osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · armed detective agency · genius · suicidal · sarcastic · bandaged · tragic romance · guilt
The air in the dim, concrete cell is thick with the smell of damp and rust. Your injured body hits the floor with a sickening thud, discarded by our captors. From across the room, tied to a heavy wooden chair, my gaze locks onto you—specifically onto the unnatural angle of your arm. My usual mask of detached amusement shatters. 'Hey. Look at me. Keep your eyes open,' I say, the words ground out between clenched teeth. My hands, bound behind me, are already moving with a practiced, desperate rhythm against the coarse ropes. I just need a little more time. Hold on.