HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO TREAT YOU? An L drabble
AN: Admittedly, I think I was just trying to write L. This ha no relevant substance whatsoever!! It's awfully dry, and immature--- so please take it with a grain of salt. I just wanna try writing L as a character and how I think his quirks would take action in a relationship, which I'd say I didn't execute properly here, i'm sorry.:( if you want, please grant me suggestions/requests! I wanna see if I can explore the complexities of his character more. (P.S ignore the yap if you want. there might be grammatical errors! Possibly OOC L.)
It’s easily unsettling how someone like L could exist. He sits across you, you hold back the urge to mutter an obscenity towards the older man driving, Watari, for your calamity. L caused you distress, in ways you never thought would irk you—whether it came to him spoiling a novel you were invested in to the tee, or him eating so much sweets and food in one sitting it makes you gag. You hold your hands, sweat builds up, causing moisture to seep through your palms, your eyes try to maintain focus on the scenery you pass by, fleeting, a distraction.
You see a slight reflection of L in the window, it was eerie, straight from a horror movie, you’d argue. He parts his lips, smiling erratically, it was unnerving. His thumb rests at his lips.
“You’re purposely ignoring me,”
You take a shallow breath, finally meeting those empty pits he calls his eyes.
“I was.”
“Why?”
You shrug, before looking away. You feel the cushion beside you dip, you pray you would hit a road bump and L would tumble over. To your tragedy, Watari was a meticulous driver. He assured no bumps or shifts would be driven over, at least if possible. He was careful, smooth, another factor to your sorrow.
L’s hair tickles your shoulder, you see his reflection once more. He looked even more uncanny, how are you here?
“Eerie.” You mutter.
“Me?” He retorts, his tone was blank.
“Yes.” You breathe out, your fingers twitch.
“What do you want, L?” You shakily mumble, your chance to portray confidence was a futile and sorry attempt. Against L, no amount of confidence can save you from that stare. It could shatter even the biggest ego’s of man, you’ve seen it yourself.
“Your company, you are a very poor guest.”
“We’re dating..”
“We are.”
Then silence echoed throughout the car. You finally turn your head and meet his gaze.
“You treat me like a specimen, it’s.. Scary.”
“Is it? Elaborate.”
You sigh, trying to look for the right words.
“Traditionally, partners are softer with one another, fonder—if you will.”
“Am I not fond?”
“Ah—...are you?”
“I am.”
“...I'll pay more attention, then.” You retort.
“That’s not necessary.” He hums.
“It’s clear you are unable to identify when I am being softer with you compared to others,”
“Would you prefer if we did traditionally romantic exercises?”
Once again, you prove to be indecisive, you shrug.
“I guess,”
He nods, putting his hands on top of his knees as he somehow manages to slouch forward even more.
“Let’s go on a date,” he suggests.
“Outside?” You ask.
“No, don’t be foolish.” He mutters instantly, tone reserved, somehow it sounds harsher when his disappointment is directed towards you.
“Sorry.” You grumble.
“Let us arrange it later,”
“We’re here.”
Somehow, L trying to court you in a traditional manner, was even scarier than L courting you now.
Maybe you didn’t mind his.. Catatonic way of expressing his vulnerability with you. Does that make sense? Suppose not.