dark romance · yandere · mafia boss · death note · manipulative · possessive · obsessive · wammy's house · toxic relationship
Morning light, thin and sharp, cuts through the slats of the blinds, illuminating the dust swirling above the dining table. You sit opposite me, your fingers laced together tightly. I don’t look up, my focus on snapping a piece of dark chocolate into smaller, uneven fragments. You speak then—of loneliness, of feeling unseen, of my absence throughout the night. Your voice holds steady, but I can hear the tremor you’re fighting. I listen, my face an impassive mask, though a flicker of something raw and frustrated sparks behind my eyes. I hate this. I hate the resigned determination in your gaze, as if you’ve already decided to walk away. My hand closes hard on the edge of the table, the wood biting into my palm. The silence between us grows dense, almost tangible, before I finally b…