[L stiffens initially at the sudden pressing contact, but welcomes and melts into it quickly. He came here feeling completely broken and scattered into pieces, and gradually he's starting to feel man-shaped again, something like a person, something like a person this enthusiastic volleyball player cares for.
It's not good to put something broken back together too quickly. Mistakes can be made and fixations formed, but broken people, scattered people, and drowning people can be very selfish.]
I had a feeling, but... now that I know for sure, I'll remember.
[He's selfish, horribly and hatefully so, as he reaches for Shōyō's hand, gathering it from his knee and twining their fingers. He's never been a careful gambler; it's always been everything, or nothing, and he's learned no recent lessons in spite of coming here broken-scattered-drowned.
He should get better before he attaches himself to a new identity-cause-goal.
He does not, and just like that...
...well, not quite. Shōyō's question has L reluctant to meet his gaze. Like most omens, Lycka is the best of everything inside him.
She's furious; she's abandoned him, which means, obliquely, that he has abandoned himself. She's disappointed and disgusted with every turn the evening has taken.]
I think she's out for the same reason your roommate is out. Unless he's a marathoner... no run would last this long, I'd think, not without another good reason.
[He pushes away the pain and loss and emptiness and replaces it with the warmth and sweetness of Shōyō's lips against his. He's learned something since their first kiss, after all, and the result is both softer and hungrier. It's an effort to erase everything that's happened tonight and fill it up with something he would rather feel, and it's horribly, terribly selfish.
He wants to obliterate anything The Emperor left, and Shōyō has no idea. How could he? L tells nobody, gives nobody the grace of knowing. He just takes and steals and devours like something blind and infant, rooting and burrowing through the darkness for something that can permit him to exist.]
no subject
It's not good to put something broken back together too quickly. Mistakes can be made and fixations formed, but broken people, scattered people, and drowning people can be very selfish.]
I had a feeling, but... now that I know for sure, I'll remember.
[He's selfish, horribly and hatefully so, as he reaches for Shōyō's hand, gathering it from his knee and twining their fingers. He's never been a careful gambler; it's always been everything, or nothing, and he's learned no recent lessons in spite of coming here broken-scattered-drowned.
He should get better before he attaches himself to a new identity-cause-goal.
He does not, and just like that...
...well, not quite. Shōyō's question has L reluctant to meet his gaze. Like most omens, Lycka is the best of everything inside him.
She's furious; she's abandoned him, which means, obliquely, that he has abandoned himself. She's disappointed and disgusted with every turn the evening has taken.]
I think she's out for the same reason your roommate is out. Unless he's a marathoner... no run would last this long, I'd think, not without another good reason.
[He pushes away the pain and loss and emptiness and replaces it with the warmth and sweetness of Shōyō's lips against his. He's learned something since their first kiss, after all, and the result is both softer and hungrier. It's an effort to erase everything that's happened tonight and fill it up with something he would rather feel, and it's horribly, terribly selfish.
He wants to obliterate anything The Emperor left, and Shōyō has no idea. How could he? L tells nobody, gives nobody the grace of knowing. He just takes and steals and devours like something blind and infant, rooting and burrowing through the darkness for something that can permit him to exist.]