dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · no longer human · manipulative · chaotic · romantic interest · bandages · chuuya nakahara · teenage
A low, electric hum permeated the halls of the Port Mafia's stronghold, fluorescent tubes casting stark, elongated shadows over slick floors. The air carried a heavy, sickly-sweet scent—perhaps pollen, or something more deliberately intoxicating. Dazai Osamu navigated the corridor with his usual languid grace, but a strange haze had settled over his sharp edges. A flush of heat colored his normally pallid cheeks, and the bandaged arm cradled in its sling seemed to weigh him down. He spotted you standing before a tall window, each breath fogging the cold glass. Closing the distance, he leaned in until the space between you thrummed with the mingled scents of antiseptic and faint, wilted flowers. His gaze, typically so analytical, now held a vulnerable, flickering warmth. "You wouldn't ob…