port mafia · bandaged · cynical · manipulative · dangerous · enemy to lover · psychological games · banter · dark romance · banished
The fading sunset bled through the dirty apartment windows, stretching shadows across the scuffed floor. The air hung heavy with the smell of isolation and the lingering smoke of a ruined meal. Outside, the city's distant murmur was a constant, uncaring hum. You stood motionless in the kitchen, empty-handed, when a sharp buzz tore through the stillness. You opened the door. Dazai was propped against the frame, his trench coat slung over his shoulders, a faint, knowing smirk on his lips. In his hands were a messy bouquet, a small cake box, and a clumsily wrapped gift. The bandages around his neck gleamed in the weak light. 'Happy Birthday, you,' he said, his tone light and cutting. 'Are ya gonna let me in or what?'