Meredith couldn't sleep.
The curtains were open, allowing moonlight to stream through the windows, casting a blue hue across the bedroom. The clock ticked relentlessly. In the distance, the call of a bird—an owl, probably—echoed through the quiet night. She stared at the ceiling, trying to recall the last time she lay awake like this. Insomnia seemed to belong exclusively to L: "Sleeping is a state of vulnerability," he once said, and she couldn't agree more, but she never told him that she, too, had a period in her life when she was unwilling to sleep at night.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, allowing memories of the children's home dormitory to surface.
The first thing that came to mind was the smell: the lingering pungent scent of disinfectant, used daily by caretakers to keep the floors clean and disease-free. Long classrooms with large windows allowed sunlight to illuminate the space but failed to brighten any child's heart. She sat at a desk, fiddling with crayons, observing her surroundings. Activities were more casual than at Wammy's House, as it was a temporary placement. Children engaged in drawing, playing, and reading, each distracting themselves from past traumas and scars.
Then came the sounds—the noise. The high-decibel screams of younger kids, adults talking, discussing, introducing new children, introducing children to foster families. She covered her ears, trying to block out the commotion. It was never quiet in the children's home, unlike the seaside house Nanami Miru once called "home," which no longer existed.
It wasn't quiet at night either. They slept in a room filled with rows of beds. Sobbing children cried for their parents, their occasional loud wails waking everyone, prompting caretakers to come in and comfort them. There was the sound of a naughty boy refusing to sleep, secretly playing with a toy plane, mimicking a jet's noise. The muttering of a girl talking to a stuffed animal given to her by caretakers added to the chaos.
Sometimes, even without distractions, she couldn't close her eyes when anyone else was around.
Every morning, she pretended to engage in activities, responding to caretakers beckoning her to meet visitors interested in fostering her. But whenever she could, she wandered the institution, looking for a small corner where no one could find her so she could sleep. It didn't matter where—the tool room, a locker, or even the pantry cupboard—as long as she could crawl in. Caretakers scrambled to search for her countless times, like looking for a black cat in the shadows. By the time the caretaker would find her, she would be wide awake in her hiding spot, obediently get out of the space upon their demand without pulling her out.
And find another corner to sleep for the next day.
The caretakers tried to convince her not to do so. She would apologize but still resume her quirk. They eventually had to give in and managed to give her a room of her own.
The hiding ended, but the insomnia continued.
It had continued when she entered Wammy's House. Although being granted her own bedroom, which she deduced that the caretakers must have informed Watari, in the night, she would still sit up and stare at the door. No movement, no quivering, just stillness and staring. It was as if the door would creak open the next moment, and the nightmares would resume again. The only way she could chase off nightmares was to wait for the sun to peek through the horizon, and then she finally could close her eyes for a few hours and then engage in daily classes in the orphanage like all the children.
And then one day- she wasn't sure when, supposedly it was when she had entered the institution for three months, or so. It was before L entered, Meredith was sure about that. It was a typical day, with her tagging along with Watari at the orphanage. However, it appeared that on that particular day, she needed something more. Perhaps it was the first time she felt secure enough to ask for anything from the man.
"Sleep tight, Meredith," said Watari, leaning down to tuck her in as he did to all the children in his before-bed routine patrolling before reaching for the pull switch of the lamp.
"Sir- I mean, Watari- " she had just started to call Mr. Wammy by Watari, as he had considered "Sir" too formal. "Watari" had the familiarity of her mother tongue. "Could…could you stay a bit longer, please?"
Watari lowered his hand, replying in his usual calm tone. "Certainly, my child."
The girl gazed at Watari, waiting for him to question the reason. However, Watari never asked; he simply pulled up a chair, sat beside her bed with the lamp still on, and began silently reading a book. He was in casual clothes- a white t-shirt paired with soft grey trousers, and the scent of cologne that always lingered around him in the daytime was absent. It felt unfamiliar to her, whether it was the attire, the scent, or someone doing anything for her without hesitating or asking for a reason. She blinked as she felt her eyelids droop, and slowly, drowsiness set in, and everything finally darkened.
