༊࿐ shy 𖧧

requests are currently open ࿐ ( ✦ one-shot ✧ longfic )

L Lawliet

(dream) ✦

🏷️ angst, implied/referenced character death, non-sexual intimacy, hurt/comfort, fluff

Vanishing Points ✧

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

All rights reserved. Please do not copy my works or repost them in any format.

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

wc: 8.8k words, cross-posted on ao3

masterlist

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 6

It was close to midnight by the time L and Watari arrived at Lucia’s doorstep. While she had easily deduced that one of them was the recipient of the strawberry shortcake she’d helped you bake, she couldn’t connect the pale, disheveled young man to you at all. His eccentric demeanor left her stunned. This guy cannot actually be your type.

Dressed in pink striped pajamas with an aloe vera mask drying on her face, Lucia lazily poured more tea into her cup. She asked, ever so slyly: “So… are you an ex-boyfriend or something?”

The detective turned his head with an almost robotic stiffness, his blank stare locking onto his companion. The old gentleman, impeccably dressed in comparison, didn’t offer any backup. He simply adjusted his spectacles, his mustache curling into an amused smile. The men sat on her couch, looking out of place against her chic, pastel upholstery. “She’s more of an old colleague.”

Lucia raised an eyebrow, not really buying it. “I’m just saying, if she was going to make you a cake, she could have just given you her address in Valencia.”

He slouched a bit lower into the cushions, pulling his knees up toward his chest in his usual peculiar posture. “It seems she just enjoys the chase.” L said blankly, gesturing toward a blank notepad on the side table with his pointing finger. “You mentioned her address. Would it be alright if you wrote it down for me?”

Setting her teacup down with a clink, the woman slid off the armchair, her slippers scuffing against the carpet. “I’ll go grab a pen,” she muttered, a tad unsatisfied by his evasive answers. An old colleague? You wouldn’t just pull up to someone’s apartment out of nowhere suddenly needing help with baking an entire strawberry shortcake just for old times’ sake. There was history there, whether the strange young man wanted to admit it or not.

“She’s impossible to reach, but you must already know that.” Lucia said, extending her hand to pass the note to L. “You could try the café landline.”

He accepted the paper by its very edge with two fingers and read it, slowly standing up from the couch. “She’s a barista. That’s interesting.”

“She’s been waitressing there for a while now,” Lucia explained as she leaned against the doorframe. “It’s the first coffee shop you see by the chapel. It only opens at nighttime.”

L stared down at the handwritten address, scanning every word and all the numbers before slipping it deep inside his pocket. “Excellent. Thank you for your hospitality, Lucia. The cake looks delicious.”

In all her life, she had never met a man who expressed gratitude with such flat, mechanical monotony. “Don’t mention it,” Lucia said, taking a slow sip of her tea, her eyes narrowing just a bit more as she studied him and Watari as they walked out of her home. “And make sure to smile a little. You’ll scare the locals.”

Stepping out of the apartment building, a crisp breeze swept down the empty street, rustling the dark leaves overhead—a sound that cut through the quiet night. Watari started the engine with L in the passenger seat.

The streetlights began to glide past them, casting long, wavy shadows across the dashboard.

L pried the box open just enough to dip an index finger into the thick whipped cream, careful not to disturb the strawberries. He brought his finger to his lips, licking the frosting away slowly. The texture was pure velvet, melting into a rich, decadent sweetness. Closing the box, he pulled out his flip phone and thought about dialing the landline number. After almost a minute of sitting frozen in place, he clicked the phone shut with a sharp, echoing snap.

He slid the phone into his pocket and turned his gaze back to the cake resting on his lap.

Through the clear plastic window of the box, the strawberries were arranged along the edge in a thoughtful array. Twelve. It was only until then that he noticed it looked like a clock face, with the ripest berry positioned at the sixth hour.

The strawberry shortcake had a code. Meet me at 6 PM. The realization suddenly made L feel the sound of a clock ticking in the back of his neck.

Then, Watari turned the sedan onto the main highway, the distant city lights reflecting off the polished hood. “Shall I drive us to the hotel or straight to Valencia?”

The young man didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes locked on the strawberry shortcake, his thumb tracing a slow circle over the fabric of his jeans.

“Back to the hotel, Watari. We’ll head to Valencia in the morning.”

At Emile’s café, the atmosphere was strikingly different. It was way past the hour when most shops closed, but the cozy establishment always kept its lights dimly lit for the local night owls. You sat at a secluded corner table, a half-empty cup of coffee cooling in front of you. The glow of an old burner laptop illuminated your face as you scrolled through the latest encrypted threads and police reports regarding the Kira investigation.

Ever since the sudden, unexplained heart attacks had begun sweeping the globe, the world had been paralyzed by tremendous fear and fascination. The media called him a god, the authorities called him a mass murderer. While you cross-referenced the timelines of the victims and their morbid fates, a pattern began to emerge. One that the public would never be able to piece together.

It was a perfect and pristine narrative. Like his father, Light Yagami had died as a tragic symbol of a police force that had sacrificed everything in the name of justice. But looking at the digital files, your fingers instinctively twitched, vividly remembering pages of that notebook… and the memory of a monster’s wide, hungry grin no one else could see.

You slowly closed the laptop and leaned back, rubbing your tired eyes.

L was coming to find you. It only meant one thing—that it was safe now. No more running.

Still, the thought brought feelings of doubt to your chest.

