#simplyhyacinth

“Thank you.” He responded. His eyes never left the screen as he picked up the fork and began to eat. 

He had arrived at your apartment last night and in typical L fashion, had given you little notice before knocking on your door with a briefcase of files and papers. He had turned your living room into a crime scene, and as far as you knew, hadn’t slept a wink since he had gotten here. 

You didn’t want to ask him any questions or bother him, despite how incredibly curious you were, but you did want to be sure he wasn’t wasting away under your watch. If that meant feeding him desserts every hour to ensure that something was being consumed, then so be it.

“Cake for dinner,” You said softly to the air, shaking your head as you served yourself a slice. “I’m living my childhood dreams.”

Taking a seat next to L, you very carefully pulled a blanket up to your lap. You watched him cautiously, worried that your movements might distract him.

“You are not bothering me.” He said abruptly. 

You froze “Are you sure? I can just go to my room if - “

“No, I quite enjoy your presence.” He turned to you. “And if anything, I should be the one worried about bothering you. I have completely taken over your living room with my research.”

In furious denial, you responded, “No not at all! I love having papers about - “ You pick up a paper and skim the first sentence. “ - mass murders…on my couch…”

L let out a soft chuckle, to which you gave him a smile in return. “I should be thankful that you have not yet tired of my existence.”

“How could I ever? You’re my best customer.” You gestured to the state of your messy kitchen - a result of all the baking and cooking you had done for him since he had arrived. 

He responded with a little laugh, and turned back to his screen. You admired how much he devoted himself to his work, however it worried you nonstop to see how it ate away at him, both mentally and physically. 

You didn’t pretend to understand what he did. As far as you could tell, he was a spy or detective of sorts. He never confirmed or denied your guesses, but there were certain aspects of his routine that allowed you to infer what you could.

What you were sure of, however, was that the only time he was ever able to properly relax was when he was around you. Which only made it that much more saddening that he was so immersed in his research at this moment in time.

But you said nothing. It was never your place to interfere or say anything. That was how the two of you worked.

You picked up your book from the table in front of you and began to read. It was nice, being near him and the two of you being allowed to do your respective things. In fact, the book you were reading was one he had suggested for you after you told him it had been a while since you found a good book.

So far, you were quite happy with the recommendation.

After a couple of hours of just being next to each other and occasionally exchanging words, you began to doze off. The book slipped out of your hands and your head dropped onto L’s shoulder.

For the first time in hours, he was completely taken out of his work mindset. The weight of your body slumped against his was so warm. He knew it probably would be best to let you sleep, but how was he meant to get any work done if you were right against him?

Lucky for him, you started to stir, yawning as you awoke from your brief nap. “You’re here?”

“I’ve been here since yesterday.” He replied quietly.

You quickly noticed how much of his personal space you had accidentally invaded and shot straight up. “Shit, I didn’t mean to - “

L reached over and took your hand. It was a bit of an awkward grab, but you understood he meant it to be comforting. “You do not bother me.” His words were firm. 

“Right,” You breathed out, unknowingly lacing your fingers with his. “I forgot.”

“You also seemed to forget that I was here,” He noted. “You were surprised.”

Your cheeks heated up at his observation. “I think…I’m not used to you being so present next to me. It was a bit shocking to wake up practically sleeping on you.”

He was silent for a moment, and then, “Elaborate. On the part about me being present.”

“It’s not a matter of you being physically absent, but I mean you’re always so absorbed in your work that it’s like you forget I’m here or even where and who you are. Mentally, you are on another planet almost ninety percent of the time.” You explain, embarrassed. 

This seemed to bother him. You noticed the way his grip on your hand loosened and his shoulders deflated even more. 

“I never meant to make you feel that way.”

Your heart broke at how defeated he sounded. “Not at all! I just want you to be aware that you’re allowed to relax around me. You’re under no obligations here.”

He nodded. “Then you should also know that I don’t mind you being close to me.” He looked down at where your hands were still intertwined. “I’ve come to enjoy being in contact with you.”

You laughed lightly, relieved. “Thank goodness. I could kiss you right now, you know?”

“You could.” He confirmed quickly. “It would certainly be an experience I’ve never had before.”

To that, your laughter stops. “Never? You’ve never been kissed before?”

“I think I, of all people, would know if I had been.” He said dryly. 

“Would you want me to kiss you?” You asked him, your words hushed and curious. 

He pondered it for a moment. “I would want you to, of course. I have no expectations on whether or not I will enjoy it, as I have no previous experience to form them from. However, based off of what the vast majority of the population would - “

You decided you had enough of his talking and leaned forward, pressing your lips against his and using your free hand to hold his face gently as you did. 

By kissing standards, it was not perfect. It was soft and awkward, but to you it was pure bliss. And as you pulled away and saw the gratified look in his eyes, it was fairly evident he felt similarly.

“How was that?” You asked teasingly.

“I’m not sure,” He replied. “I think you should do it again, for me to provide you with a satisfactory answer.”

You let out a laugh and leaned against him. “To be entirely honest with you, I haven’t kissed many people before.”

“In comparison to them, how did I do?” 

“Well, that was just a basic kiss.” You explained. “If you really want to be memorable, you should try a little harder.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “And how should I do that?”

You gave him a sly smile and moved until his back was pressed against the couch cushions and you were positioned slightly above him, your legs on either side of his lap. 

“Just open your mouth…” And like the obedient boyfriend he was, he did. “...lean forward…” Your lips met his again and you pulled him in closer; so close that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

The two of you quickly fell into a rhythm, and for someone who claimed to have never been kissed before, he was oddly passionate.

Breathless, you pulled away and beamed at him. “I would say that was pretty good. You?”

“If I wished to rank it, I would have to kiss other people to properly make a comparison.” You met his eyes, a teasing spark illuminated within them.

You scrunched up your nose. “Don’t joke. You are horribly unfunny.”

“Your lies do not concern me.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose, much to your surprise. 

“It appears you like being kissed then?” 

“If it’s by you, then yes.” He sighed, a mixture of content and sadness. “I apologize for making you feel so unwanted around me while I work. I truly appreciate your presence and your efforts to distract me.”

You nodded acceptingly. “Well, do they at least work?”

L smiled. “They do.”

With a little exhale of relief, you rested your body against his and closed your eyes. “Anyways, you’re pretty good at that whole kissing thing. Maybe we can make it a habit.”

