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The faint hum of the monitors was the only thing filling the silence of the task force headquarters. On days like these, the rest of the team retreated to their families, leaving the vast headquarters to you and L — and Watari, who frequently checked in on you both and brought in food and other necessities.
Everyone knew what was going on between you two. To them, your relationship was very strange, judging by the way you maintained a professional distance at all times. Light had noticed L’s eyes following you across the room before, but he had always assumed L was incapable of harboring romantic feelings for another person. That was why it had been so jarring when he announced it, not even looking up from his screen. “Y/N and I are in a relationship. Please respect our privacy and remain professional. … Matsuda, you can pick your jaw up from the floor.”
The team thought it was some kind of bizarre experiment until a week later, when Aizawa and Chief Yagami walked in on you sleeping next to each other, your head resting on L’s knee. There was something about the sight of you two that finally gave them a glimpse of L’s softer side.
Even with his relationship now out in the open, L’s obsession with the case remained unchanged. Still suspecting that Light Yagami was Kira, he knew that professing his attachment to you might have seemed like revealing his weakness, but to L, it was taking a calculated measure. By cementing your place at his side, he was ensuring you wouldn’t become collateral damage. He was gambling on the fact that Light was far too intelligent to kill you and risk exposing himself in the fallout.
Being his partner, you made peace with the fact that you would never see the true depth of his feelings. L was never really the expressive type. Yet, you cherished these moments alone with him because it was all you ever needed — like the other night, when the HQ was empty and the two of you sat shoulder-to-shoulder, scanning the notebook in between teaspoons of ice cream.
“If I write ‘death by excessive sugar consumption’ in here…” L paused to wipe the side of his mouth. “How many seconds do you think I have left?”
You took a moment to think before offering a small, tired smile. “If the notebook doesn't get you, the cavities will.”
He took a distracted bite, his eyes never leaving the rules written on the black pages. “The mechanics are fascinating. ‘The human whose name is written in this note shall die.’ If I were a god of death, I…”
“Would have a bit more imagination?” you cut in with a sigh.
L turned his head towards you with his signature expressionless face. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”
You leaned forward, resting your weight against the desk as you pushed the empty ice cream bowl aside. “You know L, when people find things funny, they laugh.”
When he only hummed in response, you felt it as a small vibration against your side. He tilted his head back to look up at you, his dark eyes reflecting the blue light of the screens. “If I were a god of death, I’d at least add a ‘conditional logic’ clause. Whoever’s name is written could avoid their terrible fate by choosing a different path… It would make the data more compelling. Don’t you think so?”
“Ryuzaki,” you slid your hand across the cold surface of the desk until your fingers brushed against his. “Was that you trying to make a joke?”
L always touched things with just his fingertips like how he holds his phone or a sugar cube, but with you, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he adjusted his grip, his thumb tracing the skin across your palm absentmindedly. “Yes.”
You didn’t really have much experience with intimacy, but with L, it was truly something else. It wasn’t anything like what you would see in the movies, but it felt much deeper. As someone who never let his guard down, seeing this side of L felt exhilarating, like finally hearing a hidden frequency that no one else could hear. Maybe that’s all intimacy really is. The two of you hadn’t even kissed before, but it didn’t matter. What you shared transcended the physical; it was rare. Wordless. A kiss would have been too clumsy. Your world with L ignored the flesh and thrived as this quiet, delicate dream.
So, you grinned at him, tucking some of your hair strands behind your ear. “Is that right? And what would my adventure be?”
L let out a tiny huff. It’s a sound that’s the closest he can ever get to a laugh. “Death by…” he paused to lie closer to you. Now, you were both lying on the desk, facing each other.
You stayed still, focused on his gaze. “By?”
“Being too observant for your own good,” he said softly. “Fortunately for you, I’ve decided to be the only one who gets to watch you that closely.”
Tonight, L didn’t turn around when you entered carrying the usual two coffees plus a box of pastries. He sat like he always did, knees tucked to his chest, his silhouette sharp against the screens’ blue light. You took off your coat and set down the coffee and pastries you’d brought. Like every night, the scent of caffeine was the only warm thing in the room. A sigh escaped you the moment you landed on the chair next to him, your body surrendering to the work ahead of you.
“We have to end things,” the words fell out of him suddenly, completely flat and monotone.
You could feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. What the fuck was wrong with this guy, breaking up with you like it was nothing? You figured it was some kind of contingency plan. L was always unpredictable, but a small part of you saw it coming. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to compose yourself. “Because?”