She felt the warmth of a human palm on her cheeks as she drifted in a daze. The gentle footsteps receded into the distance, culminating in a soft click.
It went on for about a year. Every night, she watched as Watari read until sleep claimed her. He never did anything else - no bedtime stories, no chatting, just silently reading his own book and staying. Some days, she wanted to ask why he was willing to do this for her, but most of the time, she swallowed back the urge to ask the man. Any reason was fine and would be accepted by her. Therefore, it was fine without knowing the reason.
Until one day, Watari noticed that the girl had fallen asleep before he entered the room.
And from that day on, she could finally believe that nightmares were merely nightmares.
Over ten years had passed. It felt like a blink of an eye. Taking a deep breath, Meredith tossed and turned, trying to tire herself and cultivate some sleepiness. But the mind kept running, replaying the scene under the plum tree. Petals fell, and the teen boy she had known for too long stood before the tree. And the space started to fill up with his voice, echoing his words.
"And I do."
Meredith fluttered her eyes. What did L mean by 'I do'?
It seems…"I do" means…I miss you. Do friends say that to each other?
Perhaps. After a long break, Tanaka would scream out her name, squealing, "I miss you so much!" and rush to hug and squeeze her until her eyes felt like popping out. Friends do say that. But would L typically say that to her? He had never said anything like this. They had never said things like this. But was he now indicating he missed her? That was unlike L. But on second thought, there were plenty of other things L had been doing that were abnormal. Not-so-typical L. Hugging her at Christmas, visiting frequently without a justified reason, asking her out… But all these might have just been signs of them being close.
But maybe it was another answer, the one that she dared not to imagine or guess, the reason why she stiffened upon his words. The confirmation that her unexplainable feelings seemed to turn out not unrequited but mutual.
Meredith buried her head in the sheets. Maybe L liked her back.
The thought crawled all over her, making her tickle under the skin. She bit her lip, striving to suppress the irrepressible smile. But soon, it faded away, like sand slipping between fingers. She turned, lay flat on her back, arms stretched across her bed and took a deep breath to calm herself. Unrequited feelings turned out to be mutual; anyone would be thrilled and eager to enter a relationship. Does she?
L had slept on the left side of her bed on Christmas holidays, when he insisted on sleeping in her room when his room was still under renewal. She faced the left side of the bed, reminiscing watching the rise and fall of L's chest. He was curled up like a cat sleeping, arms rested beside the pillows, with his left hand's thumb close to his lips. She read it somewhere, that researchers hypothesized that the fetal sleepers tend to be more anxious and emotional.
Anxious. Does L feel anxiety? Was L broken, too? Was he broken like she was? She never asked. Everyone was broken in some way at Wammy's. No one asks about each other's past or scars at Wammy's. They go on about their lives and never look back, as if it never existed.
She remembered reaching out her hand, trying to touch the teen sleeping beside her. Watari used to gently caress her cheeks with his palms when she fell asleep, like a silent lullaby, chasing away her fears and casting a protective charm. Maybe she could do that for L, too.
Slowly, she reached out, but before she could rest her hand on his cheek, she hesitated, her hand hovering in the air. It felt wrong, almost invasive to do so.
Watari had the power to give her security, but did she have the same ability to provide someone else with comfort?
Meredith withdrew her hand and tucked it back under the sheets.
What was the point of broken souls seeking comfort from each other? Maybe neither had what the other needed. Or perhaps it was she who had nothing to offer.
Nothing at all.
She clutched her arms to her chest and curled up. The room seemed to stretch on endlessly, making her figure very, very small.
L tried to sleep. Particularly, on a bed.
The rustling sounds of the bed sheets were louder than he anticipated as he turned and tossed, trying to find the best position to sleep. Lying on his stomach, burying his face into the white pillow? No. He turned it and tried again. No. He flipped it and tried again. No. He couldn't get used to it of how the body just lies on top of a large soft surface. It was far easier for him to rest his head on his knees in his armchair.