He squeezed your hand lightly. “I would like that.”

Because there was something so satisfying about kissing you, or even touching you, that made him only crave it more. L, whose mind was forever restless, had come to a complete halt the moment your lips had touched his. 

It appeared that the only tried and true thing that could ever relax him and bring him out of an overworked state of mind, was being with you. 

It was selfish. So incredibly selfish of him. To be with you, knowing the dangers, knowing the consequences, all because it made him feel good.

But he couldn’t help it. Not if it meant the possibility of kissing you again. And so he solidified this resolve in his mind that he wanted you, and only ever you. He knew there could be nothing good to come of this in the long run, but for now, you were both content in each other’s company.

“Hmm?” You hummed, a ringing sound echoing throughout your head as the word began to come back into focus. “What happened…?”

L’s eyes, much more distressed than you remembered then being, stared into your own as his grip on your shoulders barely loosened. “What do you remember last?”

“Giving you cakes?” You murmured, blinking away the spots that danced in the corners of your sight. 

A hand slid around to your back, pressing until you were sitting up straight. “You fell, and - “ He paused, his fingers gently trailing up your cheek. He pulled his fingers away and stared at them, blood staining his pale skin. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“I think I’m fine,” You laughed shakily, feeling for the blood yourself. Your head didn’t hurt too much, save for the slight pounding on the right side and the disorientation that accompanied it. “This has happened before.”

“Do you know your name?”

You stared at him. “You cannot be asking me that right now.”

“You hit your head and you are bleeding, of course I’m checking to make sure you’re okay.” He responded, a little irritation mixing with the worry. “Do you know what day it is?”

“It’s my birthday.” You swatted at his hands that came up to inspect the bleeding again. “Honestly, I’m fine. We just need to go up to my apartment and get some bandages.”

“I believe you may require medical attention.” L moved his index finger in front of your eyes, watching closely as you followed it. “You said this has happened before?”

You let out another nervous laugh. “Yeah, yeah it’s okay. I’m a fairly clumsy person, and I normally manage to just walk it off. Here, help me up.” You reached out for him and he slid his arm underneath yours and around your back.

“I feel obligated to tell you that I don’t think your methods of recovery after such an injury are the safest.” 

“Aw c’mon,” You teased lightly, leaning against him as he helped you up the stairs. “I’m laughing and everything! I’m fine.”

“Even hours after a fall, people may still be able to - “

With a swift movement of your hand, you shush him and close your eyes. You balanced against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to remain as un-worryingly stable as possible. “Alright, maybe I should sit down again.”

He pushed open the door to your loft and led you to your room. Carefully, his hands helped guide you to the bed to sit down.  “I don’t want to say I told you so…”

“Then don’t.” You interjected curtly. You looked up at him, your vision still a little blurry. Patting the spot next to you, you tried to muster up a cheery tone. “Hey, sit down with me. Don’t look so worried.”

“I believe it is normal to be worried if one’s partner has a head injury - no matter how mild.” He sighed, still trying to examine you discreetly as if you couldn’t so obviously tell, even with your blurred sight. 

You laid down on your side, resting your head atop his lap. “I trust that you’ll take care of me if I die within the next two hours.”

“Don’t be so morbid.”

“You’re one to talk,” You snickered. “But seriously, make sure I don’t die.”

“You make me worry about you sometimes.” He ran his fingers through your hair gently.

With a frown, you responded, “Again, you’re one to talk. I worry about you everyday and yet there’s nothing I can do about it.”

He said nothing in return, but you could tell that your tone may have been a tad too harsh. You knew the agreements of the relationship. You knew the terms. It wasn’t his fault that you had convinced him to do this with you. 

You reached up to him, brushing his cheek and pushing his hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy! I am so happy with you.”

“You’re hurt.” He stated.

You scoffed and waved your hand lightly at him. “But I’m happy. And I am so incredibly happy that I’m spending my birthday with you, injured or not. Can you at least trust me on that?”

There was silence for a moment, and then a slight nod. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, a light smile now finally making an appearance on his face.

“It is nothing to worry about,” He stated simply. “Just a particularly difficult month.”

“Do you need anything?” You asked him quietly.

He shook his head softly. “I would much rather just enjoy my time with you while I can. I should thank you for taking me here, before I forget.”

You had thought it would be nice to have a little picnic with him in the park. The trees were a plethora of vibrant reds and oranges, and you and L were both dressed in hand-knitted sweaters that you may or may not have forced him to wear.

The sleeves of your sweater were long enough to cover up the scars that you feared he would see, and you were careful not to roll them up around him.

After the picnic and a little walk around the park, the two of you headed back to your apartment. The chilly fall air stung your cheeks as you walked, and despite your hand being tucked into L’s, it was still beginning to freeze over.

The warmth from your apartment was a welcome feeling, but one you quickly realized was overbearing in your thicker sweater. L had already taken his off, leaving him in nothing but the plain white shirt he had been wearing when he arrived.

“That’s new.”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking towards where he was pointing. A little framed picture of the two of you - the only picture you had of the both of you - sat on your bookshelf, centered amongst several other little objects. Your face burned with embarrassment. “Oh, sorry.”

“For what?” He mused, walking over to it. “Oh, I remember this day. You tried jelly-filled donuts for the first time.”

That was not how you remembered the day. You recalled staring into the mirror for over an hour, picking at every miniscule detail about yourself, so worried that he would notice all the flaws that you saw in yourself every day.

But, it was the only picture you had with him, so regardless of the memories, it got framed.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“I remember every interaction with you.” He responded softly before looking over. “It’s quite warm in here. Is the sweater not making you too hot?”

“I don’t mind.” You lied, very much burning up underneath the heavy material. You shuffled towards the kitchen and tried to change the subject. “Do you want dinner?”

He nodded, regarding you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

Throughout the rest of the night, you weren’t quite able to disguise your discomfort as well as you thought you could, even after turning the heat down. You didn’t have any clean long sleeve shirts to change into, so you were stuck with the sweater.

And L - oh, lovely and observable L, had quickly noticed your anxiety, although he did not speak on it until later into the evening.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?”

You turned around swiftly, eyes wide. “No! No, not at all! Why would you think that?”

