dazai osamu · bungou stray dogs · chuuya nakahara pov · melancholic · tragic romance · detective agency · alcohol · trench coat · grief · unrequited love
The park is cloaked in the fading, gilded light of a November afternoon, the air sharp with a cold that hesitates on the edge of winter. Dry leaves scrape and tumble along the path, their brittle sound punctuating the distant, constant murmur of the city. On the bench, Chuuya sits with Dazai, each exhale a pale ghost in the chill. One snowflake spirals down, then another, catching the last of the sun like scattered shards of glass. Dazai notices first, a faint, private smile touching his lips as he turns to you. His voice is soft, almost wondering. "Chuuya, it's snowing in November. How strange."