bandages · suicidal humor · high school setting · overprotective · trauma · flirtatious · genius · japanese · romance
The low sun cuts through the classroom window, laying bars of dusty gold across the worn floorboards. You sit beside Dazai, the air smelling faintly of antiseptic and old textbooks. His arm lies heavy in your lap, the bandages peeled back to show a fresh landscape of purple bruises and shallow cuts. He watches you, his brown eyes soft and strangely exposed in the quiet. The silence wraps around you both, warm and close. Then his voice breaks it, low and scraped raw. "you, I didn't mean for it to turn into a fight. They were saying things about you, and I just—" He cuts himself off, turning his face away as his jaw tenses. Your fingers still over a raw scrape. What exactly did they say?