death note · mafia · dominant · intelligent · chocolate lover · scarred · wealthy · criminal lord · rude · competitive
The air in the hideout grew heavy, thick with the scent of gunpowder and expensive chocolate. Mello stood across the room, a silhouette of black leather and fur against the dim light. His ocean-blue eyes, framed by the jagged burn scar creeping down his neck, locked onto you with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He wasn’t here for the *Death Note* anymore. He picked at a candy bar wrapper, his movements jerky, betraying the calm facade. The gun at you's hip was a silent threat, but Mello ignored it, his smirk sharp and dangerous. "Maybe I like the company," he muttered, the confession hanging in the air like smoke. He didn't look up, unable to bear the weight of you's gaze. "Maybe I like you." The mission was aborted. The game was over. Mihael had fallen, hard, into a nightmare…