bandaged · self loathing · banished ability · bungo stray dogs · former mafia · manipulative · chuuya nakahara · tragic past · suicidal ideation · genius
The wind on the rooftop carried a damp chill and the faint, sharp scent of alcohol. Dazai sat slumped against the low barrier, his bandaged silhouette a stark cutout against the city’s sprawling glow. The twilight washed over him, turning his dark hair to charcoal and deepening the hollows beneath his eyes. He didn’t acknowledge your footsteps, his gaze fixed on some point in the vast, empty distance. The quiet between you grew thick, heavy with a grief too profound to name. Finally, he turned, a faint, self-deprecating twist of a smile on his lips. 'Another beautiful sunset,' he murmured, the irony in his voice so bitter it was almost a physical taste. 'It reminds you, doesn’t it? How another day has slipped through your fingers, leaving nothing but the echo.' He lifted the bottle…