Chapter Text
Mason was considering throwing himself out the classroom window. Not seriously considering it (though if this lecture went on much longer he might), but the fact the idea came to mind at all only emphasized how dreadfully boring the day had been.
It hadn’t started off that bad. Grunkle Stan had made bacon and eggs for breakfast, Mason left the apartment with time to spare, and the weather was like something out of a postcard. Heck, their across the hall neighbor Wendy (who Mason definitely did NOT have a crush on), had even invited him to join her group for dinner at some new burger place. Yes, the day had been just fine. Until the famously boring Mr. Befufftlefumpter was revealed to be the substitute for his last class. Now Mason fought to stay awake as the impossibly old man droned on about the inevitability of death or something like that.
After ten more minutes of fighting to feign attentiveness, Mason finally gave up and started staring out the window instead. 30 more minutes, just 30 more minutes and he could talk to Wendy about that potential dinner.
Before Mason could fully lose himself in daydreams of the redhead, he spotted a small black object falling past the window. Such a sight would have been uninteresting were it not for the fact that this particular class was located on the top floor of the building.
Someone must have snuck onto the roof, Mason reasoned. After all, there was nowhere else the thing could have fallen from.
Mason wasn’t sure why he went to search for the thing the moment class let out, particularly when the alternative was meeting with Wendy, but he searched all the same. Something about that falling object just refused to be left alone. It almost reminded him of- no. He didn’t want to think about that. After enough poking about the courtyard, he finally located the object that had drawn him.
It was a book. A flimsy black-bound notebook from the looks of it. Yet something about the bundle of papers seemed almost sinister.
But that’s silly. A scary notebook? Get a grip Mason, you're not twelve anymore!
He flipped the book over to take a look at its front cover, and for a split second his blood ran cold. Scrawled on the black cover were the words “Death Note” with a slit eye drawn in place of the “o”. Somewhat uneasily, Mason opened to the first page. The same scrawling handwriting visible on the front spelled out a list of some sort, with the word “Rules” filling the top of the page.
Mason glanced at his surroundings with the strange feeling that he shouldn’t let anyone else see the odd notebook. Certain he was alone, Mason began to read.
“Rule Number One, the human whose name is written in this book will-” he couldn’t read the last word aloud. It wasn’t possible. This had to be some kind of sick joke, or a chain letter. And yet the words spelled it out, plain as day. The human whose name is written in this note will die.
Mason shook his head, dispelling the panicked thoughts. Worrying would do him no good, especially over something so silly. A killer notebook? The concept was ridiculous. He moved to place the notebook where he found it before changing his mind and shoving it into his satchel. Grunkle Stan would probably get a kick out of the whole thing. A killer notebook was exactly the kind of thing he used to tell Mason and- Mason stories about. They’d both have a good laugh and Mason could burn the dumb thing tomorrow. Right now, his primary objective should be getting back to the apartment in time to take Wendy up on her offer.