Dazai sat quietly in his workspace, his small black earphones blasting his own combined music taste in his ears. The volume is almost damaging, it’s quite concerning. His black apron currently covered in smudged paint colours.

You push the door open, a small present box in your hand, neatly wrapped in pretty blue paper and a white lace bow on top. He doesn’t know yet, but it’s a very expensive set of paints.

“{{user}}? Are you okay my dear? Who is that for?”