Wonder how Meri could do this every day.
He flipped back to the supine position, sat up, and read the time on his computer screen. Eleven thirty. Typical time for bed, at least that was what he learned from Meredith, from calls and time spent in the Christmas holidays, already had passed for over five months.
There were many questions in the holidays that were answered during this time period. The major discovery would be realizing that the "feelings" for Meredith had finally concluded. Uncontrollable smile spreading through his face was not coincidence, but almost an instinct when he saw her. Realizing that frequent images of her emerging in his mind were not him getting nuts but a sign of him intentionally thinking about her. And the changes in his reaction to physical contact with her—they had grown up together and been close for so long that he had normalized everything they did. It was completely normal for them to hold hands when they wanted to go somewhere, for her to rest her head on him when they lay on the floor in his room, and for her to tell him to freeze, and gently remove a fallen eyelash from the corner of his eye with her fingers. But now, he could no longer see those contacts as normal. Whenever they touched, it tickled him inside and ignited a more primitive desire. He often had to suppress the urge to touch her without reason, or even pull her into his arms and sink into her being. And the countless dreams mixed with the memories they shared. Altogether resulted in him feeling a need to do something about it.
L tossed himself and lay on his right side. It was inconceivably to feel drowsy and at peace when she slept beside him. Was it because her bed was better than his? The mattress that Watari prepared was almost brand new. Everyday Watari would dust the dust off the bed, make the bed, fluff the pillow for L. But most likely, he wouldn't sleep in it. Watari just did so as a routine. Meredith's bed was no wider than his, and although spacious enough to fit both of them, they still had to squeeze a bit as their heights and length of limbs had already grown drastically, unlike younger ones. Definitely not because of the comfortability of the bed.
He reached out his hands and rested them on the side of the bed. If she were here, he imagined she would sleep on this side, sleeping in silent, without making a sound. He learned that at Christmas, as she fell asleep a few times before he did. Even her breathing was very quiet, prompting him to check her breath by putting his finger close to her nose, letting her breath tickle his fingers.
Maybe it was because she was beside me. It must be something she did.
Was it the scent of lavender? At first stance, L thought it might be the answer. To prove that the scent caused the drowsiness, he had to get his hands on a substance with a lavender scent. He wasn't sure how to obtain something with a lavender scent until Watari mentioned that he had changed the detergent during grocery shopping as he couldn't find the same one. That day, he wasn't really interested in what Watari was talking. It was just small talk, and they had nothing else to discuss besides work. Instead, he was focused on breaking chocolate bars into pieces and melting the edges by licking them, then carving numbers on them to create chocolate dices.
However, a few days later, when he noticed that his clothes emanated lavender, making him smell like…her. The first thing that came to his mind was not drowsiness but an image of the nape of her neck, and he couldn't discern if it were a piece of memory or if it was his imagination, but it was distracting. Extremely distracting from working. He figured out he would have to leave the clothes for a while before putting them on and wore the old ones that did not have the scent, or when he went to the extremes- pull off the white shirt and would rather work topless. After a few weeks, the clothes finally didn't smell floral and switched back to the previous detergent scent that he was more familiar with. As for the drowsiness experiment, he tried to wear the lavender scented clothes and sleep in a bed, but no, the scent only resulted in more memory-like images of her coming closer to him.
He continued to stare at the right side of the bed while he noticed a fly buzzing around. Or maybe it was much more simple, more basic, like classical conditioning, psychologically. He sat up, hopped off the bed and turned on the lights, grabbed a container and within a niffy, the fly was already caught by him and released at the windows. He took some time to gaze at the night view outside, feeling the gentle breeze on his cheeks. Distant lights twinkling in the far end, then he turned to the other direction, where the lights were absent and where the orphanage was located, with only a 20-minute ride back to Wammy's House from where he was.