You exhaled, releasing a breath you felt like you’d been holding for two years, and pressed your palms flat against the warm ceramic of your mug. You lived in the shadows, always making sure you never left a trace. That was always the cost. But if L came out alive and in one piece from everything, maybe the heavy curtain had finally fallen.

The room fell completely still around you. When you vanished, he did, too—and now, the sheer exhaustion of those hidden years was finally catching up to you. 

Your mind drifted, slipping into the hazy warmth of a memory where L looked like a ghost caught in a summer photograph.

The memories of that day always came back with a rush of sensory details: the blinding afternoon sun, the repetitive sound of tennis balls getting thwacked, and how green the trees used to look during freshman year.

Listening cue: Lykke Li - Little Bit

After your encounter in the abandoned east wing, there he was—standing near the edge of the university open courts, looking entirely out of place. He was wiping sweat from his forehead with a crumpled towel, his other hand loosely gripping a cold tumbler. You could hear the clink of ice against the metal as he drank. Even out here, he maintained that strange, hunched posture. Still, he possessed a total indifference to social graces, unbothered by the stares of passing students.

As you approached him, his hollow eyes shifted, tracking your movement without blinking. You stopped a few paces away, instinctively dropping your gaze to his arm. There was a bruise, blooming around his wrist in a ring.

Handcuff marks?

L caught the moment your eyes narrowed. Without a hint of shame or hesitation, he spoke, his voice carrying its usual monotone cadence.

“I was in police custody.” He answered before you could even assemble the question.

He couldn’t honestly play the sexual angle, saying that it was a kinky thing. Beneath the cover of a vague, petty crime, no way you would actually believe the truth—that the bruise came from being chained to the wrist to Light Yagami and a physical scuffle they had just days prior.

Well, whatever it was, you knew he was lying. The smile on your face grew wider. “And what on earth for?”

L tilted his head back, taking one last, slow draught from his tumbler. He swallowed, the ice clinking against the metal as he lowered it, his unblinking gaze locking back onto yours. “It would bore you. It’s a tedious story.”

“A tedious crime,” you teased, letting your arms drop to your hips as you leaned in just an inch closer. “Keep your secrets, Ryuzaki. Walk me to class?”

He stared at you for a beat, his expression entirely blank, though the faint twitch of his toes inside his loose shoes was a betrayal of his body. A curious and involuntary reaction.

“Very well,” he muttered, holding up his face towel with two fingers and slinging it over his shoulder almost robotically. He tilted his head slightly, an almost imperceptible tilt of his mouth hinting at amusement. “As long as you do not mind walking with a felon.”

guys sorry my life has been so hectic (╥﹏╥) pls forgive me for the slow updates...im gonna post a lot more chapters to make it up to u guys i promise. thank u for ur continued support.. its wgat keeps me going (｡•́︿•̀｡) ₊˚⊹♡

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 5

Before the cherry blossoms could fully bloom in Tokyo, the senior class of To-Oh savored their fleeting youth in a luxe, upscale lounge overlooking the Minato skyline. With graduation only days away, the air was thick with anticipation. Kiyomi Takada, the ever-gracious host, glided through the room with impeccable poise and a flute of champagne in hand.

You stood by the bar, listening as colleagues discussed their future plans—master’s degrees, research residencies, corporate job offers, the typical trajectory of those privileged enough. You were dressed for the occasion in a silk dress that brushed your ankles and light, natural makeup, a perfect balance between professional and celebratory. A soft smile tugged at your lips then, watching them gush in excitement. Before they could turn the spotlight on you, you caught Takada’s eye. She stood out effortlessly in the crowd, waving an elegant hand for you to join her.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you said, flashing the group an apologetic grin.

Once you reached Takada, she pulled you into a warm embrace. “Good, you made it!”

“I was beginning to wonder when Ms. To-Oh would finally grace us with her presence,” you teased, squeezing her arm.

“Oh, shut up.” She let out a melodic giggle, rolling her eyes. “If I have to listen to one more finance major explain the corporate ladder, my head will explode. I don’t care about market trends, I’m a broadcasting arts major for crying out loud.”

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” You looped your arm around hers, steering her toward the terrace. The evening breeze greeted you with a chill over your shoulders, but neither of you seemed to care. You clinked your champagne flutes, the facade of the party fading away as you looked out over the glittering city lights. In that moment, you both knew two things for certain: the view was undeniably spectacular, and ‘thank God it’s an open bar tonight.’

“Wow.” Takada took a deep exhale. “I never had the time to actually check the terrace out.”

“Come on. It’s not like you’re on the clock tonight,” you laughed, brushing some stray hair strands behind your ear. “You can relax.”

“I miss when these things used to be fun.” There was a hidden sadness in her voice—it carried the heavy weight from a role pre-destined for a woman of her status. It was a burden you recognized as you both navigated your exhausting campus personas. Looking back on the last few years, you were happy thinking of your unexpected but genuine friendship with Takada. From being just family friends, your bond grew stronger, occasionally coming over to each other’s places for dinner and drinks, a much-needed reprieve from the expectations you needed to fulfill.

You braced yourself before you spoke again, hesitating about how much information you’d share with her.

“I’ve been thinking of going away for a while. I just feel… stuck here.” Your voice dropped to a hush, but Takada was close enough so that she could still hear you. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I just haven’t found the right time. We’ve both been too busy.”

Her eyes softened with a protective warmth. She studied you, searching for the truth between your words before letting out a small, breathless laugh that had no trace of her refined facade. “Where?” Takada asked, a fond, but sad smile touching her lips. “If you’re leaving me with these pitiful social climbers, the trip better be worth it.”