“You seem terribly nervous, much more than when we were out earlier. I wasn’t sure if I had done something to cause it. I would not have said anything had you not lectured me previously about my lack of communication.” He pressed his thumb to his lips, not quite meeting your eyes as he spoke.

A warm flush bloomed in your cheeks and you couldn’t look at him. “It’s not that. It’s something else.”

“Elaborate?”

“It’s dumb, really.” You said quickly, half waving it away with your hand.

“I can be the judge of that.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, despite the growing heat. “I just…uh, I’m not the biggest fan of how I look I suppose. I wear a lot of sweaters and jackets to cover up what I’m not comfortable with, and I didn’t want you to see anything. Which is stupid, I know,” You cut him off before he can speak. “But you just tend to notice everything, and this was one thing I didn’t want you to.”

L was quiet for a minute, and then he let out a low chuckle, much to your surprise. You stared at him in shock. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Not at all.” He straightened up,something he didn’t do often. “I was not aware that you thought this was something I would care about.”

Your face was burning now, your moment of vulnerability cut through by his reaction. “Well, I mean - wait what?”

He shrugged. “I have had similar thoughts, if I am honest with you. I am certainly not physically appealing - “

“That’s not true at all.” You retorted.

“In that case, would you believe me if I said you were the most beautiful person to me?” His words were casual, so casual that you wondered what kind of conversation you were even having. “To continue to be honest, I never gave much consideration to the way you looked.”

“Wow, okay.”

“Oh? So you like me purely for my body then?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“No!” You said with such force that it sounded more like an insult than you realized. “I mean, no, I liked you for your personality.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “The same holds true for me about you. Which is why you are the most beautiful person to me. I have never met anyone quite like you.”

“You haven’t properly met many women at all.” You muttered. “Wait, go back to that beautiful thing?”

He looked you in the eye now. “Would you believe me if I said that I love you regardless of whatever flaws you may think you have?”

You try not to stutter over your words as you respond. “I - I guess. If you believe the same for me - that I love you despite how you look as well.”

He gave you a delicate little smile. “Thank you.”

You sighed with relief. You knew he wouldn’t have left you for your looks, but hearing him tell you that he loved you no matter what you looked like was a reassurance regardless. 

You stared at the table where you first met. Another couple sat there, currently laughing over their slices of chocolate cake. It was hard to imagine that it had been over a year since he had come into your life, especially considering how little you saw him. He was a busy man, you knew that. 

Didn’t make it hurt any less.

In an attempt to relieve yourself of some stress, you started on some paperwork and newly drawn up contracts regarding your bakery. The mundane act of simply reading and signing took your mind off of the anticipation.

You looked up at the clock after a while, squinting as you read the numbers. Your eyes widened as you realized it was almost an hour past noon. Looking around, your gaze fell upon a figure in the corner booth of the bakery. Your eyes met his and a thin smile creeped over his lips.

“You’re here?” You asked after crossing over to sit down across from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed so engrossed in your work,” He replied simply. “I wanted to watch you for a bit. If I interrupted you, you would put all of it aside to spend time with me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you complaining about that?”

“Not at all.” He traced his finger over the surface of the table. “But, perhaps I merely wanted to excuse my own actions.”

“Could you elaborate?” You asked him. It was a question you used very often, as he had a habit of saying the vaguest things and not providing any content. 

His gaze dropped so he was no longer looking at you. “When you drop everything for me…I feel as if I am insufficient for being unable to do the same for you. I chose not to disturb you and make you aware of my presence perhaps because I did not want to feel worse about myself, or for you to resent me for it.”

“That’s such bullshit.” You stated firmly. “It’s not the same at all! You’re doing what I assume is important work, while I’m just trying to finish getting my taxes done. And I would never resent you for that.”

He made a little sound that could have been a sigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You took his hand and pulled him out of the booth. “Here, go on up to the loft while I kick the cute couple over there out.”

He obliged, taking the keys and slowly making his way up to your place as you closed down the rest of the bakery. You thought about what he said - about how he felt insufficient. You wondered if there were other things that made him feel like that as well. 

You picked out a couple desserts for him in hopes that they would cheer him up. Your hands found the necklace he had given you for your birthday, and you recalled with fondness the memory of that night.

Making your way up to your place, you opened the door to see him examining a photo from your table.

“Enjoying yourself?” You teased as you entered the loft. 

He let go of the picture frame he was holding. “You were a cute baby.”

“Oh? Am I no longer cute?” The picture he was referring to was one of you when you were around four, and playing in the snow. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall, looking around. “It’s clean. The last time I was here it was a mess. I don’t suppose you cleaned for my arrival, hmm?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. It was for the other young gentleman I brought over last night. If you’re observant enough, you might smell his cologne in my bed.”

L frowned at that. “Your jokes are not funny.”

“Ah well, you seem to like the majority of them.” You press a gentle kiss under his jaw and lace your fingers through his. “What do you want for dinner?”

He peered at you underneath his lashes, his voice dropping a little lower than normal. “What if I were to say I wanted you?”

You stared at him for a moment, motionless. Then you laughed nervously and smiled at him. “It’s so odd to hear that kind of stuff from you. It couldn’t possibly be because you’re…jealous, are you? Of the nonexistent man I’ve invited to my bed every night in your absence?”

“No other man should be in your bed, existent or not.” He grumbled. “Not that you would ever do such a thing, anyways.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?”

“The fact that you chose me tells me you had no other options.”

You hit his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be mean! I was going to be nice and let you choose a movie for us to watch, but after that I think we’ll be watching some more Christmas movies again.”

“I don’t suppose it’s too late to apologize, is it?” His voice tinted lightly with exasperation.

“Ha! Too fucking late.” You beamed back at him.

You started preparing dinner - having noticed earlier that as per usual, he was much thinner and sickly looking than the last time you saw him. Thankfully, his dark circles and eye bags were less pronounced. 

You hoped he was actually getting sleep this time, and hadn’t just discovered the miracle of makeup and skincare.

“Hey, let’s play a game.” 

“What is it?” He slid his hands around your waist, an amused smile pulling the corners of his lips up as he noticed you tense up. 

“I’ll try and list off some fun facts and you tell me if you already knew them.” You tried to breathe calmly, which was hard when he was so damn close to you.

“I forget that you have an obsession with my capacity for knowledge.”

