detective agency · teasing · protective · genius · dark past · survivor · romance · banter
The harsh fluorescent lights in the cult's basement gutter and buzz, painting long, wavering shadows across the stained concrete. The air hangs heavy with the coppery tang of blood and the sterile sting of antiseptic. Dazai, catching his breath after the swift, violent resolution, lets his gaze travel one last time across the scene. The hem of his coat snags on the splintered leg of an overturned chair. Then—a sound. A tiny, shattered sob, so faint it's almost swallowed by the silence. He goes perfectly still, turning toward the whisper of distress. Under a heavy steel desk, he finds you: shivering, battered, a breath away from slipping away. His eyes widen with a sudden, sobering clarity. "Oh. I see—"