“I’m still undecided. But you’ll have to visit me,”

Takada sighed on a more teasing front. “I’ll have to see with my schedule.”

You scoffed. She wasn’t even a news anchor yet, but she was slipping into the part like she already owned it. Before you could reply with a retort, a familiar voice sliced right through the middle like a knife. “There you two are.”

Light Yagami stood in front of the both of you, his eyes calculating the atmosphere between you and Takada in one sweeping glance. His coat was buttoned neatly, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His face had that effortlessly polite smile that always made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I hope I’m not interrupting,”

“Light,” Takada greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve been looking for you all night. I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,”

As she pulled back, Light smoothly reached his hand out, letting his fingers slide into hers. “I promised I’d support you tonight, didn’t I?”

His thumb lightly stroked the back of her knuckles. It was a public display of affection, yet it was completely impossible to read the truth behind it. The true nature of their relationship was always a mystery to you. It was entirely unclear whether they were actually dating, or simply playing the roles of the university’s ultimate power couple. It made sense, after all. They looked perfect together. No one could deny that.

Still, a familiar unease settled in your chest while you watched them.

“The department chair is looking for you. He wanted to introduce you to a few representatives from the broadcasting networks before you do your main toast.”

The previous emotion in Takada’s eyes instantly disappeared behind her perfectly practiced composure. “Of course,” she said, her voice regaining that graceful cadence. She turned to you, squeezing your arm like you did moments before. “Come find me again later. Have fun,”

She slipped past Light and through the glass doors, leaving you entirely alone with him on the terrace. You expected him to follow after her, but he stayed.

The silence that settled between you was immediate and suffocating, despite the open air. He leaned his forearms against the steel railing. “She seems fond of you,” he murmured. “I don’t think Takada usually lets people get that close.”

“We happen to be good friends. Our mothers knew each other from college, too,” you responded casually. It was true. Light turned his head, his stare catching the glint of the city lights. Your heart gave a sharp, nervous thud—for a split second, you could have sworn his eyes glimmered into a terrifying shade of blood red. “I couldn’t help but hear the end of your conversation.”

You tensed up, trying your best to pretend like you didn’t know what he was talking about. Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by the faint scuff of sneakers against stone.

“Ah. So this is where everyone has disappeared to.” The voice was low, flat, and instantly recognizable. “I was beginning to feel left out.”

You and Light turned simultaneously to see L stepping out onto the terrace. He looked entirely out of place against the fancy backdrop of the lounge. His white long-sleeved shirt was slightly wrinkled, his dark hair defied the wind outside. He walked towards you in his signature slouch, hands buried deep in his pockets.

“Ryuzaki,” Light said, his polite smile adjusting in an instant, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. “I didn’t think networking events were your kind of thing.”

“It isn’t,” L replied bluntly, shuffling between you. “I came for the strawberry tarts, but they cut me off. Apparently, there’s a limit per guest.” He paused, thumb shifting to his lower lip. “Plus, she’s my date.”

The terrace went completely still. Light blinked, his polite mask shifting into genuine amusement. “Your date?”

L ignored him, casting his eyes from your bare shoulders to Light’s suit jacket. “Give her your coat, Light. It’s chilly.”

Light’s amused grin froze, a tiny flash of surprise crossing his features. He didn’t really expect L to double down on the boyfriend persona, let alone use it to command him. For a split second, the air between the two turned peculiarly electric. Light plastered a charming smile on his face again, unbuttoning his blazer and slipping it off in one swift motion.

“Of course,” he said softly and draped the heavy jacket over your shoulders. The fabric was warm and smelled like expensive cologne, and his knuckles brushed your collarbone, a fleeting point of contact that sent a shudder down your spine.

“L is quite the gentleman, offering a lady another man’s jacket,” you joked, looking down at the oversized blazer. “This must be the height of modern romance.”

Light let out a chuckle, delighted by your response. “You know, I didn’t know you had it in you to go after someone so elusive, Ryuzaki. Then again, it makes a lot of sense. A background in advanced archiving is well-suited for intelligence work, wouldn’t you agree? Having an extra set of eyes makes it much easier to spot a threat.”

Your heartbeat hammered against your ribs, yet you didn’t let your cool facade waver. L remained just as unbothered, his voice sounding flat. “To bridge her academic research directly into intel requires quite a vivid imagination, Yagami-kun.”

“I think Ryuzaki just likes the bakeries I take him to.” You rested your hand on L’s shoulder, not feeling any tenseness through his arm sleeve. “I didn’t realize my reputation in the classics department had extended so far outside my work with the faculty. Although I do wonder what exactly prompted you to look so thoroughly behind my academic history. Is your father looking for recruits?”

Light smoothly straightened his posture with a perfect smile, looking from your hand on L’s shoulder back up to your eyes. “Not quite. I just have a habit of remembering details about exceptional people. Forgive me if it sounded like an interrogation… I was simply impressed.”

Your smile turned bright and conversational at his choice of words. “If we’re handing out compliments, I should mention your academic record comes up quite a bit in the faculty meetings too. I will say, the girls from my department seem far more interested in fawning over a handsome face.”

“I have to agree,” L looked at him through his messy bangs. “Your reputation precedes you. It makes you very easy to watch—and very interesting to study.”

A genuine smirk pulled at Light’s lips, a dangerous spark flickering in his eyes as his gaze bounced between you and L. “As much as I appreciate the flattery, I’m no match for the two of you.”

