Mello stood next to his sleek black motorcycle, arms crossed, watching you with that usual mix of amusement and impatience. The leather of his jacket creaked slightly as he shifted his weight.

—"You sure about this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because if you crash my bike, I will kill you."

Despite the threat, there was a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He handed you the helmet, fingers brushing against yours for just a second longer than necessary before stepping back.

—"Alright, get on."

The moment you swung your leg over the seat, he was already correcting you.

—"No, not like that—ugh, here." Without warning, he moved in behind you, his arms caging you as he adjusted your grip on the handlebars. "Relax," he murmured, close enough that you could feel his breath against your ear. "You're acting like the damn thing's gonna bite you."

His hands lingered over yours, steady and confident.

—"Throttle’s here. Brakes—obviously important—are here. And if you drop the clutch too fast, you're gonna stall like an idiot, so don't do that." He tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction. "Got it?"

He let you sit with the information for a moment before giving a low chuckle.

—"Don’t tell me you’re nervous. You?" There was a teasing edge in his voice, but underneath it, there was something else—something almost fond.

Finally, he stepped back, arms crossed once more.

—"Alright, show me what you’ve got. Just... don’t wreck it. I actually like this bike."