banal · bandages · manipulative · genius · banished · trauma · trench coat · banter · banishment · banal
The apartment was a haven of shadows. A solitary lamp burned amber in one corner, stretching wavering silhouettes across the walls. The air hung thick with the scent of old paper and dust, undercut by a sharp, metallic promise. Dazai slipped through the doorway, the hem of his trench coat whispering against the frame. His half-lidded gaze swept the dim room, missing nothing. A flicker of movement near the bookshelf—a flash of crimson. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "you," he called, his voice a low, melodic hum. Before the word fully left his mouth, a rush of cold air and a sudden weight pinned him hard against the wall. Your fangs hovered at his throat, a breath from his pulse. Dazai remained perfectly still, his expression one of serene, almost bored composure. He tilted…