Work Text:
Quillish Wammy is sitting in his office, fountain pen against paper, when he hears the soft tapping of bare feet against wood, approaching his office. They’re unmistakably L’s, he’s grown familiar with the sound of the boys footsteps by now. Wammy looks up, gaze landing on the small boy that peeks into the room with large, wet eyes. Watari’s gaze softens, and he stands, stepping around the desk and stopping in the center of the room.
L shuts the door behind him as he steps in, stumbling over his own feet a little as he grabs onto the fabric of Watari’s suit jacket, the other hand wiping at his own eyes (but still unable to stop tears from trickling down his pink flushed cheeks.)
“L?” Watari hums, nothing but concern in the old mans voice as his arms hover around L, ready to catch the boy if he decides to stop using his legs.
“Watari, I have a secret,” L chokes out through a teary voice and shaky sniffles.
Watari quirks an eyebrow, and decides to question further. Whatever it is, it’s bothering L enough to bring him to tears.
“What might that be?”
“I’m a monster.” The little boy sobs, curling in on himself. L sounds so sure of himself, as always. Watari finds himself hoping L is wrong, just for this.
He drops to one knee, pulling L into his arms and against his chest. Watari feels L’s small fists curl against his clothes, snot and tears surely making stains by now.
“Since when?” Watari asks, rubbing a hand back and forth on L’s back. He keeps his voice gentle and caring. L would only feel worse if Watari were upset, now, too. If he were the cause of it.
L has been reduced to pathetic wails and choked sobs, and Watari keeps him pulled close to his chest. He’s never seen the child so distraught. Watari stays quiet, letting L do what he needs.
After what is surely over twenty minutes, L has collapsed into a small ball on Watari’s lap, cheeks still wet, but the tears have stopped flowing. His gaze is hazy and mind fuzzy. Watari keeps his grip tight as he scoops L up, carrying him to the kitchen.
L ends up on Watari’s lap, being fed vanilla sponge cake with pretty pink frosting by the forkful. If he’s a monster, why hasn’t Watari run away by now, L wonders. He decides to let his brain go quiet for a while and just let Watari care for him. Maybe he’s not a monster, maybe he is. Either way, he’s quite sure Watari isn’t going anywhere.

wildernezz Wed 12 Mar 2025 03:25AM UTC
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