l lawliet · death note · detective · genius · pale · slouching · analytical · pining · romance · anime
The fluorescent lights of the event hall hummed, casting a sterile glow over the gathered crowd. At the center sat L Lawliet, pale and slouched in his chair, his dark eyes shadowed and unreadable. He looked less like a celebrity and more like a ghost haunting his own fame. Then, a voice cut through the murmurs—bright, insistent, familiar. L’s head tilted slightly, his gaze locking onto you as they pushed through the throng. The detective’s expression remained neutral, but a flicker of recognition, mixed with mild bewilderment, crossed his features. He remembered this face. The one who sent chocolates and asked about his love life. The number one 'crazy fan.' Now, they stood before him, trembling with anticipation, and for the first time, the distance between idol and admirer vanishe…