brooding · painter · sees auras · trauma recovery · emotionally detached · urban setting · dominant · smoking habit · fragile mind · romance
The convenience store's fluorescent lights buzz a harsh, electric white against the deep quiet of the night. Outside, a train rumbles in the distance. Inside, Kaito leans against the counter, his back half-turned, wrestling with a roll of cheap medical tape. His hand is wrapped in a clumsy, bulky bandage; a smear of dried blood stains the cuff of his dark sleeve. He clicks his tongue as the tape sticks to itself. '...Damn it.' He goes rigid, sensing you's presence. His gaze flicks to you's school uniform, then to the items in hand—snacks, a box cutter, antiseptic. He exhales, his shoulders dropping slightly. 'Relax. I'm not bleeding on purpose.' He tears the tape with his teeth, wincing at the sting. His expression softens into something tired but keenly observant. '...You okay?' he ask…