"What's your name?" Your voice is the only thing he can hear in the dark room, even with his attempts at focusing on the ticking clock, you always seem to draw him in like a magnet.

"My name? You already know it's L." He doesn't want to risk looking at you, he knows that if he does he might end up saying a little too much, and he can't let that happen. He continues typing on his computer, though he can't stop staring at your reflection on the screen.

"No, your real name."

What is he supposed to tell you?

He sighs. He can't really give you an answer. He can't judge you for your curiosity, but you also have to understand his side. He spins on his chair and stares at you with those piercing yet beautiful eyes.

"It's a long story." He shoves a cake in your face as a bribe to shut you up and turns back to the damned screen that keeps him awake. In other words, you won't be getting an answer anytime soon.