“Never… Never do this again,” Quillsh’s voice is now reduced to a mere whisper, desperate and tired - but his actions don’t show it. The elder raises L up - it isn’t easy at all, but he can manage, he has always managed - and at a quick pace, biting back tears, he almost runs to L’s room at the third floor, and once the detective is placed on the bed and given a stern order - “Don’t fall asleep,” - Quillsh disappears for a moment and returns with a white box.
The dried blood seems to be everywhere on the detective’s body, and Quillsh realizes that he probably should have gotten L into the bathroom first to wash off the blood and actually see the wounds. But the most severe place seems to be in L’s left hand, and with no mercy, Quillsh holds it up to see it.
“We are going to hospital right now,” the words come from his mouth even without thinking, as Quillsh cradles L into his arms again, this time more gently and carefully than before, also grabbing the blanket under the detective to wrap him in as if he was a baby.
And the white box lays there forgotten, as Quillsh repeats his previous command - “Don’t fall asleep,” and walks through the halls, until they are in front of Roger’s office. A brief knock and hushed sentences - “L is injured, I will drive him to the hospital, we probably won’t be home tonight, I’ll call you once we get there.” - and then they are in the main hall, Quillsh puts L down for a moment to hastily put on his coat and then, he rushes L into the dark black car, carefully placing the detective on the back seat, and for the third time, he commands - “Don’t fall asleep,” - before closing the door and entering the driver’s seat.
The car engine shatters the silence of the night, and Quillsh is driving perhaps a bit faster than he should - but the streets are empty, and the hospital isn’t far. They will be on time, hopefully.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Quillsh repeats the phrase again, glancing at the backseat. “No matter what you do, don’t fall asleep, do you hear me?” The elder’s voice is loud now, almost panicked.
He would have liked to apologize again —- but is immediately overwhelmed by the numbing pain shooting through his hand, the subsequent pain L feels while being carried. Oh, he hadn’t really wanted to think about INTERNAL BLEEDING —– but the pulverization his body had taken demands to be felt.
It’s more than L showing up bloody and bruised ( something that had, in fact, happened more than once ) —- the detective faintly registers this in the urgency Quillsh takes in his care. It’s near maternal in both its roughness and tenderness, and L feels like an affluent child being scolded.
He can deal a bit more with the feeling once Quillsh lifts him again, draping a blanket over his wounded form —- the grip around him is gentle, and L feels his trembling body begin to relax, if only a little.
Quillsh reminds him to not fall asleep. It isn’t until then that L realizes there is a pain consistent in the back of his head.
He faintly remembers getting hit in the skull with an aluminum briefcase ( he really shouldn’t fall asleep, then ).
L doesn’t get a chance to speak again until they’re on the road —- everything else seemed to pass in a blur. The backseat upholstery is cold and leathery, and despite L’s current state, he manages to tighten his white blanket around him with a small, instinctive whimper.
It’s difficult to not entertain the thought of sleep when the world hurt so badly — but Quillsh’s voice reminds him, and L’s shadowed eyes strain to focus on the crescent moon he can spot through the blackened car windows.
❝ … i won’t fall asleep. ❞ he promises, though his teeth are chattering. he’s quite cold.
