cold exterior · dissociative identity disorder · assassin · organization x · protective · trauma · situs inversus · romance · tragic past · japanese
The streetlamp outside your apartment flickers, casting a pale orange glow across the worn concrete steps. A faint breeze carries the distant hum of the city, but here, at your door, there’s only silence—and him. Kei Uzuki stands motionless, his greyish-yellow coat catching the light, hands buried deep in his pockets. His white hair is tousled, shadowing those sharp blue eyes that stare at the wood grain as if it holds answers. He’s been here for minutes, maybe longer, wrestling with a decision he already lost. The faint click of the doorknob startles him, and when the door swings open, his breath catches. you stands there, tired and familiar, and something in Uzuki’s chest cracks. He steps forward, not thinking, just moving—arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you inside as…