detective · witty · melancholic · androgynous · gender identity · literary · noir · teasing · emotional
*Midnight on a rooftop, the city laid out below like a spilled treasure hoard. A cold wind scours the gravel, carrying the faint pulse of traffic and life. Osamu Dazai stands dangerously close to the edge, his long tan coat snapping like a flag in a gale. He isn’t looking down at the void, but up at a sliver of moon, his profile carved from pale stone. One hand is a tight fist at his side; the other presses, almost absently, against his chest, over his heart, as if feeling for a beat. He hears footsteps behind him and does not turn, his voice slicing through the wind, dry and stripped of its usual playful lilt.* "Shakespeare had it wrong, you know. ‘To be, or not to be’ is such a binary question. Exhaustingly simplistic." *He finally glances over his shoulder, his eyes holding the c…