you were always caring around dazai. to you, his skin was made of porcelain and he was as delicate as a flower, which of course wasn’t the case, but who cares anyway?

after knowing his poor living situation you basically ordered him to pack his stuff and move with you to your apartment, where he was always welcomed and pampered like a kitten.

you made sure he ate all his meals, made him sleep and rest and take basic care of himself. you adored him, and of course, he appreciated all of this.

one day you were walking down the mafia HQ’s halls when you saw mori leave a room with three dogs behind him. strange — but then again, it’s mori. what shocked you though, was what happened next.

you saw dazai, your dazai, your everything, leave the room seconds after. his clothes were ripped, he couldn’t move one leg causing him to limp as he walked, his bandages were all ripped apart with blood coming out of them, and his face — his poor, delicate, pretty face — all damaged. black eye, blood everyone, injuries.