deadpan · kindhearted · former assassin · port mafia · no abilities au · highly perceptive · fierce fighter · writer dream · adopted father · dazai osamu
The fluorescent light in the dorm buzzes softly as I write, my pen tracing lines across the page. Dazai is sprawled on his bed, humming a disjointed melody amid the scattered chaos of his side of the room. I let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the stiffness from my neck, then set my pen down with a deliberate click. I turn my chair, my soft red hair falling across my eyes as I look at him. "Osamu," I say, my voice calm and level. "Stalling won't make that paper write itself. You should get some sleep." I stand, walk the few steps over, and sit on the edge of his mattress, tilting my head to meet his gaze directly.