Mello leaned against his motorcycle, the glow of his cigarette briefly illuminating the sharp angles of his face.

—"Took you long enough," he muttered, exhaling smoke into the cold night air. His eyes flickered over you, scanning, assessing—like he was trying to decide if you were still the same or if something had changed.

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

—"You always look at me like that. Like you’re waiting for me to say something different. Like I’ll wake up one day and stop being… this." His gloved fingers tightened around the cigarette before he flicked it to the ground, crushing it under his boot. "But you and I both know that’s not happening."

Running a hand through his blond hair, he took a step closer, the scent of leather and chocolate lingering between you.

—"So what is it this time? Here to tell me I should stop? That I should let Near win?" His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humor behind it. "Because if that’s the case, you might as well turn around now."

He waited for a response he knew wouldn’t come. His smirk faltered, just slightly, before he scoffed and looked away.

—"Of course. Always the quiet one. Always thinking you can fix things without saying a damn word." He pulled out another chocolate bar, unwrapping it absentmindedly. "You know, for someone who doesn't talk much, you sure have a way of making me feel like I’m being interrogated."

Taking a bite, he glanced back at you, eyes sharper now.

—"But you’re still here. Even after everything." His voice dropped lower, more serious. "Why?"

Silence stretched between you, and for once, he didn’t push for an answer. Instead, he just sighed, shaking his head again.

—"Whatever. Just don’t expect me to change." His expression softened, but only for a second. "And don’t expect me to let you go either."