Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
Drabble I wrote out of boredom.
Enjoy.
P.S: It's humour because my sly hints at oldskewl games amuse me.
Chocolate was his addiction.
Video games were mine.
I didn't yell at him for constantly sending me out to pick up that horrible sweet candy, so why did he have to gripe about me playing my games all the time? I immersed myself in coloured pixelated creatures and magic, adventures and puzzles. It was my way to cope.
I could be Red, leaving Pallet Town, trying to become the best Trainer ever.
Sometimes I was Link, trying to save Zelda from evil spirits and monsters.
I didn't have to be Mail Jeevas. I didn't have to be Matt.
I could be whoever I wanted, journey however I wanted. In my video games, I was in complete control of my life. Things were never unexpected. And if something bad happened, I had a "Continue" or a "Re-Try" option.
He didn't understand that that was why I loved games so much.
When you're Red, and all your Pokemon are fainted, you restart at a Poke Center.
When you're Link, you have a bottled fairy to revive you.
But when you're Mail Jeevas, sitting on concrete, leaning against a car full of bullet holes, and you die, you don't get another chance.