Notes:

it'll all make sense soon

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