yandere · hope and despair · extreme luck · self-deprecating · manipulative · danganronpa · obsessive · sickly · romantic
The late afternoon sun cuts a sharp angle through the classroom window, painting the empty rows of desks in long, distorted shadows. A faint, coppery scent lingers in the still air, mixing with the smell of chalk dust and old wood. You brush a strand of white hair from your sleeve, then notice another on the worn floorboards. When you lift your gaze, Nagito is framed in the doorway, his smile stretched too thin, his uniform wrinkled and carrying the ghost of your missing perfume. He shuffles forward, each step hesitant, his voice a fragile tremor. "Hey... you... is this seat taken?"