[L always entertained Near's potential disappointment as a possibility. He believes it's why they can remain Bonded without disillusionment or disgust, because if Near felt those things for him before his death in their world, there's been enough time for it to fade. They've lived similar enough lives that there's a sort of empathy to the isolation and pressure the L position entails, and they've been surrounded by the same small handful of people with a world otherwise oblivious to the names and faces attached to their astonishing, famous deeds.
Maybe it's unfair; maybe it's inevitable. He shudders, breathes, and his mind filters through the commands voiced and unspoken.]
Rugelach.
[The first thing. Burned, cursed, strange.]
Strawberries. Madeleine... Sharlotka.
[His head jerks, turns sideways. He coughs wetly against his shoulder; when his neck droops forward, a bright red stain is left smudging the white cotton.
He's not struggling; it seems as though he has little struggle left in him. The fight is staying himself for longer, before it's lost to insanity, or death, whichever comes first.]
no subject
Maybe it's unfair; maybe it's inevitable. He shudders, breathes, and his mind filters through the commands voiced and unspoken.]
Rugelach.
[The first thing. Burned, cursed, strange.]
Strawberries. Madeleine... Sharlotka.
[His head jerks, turns sideways. He coughs wetly against his shoulder; when his neck droops forward, a bright red stain is left smudging the white cotton.
He's not struggling; it seems as though he has little struggle left in him. The fight is staying himself for longer, before it's lost to insanity, or death, whichever comes first.]