“Because I love you,” he stated. His eyes were wide, underscored by those permanent dark circles. “And I am going to die soon.”
Anyone else would have argued. They would have called him morbid or dramatic, but you knew better. You had worked beside him long enough to know that L didn’t deal in premonitions; he dealt in certainties. If he said the belltower was ringing, it was because he could already sense it getting louder through the floorboards. His deductions were never a matter of opinion.
“L.”
L’s thumb drifted from his lip. He looked so small in that chair for some reason. The two of you stared at each other, him looking up at you. He was waiting for you to walk away, to make the logical choice and save yourself from the inevitable grief.
“I still want to be with you.”
A flicker of genuine surprise crossed L’s face. He blinked, his gaze dropping to your feet and then slowly trailing back to your eyes. “Y/N, that is a highly inefficient use of your remaining time with me," he said, but the usual analytical edge in his voice wasn’t there anymore. “The emotional fallout upon my death will be significantly higher if we continue this relationship. It will be harmful for your well-being.”
“You’re being selfish,” you breathed.
L was confused. “Selfish? I am simply trying to... minimize the damage I leave behind. Please, Y/N. Think about–”
“You can’t make my decisions for me. You’re trying to protect a version of me that exists after you’re gone, but what about the version of me that’s standing right here? You and I are alive right now. I cannot leave you. I want to stay with you and that’s final.”
He went completely still. His hands, which had been restlessly twitching near his knees, froze in his tracks. He looked like a statue, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he breathed in the terrifying proximity of your warmth. He was a man who lived in the margins of the next move, always one step ahead of everyone else — you stood as the beautiful and terrifying gravity of the present. His logic was completely defenseless against the simple fact that your love was so great that you were staying, that you were willing to let his memory haunt you for the rest of your life once he left you behind.
“L,” your voice snapped him out of his trance. “I will stay with you, even when you’re gone.”
His eyes searched yours, wide and frantic. He was stalling. L had no counter to any of that. You closed the distance between you two and finally held his face. And your touch was light as a feather. None of you spoke for a moment, you could feel him beginning to soften into you. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t pull away. L took a deep breath, tilting his head into your palm as a form of surrender. “I can never win an argument with you.”
“We can’t fight,” you sighed. “Because you’re going to die soon, I guess. Alright then. I love you.” As your hand slipped from his cheek, you felt a sharp wince in your heart. You didn’t want to forget what it was like to touch him, not when the minutes were already dissolving between your fingers. L could read it from the subtle wave of sadness on your face. You tried to read his own. “L?”
The logic finally snapped.
He pulled you into him, his arms locking around you with a sudden, desperate strength that seemed impossible for someone so slight. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his messy hair slightly tickling your skin. It was a desperate, clumsy, and heavy embrace — one that ignored everything but the fact that, in this one single moment, the world hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t say a word, but you could feel the heat from his breath against your neck. It was a surrender to the mercy of your presence. He finally accepted that he didn’t have to face the end alone. This was his weakness. Your softness devastated him. Your tenderness reached the sullen corners of his heart so easily, filling empty spaces he didn’t even know he had. L desperately fought with himself to push you away, but instead, he held you quietly, breathing you in. He couldn’t bring himself to last a single second longer without your warmth.
“My efficiency in this case increases by 6.2% when you are in the room, Y/N,” he murmured into your skin. His breath stayed there. The sensation made you aware of his touch, his heartbeat from his chest, his breathing. “I had attributed that to your efficiency as a colleague, but perhaps it is simply because I am less inclined to let the world end while you are still in it.”
“Wow,” a soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned in closer to him, pressing your cheek fully against his. “6.2%. Very romantic,”
“And when I have to go somewhere else?” you pressed him further playfully. He took a deep breath. “4.8%.”
“Well now you’re just saying numbers,” you laughed again while L silently held you still.
When he finally pulled back from your embrace just enough to hold your shoulders, it seemed as if the tension that had lived in his frame for years finally vanished. “I want to make sure I have every detail correct.” L began examining your features, taking in the way your expression softened just for him. He reached up, his cool fingers trembling slightly as they brushed your hair from the side of your face. “I want your face to be the last thing I remember.”
You looked into the intensity of his eyes and felt the gravity of his confession pull at your heartstrings. “Don’t worry. You aren’t going anywhere I won’t follow.”