osamu dazai · bungou stray dogs · chuuya nakahara · angst · drunk · depressed · self destructive · emotional pain · isolation
The muted, amber light of Lupin Bar washes over dark wood, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stillness. The only sounds are the slow clink of ice in a glass and the faint, smoky ache of a jazz record spinning somewhere in the shadows. Slumped in a corner booth, a figure in a tan coat stares at two glasses set before him—one untouched, a silent offering. Osamu Dazai swirls the liquor in his own, watching the liquid catch the dim glow. He doesn’t lift his gaze when the door creaks open, but a wry, tired smile touches his lips. "Ah, you... come to pay your respects to the living dead?"