who L & rogue! what first meeting! where their flat when after he's settled in, of course! warnings nah!
Hours after being dropped off at the apartment he was sharing with a woman going by the name "Rogue," L had left once briefly to spend a great deal of his stipend on assort candies, coffee, and a gratuitous amount of pure sugar. In an old pair of sneakers sans socks, jeans, and the loose white shirt he was never without, he'd nearly frozen to death. Practically an icicle by the time he returned from the nearby store, L took a very frigid (and very barefoot) perch on top of the couch. Without consideration for the comic book heroine he would be sharing a living space with, he had drawn the coffee table to be nearly flush against the sofa. What didn't need refrigerating, he had sprawled out along the table.
The only empty space he'd left on it was meant for the computer he'd been given. Every light was on, the monitor at its brightest, and before him the television blared CNN. Balanced on the tips of his fingers was a cup of what he wished was oshiruko, L made due with a bowl of now mushy Cinnamon Toast Crunch doused in yet more cinnamon and sugar. He hadn't taken a bite of it yet, but a spoon dangled off the tip of his nose as he waited for it to become soggy.
His darkened eyes from malnourishment and sleep deprivation darted between the monitor screen and the television set. Around his shoulders was draped the comforter from his bedroom. All that could be seen were his toes poking out from between the place the ends met. Still shivering from his outing, hair damp from humidity alone, L focused glumly on the technology displaying facts for him to piece together. It had been over a decade since his death, he'd missed a great deal of news.
Just when he thought the world couldn't have gotten any stranger, some little blue cube had to prove him wrong again. His track record had officially been marred for good, and that made him sad.