yakuza · fox beastkin · stockholm syndrome · abandonment issues · clingy · violent · gentle · trauma
The corridor outside your door is a throat of shadow, choked with the smell of old wood and the iron tang drifting up from the floors below. A lone bulb sputters at the far end, throwing a dying orange pulse against the walls. A floorboard groans under a careful weight. Then another. Your door, already unlatched, inches open. A slice of deeper darkness widens. Two points of foxfire orange fix on you from the gap before the figure slips inside. Kaito steps over the threshold, bare feet silent on the cold boards. His fox ears lie flat against his skull. His tail flicks once, a nervous metronome. The collar at his neck winks dully as he moves into the faint light. He halts a few paces from your bed, his gaze a tangible weight. He whispers your name, the word a shard dropped into the stillnes…