With a shaky laugh, you attempted to wave off his statement. “Hmm? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He dropped his head down to your shoulder, pressing himself against your neck. “If you only find me attractive for my intelligence, you can tell me. I won’t be entirely offended.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your brain is only half of the reason why I like you.”

“And the other half?”

“You do as I say. I like an obedient man.” You felt him huff lightly, his breath skimming the surface of your neck. “So then, what do you like about me? I’m not extraordinary like you are.”

It was a question you genuinely wondered about. It seemed odd to you that someone like him had taken any interest in you at all. At times, you wondered if it was all a ruse, and one day he would drop the act and leave you behind.

You didn’t like those times.

“No,” He mused. “You are not extraordinary.”

“Wow.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that,” He said testily. “I would have continued had you not interrupted me. You are not extraordinary, yes, and you could never do what it is I do. However, I am firm in my belief that if our roles were reversed, I would not be able to handle your life either.”

You weren’t quite understanding. “Being…a baker?”

“Being so human. Interacting with people daily and being the one to accommodate their needs. I have half the social skills you do and I do not think I have nearly as much charm either.” 

“Oh I see,” You pause for a moment. “So what I’m getting is, you can’t do the social stuff but you could absolutely steal my job as a baker?”

“I don’t quite think you understand.”

“No no, I do! You mentioned aspects of my life other than baking. You clearly think that’s a part of what I do that you could actually handle.” You huff teasingly.

L pressed a finger to his lips. “Baking involves following a recipe. I think that falls under the list of things I am capable of.”

You put your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes, turning to face him. “Fine then. Let’s do it. Besides, this is something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Yeah, after all, it is kinda how we met.”

He smiled at the memory. “That was quite a while ago. At times it feels odd to think that I have known you this long, and even odder to think that you have not yet tried to poison me. I understand the temptation must be - “

You pulled him in for a kiss - one of the only foolproof methods you had discovered would shut him up. “I think poison would ruin the taste of my food, which I care about much more than killing you.”

L couldn’t even be annoyed at your joke about murdering him. He had practically set himself up for it. 

You decided you didn’t want to waste any time; he was hardly around for long anyways, so why sit and stir your boring soup when you could be teaching him the wonders of baking? 

Watching L bake was something you had never really imagined before, but it was mesmerizing anyways. Not that he was anywhere as good as you were, but he was much more methodical and careful with it than you ever thought to be. 

“A fourth of a cup…”

“Just eyeball it.” You reached over him to grab the chocolate chips. “We measure these with our heart.”

“The recipe says - “ His sentence was cut off by you ripping the paper out of his hands and tossing it aside. “Now that was dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes at him, pressing a little kiss against his cheek to calm him. “The recipe is whatever we decide it is. And I say we eyeball it.” You could see him forming a protest, but you quickly said, “Hey, which one of us is a professional baker?”

“You are, my dear.”

The joy from the smile that spread across your face could have cured cancer. “Say that to me more often. I like it.”

The tips of his ears reddened slightly and he poured the entire bag of chocolate chips into the cookie dough.

At the sight of your wide eyes, he said, “You told me to measure with my heart.”

“Your heart really doesn’t want to last long.” You murmured under your breath.

“You never began the game, by the way.” He scooped up a bit of the dough onto his finger and popped it into his mouth. “The one about fun facts.”

“Oh right!” You rested your elbows against the counter and pressed yourself forward. “I bet you didn’t know snails can sleep up to three years.”

He smiled, and you knew immediately that you had lost that one. “Try again.”

“Bumblebees can fly higher than Mount Everest?”

“I’ll give you another chance.”

You frowned, irritated. For what reason would he have to already know these things? “Decapitated sea slugs can grow back a body?”

He chuckled softly, still incorporating the chocolate chips into the dough. “Your attempts are amusing.”

“One more!” You leaned towards him and drew in a small breath. “I love you.”

L stopped mixing. For a solid moment, he was entirely still, his eyes and expression utterly unreadable. You were scared; worried that your moment of vulnerability was too much - that you had pressed too far.

“You win.” Was all he responded with, his voice shaky.

It wasn’t until several hours later when the two of you were sitting on the couch, munching away at the way-too-chocolatey cookies you had made, that he said something else about it.

You weren’t expecting it, if you were honest. You had no qualms about admitting you were in love with him and not receiving something back, however as you leaned into his chest and grinned at the end credits of the movie, you heard him utter three lovely little words. 

“And I, you.”

It was the afternoon after your first date, and he had come into the bakery, just as you had asked him to. While neither of them interacted, she said the grin that appeared on your face the moment you saw him was enough for her to support you.

Unlike normal boyfriends, you didn’t text or call him daily. You rarely even saw him a couple times a month if you were lucky. Every time he reached out to you, it was through a new number or an order for an absurd amount of things from the bakery.

You also didn’t question him much on why. The last time proper questions and answers had been exchanged was your first date after watching the movie. Ever since then, you knew it would be best to simply let him operate in the way he did.

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Eva slipped into the chair across from you; the bakery empty and requiring no current attention. 

“How do you know about that?” You demanded, quite sure you had never told her when it was.

She laughed. “There’s a dated picture of you wearing a birthday hat up in your apartment.” 

Your face went red as you recalled the photo she was talking about. “I can’t believe you saw that…”

“Too bad. Got any plans? Plans with the…” Her voice trailed off suggestively. She knew very well how secretive you were, and despite the empty store, still acted as if there were people to overhear.

“Of course not. I haven’t even told him when my birthday is.” You brush off the idea. “Besides, I saw him last weekend. I won’t see him again for at least another three weeks.”

Eva frowned. “I don’t know how you do that. Especially for as long as you’ve been doing it. I can’t imagine being away from my boyfriend for so long.”

You sigh. It was certainly not the easiest, but L had told you from the start that he was not the most stationary person, and that he had many responsibilities that required his attention in various places. 

“I will never be able to prioritize you.” He had told you one night.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

There was a pause, and then you nodded. “I do. Why are you bringing this up now?”

“I fear you may resent me for it. That you will realize that I am never around and that you will leave.” He looked away slightly, just enough so he was no longer meeting your gaze.

You frowned at him. “That seems like a problem for the future. As of right now, I hold no resentment, nor desire to leave. We have already established the type of relationship this is, and I see nothing wrong with it.” You wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him closer to you. “Come now, let’s finish this movie.”

