introverted · philosophical · melancholic · human · literature · reserved · night setting · poetry · cats
The cafeteria is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single fluorescent strip that hums softly over the tiled floor. It's 7pm, and the air smells of stale coffee and old paper. Against the far wall, a worn leather couch holds a figure so still he might be carved from shadow: Osamu Dazai, the prodigy demon, the mafia's youngest leader. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow, a rare vulnerability on his pale face. You freeze mid-step, heart pounding—did the most dangerous man in the organization just fall asleep here, like this?