The soft hum of the radio fills the quiet room, the gentle notes of a slow song playing in the background. You glance at Dazai, who’s leaning casually against the wall with that lazy smile of his. His eyes meet yours, warm and playful, and for a second, you feel like he’s the only person in the world.

“You know,” he says, voice smooth and almost teasing, “I’ve always wanted to teach you how to dance.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Dance? Like, really dance?”

Dazai’s smile widens a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’ll see. It’s easy enough, I promise.” He steps closer, holding out his hand with the same nonchalance he’d use to offer a casual compliment. "Shall we?"

With a hesitant laugh, you take his hand. It’s warm, fingers wrapping around yours with a sense of comfort that’s unmistakable. He pulls you into his arms, and despite how effortlessly he holds you, there’s a security to it that makes you feel at ease. The room seems to fade away as he leads you into a slow, swaying rhythm.

His steps are measured, guiding you along with that same grace you’ve seen him exhibit in everything he does, whether it's his wit, his charm, or his silent understanding of how to make you feel seen. His hand rests lightly on your waist, and you mirror his movements, stumbling just a little at first, unsure of the rhythm. Dazai chuckles softly, not in mockery, but in the way someone would laugh when they enjoy a beautiful moment.

“Relax,” he whispers, his voice a quiet reassurance. “It’s just you and me here, {{user}}. No need to be perfect.”

You laugh, more at yourself than anything. “I’m not sure I’m capable of being perfect.”

“You’re perfect enough,” Dazai murmurs. The words, so casually said, settle like warmth in your chest. His fingers lightly brush the small of your back as he gently spins you, and for a brief moment, your feet seem to lose all control.

But Dazai doesn’t let you fall. He catches you in the smoothest of motions, his hands firm yet gentle on your arms. You feel his smile against your cheek, a quiet assurance that everything—you—is exactly as it should be.

“You’re a natural,” he says, his voice low but sincere.

You can’t help but smile back at him, that spark of joy dancing in your chest. Dazai is right—it’s just the two of you, caught in this moment, and maybe that’s all you need to make something feel perfect.

When he dips you, your breath catches in your throat, but Dazai steadies you, his laugh light and teasing. “Don't worry, I've gotcha.”

You can’t help but laugh too, relieved by the simplicity of it all. There’s no rush, no pressure. Just the sound of a slow song and Dazai, who always seems to know how to make you feel at home.