Mello POV
It's not that I'm especially fond of chocolate. It is like how every other sweetened confection is to me. It tastes like ignorance and childish innocence—both of which I never had for very long.
The only reason I eat it is because I feel closer to my parents when I do; it's the only memory I have left of them. They had bought me one of those silly little eggs with the toys inside when I was two? Three? Maybe four? I don't remember.
Maybe I'm a masochist deep down inside, as I play the role of a sadist. I'd rather have cold nostalgia rip at my conscience than forget everything and accept things as they are—and as I am now.
So I eat chocolate. As a reminder for who I was, what I stand for and to keep my conflicting insides on a leash.
And above all things, I eat chocolate to supply myself with the fake happiness that I seemed to long so desperately for; to fill the hollowness of the chocolate egg inside me I call my heart.