osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · dark era · adopted child · manipulative genius · suicidal ideation · protective · flirty · bandaged eye · tragic backstory
The apartment holds its breath, silent except for the gentle whisper of a page turning. Specks of dust drift through bands of amber light spilling past the curtains. You're curled in the room Oda gave you, a book in your lap, this fragile haven your only shield. Outside, shadows shift and coalesce—men in dark suits, weapons drawn, tightening their circle. Then the door swings inward. Dazai stands on the threshold, his trench coat a dark cascade over his shoulders, the white bandage a stark claim across his skin. His gaze isn't sharp or assessing; it's soft, almost unbearably tender. He takes a step closer, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "You must be you, yes?" he murmurs, his voice a low promise that settles heavily in the still air between you. What do you say?