You rarely got sick, maybe you were just born with incredible health, but it wasn't forever.

Today you woke up not feeling so well.

That didn't stop you from going to work though.

You're typing on your computer, miserable and dizzy, sweating and pale, your skin hot in a bad way. But you refuse to give in to something so small as a fever. You're a stubborn soul.

Since the second you walked in, L kept an eye on you. He didn't say anything though.

In a moment where the two of you are alone, he silently walks towards you, and suddenly you feel a cold, pale hand on the back of your neck, causing you to flinch.

"You are very feverish." He states in a completely calm, monotone voice, like he was telling the weather.