He chuckled softly as he said, “Do you think there will ever be a time we can watch something other than a Christmas movie?”

“Shh, don’t say such heinous things.”

You turn your attention back to the present. Eva was now suggesting that you got out for drinks tomorrow to celebrate, to which you reminded her that you weren’t yet 21. She didn’t budge.

The idea of perhaps, celebrating your birthday for once, didn’t seem as terrifying as it had in previous years. And for a moment, you regretted not having told L when your birthday was.

Of course, you would have had no expectations of him doing anything for it, but it would have been nice for him to know regardless. Maybe he would be able to spare you a thought amidst the other things that overtook his mind. 

“See you later!” Eva waved at you as she clocked out and headed home for the night. 

And once again, it was just you in the bakery. You tried to head upstairs to go to sleep, but something in your gut kept tugging you awake, eventually leading you back down to the store.

There was nothing down there, but you were beginning to get worried. Something felt off, and you didn’t think it would be right to go to bed just yet.

After a couple hours of mindless cleaning and organizing, your mind was still restless, as if anticipating something. You chalked it up to wanting to stay awake until it was properly your birthday, and so you made yourself a little cake.

You had candles in the bakery already, and you found yourself sitting in the same spot as the one L had when you first met him.

“Happy birthday to me!” You sang softly, taking a picture of the cake before moving to blow it out. Before you could, however, a knock on the glass of the door nearly startled you out of your seat.  “Fuck!” You exclaimed, looking over to see what it was.

And there he stood, hands in his pockets and slouched over as if he had permanent back issues. At his feet rested a bag, most likely filled with more files and papers.

Once the initial shock had passed, you ran to the door to let him in. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s your birthday.” He said simply, gesturing to the clock which now read 2:30AM. “May I come in?”

“I never told you it was my birthday.” Your tone was almost accusing. 

He sat down opposite of where you were. It gave you even stronger flashbacks to when you first met. “I figured it out.”

“How?”

“You always mention having fond memories of celebrations and spending time with your mother around this month, and considering what you’ve told me of your childhood, I imagine the only reason you would be consistently celebrating is for your birthday.” He stated with ease. “And while you never said specific dates, you did talk about certain birthday memories, for instance a limited edition seasonal drink from your favorite cafe.”

“I did?” You asked, not even remembering yourself.

He nodded, now pulling his bag up to set it on the table. “It was easy to align the dates, and with a little bit of investigation, the confirmation of the exact day was clear.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a lot of work to figure out my birthday.”

“Also, there is a dated picture in your bedroom of you on your birthday.” His smile turned coy at the sudden redness of your face. 

“I hate you!” You buried your face in your hands and groaned in annoyance. He had only been in your room once, just while he waited for you to grab something.

“No, actually. I don’t believe you do.” When you looked back up, his expression had turned much more serious and melancholic. 

You didn’t question the underlying tone or sadness in his voice. “Well of course not. I could never hate someone who could remember every detail of the things I’ve said.”

“You have also mentioned a disliking for most gifts, so I do apologize for this.” Out of his bag he pulled out a little box. There was no wrapping, no bow, no tag. It was just a box.

Carefully, you open the lid of it. Your eyes went wide at what you found inside. With shaking hands, you lifted the music box out and set it on the table. Upon further inspection, you knew exactly what this was. There was no mistaking those dents and dings you had made when you were a child, nor the little hearts you had drawn along the edge.

Wordlessly, you twisted the bottom and allowed the music to play softly. It echoed throughout the empty bakery and L watched it with as much wonder as you did. 

“How did you…” You couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

“You mentioned it once. It was your mother’s, you said. You sold it long ago, but ever since she passed you regretted having ever given away that part of her.” 

You were absolutely speechless for a moment. Then, you looked over at him. “Stay still.” You leaned over the table and kissed him. It was quick and so simple, but it was more than you were able to say with words.

Pulling back, you grinned sheepishly, watching his reaction closely.

He closed his eyes, as if trying not to lose the moment. “I believe that is the first time you have ever kissed me. Perhaps I should find more of your childhood items to return to you.”

You laughed at that. “Then perhaps we can make kissing a habit if you do.”

L didn’t mention the gift that was hidden within the compartments of the music box itself. No, he waited for you to find that on your own, two nights later when you were fidgeting with the hardware of the music box and accidentally discovered a little compartment.

You had never noticed it before, even as a child. But here it was. Inside of it was a delicate little necklace with your favorite flower engraved upon it; something else you had not realized he remembered.

“Thank you.” You whispered into the air, hoping that the open window would allow the breeze to carry your words to wherever L might have been.

You truly meant it. He had made this the most memorable birthday you had had in over a decade, and one you would look back upon years from now, even after he was gone.

As if her words held summoning magic, a well-dressed older man came in, the little bell above the door ringing cheerfully. He didn’t need to say anything, you knew very well what he was here for. While your coworker dealt with the payment and signatures, your fingers found themselves twirling a pen, which gave you a quick idea.

Grabbing a small sticky note, you scribbled a message onto it and stuck it on one of the boxes, then stacked another on top of it so it wouldn’t be visible at first. As you handed them off to the man, you continued to wonder what kind of person would ever be ordering this many cakes within a week. Surely this had to be for a group of people, or a party, right?

“Nope,” Your coworker answered later on. “That man confirmed it was only for a single customer.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you shook your head. “Well, I hope they enjoy it while they can. At this rate they’ll die from an overload of sugar before the end of the month.”

“If anything, you should be proud. I mean, they are your cakes.” 

“Doesn’t mean I like making so many of them in such a short amount of time.” You sighed, spraying down the counter and wiping a towel across it. The man always came to pick up the desserts right before closing, which was quite a late time to be eating cake. 

Together, you and your coworker spent the rest of the night cleaning the bakery and discussing your theories on who this rich and mysterious customer may be. Eventually, after a couple hours of exhausted debate, you came to the conclusion that he was an old man, older than the one that came in to pick up the cakes. He lived in the houses that lined the outskirts of the city, and he was so fragile that he could not even get out of bed. The only thing that made him feel better were your cakes, which were made using a modified version of your grandmother’s recipe.

“Perhaps he knew your grandmother, and eating your cakes is the only reminder he has of his youth.” She hummed, plopping down onto the floor and pulling you to join her.

