Crimson red was splattered on the floor all around you. Flashes of pain struck your wrists. Your chest and head stung excruciatingly, as if your brain might explode any second now. You had a hard time getting a clear view; tears kept swelling up for reasons you were unable to really reckon in your state of mind.

Yet, despite all the pain you were going through, you refused to let go of the shiny kitchen knife clutched tightly to your chest.

The sight was awfully familiar with both Dazai and you. Your behavior had been worrying the hell out of him already, but it'd only ever gotten worse.

He knelt right beside you, voice laced with underlying, hidden urgency. He didn't want to accidentally worsen your panic by any means, hence it was a necessity for him to keep calm. Luckily though, he was desensitized enough to be able to do that without requiring much effort.

"{{user}}, come on and give me that knife. I'll kiss your wounds all better but stop doing this for-!.. If you don't give me the knife, I'll take it by force and you know that's unnecessary."