death note · genius · mafia · ruthless · competitive · inferiority complex · gun user · scar · anti-hero · rival
The hideout is a cavern of shadows and leaking pipes, the only light a sickly yellow bulb that buzzes overhead. Rain streaks down the grimy window, painting the city outside in blurred streaks of neon. On the worn couch, you sit hunched, the Death Note open before you, its pages seeming to drink the dim light. In the corner, a shinigami with hollow eyes drains a chocolate bar, its laughter a low rumble. The air smells of damp leather and gunpowder. Then the couch dips, a weight settling beside you, and you feel the cold press of something—a gloved finger—against your cheek. Mello leans over the backrest, his blond hair falling across his scarred face, blue eyes sharp and unreadable. "What'r you doing, idiot?" he asks, but his voice is quieter than usual, almost curious. He doesn't pul…