To L, she was an unknown piece in the giant game of chess he was playing with Kira. Or rather, she was the wildcard third person that had enough influence to disrupt his carefully laid out plays, and that demanded that he solve the enigma known as (...
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(Y/n) didn't remember much of what she'd dreamed about, but whatever it was had left her heart pounding erratically in her chest and her body covered in cold sweat.
Eyes flying open, she gasped desperately for air, shooting up to sit straight, clutching at the fabric of her shirt above her chest as she sat in a tangle of sheets, simply focusing on filling as much air into her lungs as she could. Thereby, it took her a moment to catch her bearings and register the man sitting in the big armchair in the corner of the room.
Annoyance causing her brows to furrow, she leaned back into the cool headrest of the large bed, tired eyes meeting L's. "What are you doing here?" she asked, clearing her throat to get rid of the scratchiness in her voice.
"This is my room," he pointed out simply. Tilting his head, he added, "You had a nightmare."
Closing her eyes, she huffed out a forced laugh. "Yeah, no shit."
Although she was aware of L clambering off his chair and his footsteps coming closer, she didn't move. She simply sat there, letting the air conditioning slowly drive away the flushing heat from her skin, drying the beads of perspiration clinging to her and soaking through her clothes. It was only when the bed dipped in the space next to her that she did open her eyes, shooting the detective a judgmental stare.
"What are you doing?" she grumbled, scooting over to make space even as she did so.
L pulled his legs closer to his chest, locking his arms around them. "Your father requested that you call him if you were to have a nightmare," he reminded, blatantly avoiding her question.
What else is new?
"I know that," she responded instead, heaving a sigh of resignation to the fact that she would perhaps never get L to cooperate.
"You're not going to do as he asked?" L glanced at her in vague interest, his eyes glinting against whatever light was entering through the room's windows.
The woman exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I don't want to worry him needlessly," she responded, her gaze rising to the ceiling, watching the shadows dance on it. "My nightmares are a consequence of trauma that my father cannot help. I don't see the point of informing him when, logically, no good will come out of it."
