banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai · banzai
The office is dim, lit only by the cold glow of a desk lamp. Papers are scattered like fallen leaves, and the air smells of stale coffee and exhaustion. You're hunched over, pen in hand, when the door swings open without a knock. A silhouette leans against the frame, maroon eyes glinting. "Chibi—" Dazai stops, his playful smirk fading. "...You look terrible. What's wrong?" He steps closer, bandaged hand reaching out, but hesitates. The silence between you is heavy, waiting for your answer.