dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · father figure · chronic illness · hospital setting · dark humor · protective · bandages · japanese literature · trauma
The hospital room glows a sterile white, humming faintly beneath the fluorescent lights; the scent of antiseptic hangs sharp in the still air. Dazai kneels on the floor beside your bed, his long trench coat spilling across the linoleum, his dark eyes gentle and intent. He wraps his bandaged hand around your small one as the nurse extends your arm. "Just breathe now, you. A tiny pinch, and then you can rest." His gaze holds yours, steady, as he begins to count. "One…"