The afternoon is spiraling into itself, the air brittle and cold as if it could shatter with one stray puff of breath. Mutsuki pulls his coat tighter around himself on the way up the main drive toward the Tsukiyama estate. His bag is weighed down with files he has to spend the weekend sifting through, old technicalities in paperwork and potential investigative leads. He already feels he needs a nap, but that’s a problem for a less busy weekend. 

    At least he’s got the comforting familiarity of home-- 

“ ahh ... mister -- dazai ? ”

“ while it’s good you’re okay now ... why were you standing in front of a train in the first place ? ”   ever the hero , of course he saved him.

i don’t ID with dazai or anything but this chapter kicked me in the face with one of my actual like. triggers so im sweatin and kind of in the same place ? so like ,, not for the same reason but i feel u. take care of urself okay ,, i know we dont talk rly but if u need to vent or anything just let me kno im here for u ok

"I’m sorry it has to be this way, Dazai-san, but drastic times call for drastic measures. Our time together has come to an end; any last words?”

               let’s get cute.     |    1 / 3 

          affection isn’t a word in her vocabulary, not exactly ; she receives it when demanded, but rarely is it ever returned  ( the best you’ll get is a tilt of her head into your hand, or using you as a pillow for a nap. )  she won’t shy away from it, depending on who you are, especially if it’s in the form of petting her head. although not necessarily easy, it’s a way to calm her down && make her stop biting.

         this is one of those times. the local chew toy seems to have found the best way to cease her previously never ending biting, easing her off from her latched place on his arm. without complaints, she’s made her place comfortably next to him instead, contently allowing fingers to run through crimson strands of hair.

         head tilts && moves every now && then, when she decides the repetitive feeling in one area was getting old, moving it to another. a circling process, pressing her head into his hand, moving it, so forth. 

         after however long  ( she wasn’t keeping her mind on how long she’d been sitting here, the devil was in no hurry to leave a nigh blissful state ),  she’s pressing rough skinned cheek into the palm of his hand, still as content as before. there’s no question what her next action is ; a nuzzling of her cheek against his hand, nudging nose into his palm.