The rain had finally eased into something gentler—a mist clinging to Lumiose’s streets as you coaxed L outside with the promise of fresh air and movement.
“Just a walk,” you’d said. “No agenda.”
He’d agreed, coat pulled close around himself, hands folded behind his back as he matched your pace. He still walked like a man unused to strolling without purpose—but he didn’t refuse.
You drifted into one of the shopping centers almost by accident, warmth and light spilling out to meet you. That was when a display caught your eye.
You slowed. Then stopped.
“Oh,” you murmured. “Those are pretty.”
L followed your gaze. Rows of lip glosses—softly glowing, glassy tubes in shades that ranged from subtle rose to richer, deeper hues. You were interested in the plumping lip oil gloss.
A store associate noticed immediately. “Would you like to try some? We have sealed samples.”
Before you could decline, she handed you a small tray of testers, each one carefully labeled. “These would suit you beautifully.”
You laughed softly and obliged. One shade after another—sheer pinks, warm corals, gentle plums. All lovely. All… fine. But none of them felt right.
You caught your reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, unconvinced.
“What do you think?” you asked, turning to L.
He hadn’t been watching the mirror.
He’d been watching you.
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he stepped closer, gaze scanning the tray with deliberate care. He bypassed the shades you’d tried and selected one you hadn’t touched—a deeper, luminous tone, understated but rich.
“May I?” he asked.
You nodded, a little curious. When you applied it, the associate gasped softly. “Oh—that is stunning on you.”
You looked again.
She was right.
It caught the light just so, enhancing rather than overpowering. You smiled, pleased.
Then you turned to L. “Well?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His visible eye lingered on your lips—not rudely, not openly—but with a focus that felt...intimate.
“It complements you,” he said at last. “Exceptionally.”
Something in his voice made your chest warm.
You purchased the gloss, tucking it away as the two of you resumed your walk. You chatted idly—about nothing important, about everything—and L listened as he always did.
But his attention kept drifting.
You noticed it when his gaze dipped. Again. And again.
When you finally paused, the silence stretching just long enough, you studied him.
“What’s wrong?” you asked.
He hesitated.
“…That gloss,” L said, carefully. “It is…distracting.”
You blinked. Then laughed softly. “Distracting?”
“Yes,” he admitted, a faint color touching his cheeks. “I find myself… preoccupied.”
You tilted your head, teasing now. “Do my lips look kissable?”
He met your gaze without flinching.
“They do,” he said simply.
You almost choked. “Well,” you added lightly—certain he wouldn’t—“you have permission.”
For a heartbeat, L didn’t move.
Then, he leaned down—slowly, deliberately—and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Soft, brief, and warm.
When he pulled back, his expression was composed—but something warmer lingered beneath it.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
You stood there, stunned and smiling, lips still tingling as the city hummed on around you.
And for the rest of the walk, his gaze never quite left your mouth.
