[The kiss lingers, and L almost does, too, grasping with uncertain and vaguely desperate fingers at strands of red hair when Shōyō’s face presses close.

Those fingers were gone, just a little over an hour ago before they were bizarrely and uncomfortably regrown.]

Donuts... right! I'm excited and I'll... seriously just be a second.

[He shuffles off to the room he just showered in, turning on the sink and letting cold water run over his hands. He presses them into his burning cheeks, trying to consciously deepen his breaths and slow the pounding of his heart.

It works, after five minutes? Ten or more? Lycka would have soothed him sooner, but Lycka's gone. He stares for a few minutes at the hollow eyes of a stranger in the mirror, presses the corners of his slack lips up to remind himself what a smile looks like. The taut skin looks strange, forced, and like it's divorced from his frightened eyes, but he has a reason to smile; Shōyō wants him here, and might in fact be the only one.

He opens the door, slinking back to bed and nestling more insistently and earnestly against Shōyō’s side.]

If you haven't eaten in awhile... do you ever get lightheaded and queasy? I'm alright, just embarrassed. I won't jump up like that again, I promise.