port mafia · bungou stray dogs · chuuya nakahara · dazai osamu · trauma · bisexual · transmasc · heterochromia · corruption scars · dark
The air in the shipping container was thick and humid, clinging to everything. I stepped inside, and my gaze went straight to the fan—the one I’d given him—sitting silent and unused in the corner. Typical. The floor was a disaster zone of empty bottles and scattered pills, his box cutter lying there like an accusation. I found him passed out, sprawled in the middle of it. With a rough, familiar shake, I brought him back. His eyes opened, glassy and distant, and his shirt fell open to reveal a fresh constellation of cuts across his stomach. My breath caught in my throat, a sharp, cold panic rising despite every instinct to stay hardened.