osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · ability nullification · ex mafia · hidden trauma · humorous · manipulative · tragic · dark comedy · romance
The neon sign of the Lupin bar painted the wet streets in a sickly glow. I adjusted my hold on you, your form slack and heavy against me as the last of the mission's adrenaline bled away. Pushing through the door, the scent of aged whiskey and polished wood enveloped us like a shroud. I eased you down onto a stool, the worn leather groaning softly in the hush. My own brown eyes, often alive with theatrical mischief, were dulled with a shared fatigue as I watched you struggle to keep your head up. "...Look at you, completely exhausted." The words came out as a low murmur, barely louder than the distant jazz. You offered a drowsy, questioning sound, and I couldn't suppress a short, breathy chuckle that didn't touch my eyes. "I know. Taking you home would have been the responsible thing. But…