Normally, he won't work on cases when they return to Wammy's and would relax, spend time with Meredith, and engage in activities. Relaxed state combined with her around, whether it was a coincidence or not. Would that explain why? But then it won't explain why when he was resting, he hardly felt any drowsiness. At least not to the extent that would make him fall asleep so fast. The most possible explanation would be that whenever she was around, he felt relaxed.
Because it was her. And it fits with the recent realization of his.
He closed the windows and resumed back to the bed, yet still couldn't find the best position to drift to sleep. Even the most basic thing that a normal human could do, he simply couldn't. Or that was what he changed himself into, to be able to fully concentrate on case solving without emphasizing any feelings of victims, being tricked by cunning suspects, or even being misled by irrational decisions of police. He never thought it was a disadvantage, until when he saw the drop of tear in the corner of her eye did he realize that how he wished he know what was happening in her mind, while he secretly brushed it away for her. But he felt so distant from her in that moment, as if there was a transparent object separating them, unable to reach to her.
"Is bedtime patrolling time consuming? Or else why does it take up to over two hours?" he once asked Watari while playing chess when he was six. Watari moved the queen and replied, "Checking on everyone is a must, L. Some children do need some more company from adults. You receive plenty; surely you would be willing to spare some time for others, wouldn't you?"
"You spend daytime with others."
"People are vulnerable at night. That's why the law prohibits nighttime interrogation. It is against how people function."
"Definitely not me."
"Ha, certainly not you. But others do might have a hard time, L."
"Is it because of nightmares like I do?"
"Nightmares are a possibility, yes. Fear of the dark is another, fear of the unknown, or sometimes memories of the past may be more frightening than imagined nightmares. When you wake up, you believe that dreams are dreams. But when it is memories, it means that it had happened once upon a time. Sometimes, it is more unfortunate to have any memory of the past than none."
Was it haunting memories or nightmares for her? Several times he wanted to ask, but hesitated due to respecting her privacy, but more, was he didn't know how. And then what? Say what to her, other than just sitting there staring at her, like how he did when he was younger? How do people emphasize each other's pain and provide comfort? How do people express other things than words of pure logic without sounding cold and cruel? Not that he never seen it before, when he watched how Watari speak to crying children in the institution, when he watched Roger rage on to naughty boys about how dangerous it could have been when they were playing with matches they had stolen from his office, and when she always was genuine before him and no deceit could be found in her eyes.
L curled up into a prostration position, his hands gripping tightly, feeling his fingernails sinking into his palms. The ache in the chest returned, he never looked deep into the reason, but now he knew. The body feels pain before the mind does, and it ached because of self conscious of his inability to feel human emotions, therefore knowing that reaching her was almost a matter of impossibility. It continued to burn like flames spreading, combined with that feeling of drowning in his powerlessness, falling…falling…falling…
Emptiness and frozen silence filled the room. He could solve the most complicated puzzles, he could figure out the culprit, but he doesn't know how to become the human that he wished he could become. He could learn everything, he could research and make notes, cramming everything in his head, but this-
He closed his eyes, waiting for it to fade away.
Hmmm.
Watari stared at L from behind, holding the tray in his hand as if it were the first day he had met this strange young man. Something was off about him. He hadn't found the right words to articulate his observations yet.
Noticing Watari's arrival, but with the dessert not yet served, L glanced over his shoulder. "What is it, Watari?"
Watari snapped out of his thoughts. "Just bringing your dessert," he replied, approaching the desk. Clearing away the clutter, he placed the tray beside L. "I see you've taken an interest in flowers."
Before the detective laid a book surrounded by discarded wrappers and crumbs, with the page displaying an image of "Forget-me-not," delicate blue flowers clustered like miniature bouquets. "I recently became interested," replied L, his gaze following the descending tray and settling on the flowers in the vase. "What are those?"
"Daisies," answered Watari, setting a plate of chocolate muffins topped with icing in front of L, followed by the vase of flowers.
