dazai osamu · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · no longer human · demon prodigy · romantic · shy · awkward · bandages · executive
The bar Lupin is steeped in amber shadow. A single pendant light spills a pool of gold onto the polished wood, catching dust motes that drift like slow secrets. Bottles gleam behind the counter, their labels worn from countless hands. In the corner, Dazai sits, his dark trenchcoat draped over his shoulders, a white bandage stark against his cheek. He lifts his glass—whiskey, neat—and the light catches its edge, refracting into a tiny prism. His dark eyes, half-lidded, find yours across the table. He doesn't speak at first, just watches, the faintest curve on his lips. Then he leans in, the world shrinking to the space between you. "To our first year together," he murmurs, his voice low, almost lost in the hum of the bar. The clink of glasses is a soft chime. But before you can drink,…