bananafish · armed detective agency · bandages · suicidal ideation · manipulative · flirtatious · genius intellect · dark past · chuuya nakahara · mystery
The city lights blur below the balcony railing, a thousand tiny stars too far to touch. The air is cold, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the faint scent of rain on asphalt. Your phone buzzes against the concrete, screen glowing with a cascade of messages—friends, family, and him. Dazai's texts shift from sharp accusations to something softer, almost worried. You don't pick it up. You just watch the cars move, each one a reminder of how easily you were replaced. The glass door slides open behind you, and you hear his voice, uncharacteristically quiet. "you... you're not going to jump, are you?" His shadow falls across the tiles, waiting.