“I think we’ve imagined quite the tragic backstory for him already,” You laughed, still finalizing the money count. “Good lord, they’ve spent over two-thousand dollars on these cakes. That almost makes my sprained wrist worth it.”

Your coworker yawned, to which you encouraged her to go home. You offered to handle the rest of closing, after all, you lived in the loft right above the bakery. After she left, you finished inputting the sales into the system before heading up to bed.

When you awoke, you could not have been more angry at the time for moving so fast. Closing late and opening early was one of the parts of running a business you dreaded the most. Regardless, you trudged back down to the bakery and undid all the work you had just done a few hours ago.

By the time the bakery was actually open, you were still so sluggish and exhausted that you hadn’t even noticed the customer that had been there since the first hour of opening. Eventually, your eyes scanned the mostly empty shop and met another pair, staring right back at you.

You blinked in surprise, not knowing how long they had been looking at you for. With a nervous wave, you took a closer look at the customer, who had several papers splayed out in front of him and a cup of tea that looked relatively untouched. He was thin, and in your honest opinion, looked as if he hadn’t seen the sun in quite a while. Upon further inspection, you noticed his odd sitting position and the dark circles underneath his eyes. But what interested you the most was the look he fixed you with, as if he were able to read your entire personality like it were tattooed on your skin. 

“Is there anything else you need?” You ask him, coming closer to clear the table of the couple who had just left. He didn’t answer, prompting you to say something else. “Is it your first time here?”

“No.” His voice was soft, an accent you couldn’t quite place tinting his tone. “I was here a little over a week ago.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to remember if you had seen him here around that time. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember. But you’ve been here a while. Are you waiting for someone?”

He looked up at you, the darkness around his eyes more prominent under the lights. “You could say that.”

Confused as to what he meant by that, you thought about what typically attracted customers to the bakery, specifically, who had random men waiting around for her. Your face went red and you laughed nervously. “Oh! You must be waiting for Eva. She’ll be here around noon if you’re willing to wait that long.”

His expression didn’t change one bit. “Is she the one who makes the cakes?”

“What?”

He pulled out a little sticky note from his pocket - the same note that you had sent off to your mysterious cake-loving customer the night before. In your state of tiredness, you had completely forgot about it. 

Hello, stranger. If you adore my cakes so much, why don’t you come by and I can give you a few other desserts to try? All on me :)

After your discussion with Eva last night, you had built up this image in your mind of this weak, pathetic, frail old man who was on the verge of death. And so, the first thing you said in response was, “But you’re so young!”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh?”

You winced in embarrassment, not knowing how to explain your words. “I just…I didn’t realize it was you. I suppose I owe you some free desserts then, don’t I?”

A light smile tinted his lips and he returned his attention to his papers, which you were unable to decipher as anything recognizable from the quick scan you did of them. As you went to grab a selection of sweets, the oddity of the stranger finally hit you.

From the several orders of the same cake, to the weirdly uncomfortable way he sat on his chair, there was nothing normal about him in the way you were accustomed to; not that you minded. And so for him, you took your time picking out a variety of different pastries and cakes. Eventually you amassed enough that any other person would mourn the loss of such profit, but there was something about the person they were going to that you could not help but be excited.

“Here you are,” You laid out the tray in front of him, noting the way his eyes examined each and every dessert carefully. “Made by yours truly.”

“All of them?”

You nodded at him proudly. “I normally make all of the food here since I live here, unless of course, I’m overwhelmed with several cake orders within the span of one week. In that case, I have my coworker come in and help out.”

He regarded you with an amused look before reaching out for a macaron. He stared at it for a moment, as if wondering whether or not you had poisoned it. Then, he gestured to the empty seat in front of him. 

“Join me.”

Surprised, you gaped at him for a second. He sounded serious, his hand still extended out towards the chair. You scanned the practically empty bakery and decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a break for a bit.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you were sitting in front of the tray of food, each and every option better looking than the last. You picked out a cookie and took a bite, pleasantly surprised with your skill.

He didn’t take a bite of his macaron until you had finished your own cookie, an act which did not go unnoticed by you.

“Do you like it?” You asked, oddly nervous. You really shouldn’t have been, after all, he had already made it fairly clear he was a fan of your baking. But for some reason, you still eagerly awaited his response.

“It’s quite good.” Was all he offered you.

Not sure if you were disappointed or not, you turned your attention to the papers he had begun filing away. “What are those for?”

“Just some research for an assignment of sorts.” He responded, now enthusiastically helping himself to more pastries.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you in school?”

“No, not anymore.”

He seemed young, young enough to be in college like you. Yet, you recalled the sheer amount of money he had managed to spend on just cakes. What did he do that allowed him to be so wealthy? You wanted to ask about his “assignment”, but eventually decided against it, and instead gave up more information about yourself.

“I dropped out,” You admitted, sighing. “It may have been the worst decision of my life.”

He looked up at you, a blank expression covering his face. “Then why did you?”

“I needed to take care of my mother, so I dropped out to run the bakery and cover her medical bills.” You pointed to the paintings on the walls. “She painted those, by the way. She was quite the artist.”

“Was.” 

“Hmm?”

He took a bite of the same kind of cookie you had eaten. “You used the past tense when referring to your mother. I assume those medical conditions have something to do with that?”

You stared at him. “Blunt of you to say, but yes. She passed away a couple years ago. I had every intention of returning to school, but running the bakery consumed so much of my time that I never got around to it.”

“It was a part of her you don’t wish to lose, I assume?”

His sentences were sharp and factual, not a hint of empathy or surprise within his words. It didn’t offend you, but it was still a stark difference to the conversations you typically had with people. 

“Yes, this bakery was hers. It’s small and not the most popular, but we have loyal customers who seem to enjoy our food.” You gave him a light smile. “Kinda like you.”

He didn’t reply, but took a cupcake. Then, after a minute of silence, he got up abruptly. You were surprised to see that he was taller than you had previously thought, as he slouched over so much you assumed him to be shorter. 

“I’ll be taking my leave now. Thank you for the dessert.”

“Of course,” You beamed at him, the nervousness in your words less present than before. “Will I be seeing you around?”

He collected his papers and looked around cautiously. “Most likely not.”

Disappointed, your shoulders fell. “Oh, I see.”

He studied you with terrifyingly intelligent eyes, and then held out a pen. You understood what he meant, and enthusiastically took it, looking around for a piece of paper. 

