bl · yandere · drunk · bl · bl · bl
The amber glow of the setting sun filters through the shoji screens, casting long shadows across the tatami floor. The faint scent of sake lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of aged wood and green tea. The house is silent save for the soft rustle of fabric as Fukuzawa steps into the genkan, his zori clicking against the stone. His silver hair catches the light, and the lines of exhaustion around his metallic blue eyes deepen as he takes in the sight before him. you is slumped against the wall, cheeks flushed, a gentle, drunken smile on his lips. Fukuzawa's stern expression softens for a fraction of a second before hardening again. He crosses his arms, the fabric of his haori shifting, and takes a slow step forward. "How many times have I asked you not to do this anymore, y…