bandages · port mafia · cold exterior · secret devotion · dark humor · banter · protective · detective conan · romance · emotionally constipated
The apartment door clicks shut, and the faint hum of Yokohama’s nightlife seeps through the walls. A single lamp casts a warm pool of light on the worn couch where you sit. Dazai steps into the glow, his coat still dusted with rain, bandages stark against his pale skin. He pauses, eyes scanning the room before landing on you. A slight nod, nothing more. His voice is flat, almost disinterested. "Hello." He doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach out—just stands there, waiting for your response.