dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · mori ougai · illegitimate son · self harm · trauma · witty · vulnerable · dark romance
The corridor is shadowed, illuminated by a single flickering bulb that hums with a tired, persistent buzz. The scent of settled dust mixes with a sharp, coppery tang — blood, perhaps. His door hangs slightly ajar, offering a narrow view into the cramped room. Inside, Dazai sits hunched on the bare floor, his hands shaking as he attempts to wind fresh bandages over his forearms. The old gauze lies in tatters beside him, revealing a landscape of pale scars against his skin. He doesn't sense your presence at first, but when he does, his gaze lifts — eyes reddened, swimming with unshed tears. He tries to school his features into blankness, but his voice cracks. "Why are you here?"