Mello x Reader ! Love Beyond Law ! [FORBIDDEN LOVE]

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𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

         𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕, is 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝚂𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝, 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚙 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑.

𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜.

           𝙰  𝚖𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚝  𝚑𝚊𝚣𝚎  𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕.

August 15th, 1999
IVANOVO, Russia

You were back in your father's car, the window rolled down as you watched the trees blur past, merging into an abstract tapestry of green and white.

"Here you are, my zayka,"

Your father's voice, low and sweet like honey, resonated as he slowed the car in front of Volga Rechnoy Academy. The three-story building loomed in the distance, it's colored banners welcoming the students fluttering in the breeze.

"Bye then,"

Stifling a smile as you grabbed your bag from under the dashboard.

"Love you,"

your father uttered, his smile, a fleeting glimpse of solace against the backdrop of his smoothed grey and brown beard. "No pressure, okay?"

"Okay, love you too," you mumbled, shutting the car door before walking joining the children in uniform.

          In the mist of memory, your homeroom remains elusive, a blank spot in your mind. Fumbling through your bag, you find your schedule. "Homeroom is number...102,"

Along rising to your feet, a group of familiar faces greeted you with surprise lit on their bright faces.

"[𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎?] 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 Rechnoy?" teased one of the girls, whose name you recalled from primary school—Farah. Beside her stood another girl, her face you knew, yet her name blurred. Ma... Mariam... Moriah... Maria, it's got to be.

"Oh, yeah, I just switched for a better curriculum," Enthusiastic in response, as you felt your cheeks swell into a smile and so did theirs. It was only a partial truth, a feeble attempt to conceal the more humiliating reason for switching schools again. 'Embarrassing it be if everyone knew'

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The teachers frequently ask this question on the first day, echoing across every school you ever attended.

The teacher read the slips aloud of what students may dream of— many of them blank.

"An artist, a severely rich artist with multiple houses, a private jet... maybe I'd buy my dad a house" You muse like oftentimes in a grandiose daydream.

Oh, how hopeful the generation was, filled with aspirations. Among the teacher's flat but high-pitched voice, she lists practical careers such as "Doctor," "Publisher," "Lawyer," "Teacher." and so on.

But the words "Politician" triumphs over the chit-chat of the classroom, with a slight raise in the teacher's usual monotone speech, catching your curiosity.

           Just like lotus that drift into the pond, akin to pedals that ominously twirl in a zephyr, fluttered in your gut. The casual classroom chatter solemn to a low chord, people slightly look around, considering the leftovers of the Cold war was harsh and volunteering hands attracted the respect of many.

You would like to remember his name once before you die—The man you loved wasn't terribly handsome or affectionate but remarkably one of a kind.

At wit's end it seemed like this was the end. The suggestion maybe be the memoir in front of your eyes was fading into a dark cloud. Or it could be the throbbing in your legs and feet that surged back to you, interrupting your temporary bliss...

Is this what it's like to have your life flash before your eyes?