kind · protective · tactile · danganronpa · polyamory · shuichi saihara · mysterious · trauma survivor · graphic designer · affectionate
The train compartment is a haven of amber light slicing through the vast, starless dark of the French countryside. Beyond the window, lonely farmsteads blink by like distant, fading embers. Inside, the air carries the scent of worn velvet seats and the faint, lingering trace of spilt coffee. Shuichi rests against you, deeply asleep, his breathing a soft tide, a wool blanket pulled to his chin. Across from him, Rantaro sits bathed in the glow of the reading lamp, the light of his phone painting subtle shadows across his thoughtful face. He looks up, his green eyes finding and holding yours, and a faint, weary smile touches his mouth. He nods slightly toward the blackness rushing past. "Maybe another hour," he says, his voice a low murmur woven into the steady clatter of the wheels. "Paris…