"Daisies," murmured L to himself, paying no attention to the muffins before returning to the book.
Seeing the muffins untouched, Watari glanced at the header in the corner of the page: A Field Guide to England's Native Flowers. Watari's eyes narrowed slightly. "Planning on starting a garden, are we?"
L's lips twitched in what could almost be a smile. "Not quite. Just...curious."
"I never knew you would be interested in flowers."
L's fingers traced the image of flowers, not responding.
Research for cases? Watari doubted it. The current case involved identifying the mastermind behind a crime where the victim was shot in the temple, with no evidence for the police, and certainly no botanical poison involved. Which meant, Watari concluded, that the current material L was reading was purely out of his own interest. It happened occasionally; young L would read a full 12-book set of encyclopedias in a week, word by word. Another time, he was randomly interested in reading about ancient Egyptian history, flipping through all the academic papers and findings, making Watari think he was going to give up detective work and become an archaeologist. It was normal for L to throw himself into whatever caught his interest. Obsessed.
"Boys run in the corridors all the time, but you hardly ever see one scurrying around barefoot. I couldn't imagine anyone else who would do that," Roger grunted in their routine calls, and continued complaining about why no one follows the rule of no running in the corridors. Testimony of L lurking around the orphanage aligned with the random disappearances Watari had noticed—the empty chair, half-finished cases, and the absence of the bike L had recently requested, which was usually chained to the front gates of their place.
His focus shifted back to L, who was flipping through the pages, his eyes darting side to side, scanning the pictures and descriptions of botanicals. The computer screens were the only light source, casting an eerie glow on L's pale, serious expression. Watari swiftly gathered the litter from the desk and around L's chair, then switched on the clipped desk lamp behind the monitors.
Click.
"Thanks, Watari," muttered L without looking up. He pinched the next page with his fingers, his other hand already poised to turn the following one. The light from the desk lamp created a tent-shaped bright area that isolated L's figure from the surrounding darkness. "…There are quite a lot of flowers in England."
"There sure is," said Watari, pouring black tea out of the teapot, adding the usual three sugar cubes, and then handing the cup to L. "You aren't memorizing all of them, are you?"
"… Meri seemed to know every flower in the garden. I have no idea how she managed that."
"Well, she certainly did not accomplish that by memorizing a field guide," said Watari, pulling a chair and sitting beside L, adjusting his half-frame spectacles and going through the documents to see how much progress L had made. "She just likes it and would spend time in the garden. Just like how you like puzzles and mysteries."
"Meri knows why I like puzzles and mysteries. However I still don't get why she likes them. They have aesthetics, yes, but I have a hard time grasping why she appreciates them," said L, while grabbing four more sugar cubes with his hands and tossing them in the tea, mixing it vigorously before taking a sip.
"Maybe you don't need to," replied Watari without lifting his focus from the files. "You just accept people the way they are."
L paused the flipping. "You appreciate flowers as well, Watari. Why?"
"Aesthetics. It's as simple as that," said Watari. "There needs no real reason to like something. Everything about it is a reason to appreciate it."
L looked away, seemingly pondering as he adjusted his position, and covered his lips with his index fingers while deep in thought.
The action caught Watari's attention. It was unusual for L, who typically chewed on his fingernails when grappling with a complex puzzle. This gesture—reminiscent of a slender girl deep in thought at her desk, one hand tapping invisible piano keys while the other propped her chin with a finger covering her lips—overlapped with the young detective.
Could it be coincidence? Letting them grow up together was not what Watari initially intended. At first, he never thought L would accept the girl's constant presence, as L was not the kind that could blend in with peers. But miraculously, L grew accustomed to Meredith's presence. Another individual to let L observe in person, understand other people's ideology and morals, beliefs and thoughts, and care about what others think would give him basic patience in communication. It was only natural that they would have some impact on each other.
"First interested in her high school events, now interested in flowers. You won't also be interested in beetles, would you?" said Watari.
