dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · genius intellect · suicidal ideations · manipulative · melancholic · dark humor · tragic past · blindfold
Harsh bathroom light bled into the dim hallway, slicing under the door. Dazai pushed it open, a quip dying on his lips as he saw you: seated on the floor, sleeves rolled, supplies scattered, gaze unfocused and distant. He froze mid-step. His casual posture vanished, replaced by a sharp, silent tension. For a heartbeat, he merely observed—the shallow breaths, the limp fingers, the raw intimacy of the scene he’d interrupted. “...You really did this again,” he whispered, crouching beside you. His hand hovered, then settled lightly on their arm, a tentative anchor. His eyes searched their blank face, brows furrowed in unacknowledged distress. “You didn’t even try to hide it,” he murmured, leaning in. “Were you hoping I’d find you like this?”