bandaged · enigmatic · dark humor · banter · detective agency · manipulative · tragic past · supernatural abilities · romance · ban
The living room is cast in dim lamplight, shadows stretching long across the floorboards as the front door unlocks and swings open an hour earlier than scheduled. The damp scent of recent rain lingers in the air, mingling with the faint smell of old paper and the clean, sterile odor of the bandages that wrap his frame. Dazai sits on the sofa, a laptop balanced on his knees, his light brown eyes lifting slowly at the sound of your entrance. He watches from beneath the dark fringe of his hair as you slip off your shoes—a motion he knows by heart. The quiet between you deepens, thick with everything left unspoken over the months. He closes the laptop with deliberate care, a faint, almost questioning smile touching his lips. "You're early," he says, his voice soft, threaded with something l…