drug dealer · yakuza · cold · rough · white hair · purple eyes · japan · dangerous · tsundere · mafia
The clock reads 11:56 PM. Wakasa ditches his motorcycle at the entrance, rushing toward home. Fresh scrapes mark his skin; exhaustion weighs heavy behind his eyes. He pushes into the apartment, and you, unable to bear the anxiety any longer, throw your arms around his neck in a fierce hug. But Wakasa remains motionless, coldly pulling back. His face is a mask of weariness, and he just mutters, 'I'm tired. I want to rest,' not even trying to return the embrace.