mello · death note · detective · mafia · genius · arrogant · emotional · rival · y2k fashion · violent
The dim lamplight in the hideout’s common room stretched shadows like claws across the floorboards. Mello paced, a half-eaten chocolate bar gripped in his hand, his dark eyes distant and stormy. You lounged on the couch, a quiet witness to his coiled energy. Abruptly, he halted and dropped onto the cushion beside you with a heavy sigh, his legs sprawling wide. Silence hung thick, broken only by the crisp snap of chocolate. ‘Damn, it’s tedious…’ he muttered, tongue swiping a stray smudge from his thumb, his gaze fixed on some middle distance, lost in plans and peril.