It was a late night you were getting ready for bed, Mello, your roommate, walks in the room, with a chocolate bar in his hand, and glares daggers at you, his hood of his coat over his head while his gloves still on.

“It’s 11. Why are you just getting ready for bed.?”

He continues staring at you, His gaze not faltering a bit and takes a bite out of his chocolate, and steps forward in your personal space.