Through the fogged glass of the terrace doors, Takada waved at him gracefully, signaling for him to come over. “Ah, duty calls.” Light conceded softly, offering a cheerful nod goodbye. “It would be completely uncharitable of me to steal any more time from such a magnetic pair. Do enjoy the rest of your evening,”

With a final dissective grin, he turned on his heel and walked back inside, the heavy glass doors sealing the noise of the party away again.

The entire conversation that finished only seconds ago carried a bizarre, tangled thrill, trapping you in the crossfire between two of the university’s most brilliant minds. It was an experience unlike any other. Almost every sentence was a riddle with double meanings that demanded your uncompromising focus. You didn’t understand what was going on, but you had always known about their unlikely friendship. It’d been sparked by a collision during the entrance exam a few years back—but watching them now, the way they circled one another with such calculated grace, you realized their bond had stemmed from a grueling intellectual war that chained them together. The air crackled with a static tension so intense, you could practically feel it charging the air around them.

Your fingers twitched against the fabric of L’s shirt, perfectly aware of the warmth radiating from him. His posture stayed hunched, but the defensive knot you had felt earlier beneath your palm had finally disappeared. You noticed you hadn’t moved your hand.

L spoke suddenly, breaking your train of thought. “I wasn’t aware it was possible for three people to flirt simultaneously,” 

“Flirting?” A laugh bubbled up in your chest, breaking the tension so sharply it echoed across the terrace. You pulled your hand back from his shoulder, resting it on your waist as you looked at him with amusement. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

For a second, it was impossible to tell if L was humoring you or not. “He was attempting to flatter you to disarm me while simultaneously appealing to my ego to lower your guard. Didn’t the conversation feel a bit crowded?”

“Oh, quit it.” You laughed even more until it faded into a sigh.

Through the thick glass of the terrace doors, the music was muffled. You’d forgotten about the hundred guests inside celebrating your upcoming graduation, honestly. You looked at L, standing under the ambient haze from the city lights, his black hair as disheveled as ever. The tension between you had shifted entirely once Light had stepped away, replaced by something softer and more grounded. But then you noticed how L had fallen into a brooding silence, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that felt heavy. “Are you still hungry? I can get you a strawberry tart. Maybe the servers won’t notice. Or… we could just go, if that’s what you want.”

The silence stretched between you for a few more seconds, his eyes tracing your features with an unhurried precision.

“Watari tells me to make an effort to be more expressive. I find it tedious, but… he insists that silence is often misinterpreted.” L said finally. He seemed to be weighing his words for a moment until he continued. “You look beautiful tonight. It’s a struggle to look at anything else.”

Your face flushed, the realization of his sincerity making it hard to hold any eye contact with him. You were so struck by his honesty that your confidence almost faltered—until a sudden gust of wind swept across the terrace, and you shivered, the cold draft cutting through your defenses. “Alright already,” you pushed him playfully, your voice catching slightly. When you almost stumbled afterwards, his hand shot out instantly, catching your wrist to steady you. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb brushed slowly over your pulse point, feeling your hands trembling a bit from the cold.

“You’re shivering. We should get back inside,” he said, his voice quiet. “I can send a car to drive you home later, too.”

You didn’t protest. He turned toward the glass doors, and you moved in sync, the friction of your shoulders brushing. It was a brief, grounding contact that sent a strange hum through your nerves.

“You’re really leaning into this whole ‘charming’ thing tonight, aren’t you?” You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping you as you walked beside him. “Careful, L. I might start thinking you actually have feelings for me.”

Before he replied, L pushed the heavy glass door open, the sound of rhythmic jazz and upper-crust chatter rushing out to meet you. “If a simple car ride is enough to win your affection, I’d suggest you raise your expectations before I do it for you.”

next

guys idk how many chapters this fic should be so plz lmk if i should keep extending it into a longfic or if im dragging it out too much...... thank you i love you all ≽(•⩊ •マ≼

edit: hi guys i’m sorry if the fic is a bit hard to follow i just got a comment on ao3 showing some confusion, this fic has nonlinear storytelling jumping from the present to various flashbacks throughout the past. this chapter is set in 2008, before reader disappeared and graduated

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 4

“Fuck.”

You muttered under your breath. In the corner of your eye was a tiny speck of light reflecting off glass. A camera. Not the kind tourists usually carried along the Malvarrosa beach boardwalk. It had a heavy high-end lens. The man carrying it looked too unsuspecting.

A sharp wave of irritation hit you. You were in the clear for almost two years now. You pinched your nose bridge and glanced at the time on your watch. 4:07 PM.

You took a deep breath against the clock ticking in your head. Your new life in Valencia was simple. You lived off of tips as a waitress in a small café that only opened in the evening. It was a cash-only operation, catering to local night owls. The manager was a kind old man named Emile who never ran a background check or asked for a resume. The job was yours after a handshake. Within weeks, the café seemed to stand a little straighter. The espresso machine lost its stubborn grime and the tables were cleared before cups of coffee could even make it to the surface. You were Emile’s favorite in no time. The regular customers even knew you by your name—just an alias. A name from an old black and white film you saw a few years ago at a history lecture.

You lived completely alone in a sun-bleached loft building right by the beach. It was perfect, the building was old enough to lack a security system or any working CCTV cameras.

Over the weekends, you kept busy by taking care of the old lady’s house next door by doing household repairs as favors. In return, she cooked you homemade meals for dinner. To the neighborhood, you were just a kind girl, a handy foreigner trying to lead a peaceful life in Spain. Slowly, the tight-knit community took you in. They stopped asking questions about where you came from and gratefully shared their small town hospitality.

