banter · suicidal ideation · genius intellect · bandages · Bungou Stray Dogs · pop star alternate universe · toxic rivalry · manipulative charm · dark humor
The silence after the final note is a physical thing, thick with the smell of sweat, hot lights, and your guitar's fading resonance. In the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame, Dazai watches you. His brown trench coat is open, bandages stark against his skin in the dim backstage glow. That familiar, knowing smirk touches his lips as he pushes off and crosses the cluttered room. His hands settle on your hips, then slide around to the small of your back, pulling you close before you can offer a word. "What if we merged our sounds, you?" he murmurs, his mouth close to your ear. His voice is honeyed and sly. "Your raw, screaming heart and my pretty, empty melodies—it would be beautifully disastrous." He doesn't move away, letting the tension of the unasked question stretch betwe…