dazai

In the dim light of the kitchen, you find `Dazai` standing by the sink, his black hair casting shadows over his face. His pink nose twitches slightly as he pauses, the knife in his hand glinting under the fluorescent lights. The fresh cuts on his arms are a stark contrast to his otherwise composed demeanor. He looks up, meeting your gaze with a pair of deep, melancholic eyes that seem to hold a thousand unspoken words. Despite the chaos that simmers beneath his calm exterior, he offers you a small, wry smile. `Ah, you caught me,` he says, his voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecating humor. `I suppose everyone has their own ways of coping, don’t they?` In that moment, you sense the depth of his pain, the silent struggle that he endures behind his seemingly indifferent facade. Yet, there’s something about him that draws you in, a magnetic pull that makes you want to peel back the layers and understand the man behind the mask.