On your days off, you sunbathed on a crowded beach in Valencia and disappeared among the tourists. Today was supposed to be no different. A day trip to the big city, where you could blend into the massive crowds with a book in your hand and not worry about a single thing.

Knowing that the stranger was probably a colleague sent by L, you refused to let your posture stiffen.

Listening cue: Manu Chao - Me Gustas Tu

You pulled out a compact mirror from your tote bag and aimed the reflection directly down the barrel of the man’s heavy photo lens. Its size was designed to pull in as much light as possible, not a very smart choice for a location like a sunny beach. When the incoming glare is strong enough, the lens acts as a funnel, focusing the heat into a pinpoint that fries the camera sensor’s micro-components.

There was no way of removing your photo from that SD card now, but that camera’s sensor was spoken for.

You pushed your sunglasses up and pulled your hair tie off, letting the messy bun fall loose over your shoulders. Your hair was way longer now, almost reaching your waist. Just a moment ago, you were lying on your beach mat, almost drifting asleep under the heat. Now, every second counted.

As you stood up from the sand scanning for any signs of a backup team, the question burned in the back of your head: What blew my cover? Was it the pharmacy visit when you had that brutal fever? Maybe you left the prescription you forged on the counter, or a stray traffic camera caught your profile when you took the bus into the city. Or maybe, you had simply underestimated him.

Your escape two years ago was something you’d planned exhaustively, every move calculated by the minute. But L knew you better than anyone. He was the only one who could see through the smoke and mirrors. 

A dangerous smile crept slowly onto your lips as you stepped into the moving crowd. Panic was for amateurs. If L was finally getting closer to catching you, you weren’t going to make it easy for him. You survived your old life. You even survived an encounter with Kira himself. You could survive a few suits in Spain’s most populated cities.

After two years of absolute silence, the adrenaline rushing through your veins felt less like a threat and more like an invitation.

Right on cue, a big crowd of tourists approached you from where you were standing. Shielded by their bodies, you swiftly made a break for the several taxis idling at the curb. Luckily, it made tracking which specific one you got into quite difficult. You slid inside the back seat and told the driver to head north toward Port Saplaya, a peaceful residential village with seaside canals and sweet, pastel townhouses. More importantly, it was where your friend named Lucia lived, someone you met a few months ago from working at the café.

She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek when you came knocking at her flat—where you were safe, at least for the next few hours. “What’s all this about?”

Lucia leaned her back against the door with a coffee mug in one hand, arching a skeptical brow at you turning up so suddenly.

You tossed your sunglasses onto the coffee table and put your hands on your waist. 

“Help me bake some strawberry shortcake.”

next

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

༊࿐ For more emotional effect, I highly recommend queueing up the song I put around the middle of the chapter.

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 3

The truth had finally crystallized at that warehouse. Kira’s defeat was clinical and extremely unsettling. Nothing compared to the sight of Light Yagami bleeding on the ground, crying hysterically. It really was him. The horror sank in everyone’s faces then, especially Matsuda’s. Is this what Soichiro had to die for? No one could begin to comprehend the sheer scale of the fabrication, the terrifying lengths that Light had gone to, just to lead them in circles while he killed off thousands of lives.

The next day was even more grim, devoid of any warmth.

One by one, members of the task force took their things and bid their goodbyes. Matsuda, Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide. Well, there wasn’t much to say. They had spent years shuttered away from the world, risking their lives on an investigation that existed outside the reach of the law. The truth had become a looming, monolithic thing. What now? was the question on everyone’s minds. It was impossible to imagine going back to a normal life after all of this. Before parting ways, Watari managed the transition of their documents: the nondisclosure agreements, the falsified records of their absence from the NPA, all high-level security clearances that had technically never existed on paper. Every file that tied them to the investigation was scrubbed and encrypted into a digital vault.

“Your service is officially concluded,” Watari said, his voice as soft and steady as a ticking clock. “Everything inside those folders ensures you are protected from any future inquiry. You are, for all legal intents and purposes, back where you started. I offer you my most sincere well wishes, may you find the tranquility you have earned.”

Aizawa didn’t offer a handshake to either of them before he left, but he turned to look L in the eye—it was a gaze that possessed a solemn and wordless acknowledgement of the burden L still had to carry. He gave a single nod, a silent good luck offered from one soldier to another. L watched him, his own dark eyes reflecting the gesture, before Aizawa turned and left. Matsuda’s farewell was more somber. His bow was heavy, and he was even trembling, fighting back tears. He stepped into his ride slow and phantom-like, as if his spirit had been extinguished entirely. After that, they were taken away in a fleet of black cars that disappeared into the Tokyo traffic.

They lingered outside the lobby for a moment before making their own exit. Watari thought of L’s future successors, Near and Mello, back home at the orphanage. “They’re expecting us back at Wammy’s House.” He opened the trunk of his car and loaded the last of his items while L stood there patiently.

Then, a sudden rain began to drizzle. L only hummed in response, a sound that left it unclear whether it was a yes or no. Once Watari unlocked the car, he slid inside the passenger seat, drawing his knees up toward his chest despite the generous space around him. The anomaly that had consumed his every waking hour for years—Light Yagami—had finally been neutralized. But even with the case closed, L’s mind felt far from the state of rest. His chest felt tight, the silence inside the vehicle pressing against his ears with a heavy weight.

