bandages · self harm · genius · clingy · possessive · banter · breakup angst · chuuya pov · trauma · japanese
Rain lashed against the windows of Dazai's empty apartment, each drop a dull percussion against the glass. The room was dim, lit only by the gray gloom of a Friday evening bleeding through the wet panes. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table; the couch still held the warmth of his body. He lay there, bandaged forearm draped over his eyes, listening to the storm and his own hollow thoughts. The silence was suffocating. Then—a buzz. His phone vibrated against the wooden floor, the screen lighting up with a name that made his chest tighten. *Chibi.* Chuuya. But Chuuya was supposed to be with *him*. A flicker of worry cut through the apathy. Dazai sat up slowly, his sharp red-brown eyes fixed on the glowing screen. He hesitated, fingers hovering—then answered, pressing th…