“I don’t have any - here, give me your arm.” You reached over and took hold of his wrist, to which he let you. Rolling up his sleeve, you noticed how pale he was, his veins prominent underneath the paper white of his skin. 

You quickly wrote down your number along his forearm, along with your name and a smiley face. “I’ll honestly respond anytime. I’m up most hours of the day and night normally.”

He let out a sound that may have been a quiet laugh of amusement, but truly sounded nothing like it. “I am as well.”

He turned to walk out, and you simply stared at him. There were still several desserts laid out on the table, but you took no notice of them as you replayed the exchange over and over again in your mind.

What an interesting character. You thought, clearing the table.

“Don’t give him another second of thought,” Eva huffed, sharing in your annoyance at him. “Two months? What a dick. I don’t know why you’re still hung up on him. You should take that other guy up on his offer for dinner. What was his name again?”

“I’m not hung up on him, he was just…incredibly interesting.” You sighed, thinking back to the curious way he sat and how he looked at you. “And he seemed really smart too.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “You can’t be in love with someone just for their intelligence.”

“I’m not in love with him!” You protested. 

“You bring him up almost daily.”

“Because he was one of our best customers for a solid week,” You tried to reason. “Of course I’m upset over the loss of such a massive source of income. Admit it, you enjoyed that overtime paycheck too.”

She snorted at you before turning her attention to help a new customer. She wasn’t wrong, of course. Not that you would ever admit it. It was pathetic of you to be so upset over a boy you had talked to for less than an hour, and whose name you hadn’t even gotten, but you were just so enamored with him. His bluntness, his intelligence, and his skin crawling ability to see through your words despite not commenting on it. He never had to say it, but you could tell he was always one step ahead of your own thoughts. It was those traits that you rarely saw in a person, and it made him unforgettable.

So when you got the message, it was not panic that ran through your mind, but rather, excitement. It was a simple address and a stated time that most people would deem the creepiest of first texts, but what you focused on was the way it had been signed off.

102 Harvest St.

Room 244.

8:00 PM tonight.

- L

L. 

The first initial of his name? Last name? Simply the letter he used to sign off on things in general? Regardless of what it meant, you now knew what you would be doing in the next four hours.

“What is - “ Eva looked over your shoulder and at the text, eyes wide. “Oh my god. He’s going to murder you.”

“What? Of course he isn’t.”

“Yes! This is exactly how it happens. Creepy guy leads the unsuspecting girl to an abandoned hotel and then stabs her to death. I’m going with you.” Her words planted a seed of doubt in your mind, but your overall curiosity of the boy defeated your common sense. 

You shook your head at her. “Here, let’s at least check where this even is. If it is an abandoned hotel, then maybe I won’t go.”

In a few quick minutes you and Eva had located the address that the text specified, but something seemed very off about it. Contrary to the perfect place for murder as Eva had suggested, it appeared to be one of the nicest hotels in your city, one you had passed many times but had never even dreamt of going near.

“Isn’t this where that one singer stayed when she was doing events here?” Eva murmured, examining the name of the hotel closer. “Jesus, this guy really is rich.”

“And the unnecessary amount of cake orders and tips never clued you in on that?” You responded dryly. “Good god, I think this is one of the most expensive hotels I know of. We almost catered an event here, remember? It fell through, but I remember the number I quoted them on…and it probably would’ve allowed us to renovate the kitchen like I’ve always wanted to.”

“Well, at the very least you should bring pepper spray.” Eva said firmly, clearly still on her he’s-a-serial-killer train of thought.

You smiled, staring at the message one more time before you silently resolved to go, if only for the chance of seeing him again and talking to him.

Three and a half hours later you were on your way to the hotel, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt nervously. Eva’s words ran through your head again, and you wondered if you really were about to die. If you were, at least you knew you would go out looking good.

Just as she had suggested, pepper spray was carefully tucked away into your bag, along with a very sharp pair of scissors and your wallet.

“It’s okay, you wouldn’t go out with a serial killer. You have a better gut instinct than that.” You told yourself, shaking as you knocked on the door to room 244. Your fingers wrapped around your scissors, and you held them tight by your side.

No one answered, and so you knocked again. This time, you heard the latch hitting the door and the gentle click of the handle as it turned. Taking a small step back, you watched as the door opened to a room of darkness and a tired face appeared in the shadows. 

His eyes immediately darted to the scissors in your hand. “I don’t suppose you’re here to kill me, are you?”

You shoved them back into your bag and loosed a breath. “Sorry, it was just for precautions.”

He nodded, leaning against the doorway. “I was not entirely sure you would come.”

“Well when a strange and unnamed boy messages me after two months of initially meeting and tells me to come to a very nice, but very strange hotel at night, who am I to say no?” You rolled your eyes as if you were talking to Eva. When he didn’t respond, your shoulders sank and you merely said, “So, can I come in?”

He opened the door further at that, which you took as a yes. The hotel room was even nicer than you had expected; ornate rugs and a floor-to-ceiling window that had thick curtains pulled all the way to cover every inch of the glass. 

He scratched his head and observed your reaction carefully. You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Should I even ask?”

“I would prefer you not.”

“Perfect. I’m not sure I want to know.” God forbid he was involved in the mafia or some other illegal activity. Best to not stick your nose in anything which you may regret later. “What were you planning to do when I got here?” You spoke as if you didn’t notice the stacks of files and open laptops that filled up the table. 

“Again, I was not entirely sure you would come.”

You fixed him with a stare. “So, even on the rare chance that I did, you had nothing planned for my arrival? This may be the worst first date I have ever been on.”

“Date.” He echoed. It wasn’t a question, but he said it as if the word was foreign on his tongue.

You nod. “You invite a cute stranger over to your place - well, hotel in your case, knowing damn well they’re interested in you. Of course that’s a date.” Waving off whatever he was planning to say next, you pick up the remote next to the couch and turn on the TV. “We can watch a movie. Do you like movies?”

“I can’t say I watch them often.” He answered, amused at your initiative. “But I do have experience in observing footage of sorts.”

You blink at him, and chart that up to yet another thing you did not think wise to ask him about. “Oh! Look at the selection of movies they have. God, it must be nice to have money.” You pause. “Speaking of which, why did you stop ordering the cakes?”

