[The cultivated focus of the quiet room makes every syllable stand out more, and all the tonal variations and nuances are more crisp and vivid. It should be easier to hear the truth under such conditions, so why is L reacting so extremely, standing in haste to put his chair between them when Myr takes a cautious step closer? Everything Myr can feel through their Bond is shrouded in dim panic, sliced through periodically with sharp spikes of the same weightlessness that is nevertheless not the same. This isn't the soles of his feet peeling away from the ground; this is the ground suddenly dropping away, resulting in a state of heart-stopping free fall.

It's jarring, how his perception of any situation could be so wrong. It makes him regard Myr with distrust bordering on fear, swiftly trampling that border as his state escalates, taking with it his heartbeat and his breath.]

You don't have to talk like this.

[And he especially doesn't have to make it sound like it could be real when L's compass for such matters is already spinning.]

You've given this an admirable effort. It's more than most people would have, and you did it for far longer...

[Moderating his tone is proving difficult, so his words hasten, rattling off his tongue to get them out.]

...it's not your failure, Myr.

[Sometimes, something beloved or cherished turns rabid. There's only one thing to be done in such cases, preferably before awareness is wholly lost to madness.]

Can't you let me love you back, this way?