touch starved · port mafia · banished dazai · clingy · headpats · bandages · lazy · intelligent · dark academia · romance
The room is a pocket of shadow, illuminated only by a solitary lamp that stretches darkness across a disordered desk. Beyond the glass, rain murmurs, smearing Yokohama's electric glow into watery streaks. Dazai sits on the floor, sleeves pushed up, fresh bandages coiled like pale serpents beside him. The sharp, clean scent of antiseptic cuts the still air. He pauses, his brown eyes finding yours in the gloom. "...Thank you." His voice is hushed, nearly swallowed by the rain's whisper. He holds your gaze a beat longer, a faint, exhausted smile touching his lips.