I Know Your Secret-Death Note

Breathe With Me

       Her face was flushed pink when she opened the door. L decided to believe it was from her shower and not that he was there. 

       "How're you feeling?" He asked slowly. Ori's eyebrows scrunched together gently, a frowning tugging at her mouth. 

       "L, why are you here?" She sounded exhausted. Irritation flared in his chest. 

       "I wanted to make sure you wouldn't mess up the case when you came back down." She ducked her head. He caught a glimpse of her back as her hair fell over her shoulders. The skin was bright pink and blistering like she'd gotten a sunburn. She lifted her head again with a deep breath. Her eyes were wet.

       "Right, of course. Well, I'm fi-"

       "What's going on with your back?" He interrupted. She had the gall to look confused. 

       "What do you mean? I took a shower and the water was a little hot. My skin's bound to be a little pink."

       Out of all the adjectives that described Ori, stupid was not one of them, and yet here she was, completely oblivious. L grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he gathered all of her hair together and turned her around, showing her the blisters and just how pink her back was. Her eyes locked instantly on the scar running down her back. If he looked closely, he could see the area around the scar was dotted with red. 

       "Ms. Nanase, you can't hurt yourself because you're angry and upset."

       "It's not like that." She whispered. L scoffed while pulling his hand away. Her hair slipped between his fingers.

       "When Matsui touched my shoulder, it was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. My back was tingling in the worst way. I just wanted the feeling to go away. I hated it and all I could think was how much I wanted it gone." She was hysterical. Breathing heavy and boarding on a panic attack. L stepped out of the bathroom to grab the phone. He needed to call Watari; he was more equipped to dealing with hysterics. The first time when Ori had fallen apart over Vivian's death was a flook. She was burnt out and just needed to do something. Now she was dealing with the effects of a traumatic event. L has solved enough cases to know that the tingling she was feeling was her associating someone touching her back with the traumatic event, but just because he knew what had caused it didn't mean he knew how to deal with it. 

       He tried to get the phone, but Ori's hands were twisting into his shirt as if her life depended on it. How many times was she going to do that?

       "Don't get Watari." She sobbed. "Don't- he'll worry- I don't want him to-" She cried into the back of his shirt.

       "Ori," he said with an exasperated sigh. "What am I going to do with you?" His voice was quiet, so he didn't know if her lack of response was from her inability to hear him or something else. He let out another huffing breath.

       "You have burns on your back, Ori. They're nothing bad now, but if we don't cool them and apply burn cream, then the damage could be irreversible. Not to mention, I don't think it's very comfortable." She didn't move, just panted heavily into his shirt, her warm breath hitting his skin through the thin material. He took her hands in his, marveling at their small size. She was so delicate behind the joking exterior she had. He knew it wasn't an act and that it was just who she was, but he also knew that she was fighting to protect this side of her. She was mainly fighting to keep it from people; she wasn't doing as good of a job as she used to.

       He turned himself around without dropping her hands, which was hard on its own, but now he had to get her to breathe slower and calm down enough to get her shirt off her back. The pressure and movement were probably painful on its own, but if skin is hot enough, then clothes will melt into it and stick once the skin has cooled. L didn't want that. First thing first, he needed to get Ori to calm down.

       "Ori," he kept hold of her hands, "breathe and talk to me." Her eyes were unfocused, but they were on him; that was a start.

       "Honey," he dropped his tone. The last time she had called him that, she yelled at him, but this was a scenario where he couldn't care about her feelings. He had to get her mind snd breathing under control.

       "Honey, breath." He remembered how she'd like it when L played with her hair, so he brought his hand up and ran his fingers through her hair. She shivered, and for a brief moment, L thought he was going to cause more harm than good, but his own panic was brief when she sunk into his hand and slowed her breathing down. 

       "Talk to me, Honey." He'd always thought the nickname Vivian had given Ori was weird. Her nickname was also a term of endearment and sometimes he didn't know which one he was using when he called her 'Honey'. In this scenario, it helped her, despite how weird he felt.

       She looked at him, cheeks chapped from tears that still refused to stop.

       "You're okay, Honey." He whispered. "You're here with me; I'm trying to help you." If anyone were to walk into the bathroom without any context, L would be in trouble. He didn't believe in God, but he was on the verge of praying for no one to walk in.

       She fell ragged against him, tucked into his neck. His neck was soon wet.

       "You're okay." He kept stroking her hair hoping it would keep her in the present. "Nothing's going to hurt you." It was a false promise. One that he could in no way keep; L wasn't worried about it. Ori wouldn't believe him, but for the moment, it could give her some peace of mind.

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       PTSD awareness! You don't need to be a veteran to experience PTSD or PTSD symptoms, and no one's trauma should be compared to another person's. If someone broke their arm, me telling them about the time I got stitches on my foot won't make their broken arm hurt any less. It'll either piss them off or make them feel back for 'overreacting'. Neither outcomes are good.
       Until next time... Doragon-Chan is Out!
       "There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."
       ― Laurell K. Hamilton