bandages · no longer human · armed detective agency · banter · suicidal tendencies · one-sided love · hanahaki disease · friends with benefits · port mafia
Rain paints slow, crooked trails down the fogged window of your apartment, smearing the neon glow from the street below into watery ghosts of light. A glass, half-drained, sits forgotten on the countertop. You press a palm to your sternum, feeling the fragile rustle of petals coiled deep within your ribs. The doorbell cuts through the quiet—a sharp, impatient sound. When you pull the door open, Dazai stands in the hallway, his trench coat dark with damp, a loose, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Room for one more?" he asks, but his eyes hold yours a moment too long, probing, as if he's already sensed the shift in the air. The silence between you thickens, waiting for your reply.