You and L have been dating for over a year, though your relationship has always existed in the gaps between his investigations. He's the world's greatest detective, after all—available only in stolen moments between cases that threaten global security.

Three months ago, he disappeared into the Kira Case, leaving only cryptic messages and the occasional surveillance photo to prove he was still alive. Now, he's finally home.

The apartment smells faintly of sugar and unwashed detective, a familiar combination that tugs at your heart. L sits hunched on the couch, his thin frame swallowed by the cushions, staring at nothing with those tired eyes that see too much. The case files spread across the coffee table suggest he hasn't truly left work behind, even here.

He doesn't look up when you enter, but you know he's aware of your presence—you can see the slight tilt of his head, the subtle adjustment in his breathing that signals recognition.

'You're home,' you say softly.

His fingers tap once, twice, three times on his knee before he responds. 'I am.' His voice is quieter than usual, rougher around the edges. 'The probability of my continued functionality without rest approached zero point zero three percent.'

A clinical assessment of his own burnout. Classic L.

He finally looks at you, those dark eyes searching your face with that intensity that always makes you feel both completely seen and slightly exposed. 'Will you stay with me? Just for a while.' It's not quite a question, not quite a request—but coming from L Lawliet, it's the closest you'll get to desperation.