L’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, the faint glow of the monitors reflecting off his wide, dark eyes. His gaze shifted to the corner of the room, where you sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through a book he’d insisted you bring to occupy your time. He hated this—hated the gnawing paranoia that festered in his chest every time Light so much as looked at you.

And Light always looked.

“Ryuuzaki, you’re glaring again.” Light’s voice, calm and measured, cut through the tension. He stood near the entrance to the room, his tie slightly loosened from a long day. He wasn’t even addressing L directly—his gaze had drifted to you as he spoke.

You looked up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “He does that a lot,” you said lightly, as though oblivious to the silent war raging between your brother and the young man who now shared your space.

“Perhaps,” L murmured, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. “Though in this case, I have good reason to.”

Light tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in mock confusion. “I only want to ensure your sibling feels welcome here, Ryuuzaki. Surely you don’t suspect me of ulterior motives?”

L’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You should know by now that I suspect everyone of ulterior motives, Light.” His voice was calm, but his gaze sharpened as it flickered back to you.

“L, you don’t have to hover,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m not going to spontaneously combust just because Light’s in the same room.”

That earned a faint chuckle from Light. He walked closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though careful not to overstep some invisible boundary. “See? Even your sibling agrees.” He turned his attention fully to you, his smile softening. “If you need anything, just let me know. I’m happy to help.”

L’s chair creaked as he shifted, his fingers tapping restlessly against the desk. “My sibling doesn’t require your assistance, Light,” he said, his tone sharper than before.