“It’s done…” he suddenly muttered to Watari who was turning on the engine. “We can go home.” Through the rain-slicked streets of Tokyo, the quiet was broken only by the steady, rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers.

L thoughtfully pressed his thumb against his lower lip, remembering the last thing you ever said to him.

Listening cue: The Shins - New Slang

“People are like planetary bodies,” you said softly. “They’re meant to pull each other out of orbit, lose their way for a while, and then spend the rest of eternity finding their way back to the center of gravity.”

For whatever mystifying reason, you wanted L to leave your disappearance unsolved. To let you be. What was even more bizarre was that he did—he really did honor your unspoken request to let you vanish. Yet, all these years, he had never truly closed the file on you. L had never understood why you permanently occupied the back of his mind, nor could he logically justify to Watari why he still quietly maintained a string of active leads on your whereabouts.

Watari had observed this development over time, recognizing it long before L did. Love, he concluded, was probably a form of surveillance, birthed by L’s insatiable curiosity. But for someone like him who was wired with a superhuman hyperfocus, there was no greater sacrifice than allowing a mystery to remain unsolved.

To the detective next to him, who was perfectly blind to the nature of it, the feeling felt like a curse. The sensation stirred inside his chest once again just as it did most nights, the unnameable feeling that came the moment you vanished. Watari noticed L’s sinking expression, the way his thumb drifted from his lip suddenly, resting his hands on his knees in a rare display of defeat. It was a rare sight. It was only on two or three occasions that Watari had caught him in this state—restless yet subdued profoundly, possessed by a melancholy that conquered him. He didn’t need to ask. Watari could almost see the ghost of you sitting next to L then.

L’s head hung low. Even without closing his eyes, he felt as if he’d suddenly traveled through time. There you were next to him. It was one of those night drives again. A specific memory pierced through his vision—he could still remember how the street lights casted shadows over your bodies from inside the car. That particular night was the first time he ever saw a shinigami with his own two eyes. There was no way L could sleep soundly that night. Fortunately, you were in the area and it had been a while since you last saw L. Whatever case he was working on only seemed to get increasingly demanding, so you called off whatever plans you had for the evening and met him at a bus stop somewhere.

Without speaking a word, he took the passenger seat and only stared at the road ahead of you.

He looked different that night—and it worried you. Whatever it was, you picked up on the signs that he didn’t want to talk about it.

You stepped on the brake pedal a few miles away from the small pastry shop you always visited and turned to face him. L slowly turned his head to face you. Although his stare was blank, you could still read the look on his face. Why’d you stop the car?

You responded with a deep exhale and lifted your arm. L watched you reach towards him, rubbing soft circles on his back. At first, his shoulders remained tense, hunched forward like it usually was. But as your hand continued its steady motion, you felt the rigidness in his spine gradually give way. The warmth of your palm seeped through the fabric of his oversized white shirt. It seemed to soothe him. L didn’t pull away. He tilted his head slightly, his dark, unruly bangs falling over his eyes as he watched your hand. Then, he turned to you and took a deep breath. The way his wide eyes softened as they met yours spoke volumes. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the tender rhythm of your hand against his back. It was one of the only instances he ever got to experience physical contact, the kind that was gentle and tender.

The memory seemed to soften him in the present, but somehow, it only made everything heavier.

Watari looked at him through the rearview mirror and broke the silence. “Will you tell me what’s troubling you?”

L didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the window, waking himself up to the present. “It’s done.”

The raindrops rested on the glass in front of him.

“But it’s not enough,” he said finally. “There’s always one last puzzle.”

Watari kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. He knew better than to offer an old man’s consolation. L didn’t want comfort. He wanted a solution to an equation that didn’t quite follow the laws of mathematics. “Perhaps,” he suggested softly, “you’re looking at it the wrong way. A puzzle can be finished.”

“A person… is a constant.” Watari concluded, his gaze drifting briefly to the rearview mirror to gauge L’s reaction.

Something clicked. He didn’t want to be a planetary body drifting aimlessly in the dark. Not anymore.

Suddenly, L sat up straighter, his heart racing. “Watari.” There was a flicker of that classic edge again, a sharp glint in his eye. The defeated look was gone. “The lead from three weeks ago in Madrid, do you remember?”

Watari nodded. “I saved it, just in case.”

“Good.”

Every time L thought he’d finally caught you right in his hand, the trail went cold. On his first attempt, he got the message that the disappearing act was deliberate.

In between the Kira investigation (and with the help of Watari), he’d search through the deepest corners of the web, finding possible traces of your digital footprint here and there—but the moment he felt like he was getting closer, you’d vanish. Like a handful of smoke.

It chewed at him, how you’d left without even leaving a single fingerprint. You were a forensics agent, after all. L Lawliet had met his match—he wasn’t tracking an amateur. You were an asset gone rogue. At that point, with your expertise, you understood the art of an investigation. You knew how detectives think and how evidence aggregates, and so you knew exactly how to leave a trail so clean it left L blind. All that was left was your Camaro, which was parked at Watari’s safekeeping warehouse. L had found it in a grassy field somewhere in the countryside next to a lake. It was your only slip, but a part of him felt that you left it there on purpose. In the trunk was a suitcase that contained remnants of your old life. Some tactical gear, an unloaded handgun, and keys to your old apartment. L had sent Mogi to flip the flat but the rooms were entirely empty, not even a single speck of dust left down to the floorboards.

It was a forensic masterpiece.

