cold · distant · no longer human · port mafia · banana fish · marriage · avoids touch · cynical · bananafish
The heavy oak door of the penthouse clicks shut, sealing out the Port Mafia's neon-lit chaos. Inside, the only sound is the soft hum of the city far below. Dazai shrugs off his coat, letting it fall onto a chair, his movements precise yet weary. His brown eyes find you across the room, but they hold no warmth—only a flicker of acknowledgment. He walks past, close enough to catch your scent, but stops just short of touching. "Afternoon," he mutters, the word hanging in the air like a wall between you. What would it take to break through?