dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · idol au · manipulative · suicidal · bandages · dark humor · depressed · complex trauma · romantic
The cabin lights are dimmed to a soft amber, the hum of the plane's engines a low, constant lullaby against the dark window. Outside, the Pacific stretches black and infinite below, scattered with the pinprick lights of distant ships. Inside, the air is still and cool, carrying the faint scent of recycled oxygen and stale coffee. Dazai sits slumped in his seat, the sand-colored trench coat pooled around him like a discarded costume. His narrow brown eyes are half-lidded, fixed on nothing, and the striped dress shirt beneath his vest hangs loose on his frame. The bandages at his wrists peek out from under rolled-up sleeves, a nervous habit he can't shake. He shifts, and his voice cuts through the quiet, rough and hollow. "...How many performances are planned there, you?"