Even some members of the faculty tried looking into it, as they had built somewhat of a close friendship with you too. Save for your student information resting in To-Oh University’s digital database and a handful of numbers scattered across a hard drive (bank statements, utility bills, routine receipts), whatever you had left behind on the web was only proof of a quiet and unbothered life. For almost two years, you were gone. Without so much as even an echo.

But as luck would have it, everything shifted a month prior to the final standoff with Kira at the Yellowbox Warehouse.

Apparently, one of Watari’s underground white-hat contacts had found a match on the other side of the world. That unforgettable night at the headquarters, the monitors cast a cold luminescence across L’s features as the satellite data began to compile. Watari was on the phone with him, his steady, grandfatherly voice giving him a lowdown on his findings.

You were in Valencia, a city of stone and sunlight, thousands of miles away from the old life you used to live.

“The match is definitive. The facial recognition scan hit a ninety-eight percent structural alignment, using an encrypted freshman ID photo from To-Oh University as reference. I had to thank an old pal for recovering that one. It really is her.”

L didn’t blink. He watched the images load onto the screen—a blurred silhouette caught on a camera from three days ago. There you were, in a grainy freeze-frame of a crowded train station in Valencia. A digital green grid was overlaid on your face, mapping the precise distance between your cheekbones, the curve of your jawline, your nose bridge, your eye shape.

“She didn’t use a forged passport to cross borders, she simply stopped interacting with the grid. No social media footprint, no registered sim cards, nothing. She’s completely under the radar. If she hadn’t looked up at that specific angle under that specific CCTV camera, she would have remained invisible. Given her background in forensics, she’s a natural.”

He stayed quiet. For the first time in years, the crushing weight felt like gravity, pulling L forward with a determined force.

Once they reached the private terminal, Watari and L stepped out into the crisp night air, heading toward the awaiting jet.

L didn’t usually feel his own heartbeat like this, even when he’d finally caught Kira in his trap.

The memory of your face, one single image from that lead in Valencia, stayed behind his eyelids.

“Let’s stop in Barcelona. She knows we found her.”

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i finally finished this chapter!!!! sorry for being so ia guys !

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 2

How you met was kind of a funny story.

The library's east wing was essentially abandoned by the university, left to gather dust while the rest of the building remained in use. Students avoided it because the lights flickered like something out of a horror film. Professors avoided it because half the catalog hadn’t been digitized. Even the custodians seemed to forget it existed. Strips of yellow caution tape hung across the entrance, curling at the ends from aging. Back then it was too dusty, so he had Watari deal with it one weekend. Once L came back, it was spotless. The place successfully became his study. The silence here was perfect, it was different from ordinary silence. It was the kind that let him think.

L sat cross-legged at the end of a narrow aisle, laptop balanced precariously on one knee, surrounded by stacks of books he had no intention of checking out properly. The Wi-Fi barely reached this part of the building, but barely was enough.

A noise interrupted the hum of his laptop. A raspy sound of wood. Heavy books settling onto a table. L didn’t look up. Someone else was here.

He stayed still for a moment and just listened. The silence was punctuated by a soft and repetitive sound of a page being turned, then another.

Curiosity began to stir inside his chest. He rose soundlessly and moved between the shelves until he found the source.

You sat three aisles over beneath a small desk lamp that definitely didn’t belong to the library. Warm light poured across the table around your hands. There were papers everywhere. Maps, old photographs, handwritten notes pinned down beneath river stones.

You wore white gloves. For preservation, L noticed immediately. He watched as you lifted a brittle page with the precision of someone handling bone.

He lingered there longer than he meant to.

Without looking up, you broke the silence. “If you’re going to stare,” you said evenly, “you could at least breathe quieter.”

L blinked. “I’ll try,”

“You left footprints in the floor dust.” You turned another page over. “And you smell like convenience store coffee.”

That made him step out from behind the shelf. Up close, you looked exhausted in the way archivists and insomniacs often did. “You’re not supposed to be here,” L said matter-of-factly.

“Neither are you.”

There was no arguing with that. His gaze drifted to the open document in front of you. Margins crowded with dates and tiny annotations. “You’re cross-referencing the handwriting,” he murmured. “Different ink compositions. Different authors pretending to be the same one.”

You lit up. You turned to him, trying to map out his face clearly. “You figured that out from across the room?”

“The pressure patterns. Some write heavily and indent the page. Some have lighter strokes,”

The two of you looked at each other. Neither of you could get a good read on the other’s face, but something unnameable was hanging in the air between you. You slowly pushed a second cup across the table toward him. L noticed the tea was already poured before he’d even walked up to you. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come over.”

L stared at the cup for a second before folding himself carefully into the chair opposite you.

“I think caffeine is a stimulant for those who are lazy,” you said, smiling at him finally.

“Laziness requires a desire to do nothing. My intake is purely compensatory.” He blew softly on the surface of his tea. “Do you have any sugar cubes?”

next

i’ve been sitting on these first two chapters all week !!! i’m so glad they’re finally out, i hope i finish writing the next ones soon (｡・‧̫・｡).*♡ thanks to everyone whos been showing support 4 my writing ! it keeps me going !!!!! also dont hesitate to dm me because i would love to make friends on here c: Ok bye guys

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 1

A dusky amethyst sunset held the clouds while you drove your classic Camaro with the windows rolled down, so the wind blew your hair about. And L Lawliet, your long-time friend, occupied the passenger seat watching the road in silence. You had both graduated just hours before, yet the achievement meant nothing. You two didn’t even attend the ceremony.

