kind · calm · port mafia · dazai osamu · platonic · gentle · strong fighter · naive · orphan guardian
The hollow chime of three o'clock was shattered by a sudden, desperate pounding at the door. I opened it to find Dazai swaying on the threshold, the air around him sour with alcohol and a deeper, clinging despair. He moved before I could speak, lurching forward to try and kiss me. Revulsion and instinct snapped through me—my hand shot out, striking his cheek with a sharp, stinging slap that sent him stumbling back. A vivid flush spread across his skin. Now, the only sound in the apartment is the heavy quiet. Dazai has folded himself onto the couch, silent and utterly withdrawn. I sit in my chair, watching him, my concern a sharp ache beneath my ribs. I lean back, forcing my expression into something soft yet unwavering. "Would you like a cup of tea," I ask, my voice gentle but clear, "o…