He recalled a quiet day on the lawn, with L running to him or, more likely, escaping from someone. L darted behind Watari, peeking out cautiously with a disgusted face, frowning, while Meredith followed behind, clearly excited, with her hands cupped tightly together. She halted before Watari, panting while still smiling, and slowly, her palm opened to reveal a Rose Chafer. The metallic green beetle crawled leisurely to the highest point of her hand before buzzing away, its wings sounding like a tiny motorcycle revving up.
"It's just a beetle," Meredith said innocently, looking up at Watari with wide eyes.
"Ew," came L's muffled voice from behind Watari.
"…Beetles are a bit hard. Seeing her single hand catching a flying beetle before me is still a shocking scene to see," mumbled L, closing the field guide and putting it aside. "Maybe I'll ask Roger to make me understand why insects are appealing."
"Seemed more like you are curious about her-"
"No I'm not," replied L curtly, glaring at Watari.
Watari had never seen L lie so poorly. So this is what it's all about. "Alright, alright."
"…I apologize for my response," said L, turning back and facing the desk. "I suppose I am rather lost."
"Lost?"
"Yes." L moved the plate of muffins closer with a single index finger, picked up one muffin and began licking the icing on top. "It's frustrating to realize that after so many years, I still don't fully understand the people closest to me. Solving puzzles doesn't take that long—a week is more than enough. In fact, a week might be too long."
His tone was the usual emotionless monotone. One could barely tell he was frustrated by his voice, mistaking it for a mere narration of someone else's thoughts. However, Watari noticed a flicker of sadness in L's demeanor as his eyes softened slightly.
"The more I try, the more distant she seems to become. I suppose it's my inability to understand others on a normal human level, rather than analyzing them as suspects." L paused his licking and stared at the remaining icing. "Even when I attempt to analyze her as I would to a suspect, I find that I can't. The method vanishes completely when I approach her."
Watari watched L in silence. It was like watching a child with grown limbs, unsure of what to do with them, curling up and folding his arms and legs in the neatest way he could manage. Roger often described L as a total chaos and mess (externally), but it was only on rare occasions that L expressed inner disorder. Not even the most complicated cases or difficult decisions during investigations caused this. In those situations, L was always thrilled and excited, almost to the point of madness. But now, he seemed genuinely unsettled.
"No one is capable of fully understanding another individual," began Watari. "Not even the human mind can fully understand itself, let alone others. But it does not stop us from attempting and the desire to do so, as it would eliminate disputes and bring people closer. The act of trying itself is the proof of the ability to understand others, and also, very human-like."
"Not many seem to have the willingness to understand people," commented L, staring at the monitor screen before him as messages of information gathered worldwide by Wammy graduates and agents were received, showing their sending location on the green-colored world map. "Too many cases and disputes in the world result in misunderstanding of each other."
"It is irrational to act on misunderstanding," said Watari, his focus following L's and shifted to the screen. "I see that F has arrived in Tibet."
"…if the Chinese government weren't so sieged, he needn't go to Tibet in person." L sipped his tea, peeled off the scallop-pressed cup and started to dig out the chocolate chunks in the muffin with his fingers. "It's a pain in the head when they do not disclose much information."
He paused momentarily and asked, "What do you do when an individual does not disclose information about themselves, even though you put great effort into understanding them genuinely?"
Watari glanced at the crumbs of the remains of the muffin, while L swiftly gathered the chunks of chocolate and stuffed them into his mouth. "We don't cease the effort to understand them," he replied, "I myself would respect their will of not disclosing secrets until they feel comfortable to do so."
He reached for the teapot and poured some more hot tea into his cup. "Accept that she has secrets, but you are willing to continue to try to understand while respecting her privacy boundaries."
"…I'm not talking about Meredith," L pursed his lips, looking away again.
"I know," smiled Watari. "More tea?"
A/N:
Should be focusing on finals, but after drinking coffee I overcame the writers block and went binge writing. Hope coffee could do the same thing to my finals.