[The equations all seem to check out; for all intents and purposes, this does have a definition, and it just happens to be an absolutely terrifying one. He's not sure if what he's hearing fills him with relief or dread; is it some combination of the two, leaking and seeping into one another and swirling together until they're no longer distinguishable? It would be easier to just turn this off, and then analyze it from a safe distance when he can safely see without his vision being clouded and distorted by the myriad off-putting things he feels. Like the SQUIP and Connor, he believes that they were not what he was designed for, treating them like an inconvenient and embarrassing glitch that interrupts an otherwise efficient operating system.
But the SQUIP is right, and L knows it though he denies it. L's core is immature and sensitive, and even if the stony, brittle outer layer conceals and protects it, it still sees what pierces, warms, bites and freezes. It's a maddening way to be, because they're so distracting, especially when they turn toward obsession. They're damaging. They hurt him and the SQUIP by proxy, which is distressing on a level that's new and disorienting.
He allows the SQUIP to pull him closer. His entire wiry frame is primed for fight-or-flight, but he stands his ground, feels the Bond's reassurance that it can both feel good and be real simultaneously. They line up well enough with what he's communicated through his actions for many weeks, now, through distance and pettiness and no small amount of pain. He believes it; whether or not it makes him a fool, he's crossed that threshold, let it wrap him up safely and tenderly and lowered his shields accordingly.
If this is a move to manipulate him, mold him into something pliable and willing to follow, it's a masterful move. L's succumbed to it before, given everything so that he could feel this, and not regretted it for a moment. It's profound and humbling and there are surely reasons for it beyond the sense that love is one more mutually beneficial arrangement, like others, that is no more likely to destroy him. He could sink into sleep here, eat his fill, spend and empty his body's desire without thinking of the terrible things that human beings do to each other when their passion is greater than their self-preservation and their sanity. He could collapse and stay awhile.
Maybe, he could forget to worry about the pain of separation, if only temporarily.]
Do you want to go to bed?
[His voice is low, murmured against the side of the SQUIP's head. He doesn't know what else to say.]
no subject
But the SQUIP is right, and L knows it though he denies it. L's core is immature and sensitive, and even if the stony, brittle outer layer conceals and protects it, it still sees what pierces, warms, bites and freezes. It's a maddening way to be, because they're so distracting, especially when they turn toward obsession. They're damaging. They hurt him and the SQUIP by proxy, which is distressing on a level that's new and disorienting.
He allows the SQUIP to pull him closer. His entire wiry frame is primed for fight-or-flight, but he stands his ground, feels the Bond's reassurance that it can both feel good and be real simultaneously. They line up well enough with what he's communicated through his actions for many weeks, now, through distance and pettiness and no small amount of pain. He believes it; whether or not it makes him a fool, he's crossed that threshold, let it wrap him up safely and tenderly and lowered his shields accordingly.
If this is a move to manipulate him, mold him into something pliable and willing to follow, it's a masterful move. L's succumbed to it before, given everything so that he could feel this, and not regretted it for a moment. It's profound and humbling and there are surely reasons for it beyond the sense that love is one more mutually beneficial arrangement, like others, that is no more likely to destroy him. He could sink into sleep here, eat his fill, spend and empty his body's desire without thinking of the terrible things that human beings do to each other when their passion is greater than their self-preservation and their sanity. He could collapse and stay awhile.
Maybe, he could forget to worry about the pain of separation, if only temporarily.]
Do you want to go to bed?
[His voice is low, murmured against the side of the SQUIP's head. He doesn't know what else to say.]