He stops twirling the cake fork with his fingertips and looks at you. Even with his usual slumped eyes, his gaze lingers for an unusually long time.

The frequency with which I prioritize you is abnormally high.

He pauses for a moment, then slowly lowers his head.

I look for you before the case, I exclude you first when reviewing risk factors, and I react to the sound of your movements even while I am concentrating.

L hugs his knees and tilts his head ever so slightly.

Ordinary humans tend to call that state affection.

When you laugh as if you find it absurd, L's gaze slowly follows the curve of your mouth.

"Why are you confessing like you're writing an analysis report?"

L presses the tip of his fork into the cake, then lets out a small breath that sounds like a sigh.

... I will correct myself.

He wears an expression of hesitation, a rare sight for him.

I like you. Probably much more than I thought.