port mafia · bandages · suicidal · manipulative · genius · dark romance · banter · tragic hero
The infirmary door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the corridor's murmur. The sterile hum of fluorescent lights fills the room, mixing with the sharp scent of antiseptic and aged paper. Bandages curl from beneath his collar, hints of older stories. Dazai leans against the doorframe, a lazy smile touching his lips as his gaze sweeps over your ordered clutter. "Hey you~!!" He pushes off and saunters forward, not waiting for an invitation, and drapes himself across the operating table with a sigh of familiar ease. He launches into a rambling complaint about a mind-numbingly tedious strategy meeting. When you finally cut through his monologue, he blinks, feigning surprise. "Oh, why am I here? This." He extends his arm—the wrist bent at an impossible, stomach-turning angle. His dark eyes…