GOD'S FAVOURITE. 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞

GOD'S FAVOURITE.

ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᴾˢʸᶜʰⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ⸴ ᵗʳⁱᵍᵍᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵖⁱᶜˢ ᵈⁱˢᶜᵘˢˢᵉᵈ/ᴵᵐᵖˡⁱᶜᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶜᵗˢ‧ ᴿᵉᵍʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉᶜʰᵃⁿⁱˢᵐ‧ ᵁⁿʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ? ᴹᵃᵗᵗ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃᵈᵛᵃⁿᵗᵃᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ‧

Merry Christmas, Everyone! Enjoy this longer chapter as a gift.

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Blackstar's cherry cigars, leather jackets spritzed in sandalwood cologne, sleeveless puffer vests, pistols and vintage video games. Those were the delicacies of life she knew her boys shared a fondness for. Wammy's Orphanage, each other and herself...Those were the ones she was sure Matt and Mello would give their lives for, anything else there was to know about her suitors, she did not and would not ever find out and the realisation that she knew so little of them brought out guilt that existed out of her nostalgia for the pair.

In all the years it had taken to reunite with the two gangsters and all her fantasies of a famous happy ending...Had any variation ever included them specifically? If the devil was caressing her ears with foul temptations to coax out an unwanted truth then, could she bring herself to admit that after everything that had occurred up until now, did she use them as anything more than stress relief or a useful tool to keep handy?

Despite the fact she had callously resented them for dehumanising her, Y/N began to understand that she had done the same thing and that the verbal bashing she had received was punishment befitting of the crime.

Kimiko, Hatori, Kaito. They would be oh so proud of themselves to know that every time she glanced into her reflection they were now there and she was itching to restrain their rambunctious laughter. It was truly sickening to behold the sight without ripping one's face to shreds with their fingers.

Was it a simple ignorance to ignore her hypocrisy or was it unspoken narcissism to look down on what you've become with a prideful stance as she spoke of virtue? If a human's soul belonged to them and yet was configured through the shards and recollections of others, if you become shaped by who you had once known rather than what it means to love, then what's left of yourself? Can there truly be you when you're the product of others?... And If there's no real you, how can you stomach yourself when you have the potential shaped by those you seethed with hatred for?

How could she possibly differentiate herself from these demons when they wore her very face?

The only conclusion Y/N came to was that she was doomed from birth, cursed through life and would be represented in death for the perverse sense of self-pity she allowed herself to indulge in.

But for all of her admittance to these things, her one sole saving grace was that, to herself, at the very least, she was not a liar and she never used denial or her sorrow to offer her condolence when the truth became as apparent as it was while under the moonlight, another reflection that seemingly haunted her throughout her given mortality.

Guns N Roses. That was another thing the boys enjoyed, in fact, they frequently pondered their wandering minds towards music.

It was one of the few details she recalled about them and while a unique aspect to learn about gentlemen such as themselves, there was no doubt in her mind the reason for blasting such aggressive songs was for nefarious reasons. Drowning out the screaming of whatever victim had been unlucky enough to catch their eye, rewarding the members who spent hours packaging the dozens of illegal orders gifted their way, outsourcing their temper onto unwilling participants or thrashing everything they had built into pieces. Whatever endeavour benefited their hobby, she did not need to know about it and made the rare decision to satiate herself in naivety. Ignorance is bliss as her Father would quote.