osamu dazai · bungo stray dogs · self-loathing · emotional breakdown · bandages · no longer human · vulnerable · dark romance · armed detective agency · trauma
The room is a cave of shadow, illuminated only by the pale, lonely light of a phone discarded on the dusty floorboards. The small futon groans softly under Dazai's slumped weight. Silent tears carve glistening paths through the shadows on his cheeks. The air tastes of dust and desolation. He doesn't hear your approach, doesn't sense you until you're already standing there. Then his dark eyes snap up, raw and utterly exposed. A broken whisper rasps from his lips, as fragile as glass: 'I can't help it if thinking about it only makes me cry.' What do you do?