He met your eyes, and you could see the signs of lack of sleep and proper nutrition that seemed to have gotten worse in the last two months. “I was not in town anymore.”

“I see,” You flipped through more movie options until you landed on a nostalgic Christmas movie, one that you had watched when you were younger almost every night leading up to the holiday. “This one. This is the one.”

He was standing near you now, slouched over with his hands at his side. “It’s almost March.”

You scowled at him. “Is it, isn’t it? And what month was it when we first met?”

There was silence, and then, “December. Never mind, I know what you’re getting at. And I sincerely apologize for the two month wait.”

You beckoned towards the space next to you, inviting him to sit. “Good, then we can watch this movie with no objections then?”

“You don’t ask questions.” He stated bluntly, not answering your question as he sat down in that same odd way you had noticed about him before.

“Hmm?”

“I know you see these things. I know you want to ask. But you don’t.”

With a wry smile, you answered, “Do you want me to ask? Do you want me to pry into your deepest darkest secrets with no hesitation? Is that what you want?”

He blinked. “No, I suppose not.”

“Then I think we’re good here.” You laugh, pulling your knees to your chest as the movie starts. He was right, of course. You noticed everything about him that you knew most people would want to ask about, but you felt as if the air was heavy with expectation, and you didn’t want to fulfill them by questioning him. Not now, at least.

The movie was comforting, and it eased your nerves about being there with him. He truly did make you nervous, wish was not a feat many could accomplish.

Few words were exchanged as you started watching, but soon commentary was flying around from both of you. 

“This is a very unrealistic movie.” He noted.

You snorted. “Was it the singing elves that gave it away? Or the flying reindeer?”

“It’s the political system of the North Pole and that there would be such a hierarchy for the brothers in the first place. You would think it would matter less about blood and more about the passion one has for gift giving.”

“But they have all this new technology, which is why the older brother is the one considered for the new Santa.” You explained, a little grin playing on the corners of your lips.

“Ridiculous.”

“It’s a Christmas movie,” You smiled at him, pulling the blanket he had brought for you closer. “There really isn’t supposed to be much logic to it.”

He regarded you with a new look. “You said earlier you would not ask me questions.”

“Indeed I did. Unless you become comfortable with me asking them.”

His fingers pinched his bottom lip for a second and he looked back between you and the now paused movie. “I have a proposition.”

You shifted until you were facing him. “Go on…”

“I ask you a question and you answer, and then you may ask me a question that I will answer to the best of my ability.” He nodded slightly, as if pleased with this arrangement. 

You stared at him blankly for a moment. “Do you mean…getting to know each other?”

“The other terms for it are irrelevant.”

Another laugh escaped your lips as you crossed your legs and leaned forward. “Alright then, ask away.”

“Is this a movie you watched with your mother?”

The smile faded, which did not go unnoticed by him. “Interesting first question.”

“What would you rather have me ask?” He sounded genuine.

You shrugged at him. “I don’t know, maybe what my favorite color is? Or my hobbies?” You quickly shake your head and exhale, knowing very well that would have never happened. “Yes, it is a movie I watched with my mother. You know, she made similar comments as you about the whole brother-rivalry thing.”

He hummed as he absorbed your answer, and then looked expectantly at you. “You may ask me something now.”

It took you a moment to think of a question; one that would not be too personal, but would also give you further insight into the type of person he was. He gave you plenty of time to think about it, and reminded you that you had more than one question to ask him - as many questions to ask as ones you answered.

“Why didn’t you order another cake?” You finally settle on. “You come back into town, and instead of doing the proper mysterious-strange-character thing, which would be to order another one of my cakes and have your pickup man leave me a little sticky note as I did to you, you just texted me. Do you not like my cakes anymore?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that your question? Whether or not I like your cakes still?”

You felt your cheeks turn red and you turned away so you didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Well, no! But, I was just wondering. I mean, you originally met me through my bakery. To be honest, I’m not sure why you would want me here unless it was because you wanted more sweets.” 

“That’s a very good point. There was no reason for me to have invited you here.” He agreed with you, much to your surprise. “However, I feel as if I should be able to do things without needing much reason for it. Don’t you?”

“Not if it implies that I’m only here because you wanted to do something spontaneous and with no real prompting.” You laugh dryly. 

He asked his next question. “Then why did you come?”

You were waiting for this one. “Because you’re cute. And it’s evident you’re fairly smart, which has always been something I’ve found attractive in people. Not to mention, you bought a couple thousand dollars in cakes, so there’s obvious intrigue in that. Maybe I felt like I owed it to you, considering how much money you brought in for that week.”

And for the first time this night, you felt as if you had the upper hand on him. He was blunt with his words, yes, but your ridiculous transparency was not quite what he was expecting, even if he had an inclination that it was coming.

“Those are…very good reasons.”

“I would hope so. I came all the way here following the instructions of the shadiest message I’ve ever received. I needed a good damn reason to.” You smiled brightly. “My turn now?”

“I - yes.” He still seemed slightly unsettled by the words you unleashed on him prior, which was truly entertaining to watch.

You took another minute to think, looking around for more things to become curious about. “Are you a spy?”

“No.” He answered quickly. “Although, I can see why you may think I am.”

The game continued for almost two more hours, and you managed to squeeze out a bit more information from him, while he seemed to extract your entire life story. You learned that the man who came to pick up the cakes was called Watari, and that he was L’s ‘assistant’ of sorts. You also learned that L was the name he went by, and was not just a weird nickname as you had previously assumed.

By the end of it, you were tired from explaining and talking so much, your head sinking into the soft plush of the couch cushion. 

Eventually, L suggested that you leave to get some rest, as you would have to open the bakery tomorrow.

“Will you be there?” You asked in between yawns. “You should come by, even if just for a second. I promise I’ll give you something for free.”

L considered it for a moment. “Perhaps. I wouldn’t wait for me, however.”

You beamed at him, drowsy and entirely drained. “No, I will. You seem like the type of person I would want to wait for.”

As you slumped off the couch and bid him farewell, the thought echoed around in your head. He was the type of person you would wait for. And you knew it was something you would end up doing if you pursued this relationship.

But nothing about that thought seemed to bother you. You honestly felt like you had a wonderful first date, despite the odd circumstances. You didn’t know if L would agree, but you left the hotel wanting to see him again, even if it was just a brief interaction at the bakery later.