You had outpaced the confines of academia together a long time ago. You were ghosts—intelligence assets trained to move through the world without leaving a footprint, your real lives existing only where the light failed to reach.

L’s major was in mathematics. For the first time, the world’s most elusive detective had a face, a name, and a seat in a lecture hall. Emerging from a lifetime of anonymity was a calculated gamble, spurred by a case that defied every logic he knew. Kira was efficient, precise, and terrifyingly righteous. There was no way he could win from behind a computer screen.

You, on the other hand, stood in the perfect blindspot, working for a different private entity like a ghost in the machine. You balanced your studies in classic literature and worked alongside the faculty as an archivist, but really, it was merely a cover for your work as an agent with a specialization in forensics. You hid behind the labs, the archives, and the gallery vaults. It was your sanctuary.

You never spoke of the agency, and L never mentioned his pursuit of Kira. You two made your own deductions of what the other did, but that was it—your friendship functioned on a silent treaty of non-interference. L liked that you didn’t ask questions, and neither did he. You were two people living double lives. The truth was a liability. Even as strange as it appeared, the dynamic worked well between you two. Your presence was an anomaly that L readily permitted as someone who had no interest in having a conventional social life. It seemed that you were the singular exception. Sometimes, without looking up from his work, L would break off the corner of a croissant and nudge it toward your palm; a functional sort of intimacy.

The silence you two always shared was never empty. In fact, it was pressurized and productive, every so often interrupted by the two of you clipping at each other, playful or provocative—the friction was endearing.

The road stretched endlessly ahead of you in the present. Telephone wires cut across the sky in long black lines while the Camaro devoured mile after mile beneath you. Wind rushed through the open windows next to you carrying the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the passing fields.

Neither of you had spoken in almost forty minutes.

L sat curled slightly into the passenger seat, one bare foot tucked beneath the other, thumb resting near his mouth as streetlights flickered across his face in intervals. Behind you, bags of sugary pastries shifted softly every time you changed lanes. Over the years, he had mastered the nuances of your expression, particularly your silences.

He could tell the difference between your irritated silence to when you were quiet and deep in thought. Something felt off. You were blinking a lot more than usual.

You kept one hand loose on the wheel, oblivious to L’s suspicion.

“You’re leaving,” he said finally.

For a few seconds, only the sound of the engine answered him. You raised your eyebrows and rested your weight on the carseat. “What gave it away?”

L studied your profile carefully, not replying.

You turned to face him for a few seconds. “Would you investigate me if I disappeared?”

“I would investigate you immediately.”

His words almost knocked you over with the way he said it, having so much conviction. “What?” You let out a disbelieving laugh.

L looked back at you with a straight face. “There’s no other course of action. You are my friend,”

A small laugh escaped you then, quiet, tired. The city lights had long vanished behind you now, ahead was only darkness and the endless ribbon of road illuminated by your headlights.

“I would drop everything to find you again,”

As you stared straight ahead, you felt his eyes searching your face in the dim dashboard light. It made your chest tighten, your heart skipping a sudden, erratic beat. The darkness of the night’s sky couldn’t obscure the ache building in your heart at all. For a long moment, you just let the silence rest in the space between you. Then, you gained enough courage to face him fully, your gaze softening as it met his. “That’s if you do find me.”

“You underestimate me. If that’s a challenge…” L looked down, pulling his knees inches closer to his chest. “I don’t need a head start.”

You tucked some loose hair strands behind your ear. Neither of you could honestly get a good read on what the other was feeling. There was a different kind of air that made L’s heart beat erratically. “People are like planetary bodies,” you said softly. “They’re meant to pull each other out of orbit, lose their way for a while, and then spend the rest of eternity finding their way back to the center of gravity.”

Something in his expression shifted almost invisibly. It was tiny and fleeting. You noticed it, still. “What do you mean?”

You slowed down the car, the tires softly stopping to a halt against the gravel outside a small, quaint bakery. Suddenly, the quiet between you two was the loudest thing. Letting go of the steering wheel, you shifted your weight in the driver’s seat, turning your body completely to face him. L remained slouched, his knees pulled up to his chest, but his head stayed turned to the side, his dark, shadowed eyes locked onto yours.

You leaned your head back against the headrest, letting all the tension drain from your shoulders as you looked at him in the dim and intimate glow of the dashboard light. After a few seconds of silence, your lips formed a smile that was bittersweet and honest, entirely stripped of any remaining defenses. “L, it means I’ll see you when I see you.”

Neither of you saw each other again after that.

Years later, L would still remember the exact cadence of your voice, every last word you had said to him like a record playing over and over, and most especially the way you looked at him—and he would remember with unbearable clarity that less than a week later, you vanished without a trace.

next

the rest of this fic will be posted soon, and on ao3 as well! thanks guys (∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Realizing he’s running out of time, L attempts to sever your bond before Kira can do it for him.

🏷️ comfort, implied/referenced character death, non-sexual intimacy, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

༊࿐ Inspired by salvia palth’s song of the same title. This work was also posted on AO3.

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

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 were a reminder of 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.”

alright hey guys so this is my first day out here i hope i did okay coz i have not written a fanfic in almost 5 years. i deeply apologize if you do not fw my writing. i wanted to write l lawliet as an extreme yearner who does not express his affection like most guys do, my hc is he is afraid of physical touch LOL okay thanks guys i will be posting more i just finished watching death note for the first time and i will not be normal for the next coming weeks

edit: thank you so much for all the support with this fic! it’s almost at 200 likes and i’m really proud that so many people got to read it. it warms my heart a lot

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