Mouths Open

Chained again.
Together, but not immediately irritated.
More tired, without the necessity of sleep.
L moves his hand, sending the chain clinking. His fork follows onto a glazed ceramic plate with quick succession. Then, straight into his mouth, lips stained slightly by the red juice of his teeth’s strawberry victim.
Raito watches from his chair in front of the computer, his body adoptive of a similar L-pose; legs pressed to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. The only difference was that he was nodding off, back relaxed into the tilting swivel of black leather.
Slowly, monitoring the screen of his glowing computer in the otherwise blackness, L yawns. His eyes slide shut slightly, not enough to break concentration, but enough to catch Raito’s attention, make him adjust in the chair he’s occupying. It’s simple, just the opening of the detective’s mouth, lips stretched, teeth white underneath the pink of thin flesh. After, a jaw retracting, snapping shut to house a red tongue before its turned cold by the air passing through the large, empty room.
Raito’s back pushes steadily into his chair’s, twittering his body in a slight rocking motion. The chains bump along his leg dully, keeping beat to his still-awake song. He watches L watch the white light of the computer screen with half-lidded eyes. Then, his mouth curls open into a yawn, same as L’s, pausing with a squeak before closing, turning to face a world of darkness behind two eyelids.

Yawning is contagious.