#secondkira

brushes his hair out of his eyes.

admittedly, the detective can’t help but tense up at first, as he’s unused to such...intimate gestures, let alone from someone who ( normally ) finds him repulsive. his ( bashful ) gaze stoops to behold the ‘ suddenly interesting ’ linoleum tiles. lithe fingers continue to tend to disheveled tresses, nevertheless. 

and as his line of sight becomes less obscured, his crouched posture less rigid, he notes the mild, perhaps even determined, glint in misa’s eyes. he leans forward a hairsbreadth, drawing a hand forth to graze a stray lock of her own.

“ misa, ” L utters, half voiced. he gingerly coils the lock around his index finger, eyeing it pointedly for a few beats before daring his gaze upward to meet hers. a low hum leaves his lips as he tucks the lock behind her ear, to which she mirrors him - her touch softer, sweeter, than his could ever hope to be.

the last clump of split ends is soon cast aside. everything is clearer: the fluorescent lights, the unkempt arrangement of chairs...misa herself. her fingertips seem to linger on his cheek a second longer than it should. not that he minds, though...if it means his first full glimpse of her bright, beaming face. 

L’s hand lowers to rest atop a kneecap. at this point, he’s regained all prior composure...but now, with a muted smile, just for her, to boot.