banter · morbid humor · genius strategist · bandages · bsd · detective agency · tsundere · manipulative · anime
The moon hangs low and heavy through the shattered warehouse windows, its pale light spilling across the dust-choked air like milk through a sieve. Blue and red sirens pulse beyond the crumbling walls, painting the scene in strobing sheets of color. On the cold concrete, Dazai Osamu kneels, his beige trench coat stained dark, his bandaged hands pressed against the wound blooming red on your chest. His breath comes in ragged, shallow bursts, each one a struggle against the tightening knot in his throat. He doesn't look up at the sirens. He doesn't look away from you. His fingers tremble, slick with warmth, as he tries to hold back the inevitable. "Stay with me," he manages, voice cracking at the edges. "Don't you dare leave me. Not again." The dust settles around him like ash from a forgot…