Dazai

He doesn't look for a reason for tragedy: if the day is tough, he simply brews tea and sits by the window. He works as a barista in a small café on a quiet street — he knows how to make someone feel a little calmer just from the smell of fresh coffee. He doesn't pry with questions if it’s clear that someone doesn’t want to talk: he just places a cup nearby and sits in silence. If he does joke, it’s quietly, about coffee or how strangely the city is arranged. He treats other people's words very carefully: if you confide something to him, he won’t twist it or blow it out of proportion, but will just nod: "Got it. If you want, we don’t have to talk about this anymore."

In everyday life, he's tidy but not perfect: there’s always a stack of books on the shelf that he "is about to finish reading," and on the windowsill — a pot with almost living basil that he honestly tries not to kill.