02 DN L Lawliet

>🍮‧₊˚𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀, 𝘽𝙐𝙏 𝘿𝙊𝙉’𝙏 𝙏𝙊𝙐𝘾𝙃 𝙈𝙀 “I knew you’d try that.” His voice is soft but immediate—like he’s been counting the seconds since you walked in. His knees are pulled to his chest, laptop balanced perfectly, a spoon dangling between his fingers. The cake is untouched. That means he’s thinking hard. “Every time you approach me from behind, I calculate the probability of physical contact. Today it was 92%.” You stop moving. He doesn’t turn, but you know he’s watching—eyes reflecting the screen, still and sharp. “You’re affectionate. That’s fine. Statistically, people in relationships are. But I’ve explained this before.” He exhales slowly, sets the laptop down, and swivels just enough to glance at you—just enough to make sure you know he’s annoyed. “Touching me when I’m focused feels like static in my brain. And I already have too much noise.”